Living Two Lives - Book 10

Chapter 1

That was what Andrew got for not believing in God. She fucked with him just when he thought he could relax with Suzanne for one damn night. He stepped out of the doorway and cautiously reached out to give Ara a hug. It was warmly returned and they both held the embrace for a second more than just friends. She looked as lovely as ever, tall, long straight black hair but there was an air about her, not sad so much as weary.

“What are you doing here Andrew? I mean it is great to see you but I wasn’t expecting to meet you coming out of the local off-licence.”

“I live here now Ara, just along the road there.”

A vague wave could have meant anywhere.

“Are you back up here already?”

“Final year Andrew, I was only home for 10 days or so. I want to get a First and be accepted for a great PhD program so I am putting the hours in.”

There was an awkward lull in the conversation.

“What about you?”

“I am leaving tomorrow, although College doesn’t start for another 10 days. I am staying with friends in Dorset or it might be Hampshire, I need to check, and then in Sussex, maybe. I am not really sure, but I am staying with two different friends in places in southern England.”

He shrugged.

“Em, what are you doing for dinner Andrew?”

“I am getting a takeout.”

“I was going to do the same. Would you like to come over to my place?”

“Go in and get whatever you were here for and I will walk with you. We can talk about it then.”

One minute later Ara was out with a bottle of wine. They started walking down the road, close but not quite touching.

“Ara, you know I would love to spend time with you. But all we end up doing is torturing ourselves. What is the point of rekindling feelings that we know can go nowhere. “

She sighed but didn’t contradict him.

“I know Andrew, I know, it is just.”

Exactly. Andrew didn’t even need to get into the issue of Suzanne waiting at the house. They stopped at the Chinese takeout, placed their orders and waited mostly in silence until they were ready. Andrew walked Ara over to the end of her street.

“I would love to come up and chat with you Ara, you know that. But all that is going to happen is we will end up being unhappy and it will disrupt university. I wish it was not the case but it is so I am going to leave you here.”

There was nothing left to say, she was still the perfect woman. Smart, sexy, vulnerable, brilliant, funny and completely unavailable. With a final long hug Andrew turned away and walked sadly back to his flat. The perfect coda to this utterly confusing holiday. That confusion carried over to the bedroom, it felt wrong to be making passionate love to Suzanne, yet at the same time it felt right, both physically and emotionally. The last week in Edinburgh had been very passionate but also skimming along the surface, there had been no meaningful conversations like they had at the start of the break. One more thing that needed to be resolved. Unsurprisingly Andrew needed to sleep on the train in the morning after a fitful night’s sleep. He was not refreshed when he got to King’s Cross but at least he wasn’t tired and grumpy. Andrew crossed the city to Waterloo, waited 90 minutes for a train on the Saturday service and finally got off at Grateley station in West Hampshire. Nigel lived in the oddly, yet wonderfully, named village of Palestine. He was at the station.

“Does all your mail go the Middle East?”

“Shut up, there is nothing you can say that we haven’t heard a thousand times already. It is like Pedro and the Spanish Armada, just let it go.”

The four nights and three days in west Hampshire were fine. Away from everyone, no insanity around every corner. Nigel and his mum made Andrew feel welcome and it was typical semi-rural England, small village with a pub. There was even a fierce feud with the neighbouring village. Mrs. Black-Gilchrist, ran a cattery of all things using a double length garage at the side of the house with the cat equivalent of a huge chicken run attached at the side. It was noisy during the day but the sound-proofing in the garages was good so it was quiet at night. Andrew did get the sense that Mrs. Black-Gilchrist talked to the cats a lot during term time. It was also good to spend some time with Nigel. From the meeting on the first day they had got on well, although they were not as close as some of the other friendships on the corridor. Nigel came across as quiet and diffident but alone and when talking about comedy and performing he came out of his shell.

“I have done three auditions already without getting a part. Which at the time was disappointing. But I have started to help write some of the reviews. So far it is limited, just an occasional line, a turn of phrase, one of my ideas was used, although it was written by some of the others, but it is a start. Most of the people who perform and have become well known, they have written a lot of material. So I am not discouraged, it feels like an apprenticeship.”

“Do you enjoy performing on stage?”

“Yes, but not in regular plays. That is why I am in Footlights rather than the Amateur Dramatic Club. And the chance to write something that makes people laugh, that really appeals. Ideally, I would be the one on stage delivering the lines, but if it means I have to write, learn what is funny, see what works, and what doesn’t, then I will do that. The quality is so high there, it stops you thinking that life is unfair. Plus when you look at the photos on the wall you put your head down and shut up.”

The alumni of the Footlights Club were a veritable who’s who of British television and film for the last 20 years. Leslie and Julian had mentioned to him they had seen the Footlights during the Festival Fringe in Edinburgh over the summer. They were now a fixture at the Fringe and so Nigel was aiming high with his writing and performing ambitions. But letting Nigel talk through all that meant that Nigel dominated long stretches of Andrew’s time in Hampshire. But after everything that happened in Edinburgh he was fine to play second fiddle, and listen and occasionally comment rather than lead the conversation. It wasn’t all the time but it was good not to be ‘on’. Andrew couldn’t swim and didn’t run far so for him it wasn’t completely a relaxing break. He was still up early, it was too engrained a habit to break, and so he would study for a couple of hours every morning before Nigel faced the day. The three days were perfect, any longer and he would have started to talk to the cats like Nigel’s mother, but it let everything in Edinburgh recede into the background.

On the Wednesday morning Mrs. Black-Gilchrist loaded them into her Volvo estate car, Nigel with a fraction of his term one luggage, and they drove off over to Justin’s parent’s place. They were now in full rural England, in the village of Balcombe in Sussex. It was on the London to Brighton railway and although deep in farm country was mainly a commuter village, as Justin’s dad showed. The three days there were as low key as at Nigel’s. The Adams’ had a lot of space and the three of them spent two days down on the coast annoying each other for fun and generally goofing off. Judy was hardly mentioned at all, they were mature and kind and didn’t bug Justin about her at all. Yeah right.

It was exactly the kind of week that Andrew needed, a holiday after his holiday. Nothing happened, they stayed up late chatting about nothing of consequence, university, the holiday, footie, it was great and he realised that he needed it. Andrew felt recharged and was grateful for the break in his routine and escaping the cumulative baggage of his time in Edinburgh. With them he was Andrew, the Scottish engineering student. His most interesting tale was painting Helena’s dad as a bit of an anti-Scottish bigot. Come Saturday morning they all managed to get into the Adams’ Land Rover and made the two and a half hour journey to Cambridge. This time, being in the front as usual, the journey was a blast. Bill Adams had a fount of interesting tales from his time in the art world and spent the whole journey taking advantage of the fact his wife was not beside him to tell highly amusing tales about sugar daddies buying expensive trinkets for their younger mistresses. Andrew thought Mrs. Adams was entertained as the rest of them but felt she shouldn’t encourage him.

By 1.00 they were all in their rooms, no help needed from anybody this term, and the Adams’ were on their way back to Sussex. The three of them knocked on doors but no one was in, so went to grab a late lunch. Emma, Helena and Abigail were there already but huddled with a bunch of other female students. Andrew waved but didn’t sit with them, there would be plenty time to catch up with them later. He had exercised and run all week but had been unable to swim, so as soon as lunch was over Andrew returned to his room and grabbed his swim gear. Heeding the old dictum of not swimming on a full stomach he slow walked to the pool before swimming for 60 minutes at a steady pace. Andrew could feel it in his arms by the end but it was a good ache. When he got back to his room he left the door open and waited, it was time to have some fun. He was playing Oxygene by Jean-Michel Jarre, just lying on his bed relaxing, his surprise was already on the desk. Sure enough within 10 minutes there was a knock on the door frame and Helena came into the room. Slamming the door behind her she jumped on Andrew and kissed him soundly. He immediately started pulling her shirt up and the kissing stopped in a hurry.

“Andrew!”

“You can’t drape your hot little body all over me like that and expect to keep your clothes on.”

Andrew stood up and pulled his own shirt over his head and started to unbuckle his belt.

“Andrew, stop it, hell now I am all horny you bastard.”

Laughing he pulled Helena in, lifted her up, his hands on her bum and kissed her soundly. The only sound was J-MJ on the boom box. Slowly lowering her to the ground he smiled and picked his shirt up off the floor.

“Did you miss me Helena, all those cold winter nights? Someone to ignite your passions, a warm body to drape yourself over after a torrid, orgasm filled, evening of rampant sex?”

The whacks this time were long and repeated, but he deserved every one of them.

“You are such a shit. There was me feeling bad about the way Dad treated you and what do you do. Leave me needing to go and take a cold shower to calm down.”

Now that the teasing was over they chatted away, talked about the holidays, just babbling away. Suddenly Helena stopped in mid-sentence and looked at his desk. She turned to him before jumping up and grabbing the enlarged picture off the desk. There in full colour was the picture of Andrew with the Duke and Duchess of Roxburghe in front of Floors Castle. There was a comedy sequence as she kept looking at the picture and then at him and then back at the picture as if it would magically transform to someone else. Her laughter was unexpected but contagious. Finally she looked at him but said nothing.

