Love's Cold Burn

by Harry, Jessica

  Frank turned to his son. ‘Well boy. You don’t play football, so you can focus on chasing the women, but I don’t suppose you have a girlfriend have you?’

  Andrew was tired of being put down and wanted his father to be impressed for once, so the wine did his talking for him. ‘Well actually I do. A nice young lady called Karen Fisher. She’s in some of my classes and we’ve been seeing each other since the first week of term.’

  Frank was impressed and rocked back on his chair. ‘Wow. That’s my boy. I always knew you had it in you. You kept it well hidden for a long time, but, good lad. Sounds serious. Is it?’

  ‘We’re very fond of each other.’

  Brian again had to hide a smile. This had been the most entertaining Christmas he had had for years. Tom was less amused. Andrew hadn’t even asked the girl her name yet, so announcing to his parents that they were an item could only end in tears.

  Tom was right. Frank was about to give Andrew a new headache.

  ‘Have you got a photograph of her?’ Frank asked.

  ‘No. Nothing,’ Andrew replied honestly.

  ‘No matter. We can see her for ourselves. We are coming to visit you at the end of January. I have a conference near Southside. Didn’t your mother tell you?’

  Chapter 18

  Road-works

  A week later, January 3, 1984: Brian and Tom Hill sat with Colin Dean and Hugh Grundy in the soft chairs in the carpeted corner of their Dickens Court kitchen. The second years had arrived back from the Christmas break in the morning, while the brothers had just got back after a very long and slow journey in Frank Leopard’s Volvo estate. Andrew Leopard was re-organising his room to accommodate his Christmas gifts.

  ‘Did you see Karen Fisher over the break Colin?’ Tom asked.

  ‘No. I dumped her just before the end of term,’ Colin lied.

  ‘Bet you never got in her pants anyway.’ Brian was more to the point.

  ‘Yes I did.’ Colin was defensive.

  ‘Bollocks you did.’ Hugh was never one to help his friend out of a corner. ‘You never touched her. You made it all up just to spite Leopard and he gave you a slap … ha, ha.’

  Ian Mellor marched into the kitchen wearing a new pair of black leather gloves, saving Colin the trouble of finding a witty reply.

  ‘Have a good Christmas Wanker?’ Brian asked with a friendly smile.

  ‘Thanks. Yes. Had a week in Tenerife.’

  ‘Alright for some,’ Colin said with a little jealousy.

  ‘I had a week in Elevenerife,’ boasted Hugh, who always liked to go one better.

  ‘Sounds good Wanker.’ Tom was pleased to see Ian happy.

  ‘New gloves Wanker?’ asked Brian.

  ‘Yes. Christmas present.’ Ian pulled up a chair to join his floor-mates. ‘How about you? Where did you go?’

  ‘Stayed with Andrew,’ replied Brian.

  ‘I bet that was a laugh a minute … it was.’ Hugh joked. ‘Are his mum and dad just like him?’

  ‘No. Completely different most of the time,’ Brian said. ‘But on the drive back, Andrew and his dad were just the same. They wouldn’t stop complaining about road-works. Every other sentence was about digging up the road and how we should improve our rail network. They must have said the word “road-works” about 100 times.’

  ‘Quid each,’ said Hugh, placing two 50p coins in the ashtray.

  ‘What for?’ asked Colin.

  ‘A quid each and when Leopard comes in, the first to make him say “road-works” gets the five quid.’

  Brian placed a one pound note in the ashtray. ‘I’m in.’

  Tom followed along with Colin and Ian. It was the start of a new term and that meant another instalment of their grant money.

  Five minutes later Andrew strolled in and placed a few items in his cupboard before he noticed the silence. He looked around and five of his floor-mates were watching him. It was unusual that they should notice him at all, but, strangely, they were all smiling at him as well. He felt uneasy.

  ‘Did you have a good break Andrew?’ Colin asked warmly.

  Much the same as Hugh, Colin never used Andrew’s first name, so the uneasy feeling grew, especially as the last time he saw Colin was at his feet having pushed him into the Christmas tree in a drunken rage. Before he could answer, Hugh jumped in with another question.

