Chapter 11

When Andrew got to the flat on Sunday Jim and Freya were not back from church. There was a roast in the oven that smelled great and had an hour to go, according to the timer on the stove. Vegetables were on the counter so he prepped them and had just put them onto the stove and into the oven when Freya came bustling into the kitchen. He was enveloped in a motherly hug.

“You will make someone a good husband one day Andrew. It is good to see you. Let me get changed and then we can chat.”

Jim came through more sedately with a smile on his face.

“Good to see you Andrew. Pick a nice bottle of red, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Five minutes later saw them all sitting round the kitchen table sipping the wine. Freya kept an eye on lunch. The had gone to Sardinia for their honeymoon and so Andrew asked a bunch of questions as it was somewhere he had never been, and of which he knew little.

“To be honest, we stayed at the villa and just relaxed. There was a housekeeper who was supposed to cook for us but we just asked her to pop in every other day with some fresh supplies and we had the place to ourselves the rest of the time. A lot of walking, reading, drinking wine, just relaxing. It took us both quite a while to unwind.”

“I know what you mean. The first couple of days in Amsterdam were exactly like that. I had been more stressed about the occasion than I realised.”

“I think we were both the same. I remember when Jim proposed and the two of us were talking about having a small wedding. Not quite what we ended up with. How was Amsterdam?”

“Much better than I had imagined it would be. Actually that is not fair. I didn’t really know what to expect and was pleasantly surprised is a better way of putting it. A week wasn’t enough, I would like to go back there. Lots of culture, lots of sights, plus it is so flat so you can walk or cycle everywhere. I really enjoyed it.”

It was like that until lunch was ready, recounting of their trips, the highlights, the hassle of travel, all the usual things people talk about after their holidays. After lunch they went through to the drawing room. Andrew smiled when he saw the drinks cabinet.

“I know, I feel like that when I see it as well. It is such a talking point, we had a dinner party here last night and everyone was blown away by it. It is so natural yet so clearly beautifully crafted.”

Jim offered Andrew a whisky from it but it was a little early in the day for him, by about seven hours. It didn’t stop Jim to much tutting from Freya.

“See, as soon as I marry her she starts hen-pecking me.”

Given that they were both smiling and he kissed her Andrew thought he was coping admirably.

“We both wanted to thank you for everything you did for us, but particularly me, on our wedding day. You coped admirably with an event that must have been alien for you.”

“I am glad it went off without incident.”

Freya laughed.

“This from the man who made me cry, again, on my wedding day.”

All Andrew could do was blush.

“I never really got the chance to talk to you about the speech. It was the reference to Mum and Dad that just totally got me. It has been so long and I was still quite young and so I have this picture of them in my mind. It is not idealised it is. Oh, I don’t know, it is all mixed up. When I think of them, even now, I picture them as they were when they died, so a lot younger than I am. Even little things like saying their names, a lot of buried emotions I guess.”

“I didn’t set out to make you cry, it just felt like the right thing to say. They would be proud of you and they would agree that Jim is the perfect man for you. You make each other very happy. I am just glad I didn’t ‘er’ and ‘um’ my way through it.”

“I don’t suppose you are unaware of the reaction to your pause?”

“Oh I heard all about the pause both that night and later. Edith dragged me over to talk to Jean and Fiona Inchcape. But I said later that night in the hotel when the six of us were having a drink, I would have done the same speech again the next weekend.”

Jim snorted and ended up coughing into his whisky.

“I think that was very clear from your attitude. What did the Countess say?”

“Something along the lines of she was looking forward to watching as I bulldozed my way through prejudices in the coming years. Something like that.”

Freya smiled.

“What we are trying to tell you is that it caused quite a reaction. I know that the Duchess defended you to anyone who made any kind of negative comment. I think that a lot of the men didn’t know what to make of the comment but their wives did. As usual you took the opportunity and didn’t back down.”

Andrew sat for a second thinking about all this.

“Let me try to process this and marshal my thoughts. I went and saw Rupashi the day after Jim showed her round the House of Lords and introduced her to two other Law Lords. She was so overwhelmed and grateful especially given her own thoughts on you all. She expected prejudiced, old, white men and as she said it was only three out of four.”

Jim laughed appropriately.

“Her parents were over the moon about the meeting but their reaction was too much. Rupashi went from being proud and on cloud nine to listening to her parents go on about what a privilege it was that she got to meet you. It was as if they were overly grateful for what you did. Now Rupashi was very grateful for meeting you and your colleagues that day but it upset her that it was such a big deal to her community. I suppose what I am trying to say, in my usual overlong rambling manner, is that I am upset that saying something that is common sense and obvious, never mind the fairness of the whole thing, is being treated as such a big deal. Does it not feel wrong that a 19-year-old male engineering student says something that is self-evident at the end of the 20^th century about women, and everyone praises him?