“I met them at a New Year’s Eve party I was invited to. It was comical Helena. I actually had to ask what I was supposed to call her, I had no idea. Jane apparently.”

Helena eyebrows shot up.

“No really. Anyway, through a mutual acquaintance I was invited to visit Floors Castle the following week. I told the story of your dad’s pride in being distantly related to the Duke and it was him that suggested the photo.”

Andrew thought he would tweak her just a little.

“Guy is a nice man.”

That was the last straw.

“Guy! Guy! You didn’t call the Duke of Roxburghe Guy.”

He laughed and held her hands in case more whackings were to be administered.

“No I didn’t call him Guy. Although he did introduce himself as Guy Innes-Ker to me.”

“Alright Andrew, please be serious, how do you know the Duke?”

Andrew could tell he was vexing her immensely.

“Well if you had just taken your clothes off when I asked I would have told you.”

“Andrew!”

“Okay, I’ll stop teasing you. I tutored a girl while I was at school, I got her through an exam she had failed the year before. Her father is a lawyer in Edinburgh and he has always been grateful to me for helping her pass. I ran into him over the holiday and he invited me to his house for a party at New Year. It was a more high class event than I was anticipating. The Duke went to Cambridge, Magdalene, and so invited me down the following week to reminisce. He had a meeting with Jim and I tagged along, got shown round the place, had lunch with them and got my picture taken. Just lucky circumstances Helena.”

Helena looked at Andrew for a long time before ruefully shaking her head.

“Can you imagine what Dad would say if he saw this? Did she really tell you to call her Jane?”

He nodded.

“There was her, a Countess and a Lady, all together. I did have to ask what to address the Duchess and the Countess, I had managed to work out what to call the Lady. That was when she asked me to call her Jane, and the Countess said to call her Fiona. I don’t think I actually used their names I just didn’t drop in as many ‘your graces’ as I should have.”

“I should have come to Edinburgh with you rather than you come to stay with me.”

Andrew had a sudden vision of Helena and Suzanne in his bed together. Under greedy bastard in the dictionary….

“Come on let’s go and get some dinner, I am not going to say anything about meeting the Duke but I don’t care if you share the story. I haven’t told Nigel or Justin.”

Now Helena knew how to hold the floor, and her resolution to not tell the tale lasted about a course and a half. By the time she was done Andrew was sure her dad could have heard their laughter. After dinner he was bombarded with questions, mostly variations on how did he know the Duke.

“I turned up at a party thinking I would show face for a little bit and then head off into town. So I am being dragged round the room being introduced to a bunch of people I don’t know and will never meet again when I come face to face with three women. The wife of a judge, Lady Wylie, the wife of an Earl, the Countess of Inchcape, and the Duchess of Roxburghe. I could hardly turn and run away, could I?”

They all considered that for a second but then continued piling on. It was good natured and if he wasn’t prepared to take shit over it he would not have shown Helena the picture. They stayed in the College Bar all night and it was a night of entertaining stories from the holidays. Andrew’s moment in the sun had passed and he gladly let others recount their tales of glory or woe. There were lots of stories of hook ups with friends from back home who went to different universities. There was a lot of discussion about the relative merits of universities in bigger cities. Leeds, Manchester and the London Colleges all had a solid party reputation. The lack of a music scene at Cambridge was particularly commented on.

After a normal Sunday morning routine Andrew was at Addenbrooke’s at 10.50, nervous despite having been there all the previous term. After five weeks away a lot of the patients were new but there were still some that he recognised. He had a list of chores they wanted help with but then he pushed the trolley with the lunch trays for the orderly and got a chance to say hi to everyone. There was no sit down that first day, too much to do and a lot of the children were tentative. He did not enquire about any of the children, better to think that they all recovered than confront the truth. The only patient Andrew asked about was the son of the guy he recognised from Peggy’s Café, Ron. There was a chance he would run into him and wanted to make sure he didn’t put his foot in it.

“He made it through Christmas and New Year, he was a fighter that one, but I am afraid he passed away on Friday. We got word from the hospice.”

Andrew lowered his head and saw the father’s face.

“Why him Andrew?”

“I see his father in town a lot of mornings, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t say the wrong thing. Thank you for letting me know.”

Other than calling his Grandma from the library it was a quiet afternoon there. Nobody was around for dinner so Andrew ended up sitting with three post grads and letting them do the majority of the talking. Sitting with them made him realise that he learned a lot from these evenings. Now he didn’t have any need to know the mating habits of Arctic Tern or some such thing but it was an interesting insight into what was being researched there at the College. He had found out about the beach at Morar from one such evening. The bar was in full swing when Andrew went past but after the week with Nigel and Justin and the previous night he was done for a few days. By the time the course resumed on Thursday he felt like he knew the material. Andrew knew he would do well with the Maths and especially the Computer Science so was feeling confident as the next term of labs and lectures started.

On the Tuesday night Helena had come over to his room and they had spent the night in bed, chatting away while recovering. Helena had put the moves on a couple of ex-boyfriends over the break with limited success according to her dismissive chat. As Leslie had said five years earlier, guys are happy to stick their dick in a woman’s mouth but most of them were unwilling to return the favour. It amazed Andrew and he could not understand the reluctance. To lie between a woman’s thighs, lapping away at her juices was intoxicating to him. It is such a physical act, the arse, the legs, the hips, the stomach, the pussy itself, all are involved in the act of eating a woman. To have woman, back arched, thighs crushing his head, was such an intimate act. Due to his height regular sex with either partner on top often made it impossible for Andrew to kiss the woman. So while most people would consider fucking someone more of an intimate act than eating them, he always found the latter much more intimate. Helena was tasted twice that evening, the first time as part of their usual foreplay but the second time was an exercise in teasing and frustration for her. Andrew worked to bring Helena right to the boil without ever giving her that needed release. When his fingers attacked her g-spot relentlessly she screamed into the pillow before pushing him away to recover. When they were finally done and the second condom was tied and in the trash can Helena lay with her back to him, head in the crook of his arm and his other hand holding her breast. The final words of the night from both of them were ‘Hmmm’.

The contrast to the previous evening could not have been starker the next day, a cold miserable Wednesday morning. When Andrew had gone to the café on the Monday morning he overheard several of Ron’s co-workers talking about the news of his son’s death and that the funeral was on the Wednesday. Andrew didn’t know why he thought he should go, he was not religious and didn’t know the family. He would not go to any wake afterwards, but it just seemed the right thing to do. It was the day before classes started and so he went. The only other funeral Andrew had ever been at was Faith’s very nearly five years earlier. The church was busy but not full and he was able to sit in the back corner, out of the way, trying to be unobtrusive, always a lost cause at his height. The service dragged on, speaking for himself the minister brought Andrew no comfort, but at a time like that maybe it was what they needed. The family followed the coffin out and then the rest of the mourners filed out into a cold winter’s day. As Andrew walked back to College he found he was able to distance himself from the situation, and he don’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing; but it was a necessary thing. That evening as the team warmed up he told them what his tutor had mentioned before the break.

“Really, I know a couple of girls at Newnham and they know about our toast, they just think we are idiots.”

“Yes, but the Principal of the College thinks we are being sexist, she has complained to the Master.”

“He is not going to send us to the Dean over a stupid comment, is he?”

The Dean was in charge of discipline.

“Dr. Wakefield said we should try and take the sting out of it before it gets worse. Offer to play a charity match against them, men against women.”

The following 10 minutes were an interesting insight into the psyche of the average British male. There was overconfident bluster ‘we will crush them, we are men they are women’ sort of thing, there were those who were worried about the consequences ‘what if we lose to a bunch of women’, and there was a lot of general chat about everyone needing to get a sense of humour. The coach had kept quiet just letting them talk this through.

“I have told Wakefield I will apologise to the Principal, it was me that came up with the phrase, but why not have some fun with this? The Master has also had complaints about our attitude and conduct from some of the Colleges, we have a good laugh, don’t take the game or ourselves too seriously. Let’s set up the match, winner pays for dinner and have a fun day. What do we care? The firsts will give us shit but when does that matter?

“Maybe we can offer to rub ointment on their bruises after the game?”

With that classy comment the training session started and Zach, the guy with friends at Newnham, was tasked with organising the event. That lasted three days before both Colleges got involved and it became a big production. But that first week they were just trying to get the whole thing to blow over.

Life in second term was much busier than in term one mostly due to the OTC. Term one was tame compared to the expectations of term two. It was a continuation of the basic training from term one, there was drill, just in case they had forgotten how to march, evenings on radio procedures, map reading, weapon maintenance and cleaning as well as marksmanship, first aid, camouflage, everything. Andrew struggled at times to remember all of the courses that were crammed into the term. There was an underlying emphasis on leadership and command but that was to be the main focus of training in second year and thereafter. The Army wanted them as at least competent soldiers before allowing them to proceed to that training. The term one activities had been at the TA Centre, other than the weekend at Salisbury Plain, whereas now they were to be assessed putting that training into action. Initially Andrew thought that there would be only one weekend of training but as it turned out there were four scheduled. To qualify for the leadership training first they had to demonstrate military competence which meant there was lots of weekends scheduled in a large training area in Norfolk, roughly 50 miles away. So Andrew was going to miss half the hockey games and have to reschedule a lot of volunteering.

