THE COMPLETE TRILOGY, COMPENDIUM OF THE HEART: An epic love story

by RJ Hunter

  Frank would often ignore her, especially in front of other female students and openly criticize her for staying in her room to study. Then, he would just change completely and say nice things and take her out dancing, or to places she hadn’t been before, all paid for by Sally of course. At times she felt frightened of Frank, he seemed to have a psychological hold over her which she couldn’t explain. Sometimes, she would find this fear quite stimulating, or if she could admit it, even exciting. He had a certain power about him that others picked up on. Often the other students would treat her differently, like she was some sort of gangsters moll. She felt owned by him, and in some ways, even safe, like he would look out for her and protect her, despite the regular bad treatment she received from him.

  Frank was very reticent about his background, and would get very defensive if Sally asked him questions. She knew he came from Bristol, had a father who was something big in medicine, and there was an older brother. But that was about all the information she could glean, and she only got those snippets after a night’s drinking had loosened Frank’s tongue. He certainly would never have told her his brother, Giles had done everything right since the day he was born. Giles excelled at school, at sports, and had left Oxford with his master’s degree, ready to enter the heady world of stock-broking. At home, the talk was always of Giles, and how great he was and what his latest achievements were. An example had now been set that the younger Frank, or Francis as he was known at home, would find impossible to match, and how he resented it.

  Frank did try, especially during his early years, before his anger had taken root. He too showed a remarkable aptitude for sports, namely rugby and gymnastics. But the problems really began after he was expelled from an expensive public school. Frank had racially abused the son of a wealthy foreign tycoon. Then, after a teacher had rebuked him and accused Frank of being a red-necked philistine, he retaliated by swearing at her, and splitting the woman’s lip with a violent punch to the face.

  “What’s a philistine, father?” Asked the young Frank, as his father read the expulsion letter.

  “It’s something you should damn well know - have you never opened a bible lad?” Roared Hugh Gant, as he sent Frank sprawling with a blow from the back of his hand.

  “Why on earth can’t you be like Giles and make me proud. You’re a bloody disgrace to the family, now get out of my sight.”

  That’s how Frank’s relationship with his father remained right through his teenage years, he was constantly trying to live up to an ideal that he wasn’t cut out for. While all the time Giles reaped the rewards of being his father’s favourite son.

  One day, Frank really thought he could win over his father’s affections. He had gained a place at university, and eagerly pointed out Falcondale on the map, as his father sat at the breakfast table.

  “Do you seriously believe that I can tell my friends at the golf club that my youngest son is at Falcondale?” Remarked the older man angrily.

  “But father, its university - you always said I had to get into university. It’s what you always wanted for me.”

  “You might as well say you’re studying in the outer reaches of bloody Siberia for all the good it’ll do you. When I said university, I meant Oxford or Cambridge - nothing less. Falcondale takes the chaff from the wheat, the rejects, the bloody imbeciles that nobody wants.”

  "No, it's not true, Falcondale is a good university, one of the best." But Frank's words were to fall on deaf ears.

  It was sometime later, when Frank was drinking with Ken in one of the pubs in town that he decided to let his friend in on his plan. Frank was sick of being broke and having to use and con women to get money. He felt, that coming from a wealthy family he should automatically have what he needed. But of course, his father kept a tight hold of the finances where Frank was concerned. He beckoned Ken over to one of the tables near the window, and told him to look across the street.

  "There's nothing there, Frank - just an old lady coming out of the post office with a shopping basket."

  "Yes, I can see that, you moron, you have to see the bigger picture."

  "Okay, an old lady, locking the post office door with a shopping basket!"

  "Precisely!" Exclaimed Frank, taking a gulp from his beer. "Now look and learn. The old lady runs the post office alone, and every week she locks up for lunch and goes off to do her shopping. It's always the same routine, and she's gone for half an hour. There's several thousand pounds of cash, just waiting for us to claim."

  "Steal, you mean?" Replied, Ken, quite shocked at what he was hearing. "It's a post office, Frank, stealing from the crown. If we get caught we'll go down for years."

  "Whatever! It's tiny - it's only a bloody sub-post office, it's not the bank of England. Now, listen, I've been going in to buy stamps and watching what happens. She never locks the safe, its too much for her to keep opening it again. Besides, she's been doing the same thing for years and nothing has ever gone missing."

  "But we can't break through a locked door, people would see us?"

  "She has a little dog, and she always leaves the back door open in case it needs to go out. All we have to do is get into the back yard, get the money, and we can be gone before she even gets to the first shop!"

  "Amazing, Frank. You've got it all figured out. When do we do it?"

  "I'll let you know. It'll be easy, no fuss, no witnesses, just lots and lots of cash!"

  In her moments of doubt, Sally would often think how well she and Lizzie had done by getting boyfriends so quickly, literally on their first day at campus, that must surely be a record. The fact that she was going out with probably, the most handsome, and lusted-over man at college had certainly put Sally on the social map. However, it was left to Lizzie to put things into perspective.

  “We've got to hang on to what we've got. We’re stuck out in the middle of nowhere, and there’s not exactly a surplus of desirable men available is there?”

