Chapter 4

Knowing that he could pass the Positive Vetting process meant that Andrew focused more on whether he wanted to go through it. It would add to the file on him that the government already held. Now he wanted to be a Territorial Army officer, he was applying for an explosives licence, it wasn’t like he was unknown already. As he swam back and forth what he kept coming back to was the great black hole of his life, his career. He knew that some of the actions with regard to the engineering company were a substitute for having a clue what September 1987 looked like. Freya had talked about dabbling with engineering in the evenings. As if it would become his hobby. Even that didn’t freak Andrew out. For years people had been counselling him to think about life after university when he would not have another exam to study for. But what he had to be sure of was did this feel right under the title of making a difference. And at the moment it did not feel wrong, but it was too soon to say whether it felt right.

Once Andrew was on the road back to Cambridge his mind wandered. As in it wandered all over the place dredging up things from the past. Arthur Sherard was but a momentary annoyance during his 2^nd year, who turned up and then less than a term later conveniently died. And in a way, that was all true, but as Andrew thought about keeping secrets, something he had no problem with as many people in his life would attest to, it struck him that he had mentally buried the Sherard story. He still didn’t know morally where he stood, very much caught in the two wrongs don’t make a right loop in his head. But he also had no nightmares, no regrets over his lack of action either. His concerns often were around the fact that he was not more concerned. That Andrew had heard him confess to rape allowed him to sleep well every night. Andrew hadn’t bought the drinks or made Sherard drink any of them, he hadn’t bought the drugs or made him take them, all of that was on Sherard’s own head. He was the archetype of the kind of person who thought there were two sets of rules. And if Andrew was a self-proclaimed member of the one set of rules for everybody group then did the fact he let Sherard die in front of him violate his membership of that group? Andrew doubted that he would ever resolve that, ever be able to answer that question. But there was one fact that trumped all others. Andrew had nightmares about the morning at the hospice before Faith Campbell died, he had none about Arthur Sherard.

He had been called ruthless many times over the years. The first when Stuart McBride threw them out of his office without listening and Andrew doubled the price of the proposed contract. And then stood his ground with the father of one of his best friends. Selling the VisiCalc templates to ComputerCom was another one, he squeezed every last penny out of them. He reacted very badly, at least initially, with Tanvi and her father when Dr. Jindal started to make comments about Leslie. And maybe most pertinently, he was also being ruthless with his parents. Andrew thought he was in the right, as he did in all the examples, and wasn’t going to play nice to conform to societal norms. And yet countering all that he also struggled with cutting off the investment funding for some of the groups that were not on target with their results.

Societal norms, even basic human norms, held that Andrew should have turned Sherard onto his side or stomach so that the vomit did not block his airway. But he chose not. Just as he chose to allow the rupture with his parents to grow and ossify. Andrew no longer felt the need to talk through that night where Sherard had died in front of him. And as Ara had bluntly pointed out to him just the previous day he had taken her to meet the couple who were parenting him at present. And Freya had asked to meet Ara, just like a mother would have. A psychologist’s dream.

Once he again shoved Sherard to the cupboard under the stairs of his mind. The other thing that Andrew considered as he drove out of London into the Essex and then Cambridgeshire countryside was how he had changed with regard to leadership and command. When he had spoken to Rollie at the start of term on the drive down to London and the walk back to College they both had talked about the Selection Board and Sandhurst and passing both as givens. If they decided to apply then they would be accepted, once there they would pass. Andrew was surprised when he thought about that; when had he become so confident? His conversation with Marrak the very first week in Cambridge was all about leadership and command, making it more instinctive, natural. Now Andrew was no longer concerned about such things, or at least not consciously. Military training had worked on him, day by day, week after week, month by month. He thought back to the previous weekend out at Barnham, he had assisted the Permanent Staff and led and commanded the cadets at various times. The best way to describe it was the ‘boiling the frog slowly approach to leadership’ but it had definitely worked. He was more confident in himself, more comfortable in command situations, and overall more mature and considered. That day, Sunday November 24^th, 1985 was important not just in the immediate but also in the way that he understood himself.

The return to Cambridge followed the usual pattern, calls and letters. His Grandma had made an early start to the sherry so the call with her was not long, although she was in good form, winners always made her garrulous. Julian was impatient for his return so that he could show Andrew the progress he was making with the computer company. Leslie just wanted to ensure that he knew what was expected for the dinner and presentations in two weeks’ time. Andrew felt safe saying ‘yes dear’ but he could tell that she was excited and keyed up over the dinner as well as seeing what their money had achieved.

“Andrew, the stock market has done well this year, it is up close to 15%. Even accounting for last year’s donation we have close to £40m. I would like to increase the donation to £3m this year. The Trust would still have nearly 50% more than when we started. I am sorry to do this over the phone but you are only back in Edinburgh after the meeting.”

“This is your recommendation? You believe it is sustainable?”

“Yes it is, and yes I do.”

“My only doubt would be if the amount dropped back to £2m next year. But if you think it is sustainable then I approve.”

“I would not be doing this if I did not think we could maintain it.”