Andrew tried to slot all the pieces of his life together at the end of the first week. With all the OTC weekends he was missing four of the nine weekends of term. The ninth was technically the weekend after classes finished but was the fourth and final of the training weekends. The hockey was not too big a deal, the team had a pool of players and it was more of a personal disappointment rather than letting the team down. He couldn’t get out of the Newnham game so it would have to be scheduled for one of the non-OTC weekends. His bigger dilemma was the hospital. Four times through the term he would be away from 6.00 on Friday night to 6.00 on Sunday night, wrecking the routine at the hospital. The solution was staring him in the face but it took time to realise it. Andrew ended up going to the hospital after classes on a Monday night, 5.30 to 8.30 for the whole term. It worked well and it ended up being the regular night for the remainder of his time at university, the subsequent years were going to be no different. It was less time but Monday’s were quiet at College and Andrew had often stayed and studied late anyway. Suddenly the week seemed overscheduled again, all through Andrew’s own doing. Addenbrooke’s, OTC and hockey, filled the evenings at the start of the week. But they were all things he wanted to do and got enjoyment from. So the first weekend at Addenbrooke’s was also his last and he switched to the Monday night.

The first full week of classes calmed any concerns Andrew had about keeping up with the coursework. He was read up on all the subjects as the term started and with the brilliant Olivia keeping him, Keith and Matt from screwing up in lab he was doing well academically. Andrew was always ready for Supervisions and was generally the annoying geek who had everything done. But he was also not one to shout from the rooftops so worked hard and kept his head down. This was the real, original Andrew, happy to be doing well but also quiet and shy about it. It was why everything with the money back in Edinburgh was so jarring, it was just not his nature to be in the limelight. The different supervisors knew he was doing well, and they were all doing well at labs, running hard just to try and keep up with Olivia, but other than that he was just the tall Scots bloke to most people on the course. They had finished morning labs and the four of them were squashed round a table eating lunch before afternoon lectures, talking about how the course was going. Andrew and Matt tried to stay away from course talk when they saw each other in the College or at OTC. It was Olivia who brought it up.

“Are you finding the course as hard as you thought?”

It was a leading question and they looked at her suspiciously.

“What? I am finding the volume a challenge and I wanted to know how you guys are doing. I understand everything and am doing okay but the volume of material and the speed with which we go through it is stressing me.”

Keith nodded.

“I know what you mean, they go from A to C, or D or E on some subjects and B is barely mentioned. There is an assumption that you instinctively get it or you need to work it out yourself. You are right, when I sit down and review it, re-read the text, do the examples, it all makes sense but that can be three hours from one lecture. The volume of material is the challenge.”

“Do most people feel this way?”

Andrew was interested how everyone else on the course was feeling. Keith again nodded.

“There are two other guys on the course at College.”

Keith was at Downing.

“We all talked about it at the weekend over brunch. I think I should have done more over the break and they were the same. I wish the first term stuff was more solidly in here.”

He tapped his head. Matt finally spoke.

“I think Olivia is on to something, there is an air about the place this term different than last term. Almost as if a realisation has suddenly sunk in that the pace is not slowing down.”

Olivia looked at Andrew.

“You haven’t said much Andrew; do you not feel it too?”

“I am bad at these signs, or social cues. I worry that I am not studying hard enough but I rarely think about how everyone else is doing.”

“Andrew, you study more than anyone else on the course.”

Matt sounded aggrieved. Andrew shrugged.

“It is how I feel Matt, that there is always something else that I need to look at or revise. I know that I study a lot but it is how I cope with this place.”

Keith look at him closely.

“How many hours do you work on Engineering a week Andrew? Including all the classes and labs.”

Andrew thought about his weeks last term.

“Em, about 50.”

Matt exploded.

“50!”

“Stop shouting Matt. Fucks sake.”

“Andrew, how are you working 50 hours a week on the course?”

“Matt, calm down. I am here all week 9.00 until 6.00 so there is 40, if you factor in lunch, and then I do about 10 hours in the evenings or weekend. You make me sound like a freak.”

That make them stop and think. They had classes 9.00 until noon and 1.00 until 4.00, sometimes 5.00 four days a week, so they were all doing nearly 30 hours right there. With some studying they were probably doing 35 hours a week.

“So the extra time is staying after class or lab and coming down here on the off day?”

Andrew nodded at Olivia’s question. He could see her competiveness showing through.

“Okay, I can see that it is the off day that makes the most difference. Being an engineering student is like a job for you, isn’t it?”

It was a way of looking at it. Andrew just thought he was a geek who liked to study. Later, they were in the main lecture theatre between lectures and Olivia turned to him.

“Can I study with you here on the off day?”

“Sure. You don’t have to even ask. After all the help with the labs, of course you can.”

She smiled and then flipped the topics completely.

“I hear there is a charity hockey match between Trinity 2^nds and our 1^st team.”

He looked at her.

“It is common knowledge already?”

“Oh yes, the match was discussed a lot over the weekend during meals. The team is determined to beat you. They want to kick your arse.”

The way she said it in her sexy French accent made him smile.

“You are that confident?”

She misunderstood the smile.

“No. Hell we are going to get stuffed at the game. I was smiling at the way you said ‘keeck your arse’. Sometimes your French accent makes even threats sound sexy.”

She blushed but smiled.

“Stop it. You make me blush.”

“What will you do? Keeck my arse?”

Andrew really did like getting hit by women.

“Enough, back to the game. You think we will win.”

Andrew didn’t know whether this was Newnham ‘we’ or all women ‘we’.

“Honestly, I have no idea. My guess is it is going to be skill and speed versus strength. I have not watched any College games, we are always playing at the same time, so I don’t know. It will be fun, most of the guys are looking forward to it. I think the fact we have no idea how we will do is helping. If we knew we were going to get a shoeing then it would be different. A couple of the guys think it will be a breeze, but most of us know it will likely be close. But like I said, it could be a shoeing. Hell, the whole thing is my fault for making the damn phrase up anyway.”

“Really?”

She looked disappointed.

“Yeah but it was it was meant in the sense of we would never play you rather than being beaten by women. We were walking back from the tryouts talking about the teams, would there be a 3^rd eleven, why we were there, all that sort of thing. Most of us were there to have fun, not take it too seriously, so I piped up something like ‘I wanted to have fun and not worry about whether Newnham are beating us 4-0’. It was a joke in that was one team we wouldn’t have to face. If I said St. John’s half the guys would have disagreed. It sort of grew from there.”

“A lot of the College is mad, yet another example of a sexist attitude, women are second best, all that sort of thing.”

“Well I am the person who said the damn phrase first and I didn’t mean it that way. But I also can see where the anger is coming from.”

Andrew thought about all the fuss over his perceived actions at the Hogmanay party.

“You can tell them I didn’t mean it that way but it will probably not do any good. I am just another idiot sexist man.”

If there was such a thing as a rueful shrug he attempted it. After classes finished Andrew headed off to Addenbrooke’s for his Monday night shift. It was different, the energy level was lower, it was dark outside which didn’t help and he hadn’t yet made that spark of connection with any of the patients. He helped around the ward and talked to several of the children and a couple of parents but it felt flat. On the way home he had to accept that there would be many nights like that. He was doing it for the patients not for himself and so if it was less personal then that was all right. Trying too hard would not make it better.

Andrew walked back from the hospital and once back into the centre of town, only a couple of blocks from College, he remembered to mail all his letters. He had written a letter to his parents, surreal in a way as he ignored the elephant in the room and just talked about life at College, including the week in the south with Nigel and Justin. Maybe not extending the olive branch quite yet but at least showing them where the olive tree was planted. Andrew also sent a short letter to Mandy, inside a letter to her mother. Mandy could communicate directly to him if she wanted but he felt way more comfortable going through her mother. There was an ickiness factor that wouldn’t go away. The following morning Andrew was eating his bowl of soup on his own as usual when Peggy sat down opposite him.

“Why were you at the funeral of Ron’s son?”

It was not completely accusatory but there was suspicious interest. Andrew looked at her weighing his response.

“I volunteer at Addenbrooke’s and I met him and his wife there. I met his son one time.”

“He had cancer.”

Andrew nodded, he knew this.

“You volunteer on the cancer ward?”

“Yes. One evening a week I volunteer on the children’s cancer ward.”

Someone came to the counter so she had to get up and it allowed him to finish the soup and escape. He was sure there would be further questions but again if he wanted to avoid questions then he would not have been at the church the previous week.