  ‘You’re looking tired Leopard. Did you have a good journey back?’ Hugh knew Andrew wouldn’t trust him if he used his first name again.

  But again, he faced a new question before he could answer.

  ‘How long did it take you to get back?’ Ian Mellor.

  ‘The train system is far too expensive. What do you think Andrew?’ Brian asked.

  ‘Busy traffic today.’ Tom

  Andrew eased his hands out of his pockets. He had never been so popular and it was a good feeling. He joined the others in the corner with his head held high. ‘I had a great Christmas thanks. Got back this afternoon. My dad drove us over. It was a nightmare. There were so many …’

  ‘Andrew,’ shouted Brian, cutting his friend short before he gave Tom the victory.

  ‘What Brian? Are you okay?’ Andrew was worried.

  ‘I really like your shoes.’ It was the first thing that came into Brian’s head.

  ‘Bastard Brian,’ Tom said quietly to his brother.

  The other three breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that Brian’s quick thinking had kept the bet alive.

  Andrew was feeling so confident that he volunteered his next comment. ‘You should have seen all the road-works …’ Andrew stopped mid sentence as the five boys all groaned together. Nobody could claim a win for that and they all reached into the ashtray and took their money back.

  Andrew’s brief moment in the spotlight ended as quickly as it started. Nobody looked at him now. His friends returned to talking among themselves. Andrew slipped his hands back in his pockets.

  Roger Evans shuffled into the room with his cardboard box to prepare cheese on toast. The hush returned as the other six boys checked out his new set of clothes. A new pair of grey trousers, a new pair of brown shoes and a new v-necked jumper in a new pastel shade of blue. Pretty much the same outfit as before Christmas but new. He finished his food preparations, placed his food and pots back in the box and left.

  Ian broke the hush. ‘I’m going to have to go for a lie down. I think I’m suffering jet lag.’ It was a good way of reminding his friends he had been to Tenerife.

  ‘Jet lag?’ blurted Hugh. ‘We’re in the same time zone.’

  ‘Yes. The plane was delayed for five hours,’ explained Ian.

  Ian was confused. He could not understand why his comment had sparked such laughter. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘Wanker. That’s not jet lag.’ Hugh enjoyed pointing out Ian’s error. ‘That’s just a delay.’

  Ian left the room.

  ‘That’s almost as bad as Leopard’s déjà vu faux pas,’ Hugh added.

  Andrew pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and before Hugh could turn his attention to Andrew, Tom changed the subject. ‘Would you like a cup of tea Andrew?’

  ‘Yes please Tom,’ said a relieved Andrew.

  ‘Brian?’

  ‘Please.’

  Tom put the kettle on and pulled three cups out of the cupboard before pulling open the fridge. ‘We’re out of milk. I’ll just nip to the shop.’

  ‘No. I’ll go Tom.’ Andrew preferred to buy the milk than be left with Hugh and Colin.

  As he walked across campus to the on-site Spar shop, Andrew thought about Pink Socks. He had less than a month before his parents’ visit to progress from smiling at her from a distance to making her his steady girlfriend. At least his spots were under control. He thought the best opportunity would be after the next economics lecture. He would approach her when it finished and ask how her Christmas had been.

  The campus Spar was called a ‘supermarket’, but it’s limited stock, compact size and high prices made i
t more of a corner shop, handy for the odd bottle of milk but you’d never do your weekly shopping there. Andrew was not the only student caught short of supplies at the start of the new term and the Spar was packed. He hurried through to the fridge section and there was only one bottle of milk left. As he reached for it, another student also put their hand out.

  Andrew turned to see who his competition was for the last bottle. It was Pink Socks. ‘I’m sorry … I am,’ he mumbled. ‘You were first. You have it.’

  ‘No. I’m sure it was you. You have it,’ she smiled. ‘Don’t I know you?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Yes I do. You’re in my economics group, aren’t you?’

  Andrew quickly remembered what he had planned to say. ‘How was your Christmas?’

  Pink Socks thought it a strange answer to her question but let it go. ‘Very good thank-you. And you?’

