Beware the Roasburies! Pt. 06

There are some things you don't need to know and this is one of them.

Before 15th February 1971, in Britain we had pounds '£', shillings 's', and pence 'd' (denarii). 12 pence in a shilling, 20 shillings in a pound. We also had guineas – 21 shillings to complicate matters further.

The penny was divided into 2 halfpennies (pronounced haypny), and 4 farthings (fourth-things). The latter was discontinued in 1960, it was hardly used even before that.

Two sayings using the halfpenny:
"You daft ha'peth!" = "You silly halfpenny (affectionate)!"
"Keep yer hand on yer ha'pny" = "Protect your vulva." (risqué)

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Chapter Twenty-four

Saturday 6 February 71
I did not fully realise how efficient, thorough, wealthy and influential Geoffrey Roasburie was, but I soon found out. From late Saturday morning (we slept in after a longer and more intense than usual carnal celebration of our engagement the night before), when Connie phoned her father to accept his generous offer, it was only two hours before he was back.

He asked could she attend with him for an interview at the university first thing on Monday morning followed by a briefing to discuss whether to re-sit the exams in May, or wait for the re-sits at the end of August. Then they would do some flat hunting before returning that night.

How did he manage all that planning on a Saturday? Or had he arranged it all before talking to me? That was thought-provoking. Was it just my now over suspicious mind? Well, that as well, but his name was Roasburie!

Connie was also rather taken aback at the speed of things.

"What do you think?" she asked me. "Should I go?"

"You've made the decision to go back. Of course you should go. You need all the time you can get to catch up, so the sooner you get started the better."

It then struck me that I had never asked her what she had been studying at university when she dropped out, though I had a vague memory she had told me, something about Social History?

"I never asked, or I've forgotten," I said penitently. "What were you doing at Keele?"

"I was doing English and Social History," she said. "I did OK in course work until Easter, but I failed the first year exams. I just didn't revise. My fault."

That night Connie burrowed into my chest wanting cuddles.

"I'm afraid," she said, quite plaintively, stroking my chest. She gazed into my eyes and she was right, she was frightened.

"Connie," I assured her quietly, "You are highly intelligent. You handled all your coursework well and you weren't even trying the last time. You only fell at the exams. This time you've got a strong incentive to succeed, and after last time and what followed you'll make sure history doesn't repeat itself. Listen to what they offer, you can't lose really."

"Hmm," she muttered, unconvinced, but settled in my arms and fell asleep, leaving me awake and wondering what the future held for us.

Monday 8 February 71
We were up early and forwent our run so as to be prepared for Geoff, ate a cereal breakfast and were ready when he arrived at seven. Connie was still uncertain and fearful. We hugged and I stroked her hair.

"Trust me," I whispered to her while Geoff looked on uncertainly. "Everything will turn out fine. This is your big chance. Go for it!"

She smiled kissed me fervently, and went with her father, who nodded at me with a glance at her: he understood. I nodded back but I could not read his smile.

I went to work, and to my surprise was able to concentrate, which was a relief after my poor performance the previous week. At lunchtime, taken this time 'on the hoof' as I sought to make the progress I lacked previously, all three of my ladies visited me to the envy of every male on the floor.

"Well?" asked Colette.

I raised an eyebrow, "Well what?"

"Did you?"

"Did I–"

"You know, come on Graham."

"Connie and I are engaged."

She squealed, loudly, hugged me and left.

Then Harriet: "Hi Graham!"

"Yes, we are!"

She was puzzled for a moment then broke into a grin. "I'm so pleased," she said and kissed me. Hard. "Good!" she said, and left.

I abandoned work in favour of a sandwich and a coffee, waiting for Zena, who, living next door, was last to arrive.

"Great, just great!" she said with a broad smile on arrival, "You're just right for each other." Then, "The other matter? Any news on that?"

"She's gone to Keele with her father for an interview this morning."

Her face fell, but recovered quickly, and I understood her feelings, since they reflected my own. Zena and I thought alike on many things, which is why we got on so well together. We were like brother and sister.

"I think on balance things will be different with her," she said, and it wasn't just to encourage me. "She knows this is her main chance – with you as well as the degree."

