Chapter 2

The Cuttingtons had stayed for the weekend and given the booze consumed on the Saturday night there was no sign of stirring from anyone until 11.00. Rowan had reined in the brattiness since it was just the two of them and they had managed to spend 30 minutes at the breakfast table without annoying each other. Andrew had left her in front of the television and retreated to his room again. He didn’t know why he felt so restless but his own contemplations about his birthday and life in the house, together with the talk with John, had made an impression. So hanging around the house on a Sunday morning while everyone slept off their hangover was trying his patience.

To pass the time he thought once more about the two words John had thrown at his feet like a gauntlet from historic times. Challenge yourself. Easy for a 40-something to say to a boy that looked up to him but what did it mean. The easy option, at least notionally, would be to ask John. But when they visited there was almost no time when his parents were not around. That was part of the impact of the 10 minutes in the garden, it was so rare. But the other consideration was that Andrew wanted to figure this out on his own. Without having any idea whether it was true or not, Andrew was sure that part of the answer to the two words was not just being told the answer. The very first challenge was defining what the challenge or challenges were.

If Andrew had not spent time thinking about his life the previous day before John and Brenda arrived then this might have been a waste of time. But for whatever reason John had mentioned this after Andrew had spent the morning thinking about making some changes. The first part was easy, he was going to try and make some money. Help his parents. Andrew stopped and thought about that last sentence. He knew he wasn’t a disobedient boy, his marks were always good at school but that was all he could say. He didn’t moan about chores round the house but he always had to asked or told, and often several times. His parents were working hard to send him and his sister to private school and he was taking it all for granted, as if it was his due somehow. The other side of the same coin though was that he didn’t get on with his parents at all. His father’s indifference and preference for Rowan together with his ever judgemental mother meant that it was partly his way of maintaining his self-worth. He would help his parents but it could not, and would not, be his only motivation, even his main motivation. It would be good to have some money, to assert a little bit of independence. Whatever the reason, Andrew was looking forward to finding a way to work and get some money.

After this easy thinking he sat, once again staring out the window or looking around the room for any kind of inspiration. What else could he challenge himself with? Puberty was still over the distant horizon so anything to do with girls or young women never crossed his mind. Girls were like his annoying little sister and her friends. To be ignored. In years to come, Andrew would think about this day and laugh at the ignorance and naivety of youth. The two things that did come to mind were academics and fitness. The first would be a lot easier than the second. Andrew knew he was coasting at school, he did not find it difficult but he put little to no effort into it. So that was one area who could challenge himself. The second one, starting from a significantly lower base, was fitness. As he had demonstrated that morning there was plenty of work to do.

The fitness although it would take longer and would definitely be a struggle was also going to be easier in one important way. As he had showed that morning, fitness could be, and was going to be, a solitary endeavour. If Andrew put his mind to something then it happened. He was self-disciplined with a stubborn streak. With John’s words ringing in his ears Andrew knew that he could get fit. Now years of games, sports and kick arounds with his neighbours had demonstrated a spectacular lack of foot-eye and hand-eye coordination. He was not going to be the next Kenny Dalglish, or indeed any sportsman. But he would be happy being able to run for half an hour and maybe do some push-ups and sit-ups. Nothing earth shattering but a change from his previously easy sedentary life. He then thought about school.

George Heriot’s was, and is, a private, fee-paying school in the centre of Edinburgh. There was none of the extreme harassment and bullying prevalent in other schools. But this was school, wherever 1500 boys and young men gather together then there will be a significant proportion of dickheads. The bell curve never fails. Andrew was a geek, in a class full of geeks. Heriot’s made students take streaming exams at ages 10 and 12. The final two years of primary school were separated into three classes, with Andrew having been in the top class. The second set of streaming tests were in preparation for senior school when the year would be streamed into five classes. Just the previous week Andrew had brought home confirmation from the school that he would be in 1A, the class for those with the best academic marks, at the start of the following year. But one of the reasons that Andrew coasted was that he was uncomfortable standing out academically. He barely did any studying and he was in the top quarter to top third of the class. Andrew knew he was smart and most of his self-worth at school came from his academics. But he was comfortable hiding just below the top pupils. Even within his own class there were loudmouths and guys who were a complete pain in the arse. Challenging himself academically would be simultaneously easy and difficult. Andrew pondered this for some time but John’s words taunted him. He would try, he couldn’t just hide.

But then the earlier part of his chat with John came to mind. How John, and his father Gavin, had found National Service tough. It was one of the reasons that they became friends. John described the people they encountered as hard cases. Taking some minor verbal abuse from fellow nerds, or even other guys in his year, was hardly much of a challenge the way that John had talked about it. For a real challenge himself he needed exposure to kids who didn’t go to a fancy fee-paying school in the centre of Edinburgh, the school to the south of the Old Town and with a clear view of the Castle. How he was going to try and challenge himself, never mind rise to overcome it, he had no idea. There was no obvious solution.