  ‘Very good thank-you.’ Andrew was stuck now. He hadn’t thought what question to ask her next. After a few seconds he handed her the milk and hurried away. Before leaving the shop, he realised he hadn’t even asked her name. He stopped without turning. Should he go back and ask? Would he seem weird going back to ask her name? Would he appear uninterested if he didn’t? He was feeling brave and found her in the queue waiting to pay.

  ‘Yes. I am in your economics group … I am. My name is Andrew Leopard.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you Andrew. I’m Karen Fisher.’

  ‘See you in the next lecture Karen,’ Andrew said with fresh vigour. He walked briskly back to Dickens Court with a new spring in his step. He felt a million dollars. He had made the first step. She was lovely. And he had done it faster than he had planned. It was two days until the next economics lecture. He couldn’t wait to tell Tom and Brian.

  He pushed the kitchen door open and waltzed into the kitchen with a confident swagger, smiling from ear to ear. His posture was so out of character that Tom took a double take. He looked a different person.

  Tom could see something had happened. ‘Have you seen my friend Andrew Leopard?’ he asked Andrew.

  ‘My name is Leopard … Andrew Leopard,’ he replied, as if he were James Bond.

  ‘Where’s the milk?’ Brian hadn’t noticed the change in posture.

  ‘There was only one bottle left and I let Pink Socks take it.’

  ‘Pink Socks?’ asked Tom with great excitement. ‘You both went to buy milk and you let her have the last one.’

  ‘I did. And we had a whole conversation.’

  ‘She’s only small. You could have bullied her into letting you have the milk. I’m dying for a cup of tea.’ Brian was not as excited.

  Tom, on the other hand, was delighted for Andrew, but still thought he could have done better. ‘What did she need the milk for?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’

  ‘And what did you need the milk for?’

  ‘You know that. A cup of tea.’ Andrew wasn’t following Tom.

  ‘It’s great that you met her finally, but you missed a great opportunity.’

  ‘What?’ Andrew’s euphoria was starting to fade.

  ‘You could have said to her, “I only need milk for a cup of tea. Why don’t you join me and then you can take the rest of the bottle?” You would have still appeared gracious, but you would have taken a bigger step forward.’

  ‘You’re a sly bugger,’ Brian said.

  Andrew wished he were a ‘sly bugger’. It had been, as Tom said, a ‘great opportunity’.

  Chapter 19

  Vicky Owen

  Nine days later, January 12, 1984: Tom Hill and Andrew Leopard headed into town to pick up the photographs Tom had taken of their Dickens Court Christmas dinner. It was cold and there was steady rain.

  It was over a week since Andrew had met Pink Socks in the Spar and since then, he had got no further than saying ‘hello Karen’ at the end of economics lectures. Time was running out before his parents’ visit and he needed Tom’s advice. Things had to start moving.

  As they approached the railway bridge Andrew turned to his friend. ‘I’ve been to the Spar shop every day this term hoping to bump into her again and she’s never there.’

  ‘I hope you’re not waiting to use the cup of tea line.’

  ‘Well yes.’

  A train approached and passed loudly under the boys. Tom knew Andrew wouldn’t be able to hear him if he spoke. ‘Just say, “You’re a babe. I have a ten inch penis. How about a shag?” And see what happens.’

  The train passed and rumbled into the distance.

  ‘Sorry Tom. I missed that.’

  Tom repeated himself. ‘Just say, “You’re available. I have ten rich tea biscuits. Let’s share a tea bag.” And see what happens.’

  Andrew thought his friend was turning loopy. ‘And you think that will work?’

  ‘No. Maybe not.’ Tom was mentally exhausted on the subject of Pink Socks.

  As they passed the football ground, side by side, with Andrew closest to the curb, a large white van raced past, very close to the edge, hitting a puddle and sending water all over Andrew’s new grey trousers. Andrew shielded Tom from most of the spray. He was already cold and wet and considered waving a fist at the driver, but didn’t, just in case he was an enormous thug who might slam on the breaks and come back to punch him.

  As the van drove away, he noticed a slogan on the back, which read ‘say it with flowers’. Perhaps that was the way forward. ‘How about I send her some flowers?’

  ‘Yes. Good idea.’ Tom just wanted Andrew to do something. Anything other than talk about what to do. ‘Let’s order them now.’

