Educating Laura Ch. 01

"I'm hoping to stay in America or Canada before returning to the UK. I'm shit at languages."

I was surprised at another admission of inadequacy. "Labs all work in English though, don't they?"

"Officially. In reality, no. If I need to get lab techs on my side..."

"I suppose. So who have you been staying with?"

There was a pause.

"I haven't. Booked the rest room at work for one night, when it was free. Dozed in all-night cafés a couple times. Splashed out on a hostel, once, but it was shit. Horribly noisy."

I did some mental arithmetic and guessed there was more he wasn't telling me, but that was his business.

"That's dedication to the job."

"Mm. One more week, Beddington's lab can have me cluttering up the place. Then back home to Coventry."

"Not bad, for a first-year student."

"No. But you know the odds. One in ten post-docs ever gets a lab-head position. I don't have to be just not-bad to get a career going, I need to be bloody amazing."

"It's still a good start."

"Suppose. Wish I could do more and get my name on a paper."

I tried not to laugh at him. Any undergraduate getting included on a published research paper would be impressive. For a first-year, it was a ridiculous level of ambition.

"Anyway. I'm around London until the end of next week. Feel free to call, if you want to chat with someone over fourteen."

"Thanks," I said, but he'd hung up.

To be fair, Pete and Andy made more effort to include me in conversation after that evening. Even Alison made the odd friendly comment. But the weather pissed it down for the next three days, so it was Sunday before I carefully cycled through the muddy valleys to town.

My phone hiccuped, spewing out a dozen messages. Sanj was away for the weekend. My dad leaving the country, again. College confirmed snottily that I couldn't return until the third of September. Then an unknown number, which read: 'Richie's mobile. Bored? Call or text any time you have a signal.'

I spoke to a couple other friends from school or uni, but their tales of their happy family lives and summer holidays just made me more lonely again.

At least Richie wouldn't do that. So I figured I might as well try calling him.

"Hey. Laura. Didn't expect you to phone on a Sunday. Oh, the weather. Did your camp weather the storms OK?"

"Yes, thanks. We've got a big marquee for entertaining the kids in -- it's not weather tight for sleeping, but it was OK for the morning. The afternoon, we splashed out and took them swimming. I was glad it was the Friday night, though, because nothing got dry before they headed home! Andy and I double-checked all the tents, moved a few out of any hollows, and we stayed dry last night -- in the staff tent so to be near the cooking rig. Been chain-drinking mugs of tea to keep warm, and thank god for my hot water bottle! Sorry, I'm probably not tempting you to ever go camping!"

"I don't mind sleeping out. I do it a lot near home, been doing it a few nights round London. But yeah, Friday was a case of clubbing and finding someone to take me home, with that rain. Last night, too. Got offers, both nights. It's dried out here, now, so I'll go back to the woods tonight.

"Bloody 'ell, Rich!"

I would have asked if he was out of his mind, only I knew he wasn't. Saving money while staying another week in London was his single-minded concern. "Can't anyone in the lab put you up? Especially if it's only a few more days?"

"You know, I hadn't thought of that."

"You divot! Ask them, on Monday, before you catch your death of pneumonia!" Or got roofied and robbed by some random slapper... The guy really was a nutcase.

"All right, all right! Not like you've been living the high life, even with your own tent! What perks do you get, apart from free food?"

"Entry to the swimming pool and all the activities we do, I suppose. And I get a mountain bike and helmet to use. It's eight miles to town here, so I use the launderette and make use of this red phone box on weekends."

"A phone box!" He laughed. "How charmingly retro."

"Old-school, I know, but my mobile's out of charge -- I called my dad in the week and it ran down. I'll charge it in the laundrette while my clothes dry, so I don't have to beg Andy to plug it into the cigarette lighter next time he takes a bus out."

"Is he hard to bribe? Oh! There's the pips -- I'll call you back."

I assumed he wasn't being serious, just polite, but 30 seconds later the phone in the red call-box rang.

"Laura? Good. So, this Andy? Is he talent worthy of you?"

I laughed, startled by his question. "I can't say I'd really thought about it." I had thought about it, a lot. "I mean, he's probably about thirty, I guess. Lean. Wiry kinda muscle. Dark wavy hair, brown eyes, sort of intense look. I suppose he's good looking, now you mention it." I was lying; Andy was gorgeous, and the highlight of working at the camp. "And he's a good guy to work with. But he's really quiet, like, really reserved. I mean, I know nothing about him whatsoever, anything he's ever done in his life -- he's a total closed book! So I couldn't make any assessment... Not to mention I need to get along with someone other than Pete here! Not going there."