  Lizzie was right, the thought of not having a boyfriend and being alone was something Sally couldn’t bear to think of. In the meantime, she decided to let things go on as they were with Frank, and see what develops.

  However, one evening in December, Sally had some work to do for a forthcoming seminar, and walked the short distance to the university library. She pushed open the heavy swing doors and went over to the desk, returned some books and made her way to the Classics section. It wasn’t too busy at the time, which pleased Sally. She had grown rather attached to the library and felt very relaxed and at peace there. She took her time and gazed up at the thousands of books lining the high shelves. It was so deathly quiet, she could even hear her own footsteps on the carpeted floor. Not finding what she was looking for, she then wandered into the large hall, and walked past a section full of musty-smelling old tomes that looked like they would fall to pieces if anyone touched them. She walked around the hall again, but still couldn’t find what she wanted.

  Sally had been to the classics section several times before, but that was when she was studying Greek tragedy, and had to find works on Sophocles and Euripides, but now she was swatting up on Greek warfare and was a little lost. She began to feel self-conscious, as some of the students sitting huddled over desks, had now noticed her predicament. Sally decided to take the initiative and ask one of them, but as she was about to walk over, she became aware of someone standing next to her.

  “Hello, you seem a bit lost - what are you trying to find?”

  Sally turned and gazed up into the hazel eyes of a dark-haired student, probably a couple of years older then herself. His eyes, although intense, seemed to be warm and smiling at her. For a few moments there was a silence, until it dawned on both of them that they were staring straight at each other.

  Sally’s mind went blank, and she felt herself starting to blush.

  “Oh, I’m, I’m, looking for something about ancient Greece - it’s for a seminar.”

  “Ok, but can you be a bit more specific. This section is all
ancient Greece. Perhaps I can help - I did Classics in my first year,” whispered the student politely.

  Sally’s composure returned, “It’s about the causes of the ’Polynesian war’,” she whispered back.

  The student couldn’t help smiling, “I don’t think so. Please trust me on this one - is it the Peloponnesian war?”

  “Oh yes, that’s it, silly me - I was just having a blonde moment!” Replied Sally, almost dying of shame.

  The student went to a shelf and selected several heavy files.

  “Here, these will help you.” He then beckoned her to sit at his table. “I did exactly the same seminar as you, it’s very easy. Within these hallowed compendiums are essays written by past students on pretty much every subject. Nothing you're doing is new, it's all been done before.“

  "How amazing, I would never have known, and I was about to do it the hard way. So every single subject is covered, you say?" Gasped Sally, highly impressed.

  "Well, not exactly every subject!" He replied, giving her a mischievous grin, "But certainly everything you need to know."

  He then began picking out various excerpts and told Sally to make a note of them.

  As he was busy flicking through pages, Sally took the opportunity to get a good look at him. She noticed how well-shaped his large hands were. Then, as she allowed her eyes to slowly inch their way up his long arms, she saw that he had quite an athletic physique. She imagined him to be some sort of sportsman, a rower perhaps. He was wearing a tatty old fisherman’s jumper, which seemed to suit his craggy, slightly weather-beaten face. With his unruly mop of hair, he reminded her a little, of Paul, from the up-and-coming band, the Beatles. She then watched fascinated as the different shades of light enhanced the bold outlines of William’s features. He seemed so happy and content in what he was doing. He then suddenly closed the book and turned to face her. She felt embarrassed that he’d caught her staring at him. She thanked him quickly and got up to leave, but he reached out and took her arm.

  “I’ll be here for a while on Friday afternoon. I can bring some of my old notes for you.”

  "Thank-you," she smiled. There was a brief pause and Sally found herself agreeing to meet him again in the library.

  “But I don’t even know your name?” He asked, as they walked to the exit.

  “It’s Sally, Sally Carlington!” She whispered back like a naughty child, “See you on Friday.”

  Back in her room Sally found it impossible to concentrate on her work. Her mind kept wandering back to the young student she had met so briefly that evening. She smiled as she recalled him with his pile of compendiums, as he called them. She felt excited, and tried to remember the low tone of his voice, the slight but definite accent, the wide smile and his sparkling eyes. He seemed so knowledgeable, but not in a pompous or big-headed way, like Frank would have been. He just seemed so genuine and charming.

  Again, Sally tried to concentrate, but her mind was too distracted. She thought about going next door and telling Lizzie - she would be so amazed.

  But wait, what’s happening, thought Sally? He’s only going to lend me some notes. That’s nothing to get all excited about. Anyway, she’s seeing Frank, and they're going out on Thursday - it’s her birthday. Sally suddenly felt a pang of guilt, and went to lay on her bed. But again her thoughts returned to the library. Eventually her eyes began to get heavy, and she drifted off to sleep, just wondering what his name could be?