  ‘No. No,’ Andrew replied desperately.

  ‘Why not?’ Tom was close to losing his patience.

  ‘There has to be an occasion.’

  ‘No there doesn’t,’ Tom yelled, exasperated.

  ‘She’d think I was stupid if there were no reason for sending them.’

  ‘There is a reason. You fancy her.’

  ‘But I don’t want her to know that … I don’t.’

  ‘Why do you want to send her flowers then? I thought that was the whole idea.’

  ‘To try and make her like me … I suppose.’

  The boys walked into the shopping centre, which gave them welcome relief from the rain. In the photographic shop, they were waiting for the assistant to return with their pictures when a pretty girl stood next to them at the counter. Tom recognised her. He had seen her in the Dickens Court reception area collecting her mail.

  She wore conservative clothes, pleated grey skirt and sensible shoes. Her anorak was open and Tom saw a light brown cardigan underneath. She had a plain, but attractive face, very little make-up and shoulder-length dark brown hair held in a pony tail. A carefully trimmed fringe followed the straight line of her eyebrows. Her expression was almost a smile and at around five feet four she looked quietly confident. Appearances can be deceptive though, as Tom was later to find out.

  Tom paid for the pictures and the girl was then served.

  ‘Let’s go then.’ Andrew wondered what Tom was waiting for. He hadn’t noticed the girl from Dickens Court. He only had eyes for Pink Socks. Tom, however, had noticed the girl and liked what he saw.

  She collected her pictures and swung around to see Tom, recognised him and smiled.

  Tom could see she had recognised him, but probably didn’t know from where. ‘Hi. I think we’re neighbours. Well. Sort of neighbours. I’ve seen you in reception at Dickens Court.’

  Her eyes lit up. She knew exactly where she knew him from and was delighted that he had recognised her. ‘Yes. I’m in Block B.’

  He reached out his hand. ‘Tom Hill. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Vicky Owen.’

  ‘You heading back now?

  ‘Yes.’ She had planned a bit more shopping, but didn’t want to miss the chance of walking with her new friend.

  ‘We’ll walk with you. Oh I’m sorry. This is Andrew.’

  ‘Hi,’ said
Andrew, who felt as if he had just become invisible.

  ‘Hi Andrew.’

  They set off. Tom and Vicky were in deep conversation. Andrew tagged along behind them. As they left the shopping centre, Vicky put up her umbrella and Tom squeezed under it with her. There was only room for two.

  As they passed the football ground, Andrew noticed Tom and Vicky speed up a little and assumed it was because they didn’t want to be with him. He was wrong. It was because Tom remembered the puddle by the edge of the road and had seen a car approaching fast. Andrew eventually put two and two together as the spray drenched him for a second time.

  Tom turned round. ‘You alright Andrew.’

  ‘Yes. Thank-you.’

  ‘I thought you’d have remembered that.’

  Andrew felt a bit stupid as well as invisible. Tom and Vicky returned to their conversation. She had been spending her Christmas money in the sales.

  ‘So what did you get?’ Tom asked.

  ‘A nice pair of gold stud ear-rings.’

  ‘Sounds nice.’

  ‘Some new jeans. Reduced.’

  ‘Do they still fit?’

  ‘Reduced in price nutter, not size.’ Vicky laughed a little. The joke wasn’t very funny, but she’d been watching Tom since the second week of the previous term and whatever he said was amusing and charming. ‘I also got a “save the whale” T-shirt from a shop called Third World Collective.’ Now she was worried. She thought she may look like a radical lefty and scare Tom off. ‘It has a load of Greenpeace stuff. Do you know it?’

  Tom knew it well. It was the shop he went in for Brian’s birthday present at the start of term. And he had been back since. A few times. He probably even had the same T-shirt. ‘I know it. I go there a lot. I’m a member of Greenpeace.’

  Wow thought Vicky, who had never been brave enough to join something as subversive as a pressure group. ‘How do you become a member?’

  ‘Fill out the form and pay a modest subscription. That’s it. You can be as active as you want. They don’t mind. The bigger the membership the bigger the voice.’

  ‘I’d like to, but I don’t think my father would approve. He thinks you get your name on a secret police file and it stops you getting a good job.’