Chapter 55

Fred nipped back to his house to get his National Insurance number, and I roughly drafted the letter to Mr Johnston giving him the ten names, and confirming that we'd be there on Monday 1st July to take over the caravan and get organised.

As we had all failed to go shopping on the Saturday, the kitchen cupboard was pretty empty. Four of us had tinned spaghetti and a poached egg on toast, while Sian and Malcolm missed out on the spaghetti. They said that they'd eaten so well over the weekend that they were just being sociable by joining us at the table.

After supper, I stayed at the kitchen table and wrote the letter out neatly on a couple of sheets of lined foolscap from my note pad; Julie laughed when she saw my tongue sticking out of the corner of my mouth in concentration.

"I thought you could spell?"

"I CAN spell, my darling, but my very best handwriting takes a lot more effort!"

"Were your love letters to me such hard work as well?"

I laughed. I might as well be honest, and admit how tricky I had found it to put my most intimate thoughts on paper.

"I used up an entire pad of notepaper getting the first one as perfect as I could make it, and none of them have ever been the first or even second draft!"

She smiled, clearly appreciating the fact that I had put quite a lot of effort into my letters. Then she looked mischievous.

"I wonder if the postman might bring me another before the end of term?"

I got the hint.

"I would have thought there's a pretty fair chance of that."

"Oh goodie! I'll leave you alone to finish that one, then."

She kissed me, and left me to my work.

On Monday, I escaped from the Chemistry building at morning tea break and nipped over to the local post office where I bought two first class stamps at three and a half new pence each. One went on a letter to my home town, the other to a certain young lady living in a flat on Richmond Road, Cardiff.

There was an advert on the counter for a forthcoming commemorative issue, a set of four showing historical planes, a ship and a 1930's van as part of the Universal Postal Union centenary. Unfortunately they weren't going to be released until Wednesday, so I couldn't treat Julie to a first day of issue stamp unless I wrote her another letter - which might not be a bad idea, come to think of it, just to surprise her.

I also noticed with dismay several posters pointing out that in two weeks time the first class postage rate would be raised to four and a half pence. Inflation and the cost of living were becoming a worry; this was further evidence that our grant was becoming even more difficult to live on. Thank goodness we had organised a summer job to supplement our grant income!

I got back in time for the start of our next lecture; now that the first year exams were over, our normal lecturers were back in action, completing the syllabus for the second year and trying to pull the different strands together to help us consolidate our learning before the summer holidays.

Prof was brutally honest.

"I know beyond reasonable doubt that none of you are going to give more than a passing thought to this stuff over the next ten weeks, unless you've got a summer job that needs it. There's bugger all point in us teaching you anything new at this stage, but if we can help you retain what you know already until October, it'll make the start of next year much easier all round!"

xxxxxxx

That night, Vee insisted on cooking supper for all six of us. Malcolm, Fred and I were sent to the pub for an hour to get out of their way, and told to bring back a couple of bottles of wine from the off licence.

We returned to the flat on the dot of seven o'clock, to find Friday's two Mateus Rose bottles on the kitchen table holding lit candles, and a prawn cocktail starter already laid out at six places. The girls had clearly been busy!

We opened the two new bottles of wine and sat down; it was quite a squash around the table, but that also gave it a sense of occasion. The prawn cocktail was very good, and the chicken and mushroom casserole with new potatoes and green beans that followed it was excellent. We all praised Vee's cooking - Fred was very complimentary, and Vee glowed as she proved herself as good in the kitchen as in the bedroom.

The tinned pears with evaporated milk for pud were almost an anticlimax; Vee apologised and said that she had been hoping to do strawberries and cream, but that the ones in the market weren't worth having.

Malcolm and I insisted on doing the washing up; Fred nipped over to collect his guitar, and he played to the three girls for an hour or so, finishing when Vee dragged him off to bed.

I met Julie in the Union salad bar for lunch the next day; she'd hurried home in her morning break to see if the postman had been, and I got a VERY affectionate greeting from her - she was delighted with my letter.