“Look I don’t know any more. I view women as equal to men, fuck I was about to say different but equal but that is Jim Crow under another name. It is something that I talk about with some of my friends. I should shut up.”

“It is fun to listen to you sometimes. Do you know you are a feminist?”

Andrew looked quizzically at Freya.

“Oh yes, men can be feminists too. I see where you are coming from, people should not be so overjoyed about someone saying or doing something when the situation is outdated. Just keep being yourself and we will try and tone down the adulation, okay?”

All he could do was shake his head and laugh. But they weren’t finished with him yet. Jim quietly left the room.

“I also want to talk to you about your summer job. I received the feedback on the program, it ultimately reports to my office. How do you think it went?”

“It was a mixture; interesting, thrilling, boring, you feel like you are doing something useful at times yet at others you are bored stupid. I would guess it was like a lot of jobs.”

“The Police were pleased with their student, that comment was in the report, so I know they were pleased with you. They talked about the need for training on computers, they said they had to rely on the summer student which was unacceptable. That seemed fantastical so I asked for a follow up. I got a report from a Superintendent Lester explaining the comment. You had quite the summer.”

Andrew sat there in silence.

“The follow up report said you would make a good policeman. I can see why. They want you back, you know that?”

“Yes, he said that to me. We’ll see.”

It was Freya’s turn to laugh.

“Okay, enough questions, I am sorry.”

The three of them went out for a stroll round Regent’s Park where the bombing came up for the first time, as they walked past the US Ambassador’s Residence. Neither were displaying outward signs of stress but they both did admit that Friday had been fraught and that security had been increased at both Westminster as well as at key Government Departments, of which the Ministry of Defence was pretty much at the top of the list. Andrew did not realise at the time but they were senior establishment figures and it was not impossible that they could be targeted. Later they went to the usual little Italian restaurant for dinner.

“Are you going to come and stay again this term?”

“Do you think I could come and stay the weekend after term ends? First weekend of December. I don’t think I will get the chance before then. Two trips to Scotland and two OTC weekends all have to be fitted in.”

“You are welcome whenever. Will you go home after?”

“I don’t know. I may go back and study for a week, it will be quiet, well reasonably, all the applicants are there for their interviews.”

“Well you and any guests are welcome. We do enjoy the company.”

Later, as the train trundled back up to Cambridge Andrew had a moment of sadness, it was unavoidable, and wished that time with his parents was as fun, relaxing and loving as his time with Jim and Freya. The relationship with his parents was a loose tooth that Andrew was forever destined to worry at, without resolution.

Abi had known that he would be in late but had told him to come over when he was back. Andrew knocked on her door and his heart beat a little faster as he waited. It slowed down again when she opened it. Abi was wrapped up and looked miserable.

“What’s wrong?”

“Monthly visitor.”

Ah. She explained that the cramping was bad the first day and she was tired and sore. Andrew started taking his clothes off.

“What on earth are you doing Andrew?”

“Getting ready for bed, I thought I would snuggle against you, stroke your stomach, anything you want to help.”

“You want to stay?”

“Yes, don’t you want me to?”

He stopped trying to take his trousers off and looked at her.

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to be around me. Guys get weird when women are on their periods.”

He stood there looking at her.

“Do you want me to stay or go?”

“You really don’t mind?”

Andrew continued taking his trousers off. Five minutes later he was holding a hot water bottle against her lower stomach as they lay spooned together and quietly fell asleep. The following morning he tried to get out of bed quietly but still managed to wake Abi.

“Thanks for staying Andrew. I often have a crap night’s sleep the first night but I feel okay. I will see you at dinner.”

The first full week had been busy with lots of one offs but the second week was routine. Cindies was busy again so they went to a bar closer to Downing and had a few beers. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was a short letter from Suzanne letting Andrew know that she was not going to be able to see him during the first half of the term, she had several things on at the weekend and would see him in Edinburgh later in the term. Andrew was a little surprised given that she had seemed so keen mere weeks earlier but understood the demands of courses. It was a little odd but what could he do. So rather than Glasgow he would head back to Edinburgh.