That was all true. I still hardly knew Andy despite so many evenings in his company, even though he supported me in my work, telling Sam off for criticising me when I'd not known how to do something. Yet I trusted the man completely, and he seemed to do the same with me.

I sighed. Sam's sniping had been grinding me down, even if Alison was clearly trying to be polite, while bossy Jude probably meant to be just doing her job.

"That was a big sigh."

"Mm. You just kinda reminded me how long it's been since I had friendly company. Let alone a shag. Hearing Jude and Sam at it gets wearing."

"I imagine it would. Oh well, there's always self-love."

He spoke totally factually. People would accuse him of loving himself too much, but outside his undeniably impressive academic achievements, I was starting to get the impression that he was more modest, rather than boastful. Self-effacing even; just didn't take crap off anyone.

"Expensive on the batteries. Not to mention the paranoia over someone listening, just outside the canvas."

"Can't you... go manual?"

"Oh, you sweet naive man!" I briefly wondered how much he'd been hands-on with women's anatomy. Some people suspected he was gay. "In short, no, not really. Just doesn't do much."

"That sounds tough. Anyway, you said you had new raft-building plans for the next lot?"

I was relieved to change the subject.

"Ah, yes. We had four oil drums per team, but now we've got twenty of those five-litre plastic jugs -- you know, with the integral handle -- they can pass rope through? The idea is they might help make the rafts more stable, but I'm not convinced."

"Depends how well they spread them out."

My coins ran out shortly after that. But I got a text a couple days later, asking how it went, so I thought I might as well call him back while Andy whizzed merrily around the giant out-of-town supermarket.

"How did it go?" Richie asked.

"Badly. Seriously, these kids don't know any knots beyond bows, half not even that. Buoyancy is a bit too complicated for them! I've got excellent photos of them all capsizing! What are you doing?"

"Me? Working late. It's my last week in Beddington's lab. Hoping to get some more crystals. I can carry on with the modelling algorithms myself at home, which is where I guess I'll be for the next few weeks. They may be able to squeeze me in the lab for the last couple weeks of the vac, too."

"What are you going to do at home?"

I could hear the exaggerated shrug.

"Dunno, apart from that coding. Temping, I suppose. Be bored out of my skull." He was silent, then added, offhand, "I could come visit you one weekend, if you like."

"You don't have to be polite."

"Me? As if."

It was a fair point. "True. And you know what camping's like! Huh. Maybe..." I had to go, then, to assist with the checkout.

It wasn't the worst idea ever. It occurred to me that I'd be quite happy to hang out with Richie -- certainly compared to my colleagues over another isolated week. We could see the sights, snark over a pub lunch... In small doses, his opinionated personality was fine by me. For a day or two, I reckoned I could dish it out as well as he could.

So I called Richie from the climbing centre that Tuesday, to see if he were serious and still up for visiting me. Because no-one else was.

"I'm always serious. Just say when. I'm only getting days at a time from the agency, here. Getting bored dead rigid already, I tell you."

"Tell you what, I'll check it's OK, though I'm sure it would be -- Pete's fiancée visits when he's here on the weekends -- but yeah. OK. This weekend?"

"You check it all out, confirm to me tomorrow night -- you'll have phone at the pub as it's Wednesday, right?" Good memory.

"Yeah? If you're happy to sleep in a tent... Bring your own sleeping bag -- we have some spares but they're a bit mank! It's a bit far for a night -- though you could arrive late Friday, if you can cope with twenty juvenile delinquents! This lot are only eleven or twelve, so not so bad. Don't let them wind you up."

"Of course not. Friday, then. I'll check the trains. Check your messages and call to confirm tomorrow night, yeah?"

"There's no trains to Monmouth. It's buses, from Hereford or Gloucester."

"I was speaking generally. I can manage the transport to get myself there, I'm not incompetent at life. Though I make no promises about Welsh local transport..."

He really was serious. "Don't forget swimming trunks and a couple towels."

"Towels, plastic bags, zip-loc bags, dry clothes -- I know! What's your tipple? Anything except beer, right?"

"Right. Actually, not tequila..."

He chuckled, a rarity from him. "You don't say. That was a good party."

"You were there too? I didn't think you did parties! Oh, shit..."