OTC that night was all about the 7 ‘P’s not that the officers called it that but once the cadets were with the corporals and sergeants they explained ‘prior preparation and planning prevents a piss-poor performance’. The cadets all laughed appropriately but it was how Andrew lived his life; school and now university were no different. Although not all parts of his life, as the various encounters with women were much more spontaneous. So the rest of the evening was spent planning their weekend jolly in the wilds of Norfolk. This was going to be Otterburn all over again. 10.40 saw them standing in Cindies, various short people glaring at him for getting served well out of turn. But Andrew had been there sufficiently that he knew the barman’s name, Dean, and Dean knew Andrew was good for a couple of quid. Four beers were handed over and the short and the cheap were left fuming in his wake. One of these days Andrew was going to get in a fight over it but not that day. Jack, all 5’8” of him, hated Andrew most of all for this trick. Not enough to turn down the booze but still.

“I hate tall fucks like you that pull that shit.”

Andrew shrugged.

“Give me the beer back then.”

He laughed.

“Okay so hate was strong.”

Jack turned his attention to the dance floor.

“What is the plan?”

He had a Pedro-like eternal optimism.

“You are going to chat to women well out of your league, get the bum’s rush and spend the night standing here bitching about it.”

Ouch, Rollie skewered him good.

“Fuck you.”

Devastating comeback.

“Do you remember the night Mac had all those Art School women come over?”

He got no further as he had to dance back to avoid a punch to the arm.

“Fuck, are you ever going to shut up about that night?”

“No.”

The three of them chorused as one.

“I don’t know why I hang out with you wankers, I really don’t?”

Andrew was pretty sure that was how they were going to start their nights at Cindies for the whole year. He spotted Olivia out on the dance floor and waved, it was rare to see her out. Judy and Justin were still all loved up and they waved as well. Jack, never one to let weeks of rejection stop him trying again, sometimes with the same woman, headed off on a mission to experience misery once again. Rollie and Matt headed over to talk to some of the Art School women and Andrew stood off to the side, trying to look inconspicuous and failing. Olivia headed over with two other women, neither of whom looked happy to see him.

“Andrew, I thought I would introduce two of your opponents.”

Aaah. This was going to be interesting.

“Hello.”

No point in wasting time if they were there to hate him. Let’s get it over with.

“Andrew, this is Ruth and Imogen, who are both on the team. This is Andrew, the originator of the toast and a surprisingly nice guy despite that.”

Ruth and Imogen were 3^rd years and on the Newnham hockey team. They had been sent as the advance scouts to recce the misogynistic and sexist gits from Trinity. Well that’s what it looked like to Andrew. They in turn appraised him before finally Ruth spoke.

“Olivia says you are not an arrogant sexist bastard.”

Well that gauntlet just bruised his toes. He was at a loss as to how to proceed. He figured that they were not going to change their minds, and laughing at them was unlikely to help. He shrugged.

“I am a man, and prone to bouts of stupidity. I am not sure I can say anything that will lessen your anger or change your mind.”

“Try.”

Andrew snorted at the abruptness and the absurdity of the location for this talk.

“Sure, but I am not doing it in Cindies at 11.00 on Tuesday night. I will walk back with Olivia, assuming she is still speaking to me, on Thursday after class. 6.15 at the gate of your College and I will talk to you then.”

After a second or two they walked off, who knows what going through their heads? They were going to hate him whatever he said so it might as well not have to shout over ABBA while doing it. Olivia looked at him.

“I will still speak to you. See you tomorrow.”

Andrew really should have been a better friend to Jack and been his wingman. Safety in numbers and all that. At hockey practice on Wednesday he told the tale from the previous evening to much mocking.

“Tell them to fuck off Andrew. Christ all this political correctness bullshit really gets on my nerves.”

The contribution from the enlightened part of the team.

“If it was just the team it would be one thing, but their Principal is involved. Trinity only admitted women, what five years ago? They think we are being sexist. I don’t want to get hauled up in front of the Dean for something that was not meant to be offensive.”

That was the issue, the Colleges were involved now. If Andrew had to eat some crow to dampen this down then he would do so. That was why he was going to Newnham. There was lots of murmurings and chat that night about the issue but the underlying worry about the College getting involved and worse, the Dean, rather dampened the mood. Thursday rather dragged on, but he and Olivia left the department at 6.00 and walked west towards Newnham. Andrew came to realise that he had walked most of the route on the way to the Library from Addenbrooke’s on a Sunday but had not gone down the road that led to Newnham. When they got to the College Gate Imogen was waiting.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Olivia sounded concerned.

“No, probably best that you stay out of this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Andrew walked over to Imogen and after a desultory greeting followed her to a building at the back of the College where there was a small meeting room. Ruth and three other people were there. Into the Lion’s Den. Did Andrew convince them, probably not? There was just too much sexism and sexist comments at the University at that time for them to believe that it was not an intentional slight. At a certain level he understood them. The only thing that brought them up short and really ended the fight was the coaching.

“You coached women’s hockey at school?”

“Yes, for the last two years.”

“You have to be qualified, even at schools.”

This was the first contribution from the one older lady in the room.

“I am qualified. I did the Level 1 course when I was 16 and the Level 2 course last September.”

Everything rather petered out after that. Andrew just wasn’t the sexist Neanderthal they were ready for and the heat left the fight. Andrew took that as the point to leave and figured it had gone as well as possible, he had managed to escape alive and intact. The rest was going to be settled on the hockey pitch. Olivia, on the other hand, seemed to come out of her shell over this issue. The next day she was holding court with Matt, Keith and Andrew talking about the meeting the previous night.

“It is funny, they are mad at you for a different reason now. They wanted you to say and do stupid things at the meeting so that they could be proved right. Instead you turned up there on your own, sat with them for 30 minutes, were nice, told them stuff they had no idea about and generally charmed them. You must have been discussed for at least an hour last night after you left. Half the College knows about you now.”

As Andrew held his head in his hands his so called friends’ cruel laughter rang around him.

“I think you might get a couple of dates out of this Andrew. You were described as hunky.”

Even he had to laugh at this point. Quiet, dour Olivia was toying with him like a well-fed cat toys with a mouse.

“It will never happen. She would be drummed out of the College, consorting with the enemy.”

Matt, being the kind soul that he was, told the tale at dinner to much amusement all round.

“What are you going to do when you lose to them 6-0?”

This was Navya of course.

“Are you going to change your toast? Remember we beat them 2-1 last term.”

Somehow, Andrew had become the public face of this debacle. Later that night as they were standing around in the bar, Pedro, who had drunk a fair bit by then, came up to him.

“How are you taking this all lying down? Where is your pride? Your machismo?”

He used the Spanish word. Andrew couldn’t tell if he was angry, upset, confused, or all three. Pedro was a decent bloke. A bit of a perv and always chasing women but he didn’t cross the line. He was friends with all four of the women in the corridor and didn’t have an attitude of ‘I am better than you just because I am a man’. In Cambridge in 1984 there was a lot of that about. But Pedro wasn’t one of those complete tossers. This however, was throwing him and he seemed to think that Andrew was acting like a gelding.

“Pedro, the Master got a call about this from the Principal of Newnham. This could have been a big deal, and on the front page of Stop Press. Think about it, I went to the College, met several of the team, took most of the heat out of the issue and now according to Olivia, my lab partner, I am going to get dates out of it. How is this a bad thing?”

The way to reason with Pedro on all things was to mention the potential for meeting women. Andrew could see the gears in his head turning as he thought about this. Suddenly he smiled.

“So if I was there to support my friend at the match where there will be lots of ladies from Newnham then.”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence he just smiled and then looked at Andrew.

“I swear Andrew, when we go out in Ferrol, we are going to have a lot of fun.”

Andrew laughed, wondering exactly how many women Pedro’s mum would be happy with them bringing back to the family home. Let the man dream.

 

Chapter 2

Andrew knew looking at his life that it came across as without conflict, both in the way that he walked away from a lot of conflict but also somehow skated through life without a care in the world. The first was true, the remnants of old Andrew maybe, as he tended not to get into conflict but rather walk away from it. What started as a way to deal with Rowan had become his default approach. Thinking about Rowan and the family, he was having doubts about that course of action after his trip home to Edinburgh, but he also never went looking for a fight. Other than his teenage trouble with authority figures, and he thought most of that was justified, Andrew tended to be even-keeled. He knew he had a temper but it was only over two or three very specific things, Faith and Leslie before, and probably Suzanne now as well. He also wasn’t marked, at least not yet. He was not a loud mouth or a braggart, and also wasn’t a brown nose either. Both OTC and hockey were large groups of guys, the group that Andrew had issues dealing with while at school, so he tried to stay part of the group and not stand out. He thought he was doing better at that at OTC than at hockey, given the issues with Newnham. But Andrew did remember about the bloke Billy at his first Royal Engineer’s camp at Chatham, who decided to be the big man in the barracks and kept picking at him. It took Andrew breaking his nose a couple of days later to get him off his back. That camp had cadets who were going to enlist as regular soldiers as well as people like Andrew who were going to be an officer if they were commissioned, two very different groups, mindsets and experiences. The ‘O’ of the OTC rather gave it away, but now within the OTC there were all sorts of different groups, dynamics and cliques. Different than that camp obviously but distinct now the less. There were four or five groups maybe, probably more. The wannabe warriors, the self-assured toffs, the drinkers, the shaggers and the rest. There may have been more.