"I think and hope so too," I replied, shrugged, and took another bite from my sandwich.

She ruffled my hair and left me to my lunch with no further comment.

However, it was clear the girls had been talking, for mid afternoon Colette burst in again.

"No!" she cried. "Graham, you can't let her go – it's a recipe for disaster. She'll find someone–"

"Colette, calm down. Look, she's not her sister; she needs this chance. If she finds someone else, that's life; I can't stop her taking this opportunity, now can I?"

"No," she said on reflection. "I suppose not, but I don't see this ending well for you."

"As I said, that's life. Que sera, etc."

She wandered off, subdued, leaving me to try to concentrate on my own work. While I might have sounded resigned, phlegmatic and unworried, I felt anything but. I could see a real prospect of history repeating itself in some way and it depressed me.

Zena made no further comment on the way home, which if anything made things worse. She could have said there was little likelihood of Connie drifting away or finding someone else, but she didn't, and so I was feeling depressed and pessimistic by the time I was seated at home with a mug of tea.

My feelings were not helped by a little subterfuge I perpetrated at lunchtime that day. I went to 'Burns Investigations Ltd.' and showing my clerk's ID from the practice, asked if they had another copy of the investigation into Graham Proctor. Yes, they had two more copies. I paid cash and took the document.

As I suspected, Burns's report had not been altered by them, and the dates all related to late spring and summer. What is more they included the day of the week each time as well as the date. The changes had been made after the report had been received.

The false report had been professionally typed and had followed Burns's style, and I concluded that either the Dragon had commissioned an experienced typist, or it had been done by Kieran Walsh and his loyal secretary. It remained to check the machine Walsh's secretary used against the copy that Penny had left with me.

I would keep my knowledge to myself until I needed it. It came to me that while Penny's mother used the fabricated report, there was a good chance Kieran Walsh wanted to use the original to further his plans to sack me.

Connie phoned me from a phone box but only had time to say she'd be late, before the pips went. She did sign off with her love. I felt better just for hearing her voice.

I defrosted a stew, made some dumplings and settled to some work I'd brought home to catch up after my unproductive previous week. It was ten o'clock when I heard the key in the lock, and she bustled in, shouting she was home.

I emerged. She was carrying a large box, and Geoff was behind her with another.

"Hi, Graham!" he grinned. "I must be off. She'll tell you all the news. Bye!"

I returned the farewell, and moved to the kitchen to heat her food.

"Dad and I had dinner on the way home," she said, coming into the kitchen. I turned the gas off.

"Oh," I said flatly.

"You didn't wait for...? Oh you did! I'm so sorry, darling." She came to me and hugged and kissed me softly on my lips. Go and sit down, I'll get you your dinner."

"Don't do the stew," I said dully, "there's too much for one. It'll keep till tomorrow. I'll make a sandwich. Go and unpack whatever it is you've brought home."

I saw her deflate. She had been full of her news when she arrived; now she looked disappointed and wandered off. I made a stilton and salad sandwich and opened a bottle of Shiraz, and sat to eat it at the kitchen table.

She came back in, her face creased with worry. I picked the bottle up as an invitation and she nodded. I poured her a glass and she sat down opposite me.

"Graham I'm sorry," she pleaded. "I didn't think you'd wait."

"It's OK," I said patiently. "So, are you going to tell me how it went?"

She glanced at my face before she began, much of her eagerness had evaporated: now she looked uncertain.

"I didn't realise how much influence Daddy has at Keele, it seems he was heavily involved with the whole planning and building of the new university buildings, and the alteration of the older ones, or rather his company was – though since it's his company..."

She tailed off, than gained new energy.

"I'm reinstated on the same course and all my previous marks and assessments stand, though if I do any assessments before May and the marks are better, they'll supersede my old ones. Most of the books and material are still the same, though there are a few changes. I'm going to sit first year exams in May/June with the option to re-sit in August if I fail any elements, because they understand there's a lot to do before May.

"I've been assigned to a pastoral tutor, Doctor Desmond Franks, who is going to supervise me. He's a PhD, I think he's in the Maths department. I was surprised at how young he was: he's about your age. Nice man, I have to see him weekly since I'm in a different position from the rest of the students."