The adults finally waking up let Andrew park all this until later. Without prompting he helped his mother set the table which got no thanks other than a raised eyebrow. Baby steps. When his father went to the toilet he approached John.

“Could you give me a copy of your address please John. I know how we drive to your place but I don’t know the actual address or the postcode. I would like to write to you, once a term maybe, to let you know how I am doing, maybe ask for some advice.”

John nodded quietly.

“Good idea Andrew. I will give it to you before we go. What prompted this?”

“Our chat yesterday. I was up early this morning and have done some thinking about what you said.”

As his father returned John just smiled and nodded, Andrew moving away. After lunch John and Brenda prepared to head north again, they lived south west of the city of Aberdeen in north east Scotland, a three hour drive away. As they left John passed Andrew the address discretely. Andrew and his family left at the same time as the Cuttingtons and went to visit Andrew’s grandmother. He was feted as the birthday boy, one of his aunt and uncles were there along with a cousin and her husband. The flat was struggling to cope with all the people and Andrew sat back and watched the dynamic of his extended family.

Andrew thought his father was an odd man, not helped by the fact that he was much younger than his two sisters. One was 12 years older and the oldest was 15 years older than his father. Apparently, his grandfather had been 63 when his father was born and had died before his father had even finished school; Andrew’s mother had never met him. Andrew had done the maths and worked out that his grandfather had been born in 1874. His grandmother had celebrated her 70^th birthday 18 months earlier which meant she was born in 1905. With an aunt born in 1922 Andrew had connected all the dots and established that his grandfather had been 48 years old and his grandmother only 17 years old when his aunt was born. He also knew that it was never talked about for reasons he could not fathom. Whenever he asked he was shushed immediately. It was several years later that the penny finally dropped about the ages and what they meant. What was even more scandalous was that both his grandparents were in service, his grandfather the butler and his grandmother a chambermaid. It was another of those moments when he would look back and laugh at his innocence.

All of that was still to unfold. On that afternoon his aunt was there with her daughter. He only had two cousins, each sister of his father had one daughter and his mother was an only child. One cousin lived in Australia and had done so for several years. This meant he only saw this one cousin, whose name was Shona. She was closer to his parents age than his own, so although she was perfectly pleasant he was not close to her. He had seen the TV show the Waltons and it was a different world. He had one little sister and a cousin, 20 years older than him.

School the following week was another example of a familiar part of Andrew’s life that seemed different somehow, as if being viewed through a slightly different lens. It was not one big thing it was just lots of little things that Andrew noticed. Classes were winding down so his goal of pushing himself academically would have to wait until the following year. During his classes, and especially during lunch, Andrew looked at his classmates and fellow pupils and tried to understand why he suddenly felt he was seeing them for the first time. He could not put into words why he felt this way. But rather than try to be included in the football as normal he stood back and watched rather than try and fit in as he usually did, even although he knew he was crap at footie. Everyone seemed to be trying too hard just as he had been the previous week. Being crap at sport had not stopped him trying to keep up with the ‘cool’ kids.

He had told his parents he was going to stop at the library on the way home, a very useful and acceptable place for him to be after school and neither of them had made any comment. But instead, armed with his list of camera shops Andrew set off to find a job. By the time he had left the third shop he had visited he started to feel how Wiley Coyote did when he ran face first into a wall. Being tongue-tied and in a school uniform did not help either but all three men were instantly dismissive. Suddenly challenging himself did not look so easy.

But here Andrew’s stubborn streak kicked in. Turning up in his school uniform was a non-starter so he decided to wait until the weekend, but he was going to continue. He packed his camera bag and would use that as a prop to demonstrate that he at least knew what he was talking about. But as he sat in his room that night it was tough not to feel down-heartened. Shrugging it off he changed and decided to try going for another jog. He was much more careful in his pace and managed to run for 15 minutes, rest for five and then return, although that took 17 minutes. The distance was of no concern, he was happy to have judged the pace much better.

The rest of the week passed without incident. Andrew did go to the main City Library after school each day and sat and read about developing film. By the Friday evening he was comfortable that he knew all the stages. But it was book knowledge, he needed to get the chance to put it into practice. On the Saturday morning he told his parents he would like to take some pictures in the city of some of the main tourist sights, the Castle and things like that. So carrying his camera bag and his list of shops Andrew once more charged head first at the wall. The first seven were the same as earlier in the week, he was more than halfway through his list and he had been given the knockback by everyone, often with dismissive laughter. But shop number 11 was his lucky number.