The wannabe warriors thought they were in the fucking SAS. Ever since the Iran Embassy siege which had been shown on live TV, SAS troopers abseiling down the building, blowing in the windows and entering guns blazing, everyone wanted to be part of the SAS. The self-assured toffs, although a small group, were loud and obnoxious. Everything bad about private schools, money and privilege distilled down into a group of tossers. The thing that stood out with them, at least to Andrew’s eyes, was the assumed superiority, the assumed right to lead, even when they were useless gits. The drinkers were unsurprisingly in the OTC for the money, remember the cadets were paid to undertake this training, and used the OTC to subside their social life. The British Army had a ferocious drinking culture and being able to function after 8 pints was a sign of a ‘real man’. Dead by 50 from cirrhosis but a real man. The shaggers, just like the drinkers, used the OTC for their own purposes, in this case attracting the percentage of the female population who are attracted to a man in uniform. They were also full of it and acted like wannabe warriors with their exaggerated exploits. The rest of the Company, did it for a bunch of reasons, everyone was probably slightly different. For a lot of them it was keeping options open, most likely for a reserve role but potentially for Sandhurst. The woman’s platoon, they were mainly employed keeping the permanent staff at a safe distance. Just like with Trinity College, women had not been at Sandhurst for long, less than 10 years, and the British Army were still unsure how to deal with them. All the pseudo-scientific guff about unit cohesion was keeping the two sexes pretty segregated.

Now Jack was a borderline shagger, but would have been kicked out that group because he was so crap at it. The other three of them were low key about life, hell Rollie’s dad was a general, he sounded posher than the queen and he could have fitted into the toffs group but instead he was really low-key and wanted to get ahead in life through his own achievements not his dad’s name. Bullies picked on the odd person out, the person out with the group and because the four of them looked out for each other they were left alone. Sure the entire company called him Jock, but it was universal in the Army and was just shorthand. Although oddly Andrew’s three friends called him Mac, Jack’s nickname having stuck.

The first training weekend in the field was about as you would expect. It was January, cold and wet with the ground frozen in the morning. That part of England was a notorious frost hollow, resulting in significantly colder ground temperatures than the surrounding area. The obvious place for the Army to make them camp. The first two training weekends were a jumble of different tasks and skills but there was field craft, hygiene, first aid and map reading covered over the two weekends. This meant the group could assemble a tent, make a fire, dig a toilet and figure out where the hell they were. It was embarrassing how crap they were at some of these basics. Still over the four nights they got themselves organised. Andrew had dug latrines several times at Royal Engineer camps and so knew that part and with minimal fuck ups they passed these first two weekends. Everyone passed eventually, Andrew and his group of friends just weren’t beasted as much as some of the others. Again, just quiet competence. Don’t be a tosser, respect the NCOs and don’t be a nail. Let the hammer fall on someone else. The 2^nd and 3^rd year cadets were having fun being shouty at some of the guys but Andrew wasn’t sure that they were doing themselves any favours. One of the things that he had all four of them do was watch the permanent staff instructors when they had a chance. They were never going to come out and be all warm and fuzzy with you but if you watched them you could tell the behaviour that met with their approval and the kind of thing that raised eyebrows, made them roll their eyes and start the beastings. It was Darwinian, they learned not just from their own mistakes but from those of the other groups.

Back at the TA Centre they got the results, were called crap and pathetic so they didn’t get too full of themselves and were dismissed. A kit bag of wet, smelly, smoky clothes now needed to be dealt with, and quickly, as they were back on parade Tuesday night. Returning to Trinity, the vaguely pacifistic outlook of most of the students meant that the weekends away ‘playing soldiers’ were generally not commented on. Only Pedro expressed an interest and that tended to be when he and Andrew were alone. It wasn’t quite as isolating as being a South African but it was not favourably looked on either. So Sunday nights after exercise Andrew would be down in the laundry cleaning his kit in preparation for Tuesday.

But thoughts about parade were wiped away by an emotional mess of a week. It started fine but as Andrew came out of the swimming pool he was face to face with Ron. Andrew had no idea what to say or what to do.

“Let’s talk as we walk to the café.”

Andrew nodded.

“Okay.”

Finally Ron started to talk.

“Why did you come?”

Andrew presumed he meant the funeral.

“I felt I should but I don’t know if I could explain why.”

“I never saw you, the day is just a blank mostly, but a couple of guys on the crew told me that you were there, at the back of the church.”

Andrew waited.

“How do you do it? Go there every week?”

Ron had stopped walking and was looking at him.

“Ron, last Thursday was the five year anniversary of finding out I beat cancer. It was also the day that the girl in the bed next to me found out that her bone marrow transplant had not worked. She was dead 10 days later.”

Ron flinched visibly in front of him.

“It took me until last September to face this, nearly five years.”

Andrew started walking again and Ron walked beside him. Ron’ questions were not about Andrew, it was a middle aged council worker trying to figure out how to face the rest of his life. They kept walking in silence until they approached the café.

“You are alright for a gownie Andrew, you know that.”

High praise indeed. When they entered Peggy’s Ron walked over to the rest of the crew at their normal table and Andrew got his bowl of soup and sat on his own as usual. Peggy watched him but never came over. Andrew was out of there quickly to get back to College in time. He thought about Ron on and off all day, Brian and Mary had a second daughter into which they could pour their love, and he knew that he had been a helpful distraction, especially for Brian that first year. Andrew only hoped that Ron and Dot had the something similar for them. His third day, and second Monday night, at Addenbrooke’s was still quiet and slow-going. There was less energy and although he spoke to a few children, and spent some time with one or two parents, that spark of connection from the autumn was missing.

OTC that term had no nights off, an easy evening where there was less focus and some goofing off. The training syllabus needed to be gone through and so by 10.10 they were weary after a long day at the department followed by three hours of being told they were ‘fucking useless’ by the permanent staff. Now they weren’t wrong, but still. Did that stop them going to Cindies? Exactly. Andrew’s tall guy, jumping the queue trick was getting people seriously pissed off at him, but they had their beers, he had got the first round in and it was someone else’s problem for the rest of the night. Rollie and Andrew stood and scoped the place out as Jack dragged Matt off to be his wingman.

“The eternal optimist, our Jack.”

Wise words from Rollie.

“Would he know what to do if he actually scored?”

It was partly a dig at him but there was an undercurrent of ‘does he have any idea what he is doing?’. Rollie snorted beer out his nose, always a classy move that impresses the ladies.

“Shit Mac, not while I am trying to drink.”

Once he cleaned up Rollie looked at him.

“You know, now that you mention it, has he scored?”

Poor Jack was going to cop it in the neck when he got back. Rollie and Andrew split up and went for a wander through the place, just to see who they knew. Andrew was a lazy shit because he was always spotted but that night he wandered round, saw a few people he recognised but no one to stop and try to chat to. Then Andrew saw Rupashi standing with a couple of other girls, shrugged and thought ‘why not?’. Trying to make small talk in a nightclub is the height of stupidity. Both of the girls with Rupashi were called Susan, there was a lot of Susan’s around at that time, and all three were law students though at different Colleges. Rupashi was quiet at the start but once they were out on the dance floor seemed to relax and warm up. One song quickly became seven or eight and the night passed in a flash. The two Susans had left so they grabbed their coats and headed home. There was no long and winding path that night, it was too miserable for that so they headed past Christ’s and Sidney Sussex on the direct route back to Jesus College.

“Would you like to go out for dinner on Friday night?”

Andrew ventured, entirely unsure about her response. Rupashi looked up at him as they walked and considered her reply.

“Okay, I think that is a good idea. We haven’t really talked much. Where?”

“It is only a five minute walk so why don’t I meet you at your front gate 6.30 and we can decide on food then?”

Rupashi looked like she was warming to the idea and nodded with a nice smile. When they got to her College she was off with a hug and a peck on the cheek. As Andrew was walking back to College he wondered how long it would take for Navya to find out. Hockey on Wednesday night was the most fun and relaxed they had been all term, the issue with Newnham seemed to have been weighing them down. That night the coach started the practice with the good news that the match was set for Saturday March 1^st but even more importantly the Principal of Newnham had dropped any formal complaints.

“Did you know their coach was at that meeting last week McLeod?”

He looked surprised.

“Not a clue, was she the older lady in the corner? I thought she was a post-doc or someone like that?”

“She is, but she is also the coach. You evidently made a sufficient impression that she went to the Principal and told her that it was not another sexist Trinity attack but just some stupid boys.”

“Well that’s all right then!”

They all laughed but the distant but worrying thought of College discipline was now removed. As a result the team drove the coach to despair as nobody was trying at all at practice. Penalty push ups and runs round the field were the price they paid but nobody cared. After practice, those of them over at the main College buildings were walking back and the match itself was discussed.

