The women settled into the green plastic cushions with the drinks and food on the two double seats set facing each other in the middle of the boat. Joe stood at the rear platform of the first punt and pushed off under Silver Street Bridge. Stephen punted the second boat out after Joe. It was easy-going past the evening drinkers on the bridge enjoying the warm summer evening out from The Mill public house. He went right in a loop round Sheep’s Green to the spot where the punts had to be dragged up the mild incline over metal rollers to the upper river. They disembarked both punts and gave the poles into the ladies’ custody while the men manhandled both boats up the rollers and floated them against the walled bank of the upper river. All re-embarked and this time Daniel took the pole and set off on the silent river against the gentle current into the country southwards away from Cambridge city centre.
They soon left the confines of the houses on the fringe of town. The river was natural and picturesque here compared to the engineered wall-enclosed gravel-bottomed lower river through the backs of the colleges. Streamer weed waved slowly here in the flow. Hawthorn and elder overhung the eastern bank rosily lit by the setting sun. They punted as close to the centre of the river as possible, the edges near the banks had a muddy bottom that could suck at the pole as it was driven at the riverbed, fixing the pole and dislodging an unwary punter. On the west bank the land opened up to Grantchester Meadows where open grassy undulations butted up to the river with low, undercut banks. They ran the punts upriver until they felt they were far enough from the town that they were alone and having a proper adventure. They nosed the boats alongside the low banks of the west meadows. Charlotte helped Daniel bring the punt alongside with strokes from the wooden paddle assisting Daniel who was steering by angle of the pole against the braking of the opposing stream. When they were stationary they climbed out, cautious of falling between boat and bank, and Daniel pushed the pole into the riverbed on the flow side angled high in the air to hold the boat against the bank.
The other boat manoeuvred in the same manner and when all was moored safely they laid out the blankets and set to the wine and glasses excitedly. It was a perfect evening as only an evening in early summer in England can be. The sky was a watercolour of pastel shades that waxed and waned with the lowering sun through cloud layers no more than stripes of thin mist. A few tall beech trees caught the fiery colours in the texture of their leaf canopies in the glory of their early season fullness. The meadow was covered in a blanket of grasses short-cropped by sheep or cows that were no longer present. The evening was warm and soft with the last caress of the sun and the excitement and effort of their punting upstream.
Charlotte and Anya sat close together leaning up on one arm, legs curled together. Charlotte passed Anya a glass of crisp Sauvignon Blanc. “What a beautiful evening, Anya. Tell me, do you get evenings like this in your home country?”
Anya looked thoughtful, eyes raised slightly to her memories, “I am a city girl, brought up in a modern apartment in Talinn. It’s not countryside like this but is beautiful city. Old town, pretty old buildings, smart new offices in centre. In summer it’s light at midnight and we got used to sleep in the daytime.” Anya laughed prettily.
“Does your family still live in Talinn then?” asked Charlotte.
Anya paused again, “Yes, yes, still in there. My father is in business and mother helps my school, looks after baby Gustav.”
“You have a baby brother, Anya? How nice,” Charlotte pressed.
“Well, yes. But he is more grown up now of course.” Anya looked away. “Is so pretty here, Charlotte. We are so lucky, yes?”
“Yes we are, Anya. We better drink up some of this wine before the boys get it all!” Charlotte was right in that statement. The boys were getting boisterous, Joe and Daniel were wrestling for some unknown reason. Both idiots were laughing uproariously, like demented twisters seeking to upend the other. Even Christopher was totally relaxed, grinning broadly at the mock combatants with Stephen and the girls. Charlotte liked to see Christopher enjoying himself, he was usually so serious-minded about everything.
Daniel broke free from Joe after toppling him on his back and plopped down besides Anya. She moulded herself against his much larger frame, a pair of intimate spoons half lying on their sides facing Charlotte, propped up balancing their wine glasses. Daniel’s swollen arm muscles enfolded Anya as she leaned against the slab of his white T-shirted chest. Charlotte felt that Anya was happier wrapped within Daniel’s protection than she had been a moment ago talking about her home and family. They all talked and drank together and probably too much time passed before Stephen suggested they better get going. The light was indeed fading with more browns and greys now than the oranges and pinks when they had arrived and they had the half hour or so punting to get back to Cambridge. At least the river current was with them now and it should be a quick run downstream.
