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Authors: Salley Vickers
Tags: Fiction
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into the air, against the superior machine-gun power of the German pilots in Messerschmitts and Junkers.
‘My father was a fighter pilot in the war,’ Edwin said. ‘He was nearly shot down twice before the Nazis finally nailed him. Nerve is practice, too.’
Des, standing by the table, coughed and repeated, ‘May I get you anything to drink with your lunch?’
Immersed in her notebook, Vi did not immediately recognise the dark young man who had invited her to dance.
‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ She was thinking how she had never asked what that loss of a father had meant to Edwin. ‘A white wine, maybe.’
‘May I recommend the Chablis, Mrs Hetherington?’
It was not much of a coincidence. But it pleased her. ‘Thank you, Dino. Chablis is exactly what was in my mind.’
Edwin was wrong. Vi did not get a first in Part I. She got an upper second and was perfectly content with it. With no money to join those of her fellow-students who were off abroad, she spent the summer working for a firm which specialised in the cleaning of seedy London bedsits, employing students for sub-trades-union wages. It was a grim job, involving disagreeable smells, soiled sheets, filthy lavatories and wastepaper bins containing used condoms, sanitary towels and occasionally empty syringes. On the brighter side, most of the bedsits serviced by ‘Blitz’ were located in the Earls Court area, so she got to see Annie and the Australians.
The Australians, Annie assured her, were very good value. They were dedicated party-goers and easy flatmates, clean and, best of all, generous with the booze. Annie had no complaints and was thinking of visiting Perth, which, one of her flatmates told her, was a paradise for surfers.
‘But you don’t surf,’ Vi objected.
‘They say it’s full of gorgeous men who teach you in no time.’
Annie was now assistant buyer in Marshall and Snelgrove’s shoe department and had many words of sartorial advice.‘Courrèges-style white boots are in next season, Vi. I can get you a pair at cost, or better still some of the damaged stock we’re meant to send back.’
‘Is there much damaged stock?’
‘There is by the time I’ve finished with it,’ Annie said darkly. ‘What size are you?’
Towards the end of the summer, Vi received a postcard of a Greek temple sent from Sicily. Sun, wine and ruins (alongside me). Am renting a house round the corner from Newnham next year. Will you share? E.
The university rules permitted students in their final year to lodge not only with registered landladies but with Cambridge MAs. This implied an unreasonable faith in the moral qualities required for receiving the Master’s degree, which involved nothing more testing than waiting five years after gaining a BA. Luckily for Vi, Edwin’s thesis on Ovid had taken him well over the five-year requirement so that when she went to clear her new address with her tutor all Miss Greyling said was, ‘Be sure to see that there is a functioning bolt on your door. Not that I am suggesting that Mr Chadwick would of course…’
There was no fear of Miss Greyling’s politely unstated apprehensions being realised. Occasionally, usually very early in the morning, Vi met a young man making his way discreetly out of the green front door of the small house in Church Rate Walk. Since Edwin never referred to his guests, she didn’t either. It was, she imagined, why he had moved from his comfortable rooms in college, so as not to be commented or spied on.
Vi entertained a few young men herself. But more because sexual experience, if not expertise, was, she felt, a requirement of her age and position than because of any special liking for any one in particular. Her happiest times were spent with Edwin,either at the late-night pictures, where they saw every foreign film on view, or watching TV.
Edwin was a fan of anything that dealt with murder. His special favourite was Columbo , mainly because he had become expert at
‘My father was a fighter pilot in the war,’ Edwin said. ‘He was nearly shot down twice before the Nazis finally nailed him. Nerve is practice, too.’
Des, standing by the table, coughed and repeated, ‘May I get you anything to drink with your lunch?’
Immersed in her notebook, Vi did not immediately recognise the dark young man who had invited her to dance.
‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ She was thinking how she had never asked what that loss of a father had meant to Edwin. ‘A white wine, maybe.’
‘May I recommend the Chablis, Mrs Hetherington?’
It was not much of a coincidence. But it pleased her. ‘Thank you, Dino. Chablis is exactly what was in my mind.’
Edwin was wrong. Vi did not get a first in Part I. She got an upper second and was perfectly content with it. With no money to join those of her fellow-students who were off abroad, she spent the summer working for a firm which specialised in the cleaning of seedy London bedsits, employing students for sub-trades-union wages. It was a grim job, involving disagreeable smells, soiled sheets, filthy lavatories and wastepaper bins containing used condoms, sanitary towels and occasionally empty syringes. On the brighter side, most of the bedsits serviced by ‘Blitz’ were located in the Earls Court area, so she got to see Annie and the Australians.
The Australians, Annie assured her, were very good value. They were dedicated party-goers and easy flatmates, clean and, best of all, generous with the booze. Annie had no complaints and was thinking of visiting Perth, which, one of her flatmates told her, was a paradise for surfers.
‘But you don’t surf,’ Vi objected.
‘They say it’s full of gorgeous men who teach you in no time.’
Annie was now assistant buyer in Marshall and Snelgrove’s shoe department and had many words of sartorial advice.‘Courrèges-style white boots are in next season, Vi. I can get you a pair at cost, or better still some of the damaged stock we’re meant to send back.’
‘Is there much damaged stock?’
‘There is by the time I’ve finished with it,’ Annie said darkly. ‘What size are you?’
Towards the end of the summer, Vi received a postcard of a Greek temple sent from Sicily. Sun, wine and ruins (alongside me). Am renting a house round the corner from Newnham next year. Will you share? E.
The university rules permitted students in their final year to lodge not only with registered landladies but with Cambridge MAs. This implied an unreasonable faith in the moral qualities required for receiving the Master’s degree, which involved nothing more testing than waiting five years after gaining a BA. Luckily for Vi, Edwin’s thesis on Ovid had taken him well over the five-year requirement so that when she went to clear her new address with her tutor all Miss Greyling said was, ‘Be sure to see that there is a functioning bolt on your door. Not that I am suggesting that Mr Chadwick would of course…’
There was no fear of Miss Greyling’s politely unstated apprehensions being realised. Occasionally, usually very early in the morning, Vi met a young man making his way discreetly out of the green front door of the small house in Church Rate Walk. Since Edwin never referred to his guests, she didn’t either. It was, she imagined, why he had moved from his comfortable rooms in college, so as not to be commented or spied on.
Vi entertained a few young men herself. But more because sexual experience, if not expertise, was, she felt, a requirement of her age and position than because of any special liking for any one in particular. Her happiest times were spent with Edwin,either at the late-night pictures, where they saw every foreign film on view, or watching TV.
Edwin was a fan of anything that dealt with murder. His special favourite was Columbo , mainly because he had become expert at
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