“Okay, I agree.”

“Thanks Andrew. See you in 11 days.”

£5m in two years to fund cancer research. Everything else seemed so trivial. Talking of which.

“Bonjour Manon.”

“Bonjour Andrew. Your French is getting better but we will use English, mine is better than your French.”

Ouch. True but ouch.

“I wanted to let you know that everything has been agreed with Marilyn Gauthier. I won’t sign anything until I am in Paris but it is all prepared. I thought you should know. I will be in Paris on the evening of the 8^th, late afternoon I would guess. Can you make a reservation for me at the Monsart as usual?”

“Okay, I will get my secretary to do that tomorrow morning. You don’t want anywhere fancier?”

“No. I like it there, they know me now and it is half way between the Studio and your office. I don’t need anything else. Is everything all set for that week?”

“Yes. Two shoots with Chiara on Monday, two with Heloise later in the week, one with Renee, the others are all new. Should I send details to Marilyn?”

“Okay, it is not official but sure; I want to hear her thoughts. What about January?”

“It is a go. They were very pleased actually. It allows us more time to prepare campaigns for next year. Beatrice will confirm all this with you. Try and act surprised and grateful.”

“Sure, I can do that. Are they going to be long days again?”

“We are hoping for 8.00 at night rather than 10.00, if only to save us some money.”

They both laughed appropriately.

“There has been a lot of talk about ensuring that we get models who are ready for a tiring, quick shoot. During the selection, several models were discarded when we talked about their lack of hustle. Renee is scheduled for an afternoon but will be available in the morning if needed. So we are covering some of the risk. But the need for focus, no drama, comfortable being naked for four hours, all of that was laid out and explained to the agencies. And Veronique and I have also talked about the chemistry issue that you raised. She understands better than anyone the need for this. Two of the models are her suggestion and would not have been picked by us. But she is sure that you will get on with them. So we have done everything to make the time as productive as possible. The Christmas campaign starts next Sunday, December 1^st. There is a lot of excitement about it. We have done some advance screenings and the response has been very positive, Mathilde most of all. The two of you really came across very well. And the fun moment of this batch is Renee and the mock bullfighting. It is those light moments that really make these ads stand out. It has definitely had a very positive impact on the brand. And we are seeing it with some of the other houses. They are trying to catch up, match what we are doing.”

“Good, it sounds like everything is ready. When do you want me to start? Do I need to be at the store early so that you can shoot without customers?”

“No idea. I will leave a time and place for you at the Monsart’s front desk, okay?”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Oh, one last thing. Beatrice was laughing with me this week as to what the next crazy thing you would dream up. Have you any ideas?”

Her tone was teasing but Andrew had seen a poster for an Opera when he had been in London two weeks earlier with Justin and Pedro. That night they had gone to the Rock Garden in Covent Garden, so he was guessing the poster was for the Royal Opera House which was right there. Regardless, he had seen the poster and it made him think.

“Oh I have an idea, well maybe half an idea. You and Beatrice can figure out whether it is a whole idea. Salome, the dance of the seven scarves.”

Andrew hung up without another word and left her to figure it out. What he was struggling with was how you supported the scarves until they were peeled away. The two of them could figure it out.

The number of letters he was writing seemed to be getting more and more. That night he wrote to his Grandma, so that she had news to share with the family, he wasn’t sure she would remember much from the phone call. He and Suzanne had been faithful correspondents and she seemed to have had a strong term, calm and settled. She said she was going out but gave no details, he would get them when he returned. She had moved with Nikki and Fran, and they were all settled in their new flat. It was less than 200 metres from the old flat so all they had to do was remember to walk down the right street. It was a little bigger and had a nicer view, less obstructions, but it was now their own. The pride of home ownership came through in the letters he received from them both. They took turns writing so there was an alternating emphasis in the letters but the constant was their new home. Andrew would see them when he got back to Scotland. He also sent a note to Pete letting him know when he would be back so that hopefully they could go to a gig and catch up. The letters to Chiara, Heloise and Renee were all quick and easy, confirming he would be in Paris as scheduled. They were all very busy with their careers, Renee did not need to brush off her teaching certificate just yet, and their letters were all full of studios, locations and fellow models, the good and the bad. Nobody ugly was allowed.

The penultimate letter was to his newest correspondent, Lilja Ylonen, the Finnish volleyball player. She had resolutely refused to discuss the U20 world championships that they had been heading to after their holiday so Andrew assumed that arses had been suitably kicked, in this case theirs. But the letters from her had arrived regularly and she had invited him to Helsinki during the break. Memories of a tall, pale, muscular woman with just the right of amount of dirty thoughts, made that decision a complete no-brainer. He was flying from Paris to Helsinki after modelling and spending parts of four days and three nights with her in her flat in Helsinki. December consisted of Merry in Cambridge, flying to see Chiara and Renee in Paris, along with some naked cuddling with Heloise, before flying up to Helsinki to see Lilja before returning to Edinburgh to his flat where Suzanne would be waiting. What do you buy for the man who has everything? Lifetime membership to the slut club?