She paused and looked worried again.

"Graham," she said earnestly, and then stopped, looking uncertainly at me.

I nodded an encouragement.

"Well, I don't know how to say this, but Desmond said I should start immediately."

It was like a bolt of lightning. I'd suspected it in a theoretical way, but now it was real. I'd thought we would have a few months together before she left, but those hopes were now dashed. My face gave me away for she immediately looked distressed.

"I don't have to..." she faltered, "If you want..."

I knew what I had to say, though it was with a feeling of dread. "So when are you going?"

"Next weekend. Daddy wants to take me, but would you? I mean I'd prefer it to be you."

I started to get the feeling that 'Daddy' wanted to take over her life from me, and I wondered whether, like his wife, he thought she could do better for herself than shack up with me. I asked the question.

"Did you tell him about us – our engagement?"

"Yes." She said no more but her face showed my suspicions were right. This was the second time he'd taken her away.

"That bad eh?"

She shrugged. "I don't know what he's thinking, but he wasn't... enthusiastic. He said something about university might change my mind."

"And you said?"

"I said I wasn't changing. You were all I'd ever want in a husband, friend and companion. He didn't say anything to that."

I decided to move on. "Where are you staying?"

"They've just built new student accommodation on campus, and some of them are individual flats. There were some just finished that will be offered in September, so they are vacant, and I've got one. Daddy's paid up till the end of the academic year, and if I still like it I've got the option for next year.

"Daddy said one of the rules was that visitors were not allowed to stay overnight in the flats, so I said we'd have to look elsewhere because you would be staying over most weekends. He went and made a phone call and came back to say that married couples had an exemption, but since we were engaged, you could stay."

I privately wondered if that was a fiction, and my suspicions about Geoff's motives deepened. Unlike his wife he kept his feelings in, and perhaps then he was able to work to get things done the way he wanted. I resolved it would pay to be more watchful around him. He was more clever and probably more devious than his wife.

"The boxes?" I inquired.

"Books!" she cried. "Lots of books, and stationery. Daddy bought me a typewriter, but I left that in the flat. There's course stuff from the English and History departments I've got to read."

She was so excited! Then she calmed.

"I'm just beginning to realise how much work there is to do to get on track. I don't think I'm going to be very good company until June. There's so much to remember: thank goodness Daddy saved my work when Mother wanted to throw it all away. He brought it with him this morning."

I shrugged. I already knew she'd have a mountain to climb. "I accepted that as soon as you agreed to go back," I said. "Knowing you as you are now, this time you won't be aiming to scrape through, you'll be going for gold."

She grinned. I was right.

Now it was coming home to me as well that our idyllic home life was going to change radically and in short order. In a few days she would not be living in my flat with me, and in the coming days she needed to abandon her usual work around the house, and get down to acclimatising herself to academic work.

"Connie, until the weekend you now have a job – your degree work. You work all day at it; we'll share other jobs as if we were both going out to work. Understand?"

"But–"

"No buts, Get started tomorrow. By the end of the week you should be clearer what you need to concentrate on. Look, from next week I'll be fending for myself, and that's nothing new, you know. What are you going to do for money? Is your Dad funding everything, or do you want an allowance from me?"

"We opened an account and he's paying into it every month. It's enough to live on, and that's all I'll need."

"Any extras–"

"I just ask him and he pays."

It's funny, but that statement really hit home. I'd been her protector, her carer, and I'd enjoyed her dependence on me. Now I felt rejected; in a way she'd left me that way as well and was now independent of me. I realised it was less her independence and more that I didn't like her dependence on Geoff: it just felt like a threat to me.

However, I was powerless: I couldn't very well throw a tantrum, because there was no way I could support her at university. My money could not run to a flat for her, and there was uncertainty as to whether after dropping out she would qualify for a maintenance grant. In those heady days tuition was free.

As usual she read my face.

"What's the matter, Graham?"

What to say? The truth, but crafted. I gave it some thought.