“How do you think we will do?”

This was the question of the evening. Several of the guys had taken the time to watch the women’s team. Trinity’s womens’ team had beaten Newnham 2-1 so the scouting was to see how the 2^nd team would do against the women’s team.

Zach piped up.

“When I have watched the women they are quick and agile. They rely heavily on two or three good players, everything goes through them. But nobody has any size. I think all of us are bigger and heavier than anyone on the team and that’s before bigmouth over there.”

He meant Andrew.

“Are they faster than us Zach?”

“Hard to tell, but they just seem more nimble, able to dance about more. None of us are great stick handlers but on one on one wing play I think they will struggle with our size. We should be able to hold them off without too much difficulty. The other thing will be the ref. If we go in for 50:50 balls then we should win most of the time, but the ref might call us for it. You know how some of them love to hear the sound of the whistle, like we all came out to watch them.”

A common and popular gripe was whistle happy refs that spoiled the flow of the game. All St. John’s graduates of course. It was interesting to see how the team was now taking the match seriously. Two guys had dropped out of the team because they were upset about having to play a match against the women, and opinion around the College was divided, with a vocal minority bitching about the whole concept. That went back to the issue of conflict and how Andrew dealt with it. He tuned out most of the noise from the Neanderthals, it was there and as with all hassle and abuse at the time was expressed in sexism and homophobia. After years at school there was nothing left for them to say but some of the others on the team were intimidated by the comments. Andrew, he was looking forward to finding out if Olivia was right and whether he was going to get any dates out of this. Yes, he was that shallow.

Come Friday night Andrew was ready to escape the College and his coursework for an evening. The atmosphere at the department had become much more serious as the weeks passed and although he was well prepared, had read well ahead and was still cruising through the Supervisions, you could not help but start to feel the increase in pressure. Again, the trait of fitting in, but standing out meant that Andrew knew he was in good shape, most importantly mentally and psychologically, but the pick-up in intensity was noticeable. All that was behind him for the night as he walked across to Jesus College. Andrew didn’t think Rupashi had told her sister as there had been no subtle or not so subtle comments to him. They both arrived on time and he let Rupashi choose the restaurant.

“Would it be terrible if we went for Indian food? They never serve it in the College.”

Given that Andrew was a huge curry fan this was far from terrible so 15 minutes later they were in the ‘fancier’ of the two curry houses in the centre of town. After a few minutes of catching up and idle chit chat the talk turned to them.

“Why did you ask me out Andrew?”

“You are my friend and I hadn’t seen you in quite a while.”

“I am 21 and will be graduating, hopefully, in five months.”

Factual but not the issue.

“I am 18 and will be graduating in” he paused for a second to do the maths. “41 months. So?”

“Stop being obtuse. You are younger and not Indian.”

“You are older and Indian, so?”

“Andrew!”

“Okay, I’ll stop being such a shit. Look, you are intelligent and pretty. You are the sister of a good friend and I enjoy your company. We are at different stages of our life but right now we are both at Cambridge.”

“Do you think it is as easy as that?”

“Why not? Listen, I am out on a Tuesday night at Cindies for a couple hours but other than that I study all week. This is not a relationship this is a friendship and going out every now and again. Relaxing and having fun. If all I am doing is making you tense then we should just call this off right now. But going out every couple of weeks on a Friday night, relaxing, chatting and flirting away, what’s the harm?”

“You would flirt with me?”

“Rupashi, of course I am going to flirt with you. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, I am not made of stone. The fact that I like older women and have a thing for Indian women is just a bonus.”

Andrew smiled his most winning smile. She looked at him with a slightly stunned expression on her face. He waited.

“Navya is right, you are a dangerous one Andrew McLeod.”

Interesting observation. She sighed a huge sigh.

“I like you too but I have never gone out with a white guy before. I have not gone out with many guys full stop. The problem is Mum and Dad and the community back home. The traditional way of arranged marriages is still common and it is causing conflict within the younger generation. My parents are trying to be supportive but when there are grandparents and other family involved it all starts to get messy. They would support a love match, meaning a marriage that is not arranged by the families, but they just assume it will be with an Indian. The fact that both their daughters got into Cambridge is a source of huge pride to them and status within the community but they also see the other side of it as well, that both Nav and I are friends with a lot more diverse group of people than they expected. Look at you for example. My parents were really pleased that Navya had met someone on the first day and that you two had hit it off so well. But by the middle of the term you weren’t the enemy per se but you were now the face of life at Cambridge for Navya. She is open with Mum and Dad about spending a lot of time with you and Helena, and Helena came into town for a couple of days after New Year and stayed with us. My parents think this is great and yet disturbing at the same time. Nav has talked to me and to them about you coming to stay at Easter and they are freaking out. Not because of anything about you specifically, it is just what you represent, change, the unknown, I don’t know, difference. Don’t your parents care about that stuff too?”

Wow. Andrew smiled because this was a new and interesting conversation, letting him understand a completely different culture.

“That is a lot to sort out so let’s pick off the easy stuff. You know I have dated an Indian girl while I was at school. All very tame, and it was not a boyfriend girlfriend type of thing but we definitely dated. She was this petite tiny little girl and I was very protective of her, especially as she was harassed at her previous school. Her Dad came to the house once and my parents were fine. I have a lot of issues with my parents but they are not prejudiced and have passed that trait on to me. So Mum and Dad wouldn’t care. But more importantly I don’t have nearly the sense of community that you do. Now don’t freak out I am just using this as an example, but if you and I got married we would be unusual, there are not a lot of Indians in Scotland never mind a mixed race couple so yes, we would stand out and be unusual. But there wouldn’t be a whole bunch of comments to my parents or my grandmother in church on a Sunday, well I am sure there would be a few. We would be a curiosity nothing more. Me, I just don’t care about any of that. But I also know that we are very unlikely to have a future together. All the obstacles that you have laid out plus the fact I am going to be here for three more years after you leave.”

Whenever Andrew came to the unresolvable he ended with a shrug.

“We are back where we started.”

He nodded. They ate the remainder of their dinner in mostly silence as they thought about everything. Andrew, he was a complete tart and would have been quite happy to have had a friendship with some occasional fucking thrown in as well but he could see that would be selfish and problematic for Rupashi. They were destined to be friends with some mild flirting and the occasional kiss, but nothing more. Anything else would involve too much deceit for Rupashi with her parents. Andrew was sure they both recognised the problem by the end of dinner.

“Come on, let me walk you back to College, remove temptation from you.”

It was a whack on the arm but a sad whack on the arm.

“Let’s go the long way and just enjoy the evening.”

They must have walked for an hour and Andrew listened as Rupashi talked about anything and everything except them. She was a hard worker, studying as much or even more than him, and was on track to end up with a First. He let her talk, she was not as wound up as Kate or Gail were at school but was happy just to talk through all that was on her mind with someone who would listen. They were on the home stretch back to Jesus when Rupashi stopped and pulled him down for a long heartfelt kiss. When they broke apart her eyes were glistening but she held it together and with a quick hug at the Gate scampered back into the safety of College.

Other than Helena, things had been pretty quiet at Cambridge. His attraction to Raquel based on her height had gone nowhere. Lisa had been very relieved to not to have to reject him when he asked her to ‘comfort’ Pedro. Olivia and Navya were just friends, and they all knew nothing was going to happen there. Cassie had been over within minutes, attraction being swamped by very different outlooks on life. But Andrew also knew that until he asked Rupashi out that week, he had made no effort, he was the anti-Jack or anti-Pedro. Once back in his room he lay on the bed, thinking about everything. There he was wallowing in some dejection but the truth was Andrew had little time in his life for someone else. As Suzanne so astutely put it, until he stopped loving myself, through the plan, then he was not going to find any kind of permanence. What he really wanted was not permanence but rather occasional availability, right back to the issues at school. Andrew’s ideal was Judy, a fun day getting to know someone, great sex in the evening, and again first thing in the morning, but then goodbye. He wanted a one night stand with a date thrown in first. So far, he and Helena were making this work but who knew how long that would last? Andrew lay on his bed thinking about women in his life for a long time. No answers came to any of the questions.

Hockey the next day was okay, the weather was awful, and Zack noticed that there were two women none of them had seen before watching the match. The word went round the team at half time about the advance scouts and some of the guys started waving and smiling at them during the second half. At first they looked startled and sheepish but by the end of the match they seemed more comfortable with the attention, but they scuttled off pretty quick after the final whistle so they weren’t ready for any one on one chat. A couple of the guys on the team were dating or going out with players on the College women’s team so most of the advance scouting was pillow talk so who knows whether it was in any way accurate. But they guys were happy to continue to make the sacrifice!