  3. THE SOCIAL CLUB

  William, like Sally was awake early the following morning. He quickly showered, dressed and drank a cup of coffee, before pulling on his old threadbare duffle coat, and set off for a walk. Although the really cold weather was still to come, the mornings were beginning to turn quite chilly. Usually, William would get up at around eight, and then it would take him until at least mid-morning to wake up properly. Going for a walk this early was certainly something new to him, but he just felt the urge to get out and breathe the chilly dawn air. He stepped out into a fine drizzle, which was cool and refreshing to his face, and headed off to wander around the town's deserted streets. Perhaps he would have gone back to fetch his umbrella in normal circumstances, but today didn't really seem normal.

  William had a lightness of spirit about him, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But then, he didn’t really have any proper worries, not like some. He was anxious about his finals coming up next year, and he had been deeply shocked by the death of his screen idol, Marilyn Monroe earlier in August. At the time he thought he’d never get over losing her. Then there was the concern over the recent Cuban missile crisis. William had been certain that a nuclear war between America and the Soviet Union was imminent, and everyone was going to die. However, he had learnt recently, and with great relief that Khrushchev had agreed to dismantle the bases and take the missiles back to Russia. But that was William, he would often present an unconcerned face to the world, and sometimes pretend not to really care, but in reality he was extremely compassionate, and cared very strongly about many issues affecting society.

  William was twenty two years old, and had grown to love Wales with a passion. His mother was a local teacher who had met his father, a Canadian serviceman, while he was stationed in Britain during the war. They subsequently married, had two sons and lived on the outskirts of town, before later moving to Niagara-on-the-Lake, in Ontario. William’s mother however, had always insisted that her sons go to university back in her home town, and be a part of the principality she loved so dearly.

  William and his younger brother, David had spent many a happy day hiking around Snowdonia with their father, or playing in the sea at Aberystwyth while visiting from Canada. However, William’s favourite place was the nearby lake. Falcondale Lake was set among lush, rolling green hills, in an area renowned for its outstanding natural beauty. With water lilies growing in abundance, and bordered by tall, sweeping bulrushes, the lake was popular not only with anglers, but hikers and artists alike. Although fishing was William's real passion, he did enjoy the tranquillity the lake exuded, and would often sit on the bank, reading, or simply be lost in his own trail of thoughts. During the warmer weather he would take his rowing boat, along with his fishing tackle and a packed lunch, out onto the calm water, and spend a whole day there. Once he caught a 25lb carp, but no-one believed him. He wished he'd kept the fish as proof, rather than return it back into the water, as he always did.

  But now, William was hooked, hopelessly and deeply. He couldn’t stop repeating Sally's name over and over in his mind. He had seen her several times around campus, but even though the university at Falcondale was one of the smallest in the country, it could still be difficult to meet people outside one’s own circle of friends.

  He couldn’t quite believe his luck when he saw her in the library, looking so lost and in such need of help. Had Marilyn come back to him after all? At one point he had even got up from his work to go to her aid, but hesitated when it looked as if she had found what she was looking for. He had then sat down again, his mouth dry and heart beating excitedly. Then, she was in his vision once more, still searching for her books. He had another chance - taking a deep breath he walked straight towards her.

  As he got closer, he noticed she was slighter in build than he had first thought, and her hair, under the bright lighting was a glorious shade of strawberry blonde. It was longer than the current style and she wore it pinned up high at the back.

  William’s eyes had caught hers as he first spoke, and he was immediately captivated by them, so clear and such a very deep blue. Although he was trying to whisper, he felt his words had come out awkwardly. She must have taken him for a complete idiot he thought, as he remembered taking in her fine features, the high cheekbones, the delicate outline of her full lips. He broke into a smile as he recalled her mistakenly saying, ‘Polynesian war’ instead of ‘Peloponnesian.’ He remembered her beautiful smile, her perfect white teeth and how he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her there, and then.


  He had returned to his table, and noticed she had left her black and amber university scarf on the chair. He called her back in a hushed whisper, but she couldn’t hear him. He thought about running after her, but once he had picked the scarf up, he just wanted to hold it close to him, the same scarf that had caressed her beautiful neck. He had to touch it, to inhale her delicate, feminine fragrance. He would keep it for her until they met again. Before putting the garment safely in his coat pocket, he held it to his lips and kissed it, as he whispered her name.

  William knew Sally was seeing Frank, and the very thought of it revolted him. It was common knowledge among the second and third years that Frank Gant was a parasite. He and his sidekick, Ken would actively seek out new female students, especially pretty ones like Sally. Then, with a gutless cunning they would seduce their victims, who were mostly lonely and very vulnerable, and take from them every penny they could. This would usually only last a couple of weeks, before they moved on to someone else. Frank took a perverse delight in what he did, and would openly brag about his many conquests, and who the next poor soul would be.

  Ken put the bottle of pale ale to his mouth and deftly levered off the cap using his teeth. He then threw the object across Frank’s room towards an overflowing bin. It missed and rolled a short distance, before having its path blocked by a pile of muddy rugby kit and stinking socks. Frank had a room on the second floor of the Old Building, which was used to house the third-year students. It was believed that the more quiet and genteel atmosphere would be conducive to those studying for forthcoming finals. However, in Frank’s case, it was just another privilege to be abused.