The last letter was the one he was most excited about, his closest geographical correspondent, Mandy Brown. It was just a short note confirming the time that they were meeting on the 3^rd, the Tuesday before her interview the following day. Her mother was driving Mandy over and would stay for dinner with them. Andrew was significantly more nervous for her than he ever had been for his own interview. He had to keep telling himself to calm down, and to be calm for her but it was easier said than done. But once he had written to Mandy he was done. Andrew had dinner with his usual dining companions and then retreated to his room to prepare for the final week.

The course did not slow down at all as they reached the end of the term. The last lecture on the Wednesday afternoon was as dense and full of material as the first one eight weeks earlier. The days of Thursday and Friday were taken up with the first half of the surveying course. There was an element of the marks attributable to audience participation so they were all suitably engaged and switched on during the two days of mostly practical work.

Meredith was completing her monthly cycle at the start of the week so Andrew was not seeing her until the Thursday night, an evening earlier than usual because of the OTC bash. Without her presence to save him from the players after the truncated practice on Wednesday evening Andrew joined the team in going out for a drink. He was mildly hazed for not attending the end of term boozy bash on the Friday night, but at least he had the excuse of the OTC. He knew that it would be a drunken disaster and didn’t feel like getting picked on by 30 drunken hockey players. Mind you his alternative was 175 drunken soldiers. Devil meet the deep blue sea. He had kept everything pretty professional throughout the term and it was fascinating that several of the players seemed disappointed that he had not been flirtier with them. Andrew had long since given up trying to figure out some of these apparent inconsistencies. He survived the night, in fact he was pretty sober, unlike Navya who completely fell out the tree and Andrew ended up making sure she got back to Burrell’s okay. Well he made sure she got back to Matt and left him to deal with her.

But neither evening compared to the night after, his last chance to entertain Merry before they left for six weeks. Surveying wrapped up late on Thursday, they must have been the last undergraduates still at class, and Olivia headed back to Newnham. Andrew needed to grab his bag for the evening, as well as change after the course. He and Merry were having dinner with Alice and Olivia, just as they had right at the start of term. He had wrapped one of the two remaining Hermes scarves as a present for Merry. The scarves had been in the wardrobe in his room for 18 months and although it was over the top the money was long forgotten. At the end of the day, Andrew knew that women loved them.

Dinner was relaxed and light-hearted with the four of them revelling in the end of classes. Andrew had thought about Merry and their relationship on that Thursday morning at the pool after the evening of dealing with the team the night before. What they had stumbled into was the perfect solution for both their needs. Andrew’s life had been, and still was, full of all the messes he had made with women and his inability to know what he wanted and needed long term. The last month with Ara showed that it also worked both ways. But what Merry and Andrew had worked because they both knew that this was not long term and it was barely one step up from transactional. Justin and Pedro were all about variety, the chase, even when it was logistically doomed to failure. They didn’t want to be with just one person, they would rather not sleep with anyone but get the chance to chase everyone. Whereas Andrew and Merry were lazy. Both of them were spirited and energetic, borderline frenzied at times, when they were together but the rest of the time was, and people were, a distraction that neither of them could be bothered with.

Meredith was slim and cute with no hang ups. She didn’t care that her tits were not the biggest. It hadn’t stopped her during school or university. She had also been clear with the yes list, pretty much everything, as well as the no list which was only don’t yank her hair. So during the course of the term Andrew had tied her up, which she had reciprocated; as well as repeatedly fucking her in the arse, not reciprocated. But it was all in the pursuit of the next orgasm. The angst level was always dialled down to zero. What did she want from a partner long term, what did she envisage her husband to be like? He had no idea, it just wasn’t discussed. What was very clear was that she wasn’t looking to find him at Cambridge University. The thing they did the best was talk to each other. They were both shit stirrers and goaders and they talked a huge amount of dirty and kinky stuff to each other. And it turned them on. One of their regular games was the posh Southern English lady and her bit of Scottish rough. It worked because neither of them were really like that but Merry liked to boss Andrew around and tell him what to do to her. Like he needed any encouragement. So that night after dinner they went back to her room and he put her present down on her desk.

“Go and change. Your longest flowing peasant skirt, then we can go to the bar for a couple of drinks.”

Merry looked at him and when he winked she opened her cupboard door and flipped through an impressive number of hangers until she found the perfect skirt. She shimmied out of her jeans, slipped into the skirt and they were off to the little College Bar, surprisingly quiet. They got their drinks and found a table with a little bit of separation from the others.

“So what’s the game? Why did you make me change?”

“Lady Chatterley has gone too far this time. Mac her grumpy gardener has had enough.”

She caught on instantly.

“The dirty peasant knows his place. All I have to do is flash my pale white thighs and he will bend to my will.”

Her smirk at the dirty peasant gibe made Andrew chuckle.

“Ah, but he is onto her now. He has been planning his next move. And the only thing bending is going to be her over her desk.”

“Planning, thinking. What do men know about thinking. They only think with one thing.”

She was on form tonight. They never were very good about staying in either third person or first person, they often jumped back and forth. But hey it wasn’t the RSC.