“My turn for punting now!” declared Charlotte, brooking no argument from the men. Christopher took up the pole on the other punt and set off first. The colour had leached away from the river now, black weeds winding through dark brown water, more menacing altogether. The punting party kept up a cheery noise, inhibitions freed by the wine and the exertions of the trip. Charlotte’s feet were planted on the platform at the rear of the punt, pulling the pole down hand over hand against the sticky riverbed, then pulling it upright again to drop the business end in front of her so the boat could overtake the pole and she could pull down again, occasionally leaving the pole trailing behind in the water to steer. She was concentrating on the punting, not difficult in itself but standing on the end of the moving boat was precarious and steering after Christopher was engaging with the thrill of the chase. Briefly she felt the chill of the Mal soul presence of the Ghola as it closed in across the water. It was not manifest with any solidity as a Gayan soul would be. It had no physical power but could engage at the subconscious level with a living human as the antithesis of a guardian angel.
Christopher was effusive on the wine, calling to the other boat and putting in a goodly effort to stay ahead of Charlotte. He glanced down at Stephen Hadley chatting animatedly to the language students as they both sprawled in the seat facing him. He stood on the rear platform looking forward over them to the blunt prow of the punt. A thread of thought emerged unbidden high in Christopher’s consciousness that this man Stephen was somehow different and separate from the complications of his childhood friends and their new friend Daniel. This was a man that Christopher could approach to share his concerns with and help him with the conundrum of his place in Charlotte and Joe’s lives that he had struggled with his entire life. He made the resolution to meet privately with Stephen as he pushed down on the pole and squatted to get extra force to drive the punt forward. His efforts were paying off and the current helped some more, though his coordination was taxed by the vigorous circle of planting pole, pushing hard and retrieving, then over again in the afterglow of the wine from earlier. It was too dark and he was moving too quickly to plant the pole with care. The metal cleat of Christopher’s pole dropped into a patch of clay in the riverbed and he thrust it down as he pulled with his full weight. Christopher pushed along and as he reached the end of the pole he pulled it up. The end in the clay stuck fast momentarily. Christopher was running out of pole as the boat continued forward. In mild panic he tugged hard and the end sucked free of the cloying riverbed and Christopher was thrust forward as the pole suddenly responded to his pulling. He managed to keep hold of the pole and pulled it vertically hand over hand, happy that he was no longer being pulled backwards into the water.
Christopher raised the pole high, demonstrating his remarkable recovery and ready to drop it again. In that pause the Ghola assailed his senses and he momentarily lost his focus and control. The pole waved around, high and unstable, toppling Christopher over the side with the loud splash of the full length of his body. One moment Christopher was pleased he had rescued the precari
ous situation, the next instant he was immersed in dark water, his body aching from the blow from the pole on entry and he was sinking to the riverbed below. Streamer weed wrapped his legs as he struggled to seek the bottom to thrust back up again as he looked to the brighter surface of the stream.
On the surface, Christopher’s boat continued downstream with its impetus. Charlotte’s punt was coming up fast to the point where Christopher plunged in. There was a moment of laughter in the two punts as is customary when a punter takes a tumble followed straight away by serious concern as Christopher failed to emerge again. Stephen stopped the first punt by paddling backwards against the stream with the auxiliary wooden paddle. He started to return against the stream. Charlotte shipped her pole and Daniel also reversed thrust using their paddle. Joe registered that Christopher was not emerging from the water and he could feel Christopher struggling in weed and water underneath as he stared down into the water, murky with twilight. He registered the malign presence of the Ghola attempting to befuddle Christopher to keep him under and this gave Joe pause as he recalled that spirit presence from recent experience. Daniel realised Joe was processing the spirit confusion underlying the situation and he forced his paddle into Joe’s hand before standing and going over the side to disappear after Christopher. Joe dismissed the insubstantial presence of the Ghola he recognised from that night when it first appeared in his bedroom and paddled to keep station where Daniel had gone in, confident in his friend’s capabilities.
On the riverbed Christopher felt strong arms tear him free of the snaring streamer weed. Daniel’s limbs reaching for him caused more panic to begin with as Christopher mistook them for snags in the dark water, further confused by the weeds and the disturbing interference of the dark spirit befuddling his own. Immediately after Christopher saw Daniel’s white T-shirt and realised he was there to save him. The thought raised his spirits as fear turned to hope and the Mal influence of the Ghola was swept aside by Daniel’s physical power. Daniel took solid grasp of Christopher under his arms and thrust upwards for the surface with the force of both legs. Both men popped through the surface, Christopher dragging in air and spluttering out river water. Daniel was unaffected by the minor drama as he and Christopher grabbed the side of the punts and part waded, part swam with them to the bank. There they emerged, jeans all heavy and shirts clinging with water, dripping into the bankside turf.
The dark drama had turned the mood of the party now. Charlotte and Joe had both been aware of the malign influence as the real cause of the danger. Christopher had just thought himself unlucky to fall and become entangled and now pleased that Daniel had come to his aid. “Thanks, Daniel,” he said with real feeling when they were safely on dry land. “You saved me there.”