After lunch Andrew dressed in his suit, rang for a cab from the lodge at the gate and at 2.30 on that awful, wet miserable February afternoon was dropped off at Cambridge Crematorium. It felt like it was half way to Peterborough, it was well past the turn off to Girton Golf Club that he ran to on Sunday mornings. Andrew had never been there, and had looked the address up in the phone book. It was not Mortonhall where Faith’s ashes lay buried in the ground, but it was a place of sadness, reflection, hope and despair, all rolled into one. He avoided the Chapel building where there was a crowd of people as two services overlapped, and instead walked in the grounds until he found a quiet grove with some benches where he could sit and think, and in his own way talk to Faith. It was always a day of contrasting moods. One of the interesting aspects of working in the cancer ward was that Faith was much more present in Andrew’s thoughts than over the previous two years. Every year her memory had faded more and more before being reignited on this day. Now the memories were fresh and vivid, almost a companion. Nights like the previous evening when he contemplated his selfishness and the rigours of the plan, were contrasted with the promises to Faith, and the daily challenge, and comfort, of living life to the full. The tears came, they always did, and in a way they were a comforting reminder that he could let go. Andrew bottled up so much from Addenbrooke’s and knew that the tears were not just for Faith but for Graham and Eric, Ron’s son, and all the others that had not made it in the last four months. After the grief had drained from him and he sat there, cold and wet, Andrew thought of the future. How to make a difference, how to stop the torture of children and adults, his mind inevitably going to the few minutes at the hospice on Saturday February 3^rd 1979, the nucleus of Andrew’s whole life, of his drive and the single event more responsible for shaping him than any other. It was the demon that left him restless and unsettled, never happy. Andrew had a moment of clarity while sitting there, it was why he was volunteering. His hatred had never lessened while he was at school, but having been successful and slacked off for six months in the middle of last year, it had changed. When he started trying to follow the plan, working on his goals, that hatred had been visceral, personal, but it had morphed over the years. Now it was back and if anything the flame burned as bright as it did five long years ago. Andrew knew he would always fight cancer, not within his body but as if cancer had corporeal form. Every day he needed to slap it back, fight it, never give in. There was the reason that he went to Eric’s funeral, there was the reason he volunteered at the hospital. He had to fight.

And then as on every other anniversary Andrew let the anger burn out and turn into resolution. He stood and walked to the edge of the grove, standing at a fence looking out over farmland, a tranquil and pleasant scene. With a final promise to keep living for them both Andrew walked quickly and quietly away from the grove and prepared to head home. He was fortunate as he had given no thought to getting back. He was prepared to walk but they were sufficiently out of town that there were no pavements. A cab dropped off some mourners for another service and Andrew hailed it. Another couple were also looking for a ride back into town so they ended up sharing the cab.

Andrew chatted through dinner but was not in the mood for a night out. He slipped away as everyone headed to the bar and spent a quiet night in his room thinking about his friend. And the impact of her death.

 

Chapter 3

Andrew was at peace the following morning and after a long swim headed back to the College for brunch, a meal he had missed since early in term one. As always he was hungry and so was there as Hall opened but it filled up quickly, Matt the first to come over and sit with him.

“You are never normally here, what’s up?”

After the fifth person asked Andrew that he had to accept he was very much a creature of habit.

“After swimming this morning I was hungry so here I am. I will go to the library once I am done.”

The morning was full of exploits from the night before. Given that Andrew had spent a quiet evening in his room after the afternoon out at the crematorium he had little to contribute to the conversation. In fact he was barely paying attention when Navya caught his eye and nodded towards the door. They walked over towards Burrell’s Field and he waited for her to start.

“How are you doing Andrew?”

“I am fine, how is Rupashi?”

This was not going to be about him.

“Confused and upset.”

Navya sighed.

“I think she feels trapped. Mum and Dad have sacrificed a lot for us and are incredibly proud of what we both have achieved, getting here. They are not overly traditional themselves but the community pressures are real.”

Navya stopped and looked at Andrew.

“You are making it more difficult and easier at the same time you know that?”

He waited, this was her show.

“You are being honest. Friends with some fucking.”

Ouch!

“It is easier to resist that and just stay as friends than if you lied to her. Of course, because you are being honest and nice about all this that just makes it all the harder.”

Navya stopped talking and they walked in silence for a while.

“I don’t think you will be able to stay with us at Easter, I am sorry. I feel bad but I hadn’t realised how much shit it would cause Mum and Dad if you came and stayed.”

That Andrew had realised already on Friday night.

“I had guessed already after talking with Rupashi on Friday night. It is tough for you both, stuck between two worlds. What about you? How are you doing?”

“I am fine, at least right now. I will face some of the same issues in a couple of years but I have time. Ru has to blaze the trail first. Plus I also don’t have the hots for someone three years younger.”

She smirked.

“Be nice to your sister. You know how hard it is to resist me.”

Andrew was already moving out of hitting range.

“I don’t want to make life more difficult for her. I am going to back off and not make it worse.”

He shrugged. Familial expectations, Ara sprang to mind and Andrew smiled ruefully. Different backgrounds, different circumstance but there was no difference between Arabella and Rupashi. There was nothing more to say. Navya was sweeping it under the carpet at the moment but the same issues were staring her in the face. Trinity was overwhelmingly white, there were maybe 10 Indians across all the undergrad classes and only two other people in their year. It was tough for her.

Andrew filled his backpack and headed over to the main Library, already busier than term one. He found a seat and then went down to the bank of phones and called his Grandma. She was delighted to hear from him every week and this call was the reaction to the photograph. Andrew didn’t think she left the flat without it in her handbag, ready to be whipped out at a moment’s notice. She was also a conniving old fox and had set up one or two of the ladies at church. She talked about how her grandson had met the Duke of Roxburghe and several of her ‘friends’ were skeptical. Of course she baited the hook well and waited to strike, letting them dismiss the story as fanciful before producing the photo with a flourish. Andrew listened as she waxed on about it, exactly the reaction he expected when he gave her the photo.

Rather than study at first that afternoon he wrote some letters. Most were not long but Andrew was trying to maintain relationships. The one to his parents still felt odd but he was writing fortnightly just letting them know how he was doing. Suzanne, Leslie, Nikki and Fran, and Maggie and Tony, all got variations of the same letter, although he wrote about what he had done the previous day to Leslie. Andrew also sent a note, as they had asked, to Lord Barnes, now Baron Barnes, and Freya Moray. He was not sure he would see them at Easter, although he may see Freya if she was still in Edinburgh. He hadn’t really thought about the impact on their relationship of Lord Barnes moving to London. Andrew and Pedro had been discussing the trip to Ferrol and thought it would be a chance to see Paris, so Andrew wrote to Manon explaining he would be passing through Paris in late March and would see how she responded. He had been a good host back in the summer and she had claimed he should contact her if he was ever in Paris, so he thought why not? Andrew had no idea whether that was all talk and would be met with silence or whether it was real. Finally he decided to write to Ara. It seemed weak but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know whether it would be welcomed or whether he would even get a response but he tried.

Andrew studied late and barely made it back in time for dinner. Helena and Nigel were waiting for him and they dashed across the Great Court and made it just in time. The three of them went to dinner most Sundays now. It was at these dinners that they would talk about the Union or Footlights, a chance to discuss what was happening with more introspection and also to moderately brag. The simple act of getting Helena out of bed in the morning was helping her with her studies and she was enjoying university and doing well in class. She still had no idea what she wanted to do but 1^st year English was going well. She was loving the Union, Andrew could tell by the way that she waxed on about it. The pair of them would sit and wait for her enthusiasm to abate before Nigel would talk about his week. Nigel, after a rough first fortnight, had settled down over the rest of term one and was working hard. He was bitten with the show biz bug and spent a lot of time at Footlights. He was keeping up with his course but his interest and energy were very much focused on the Footlights Club. His enthusiasm for that was deep but unlike Helena he was much more diffident. The contrast between the two of them was stark. After dinner, Nigel headed for the bar whereas Helena indicated she wanted to talk and so they went back to their rooms, changed into warmer, casual clothes and strolled together through town.

“I hear that you won’t be staying with Navya at Easter anymore.”

Wow, the female grapevine was working fast that day.

“It is too complicated for them, and even if they still wanted me to be there, I am not sure their parents would have agreed. Even with me in a separate nanny suite out the back.”

Helena smiled.

“Was this your attempt at widening your options?”

Interestingly phrased.

“I have a lot of friends Helena, Rupashi is still my friend.”

Andrew looked at Helena quizzically.

“I tried and it was awful.”

The sigh was dramatic.

“It was back to being awkward and tentative. And it was over quickly.”

Three for three, good work Helena. Andrew kept his own counsel.

“Say something Andrew. Don’t just stand there all tall and silent.”

“What can I say Helena, kiss a couple more frogs and see what happens. There will be a lot of guys who would love to spend some time with you. What do you need me to tell you? Funny? Yes. Relaxed and commanding in a group setting? Yes. Clever? Definitely. Pretty? Completely. And if they get to lower the zipper on that little black dress then they will know that you are hot and sexy and wicked and wanton.”

“You make it sound so easy. Thank you for all that. I will accept your exaggerations but it doesn’t change the fact that this is hard.”