On the Wednesday, there was a blood donation session in the Great Hall of the Students' Union - the last chance for them to get a pint from us before the summer long vacation. It hadn't quite been the required four months since we had last given, but the staff didn't make an issue of that; they were quite willing to bend the rules in order to keep stocks healthy, especially as we were young and our bodies would easily replace the lost blood in only a few days.

The letter we'd all received informed us that blood stocks always ran low in the summer because many of the normal workplace donor sessions didn't take place, but also because there was more demand as people were out and about and the accident rate went up.

Malcolm had recently read an article about the lack of progress of Government proposals for making it compulsory to wear a seat belt in a car; from Vee's experience at the New Year we had all learned how much worse injuries could be if you weren't strapped in. Her friend Nia had suffered dreadful scarring after hitting the windscreen, and Vee had been very lucky not to be more seriously hurt herself. We knew that it could all too easily be US in hospital needing blood, so we were more than happy to donate.

It staggered me that Parliament was STILL debating about whether or not to enforce seat belts; there had been enough dithering the previous year about requiring motorcyclists to wear a crash helmet, and it was a good six years since the breathalyser had been introduced to try to reduce the huge number of accidents caused by drinking and driving. Could these blasted short-sighted politicians not see the strength of the evidence?

Mind you, it reminded me of something I'd heard at the British Legion Club after my grandfather's funeral. Apparently, the Army had introduced steel helmets in 1915 because so many soldiers wearing only soft caps were being killed by shrapnel shells bursting over the trenches, and then the brass hats considered withdrawing them, because there were suddenly many more serious head wounds - not understanding that the difference was because men who would have died were in fact now surviving thanks to the steel helmets. It was exactly like that with crash helmets.

Some things never change. Sadly, stupidity in politicians is one of those things.

At breakfast, Vee and Fred said that they'd go over to give blood later in the afternoon; the other four of us agreed to get in early, and then wander into town for a couple of pints of Felinfoel ale to ensure that we didn't get dehydrated.

I discovered when we got to the Union that I'd stupidly left my appointment letter in the flat; so rather than complete the extra paperwork that would be needed before they'd accept my donation, I elected to nip back and fetch it.

I was greeted at the top of the stairs by the sounds of Vee vocally encouraging Fred.

Whoops! They had obviously decided to have sex while the coast was clear, and I'd stumbled on them while they were at it. Vee wouldn't mind me catching them in the act, but Fred might.

Her bedroom door was open, and they weren't in there. I tiptoed to the kitchen, which was empty apart from my letter on the table. I picked it up and moved quietly to the open door of our bedroom, to discover Vee teaching Fred how best to fuck her when she was bent over the back of the sofa.

Sian's door was closed, so I was in deep shadow as I watched from the landing. Vee was lying on her back along the sofa back while Fred held her legs up and ploughed her furrow with his cock. From the sounds she was making, I judged that Vee was clearly thoroughly enjoying it.

After a minute or two, Fred mistimed a thrust and fell out. They both giggled.

"Try from behind, my lover?"

Fred stood back and helped Vee to her feet. They kissed, and then she turned round and bent over the sofa, her genitals wide open to my view.

Gustav had a little wiggle as he saw Vee's pert bottom framing her labia and the dark pink tissue inside; I realised with a pang that this was probably the last time we'd ever see that view. Then Fred returned to his task, and Vee was soon moaning in pleasure as his white buttocks moved rhythmically above her body. I have to say, Fred's hairy bottom was a darn sight less attractive than Vee's!

It was strange to hear Vee's musical mewling as her cunt was filled, when it wasn't actually me doing the filling with Gustav. I'd heard it from a distance on two previous occasions; a year earlier when Vee was helping to teach Adrian how to please a woman, and a few months ago when I'd taken Vee to Clifton for my birthday weekend, and Adrian and I had almost succeeded in fucking her stupid.

I tried to work out whether I was jealous. I was delighted to realise that my overall feeling was one of relief that we had got Vee fixed up with a nice boyfriend whom we all liked, coupled with a delight that she was so happy.

I didn't want to intrude any longer, and I certainly didn't want to get caught watching them. Pausing only to check that I had my little blue cloth-bound booklet of donation certificates as well as the letter, I sneaked back downstairs and off to the Union.