I vaguely remembered getting topless during a party halfway through the year, before throwing up spectacularly. He definitely meant that one! I'd also crashed and burned with at least two people, not that I could recall who they even were. Not him, at least.

"Calm down. See you on Friday. I'll bring binoculars for bird-watching."

"And midge repellent."

"Mm. Definitely. See ya." He hung up without people's usual exchanges of goodbyes.

Richie might be a nutcase, but I was suddenly looking forward to seeing him. College clearly was a bonding experience.

Andy confirmed with a grunt that he'd drop me at the bus station and collect us before or after his Friday Tesco run; Pete nodded and confirmed all was fine by him. He looked a bit sideways at me, as if he'd suspected I wasn't altogether happy.

"That's fine. I'll take Alison in the van back to London on Saturday; she can crash with us again if she prefers."

That was quite telling, her staying -- again -- with Pete and his fiancée Gurda, rather than with Jude whom she'd been living with. Not that I could blame her.

Richie called me the next night. "I'm still in the lab. Experiments. I'll stay late here, but Dan put me up yesterday, says to drop in tomorrow, too."

"You booked the rest room?" Research establishments had rooms with beds for staff to sleep in, when their experiments required them on site during the night.

"No. But the library chair cushions are comfortable."

"The things you do for your career!" The boy was obsessed. Mad.

"Mm. If I'm lucky, tonight may pay off big time. I need to go in a minute -- look after my crystals. I'll be getting one of the hourly buses from Gloucester around six, so should be with you 6:45?"

"Fine. There should be phone reception on that journey, for texts at least. See you then."

Come Friday, Sam grumbled because I wasn't supervising the kids cooking their last dinner. Jude sucked her teeth. I pointed out that Pete was in charge. He'd said I could go with Andy to collect Richie.

As it turned out, when Andy swung by to drop me off, Richie and a backpack were already waiting.

"The previous bus ran late so I squeezed on it. You're Andy? Hi. Richie."

Andy nodded, shook Richie's hand. "Right, sling your bag in, we're off to Tesco's."

We grabbed everything on Andy's list in super-fast time. Richie silently unloaded most of the bags and returned the trolley while Andy started up the van. Andy and Rich clearly approved of each other, though I didn't think they'd yet exchanged twenty words.

Richie didn't let me down at the camp site, either. "Tell me what needs doing."

He'd supervised some kids chopping carrots, then rounded them all up for dinner, meaning Alison could have a sit-down with a much-needed mug of tea. This group had been exceptionally energetic and naughty, prone to running away. Much as I liked them as individuals, I'd be glad to say goodbye to them as a group.

We ate. I used up the boiling water to make hot drinks for everyone. Silently, Richie hauled two more buckets of water from the tap a hundred yards away, and refilled the cans over the fire. We'd have more warm water for washing-up, soon.

"Thanks, mate," Andy said. "Don't you wash up though -- we make the kids do that." There was an old bathtub outside the cook tent which we tried to keep a quarter-full with water, for ease when cooking, but also for quenching anything on fire, if needed. We hadn't needed that yet, but Andy was insistent it be there.

Richie nodded, and passed another stick and marshmallow to a dejected boy who had set his alight, wordlessly swapping out the branch covered in burning sticky charcoal before the kid could wave it and get it stuck in anyone's hair.

I noticed Richie's watchful stance as three boys set to the washing up, suddenly appearing behind them and coughing as the splashing got too boisterous, tapping one on the shoulder before he could throw a mugful of soapy water.

As usual, the kids reacted with aggression.

"Oi, don't touch me! Are you a poof?"

"That information is classified and need-to-know only, I'm afraid."

I exhaled in relief. I'd warned him about the children and the need not to rise to their baits, but hadn't been sure he'd be able to. I also noticed Richie didn't deny, with his deadpan comment.

The kid continued, "Why've you got a black hole in your ear?" He pointed at the black-metal gauge in Richie's earlobe.

"A supernova collapsed in on itself," Richie told him, blandly.

I was probably the only one in earshot to get the joke, which just made it even funnier. Andy grasped the double meaning of 'black hole' after a moment, and shook his head.

Being Friday night, the last one for the kids before being minibussed back to London in the morning, no-one tried to make the children go to their tents much before eleven. It was a mellow evening round the campfire, despite my still being on duty. None of the kids would ever try to run away into the wild dark! They drank their hot chocolate and sang scurrilous songs once we exhausted the campfire classics.