That Saturday there was an all-day training exercise with the OTC, they had to be at the TA Centre at 8.00 and there was no end time given. An hour in a four tonner had them at Stanford, the training area they had used several times the previous year. The morning was map reading, different groups had to assemble at a central point, nothing earthshattering but it got them marching across Norfolk in the rain and tested map reading as well as radio procedures. The new cadets were being shown how to utilise drainage ditches, culverts and streams as defensive rally points. That was a nice way of saying that they spent the day lying in cold water while the Permanent Staff shouted at them. Happy days.

In the afternoon Andrew spent time with the other cadets who were assigned to the Engineering section. It was theory in the field, they did not have to dig the latrines but had to mark where they would be dug. Finding areas suitable for helicopter landing areas was not too hard, but figuring out defensive berms in the thin, soggy Norfolk countryside was a challenge. The water table was right below the surface so they spent a long time talking about the alternatives, the importance of knowing the country and the terrain. Everyone was tired and hungry when they got back to Cambridge.

As Andrew trudged across New Court to the staircase someone who he had never seen before came out of the stair.

“Fuck, don’t tell me we have a fascist bully boy in the stair.”

As a greeting it wasn’t much. Andrew was too tired for an argument and just walked past.

“Nice to meet you too.”

And carried on up the stair. It was his first introduction to Neil Smith, the guy in number 6, the room directly below him, and a committed leftie. Andrew had no idea what flavour of leftness he espoused but having someone in the OTC in the room above him upset him something fierce. Smith was a serial demonstrator and was always off protesting about something. He and Andrew were different in about every way. Andrew didn’t realise it at the time but Smith was one of those people who was happy being unhappy. If he had something or someone to complain about then life had a purpose. Andrew didn’t know who he hated more, Percy the divinity student in the room underneath his or the engineering student in the OTC above him. But perversely he was happy to have something to moan about. Andrew was recounting this to Helena, Abi and Justin over in Justin’s room later.

“Mop of hair, bad skin, glasses?”

“Got him to a tee. Do you know him?”

“No, but I ran into him at the Union a couple of times. Always seems upset about something.”

“Well this year I think he is going to be upset about me. Fascist bully boy was what he called me.”

Justin shook his head.

“I real fascist would have cracked him on the head. Big talk in the middle of New Court. Pointless windbag, ignore him.”

Luckily for Andrew he was dummy in the first hand so was able to nip out and grab some food, three or four glasses of wine on an empty stomach was not going to end well. They were all reasonable to good card players without anyone being too good or too bad. Four middle class kids taught to play bridge by their parents. It wasn’t every weekend but a lot of Saturdays over the next two years were spent drinking wine and playing bridge.

By the end of the Sunday of that weekend Andrew was caught up with his reading and knew that over the next couple of weeks he could finally read ahead for class, as well as review his notes. He was enjoying classes this year and although all the labs were solo the four of them were in the same lab and would chat at the end. Studying was part of Andrew’s routine but it also was the routine. When he was studying then everything else fell into place, Andrew designed his life around it. The enjoyment that he got from studying was partially from the sense of calm and routine that it enforced on him. However it worked, Andrew was happy.

After dinner on the Sunday night Abi and Andrew bundled up, it was a wet miserable night, and went for a walk. Both of them seemed to think and talk better when they were walking. They saw each other most days now, even if only in Hall and were already closer than Helena and he had been the previous year. Abi wanted to be closer and Andrew had let some barriers down as well. He still saw Helena and Navya, but so far that term not as much as 1^st year. Helena had shyly asked the previous night if he minded knocking on her door again to get her up. Her one weakness in the morning was hitting snooze and rolling over. What was three more flights of stairs, up and down, in the morning?

“I am finding it difficult to move from thinking about going on a date with someone else to actually doing it? It seems wrong somehow. How did you do it last year?”

Andrew looked at her.

“I didn’t go on any dates with any other women last year at Cambridge. I don’t think Helena went out much here either. She went out a lot during the holidays when she got home.”

“But Andrew, you go out with women all the time.”

Again he looked surprised.

“What on earth makes you think that. Sure I danced with a bunch of women at Cindies on a Tuesday night but as for going out, going on a date, anything like that, nothing at all. In fact, without going into details, other than a single one-night stand at the end of hockey season I was monogamous while I was here.”

Abi looked stunned and eyed him closely.

“But you are so good with women. Everyone just assumed that, that.”

She petered out but Andrew could guess what everyone assumed.

“I am not a bed-hopper. I like to know the women that I am with. Now I am not a saint and never will be but I couldn’t pick up some woman from Girton at Cindies and just bring her back here and then kick her out later that night or in the morning. I suppose I could if I had got to know her, I had walked her back to College a couple of times, something like that. But my main attractor is intelligence and I like to get to know someone first. There was a woman last year, a student at the Art College, who was 6’2” and pretty cute. Given our heights there was an immediate interest but there was no spark, so I didn’t take it any further.”