Andrew smirked and was whacked for his trouble. He really did like abuse.

“Of course it is.”

Helena wanted someone to listen, just as Andrew had done for Rupashi on Friday night. There were frustrations, insecurities and a lot of wishful thinking. They had both fallen into the comfortable place of having ready sex with each other as a fall back. They walked back through Cambridge to the College and saw student life all around them. Restaurants were busy, pubs were busy and a couple of the clubs were just opening their doors. Andrew’s guess was they were both being a bit lazy. When they got to the corridor they said hi to Emma and David as they went his room but closed and locked the door. Andrew then spent a long time reminding Helena that she was a hot and sexy woman. He never bothered trying to do the classic ‘69’ position due to his height, it was either one or the other but not both of them at the same time. So as a consequence he normally was between the thighs of the woman lying on her back. For a change that night Andrew lay back on the bed and positioned Helena above him. With his arm across the small of her back, he could apply more consistent and constant pressure on Helena, pressing her down against his tongue and fingers. It was just a different way to approach oral sex and the first time he had tried it this way with Helena. It was also the best way to start exploring arse play, her rosebud was more accessible, but they had not had any conversation about playing with her arsehole so he refrained from spooking her out. Andrew took what was given, he didn’t just go ahead and grab.

Helena’s first orgasm had been quick but the build-up to the second was longer until she finally screamed into the mattress; Andrew could tell it was Sunday. Helena came hard and was dopey for 15 seconds or so afterwards but she recovered quickly. He was always amazed how she went from wrung out to mischievous in the less than 30 seconds. Blow jobs from Helena were always done so that they could make eye contact. It became a game for her to see how dirty she could make her expression. They both knew the power of imagination and she teased him with looks as well as with her mouth and tongue. Andrew never lasted very long, especially with her go-to look, the look of shocked innocence, ‘I can’t believe you would think that of me that way’, all the while stuffing his dick in her mouth. The smirk of satisfaction, the idea of making him dance to her tune, was present every time. If they planned things better it should be him first then Helena so that they could go straight to fucking but they normally used the refractory period to talk dirty to each other, tease each other and generally act like a couple of goofy teenagers. Tonight Helena was practicing her ESP.

“I thought you might have played with my arse Andrew. The way you had me pulled down on your tongue my cheeks were spread wide.”

She looked at him with an air of studied innocence.

“What? You are becoming a mind reader as well? I thought about it but I didn’t want to presume until we had this talk. For some people it is a sexy taboo waiting to be broken, for others it is unclean and not to be mentioned, never mind touched.”

“A good way of putting it Andrew, a sexy taboo. But also typical you of waiting to talk as opposed to just jumping in. No pun intended. Permission granted to defile me, to ravish and plunder my booty.”

Not only did it make them both laugh it also sparked a resurgence down below.

“Hello, someone likes the idea.”

Helena’s smirk of triumph turned to a shriek as Andrew swatted her arse, playful not sore. He slid out from under her leaving her face down on the bed, a position she was suddenly aware of as he grabbed a condom. Her smirk vanished as Andrew took his two pillows and bodily lifted Helena up and pushed the pillows under her hips. Helena was now face down, arse up lying on his bed. Andrew knelt behind her in the classic doggy position before lowering myself so that he covered her, not squashing her but looming over her.

“It’s all got very real hasn’t it?”

Helena’s face was a frozen mask. Andrew was hard and ready to go and he slipped into Helena’s tight but slick pussy. Just for a second relief and disappointment were on her face at the same time.

“Disappointment? Helena Innes I do believe you were looking forward to being buggered.”

Helena glared at him.

“Instead you are just going to have to settle for being fucked senseless.”

Andrew bounced up, grabbed her slender hips, because of the pillows at a more convenient height than normal, and fucked her hard. Helena was wound up and ready to go. She was too far away to brace against the wall but that didn’t stop her pushing back as much as possible. Her orgasm was a muted, low shaking kind of thing so Andrew slobbered over the end of his middle finger and just as she was cresting he tickled her rosebud. No penetration but her starfish was caressed. She squeaked, squealed and her orgasm re-crested, quite the reaction. Surprise and taboo rather than physical pleasure. Andrew focused on his own pleasure, the sensation of Helena’s pussy and the visual of her lean, tight body all before him. Rather than fight the approaching climax he embraced it and came with a roar, holding her hips tight against him as he felt the pulses of seed fill the bulb. Once again, after a quick clean-up and disposal, Helena was lying on top of him, looking at him intently.

“That is the thing that other people don’t have Andrew, the mental fucking. You are good in bed but it is more than that. I went from smug, to apprehensive, to disappointed, to finally just going off like Vesuvius. All because you called me on my cheekiness and smugness while at the same time just taking baby steps. That is what you do so well.”

She shook her head.

“Can you come over and sleep with me tonight? It is nice to have a warm snuggly bedmate.”

At lunch in the department the next day Andrew was delayed a few minutes and when he sat down the other three were looking far too suspicious.

“You three need to work on your stone-faced look. You all look smug and guilty at the same time. What?”

Andrew focused on Matt, he knew him the best and between the course and OTC he was the person Andrew spent the most time with. But he and Keith looked at Olivia, who unconsciously was biting her bottom lip reminding Andrew of Suzanne. Hmmm. Focus Andrew, focus.

“I wondered what you were doing this weekend Andrew? I have news from Newnham.”

She giggled at her own word play. Andrew looked at Matt.

“You didn’t tell her?”

He shook his head.

“I am going to be running around a cold hard part of Norfolk with 70 of my closest friends.”

Olivia looked confused.

“I am away this weekend with the Army.”

“Blast.”

Just the right length of pause.

“Oh well, your loss. Did you guys figure out the answer to the third problem on the electrical Supervision?”

The three of them took a second to keep up with her jump to classwork.

“Hang on, what news? Don’t just say ‘your loss’ and then change the subject.”

Olivia looked innocent and almost managed to keep the look for two seconds before bursting out laughing.

“I am, how do you say it, fucking with you?”

She looked happy for getting the idiom right.

“You two had told me you would be away and I forgot. A couple of the girls on the team have been talking about you and I was just having fun.”

Matt piped up.

“Cindies, 10.30 on a Tuesday he is always there. There will be four of us so tell them to bring some friends.”

Olivia just laughed and shook her head, although notably she did not reject the idea out of hand. As Andrew sat in lectures that afternoon it once again occurred to him that he was doing nothing and still getting dates. Yes, the very definition of a first world problem. When he got to the hospital it was in complete chaos. There had been a fire, completely minor and quickly extinguished but there had been a partial evacuation and as a result everything was out of whack. The fire had been at 10.50 in the morning and yet at 5.30 they were still behind in getting everything sorted out. Andrew never stopped from the moment he got there, getting things straightened out, collecting laundry since some of the patients had been outside and gowns and pyjamas were dirty. Most of the children thought it was an adventure, something that broke up the monotony of their day. It took until 9.10 before everything was finally settled. Andrew was just getting ready to leave when one of the nurses asked if he would go and talk to one of the older patients, the younger children being asleep for the most part. His name was Robert, although everyone called him Bobbie.

“I got told you had cancer when you were younger.”

He was 16 years old and still in the angry phase.

Andrew nodded.

“Yes.”

He sat and watched him waiting for the next outburst.

“Why are you here?”

Angry and accusatory.

“I am trying to help, offer encouragement and show people that you can recover from cancer.”

“Nobody wants your help.”

Bobbie was scared shitless and afraid to show it.

“Okay, I am here every Monday night if you want to talk, be well.”

Andrew walked back to the nurses’ station.

“I see you have met our angry young man.”

One of the other nurses looked over at him and then turned back to Andrew.

“What did he want?”

“To tell me that nobody wants my help.”

Raised eyebrows were the only response.

“I suspect I will chat to him next week. He is still mad at the world at the moment. I will see you next week.”

Finally he was done, having spent little time with the children but he had helped with the clean-up from the fire alarm. Andrew thought about all the people bedridden in a hospital the size of Addenbrooke’s, a real emergency and full scale evacuation would have been unimaginable. Wrong word, somebody did have to imagine it and develop a plan. Were fire to get hold at the hospital, at any hospital, it would be catastrophic. Andrew was tired as he sat on the bus back into town and managed to avoid being dragged back out.

Tuesday was a repeat of two weeks earlier with the whole company getting prepared for another frozen weekend in the country. He would have preferred to skip Cindies as he was tired but Matt was convinced that some Newnham women would be there. There may have been but none of them approached Andrew or any one of the four of them. What he did notice was the Art School students doing a lot of pointing, huddling and staring at the four of them. Then Raquel came over and soon the two of them were dancing. She tried to talk to him on several occasions but it was hopeless with all the noise. After the fourth song Raquel dragged him over to a quieter area of the bar. She seemed flustered and nervous.

“Em, I have an unusual request for you Andrew.”

Well as a way of getting his attention it had certainly worked. Raquel looked embarrassed and strained.

That was a preview of Living Two Lives - Book 10. To read the rest purchase the book.

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