"All north London!" started one of them.

"All north London!" replied a dozen others with the refrain, sounding more like 'norf Landan' in their 'sarf Lahndahn' vernacular.

"Is full of shit!"

"Is full of shit!" came the reply.

"All north London is full of shit," they chorused together.

"It's full of shit, shit and more shit!

All north London is full of shit."

As they howled the similar verses about east and west London, I noticed Andy humming along.

"What?" he asked, defensively.

"Didn't take you for a Millwall fan. Being, y'know, from Scotland."

Andy shrugged. "A wee bit far for watching Dundee's home games, don't you think? I can walk to the New Den. It's a fine atmosphere, there."

Not quite so violent as a few years ago, but Millwall football fans still had quite the reputation.

"Even when they lose, as usual?"

Andy didn't object to my stirring. "It's a sair fecht." He started to explain, then realised I knew enough Scots to recognise the phrase. A sore fight; i.e. life is hard.

Behind us, in the still-sultry night, the song grew more rousing.

"All sarf Lahndan! Is wonderful!"

"All sarf Landan is wonderful!"

It's full of tits, pussy and Millwall!

All south London is won-der-ful!!!"

Drum-rolling on various tree stumps, as the song reached a crescendo.

Jude and Sam counted all twenty kids into their tents, and settled down for their duty in the staff tent.

"How're we doing on time?" Pete asked.

"Too late for last orders," Andy replied. The pub stopped serving at eleven.

"Could go for a swim," Pete said.

I was always up for a wallow on a hot night, and nodded.

The men looked at Richie, who shrugged. "I brought swimming trunks. And a bottle of rum, if anyone's interested?"

Andy clapped him on the back. "Good man. Hey, Ali! We're going swimming up at the hollow."

"Are you wanting me to drive you?" Alison asked.

"Was inviting you, to come along."

"Oh!" She clawed her hand through her shaggy mouse-blonde hair with its bleached-white tips. It had probably looked good, at some point, but was now a style disaster. "Well... OK. Sure. And I can drive you -- I'm not drinking."

Andy said nothing, raised an eyebrow.

"Meds," she told him firmly.

Richie extracted two large beach towels from his rucksack, plus trunks and goggles which he put in a supermarket carrier bag, along with his half-litre of Kraken and a large bar of dark chocolate. I wasn't sure which of those I was more delighted by.

"It's like you've met me!"

"I try to pay attention. Which way?"

One minibus on the track lit up, solving that one. I had my own swimsuit and towels, figuring I wasn't going to be skinny-dipping in front of my boss! If it had been just me and Andy, I might have suggested it, more to see the expression on his face than in any expectation of actually doing it.

We were in luck -- no-one else was near the ten-foot stretch of sandy beach nor even the stones and trees surrounding it. I stepped behind a rock to change.

By the time I emerged, women's wear being what it is, the three lads were in the still-warm water and Alison was stepping carefully down to join them. We lounged around in the thigh-deep river, rinsing off the sweat of the last couple days.

Richie grilled Pete. "How deep is the river? Surely there are sharp rocks? Are there any currents to worry about?"

"At the moment, it's probably only six foot at most. Double that, in winter. There's not a current here, which is one reason we use this stretch for canoeing with the kids. But yeah, once you leave this bay -- he swept his arm around -- the main flow has rocks and gravel at the bottom, so you'd want waterproof sandals or something. Why, did you want to swim to the other side and back?

"No. In daylight, maybe."

Relief showed on Alison and Pete's faces.

"You mentioned rum, pal?" Andy, pragmatic as ever.

Richie nodded. "I'll get it."

He stood up. I knew Richie had the typical lean physique of a twenty-year-old, but I'd never seen him towering over me before, even if I had seen him wandering the corridor in boxers, as all the lads did. He was more muscular than I'd thought.

His wet shorts clung to him as he waded ashore, showing off a delightfully pert arse. Returning with the rum provided an equally impressive frontal view, with some visible pecs and a larger package in his shorts than I'd have expected.

Richie sat down again, opened his bottle, took a deep slug, and passed it to me.

Perhaps it was just my experiencing a dearth of sex, making me see the attractions of anyone? I now couldn't un-see his stunning cheekbones, his fine bone structure highlighted by the wet hair pulled off his face. I figured some drink might help, so I copied Richie and took a good swig of the rum, as did Pete and Andy. Alison took a small sip.