"It's a head and heart thing, really. Intellectually, you doing your degree is nothing but good, and your Dad paying for everything is also wonderful because it relieves you of worry. Everything is fine.

"But emotionally? We're going to be apart, which is a wrench emotionally, and then your Dad paying for everything? Well, don't get me wrong, it's not about power, I don't think you can accuse me of exercising power over you, but I've enjoyed looking after you so much, I've enjoyed giving, and now your Dad has taken all that away. You are completely independent of me.

"As I say, intellectually that's all fine, but I can't stop the feeling of – well – bereavement. I can't do things for you any more."

Her face was a picture as she sought to keep up with my reasoning. She was working hard to understand, her brow was furrowed, and from time to time distressed. Finally there was a look of such love. She nodded.

"Yes, I can see that. And you're right, you never tried to run my life for me, in fact the very reverse. But you will be spending on me, won't you? You'll come and visit me at weekends, so there's petrol [gas] to pay, more if you come and bring me home."

She used the word 'home' so naturally I smiled, and then she had to explain why.

"Of course this is home. Home is where you are, with you. Really, you know, looking back on life with my parents, I never felt truly at home. Dad organised my life, as he is doing now, Mum constantly made me feel ill at ease and rebellious. So this is my first experience of feeling completely at home, relaxed, safe and secure. You will bring me home some weekends won't you?"

Of course I would. Then I had another idea.

"The University Library Exchange system!" I said excitedly. "You can use Manchester University library during the vacations."

"Really?" she was intrigued. "Dad said I would probably need to stay at Keele during the vacation, but that's a better idea."

Another attempt to keep us apart. It was becoming clearer, though I still did not understand why.

"You've got a student ID card?" I asked.

"Yes, we got one while there. Now please, my darling, can we go to bed, I'm tired."

There was a depth to our love-making that night, though it was short the quality was different, as if her new status gave us a new relationship. The love felt deeper, more accepting.

Tuesday 9 February 71
Next morning we ran together, showered separately, breakfasted together and when I left for work, she was already in her room, and books and papers were scattered all over the bed and available chairs. She leapt to her feet and I got my customary hug and scorching kiss to send me on my way. It felt warming to see her dedication both to me and to her new academic life.

I said as much to Zena, who smiled. "She'll do you and herself proud, believe me, Graham, I don't think you have any need to worry about her."

When I returned home that evening, there was no dinner cooking, no appetising smells. I put my head round her door to see her hard at work.

"Hi, I'm home!" I said.

She started. "Oh hell! I've got nothing ready for dinner – tea," she grinned at that, then looked worried and apologetic.

"Don't worry," I said. "Carry on with your work, I'll do dinner."

She giggled, I assumed at my use of the 'd' word. She came to me for a hug and kiss then returned to her table. "Thanks, I'm in the middle of something, and I don't want to lose my train of thought."

There was the stew from the night before which only need heating, though I would have to make new dumplings, the others were by now hard little balls which could easily have been used for golf.

The following night there was a vegetable curry ready cooking in the oven, and the rice was cooking on the hob, the table was set and there were mango chutney, onions and raita. The smell was enticing, but she was deep into reading. I went to change when I heard her alarm clock ringing and she was out in the kitchen draining the rice.

A hug and a kiss and we sat down to eat. I enthused about the curry which was delicious.

"My turn again tomorrow," I said.

"I can do it," came the reply.

"I know," I said, "but now you're working, it's turn and turn about."

She looked relieved and gave no further objection. I did steak and onions, with carrots, broccoli and chips.

"Shall we go out to eat tomorrow?" I asked, implying that Friday was her last night; I had been out shopping for a little something for her flat.

"Can we eat at home?" she asked, "I'd like to spend my last night for a while here."

Friday 12 February 71
So we had chip shop fish, chips and peas. After the meal she disappeared to pack her books and papers into the boxes in which they came, while I washed up. Then she appeared in the living room in her baby doll nightie and no knickers.

We immediately had an early night, but got to sleep late. Nothing out of the ordinary; it was more about our feelings of deep affection and contentment with each other, and so it was gentle rather than athletic with periods of peaceful lying in each other's arms and chatting about the future.