He shrugged.

“So to bring the conversation back round, I understand why you are having difficulty taking that first step. I didn’t, and I don’t think Helena did either, although I am not sure. But surely it is easier this year, we are in completely different stairs?”

“I know, it is in my head mostly.”

“Have you picked out a couple of candidates?”

Her little half smile was all the answer he needed.

“Well I am away in Edinburgh next weekend, am away at an OTC weekend two weeks after that and then am going back to Edinburgh another two weeks after that. There are three weekends out of the next five. Plenty of time when I am not even here, no chance for awkwardly running it me, or anything like that.”

“I suppose. It is not even as if I am going to drag them back to my room. Like I said it is more the mental aspect of it.”

“Have you talked to anyone else about this?”

“Sure, but Navya is a bigger mess than me, she spent a lot of last year doing exactly what I am trying to do. She is now dealing with the consequences of actually developing feelings for one of them. You know what her family is like.”

Andrew nodded.

“What about your mum? Can you not ask her?”

“That is part of the problem. Mum has not come out and admitted it but I get the sense that beauty contests in the early 1960s were pretty sleazy. I think that is why she fell head over heels for Dad, a nice, normal, decent yet handsome man that treated her like a princess, without being a sleazy scumbag. So her tales are part of my overall standoffishness with men generally. When all you hear at home is be careful they are only after one thing, it is easy to be wary. And then you add Gareth on top of that, it all feels like so much work.”

She squeezed his hand.

“The thing is I am a normal teenage woman and I think about sex all the time. I see some of the guys in the bar, the rowers and the rugby players and I’m like, ‘yes please, I’ll take a double scoop of that to go’. I am attracted to big, strong men, I always have been, so it is not as though there isn’t plenty to look at. It is taking the next step. That is why it is great to have you as this safety net.”

Andrew saw Abi shake her head in the dark.

“That sounds so bad, I don’t mean it like that. I am already antsy about getting back to your room. I am a more than a little sex-obsessed right now.”

“You make that sound like such a bad thing. As the present outlet for your obsession allow me to express my hope that you don’t get over this for, I don’t know, the next three years.”

They laughed as they walked back over to New Court. Their night together was fun and experimental but Andrew also came to understand that for Abi it was more romance and togetherness as opposed to endless fucking until they were exhausted husks. Helena and Suzanne both fucked until they could fuck no more, not all the time, but most of their time together was like that. Already Andrew could tell that Abi was done after a couple of times, it was about hugging and kissing and everything but the physical act. This wasn’t sexual gymnastics, it was something more complete. She had an itch and wanted it scratched but it did not rule her thinking.

The following week was similar to the previous one, studying and his usual three evening activities. Andrew’s volunteering at Addenbrooke’s was going okay, he was plagued by doubts that he was really making much of a difference to the patients there. But a letter had arrived from Mandy Brown talking about which A-levels she was taking and just bubbling with enthusiasm for the coming years. She was impatient to apply to Cambridge at that time the next year. Although it was personal in the sense of talking about herself there was no discussion of her life beyond the classroom. She would talk generically about fitting back in, who was being a bitch, who was nice, but it was high level. What she wrote to Andrew about was her life after senior school, her life beyond Thetford. It was a potent reminder that even if he was unable to connect with anyone else during his time at the ward, Andrew had influenced one person already. But other than that one letter, the rest of the week was very similar to the previous one. He had worked hard and knew that with seven hours of studying on the trains to Edinburgh he was in great shape in all his classes.

Because Andrew had plenty to study, the journey up to Edinburgh passed in no time, he immersed himself in his work and ignored the world. The one thing that was always fascinating was the reaction of the conductor and other passengers when he went to the first-class carriage. Andrew was not scruffy but he was dressed casually and had a very short haircut. Without fail the conductor would make a bee-line for Andrew as soon as he saw him. Andrew rarely said anything but every time he travelled by train he would be checked thoroughly as they were always convinced he was a first-class stowaway.

The flat was cold and empty and looked like it had been unvisited since he left. But Andrew didn’t care, he was in the place less than five minutes, quickly changed then walked along to meet Pete and head into town. Leslie’s admonishment in June had been effective and Andrew had managed to arrange with Pete to go out that night when he arrived. 30 years later this would have taken two texts. Then it was a letter, a response back and a phone call, on a land line as there were no other kinds, just to organise a night out. When there was no other alternative it was what you needed to do.