“No problems, Chris, you were getting out fine. I just needed to check. Couldn’t have you left in the river, could we?”
“Well, it’s going to be a cold trip back now,” Christopher said ruefully as the evening chill set in to his soaked clothes. Christopher was struck by annoyance that his long-standing friend Joe had let Daniel dive in to save him while he watched from the safety of the punt. Just like their childhood experiences, Christopher could hardly object as it was really up to him to sort out his own problems, but he was irritated and deflated Joe had not done more to save him. They climbed back in to the punts and set off back to college with no further incident. It was nearly dark by the time they returned to the rollers. This time it was a simpler process of tipping the front of the punt over the top of the rollers and controlling it down the slope to the lower river. From there it was only a short distance round to Silver Street and mooring up again by the Mathematical Bridge. Christopher went to his room to change into dry clothes and Daniel and Anya said their goodbyes while the others repaired to the college bar to talk over the excitement of the evening.
Christopher returned to his room in Cripps Building in clothes constricting with clammy cold. He checked his denim pocket and was pleased to feel the hard outline of his keys, solid bony metal under the tight fabric that had prevented his keys falling out in the milling river. First thing he picked up a towel and went out to a vacant shower room. He set the temperature to very hot, stripped down and soaked long and intense, letting the scalding jets drive away the cold that had permeated his body the half hour since he had fallen in the river. His mind ran free over the events of the evening, recent weeks and months and even back to his early childhood. Charlotte and Joe had been ever-present and always somehow aloof, somehow separate. It came with the clarity of the hot spray sluicing his tall spare frame that he was just confused about their friendship when he was too young to process the details. Now he could see more clearly with emerging maturity that each strange conversation, tone or event on their own was unremarkable, but in total, as only he could see so close to them both, added up to a picture so strange as to need answers to satisfy himself and even to help his friends even though they seemed not to require it. He resolved to contact Stephen Hadley the next day in the guise of a personal tutorship; Stephen was not his actual personal tutor, but he would not refuse such a request and Stephen was the obvious choice being close to the whole group but seeming not in the tight orbit of Joe, Charlotte and Daniel.
Daniel and Anya walked together out on to Silver Street and up to the corner of King’s Parade where they turned left into the busy thoroughfare well lit by bright lights in antique mounts on shops and restaurants on the right, the illuminated gothic stonework of King’s College on the left. There was no place to hide so Daniel decided the only option was to grin broadly, take Anya’s hand and walk boldly past the amused passers-by. They made a striking couple, the tall black athlete stalking up the street, wet jeans welded to his thighs, white T-shirt moulded to the broad wedge of his chest. Anya was wet too where she had embraced Daniel for his bravery and that was of considerable interest of the student groups they passed through. There were good-natured calls requesting details of how they came to be in such a state. At least one group of girls whistled after them, envious of the striking petite blonde held in the grip of the striding sportsman. Anya looked up to Daniel as the calls came in. He nodded his head occasionally without looking directly at any of the people, smiling widely and moving along towards home at Jesus College.
TWENTY-FIVE
Christopher climbed the stairs to Stephen Hadley’s office on the staircase adjacent to the Porters’ Lodge in Fisher Building. It turned out to be a large bright room overlooking Silver Street Bridge. It seemed to Christopher that this mild excess of space and illumination suited Stephen’s remodelled positive and confident personality as he welcomed Christopher and invited him to take a seat. Stephen was recently showered and wearing fresh gym gear, Christopher was in jeans, trainers and a Foo Fighters tour T-shirt.
Stephen busied himself with making the coffees as Christopher settled down and turned over in his mind the question of how many of his concerns made sense enough in the warm light of a Cambridge morning to present to this man he knew only peripherally. He had spent most of his lifetime thinking his friends were concealing something odd but he had no evidence and since when was strangeness a cause for concern? Stephen eyed Christopher slantwise as he worked the kettle and cups for their drinks. Christopher was glancing out the sunny windows clearly more inward-facing in his thoughts than enjoying the brightness of the day. Stephen filled the cups with the boiling water and the instant granules burst into coffee colour and aroma. He placed a cup on the low table in front of the two chairs and set down sugar, milk jug and spoons. Christopher helped himself to milk and sugar, stirring quietly. Stephen was intrigued. His own personal tutor group could come to him with any of the little personal dramas that afflicted them outside of their studies. It was usually easy to find a solution to these minor problems that allowed the student to refocus on their studies. The fact that Christopher had sought out Stephen was out of the ordinary. He either did not get along with his allotted personal tutor or
it was something Christopher thought related to the two of them.
“Well, good morning, Chris,” opened Stephen. “You are certainly a lot drier than last time I saw you!”
Christopher grinned, “Very true. In fact it was that evening that made me think to come to see you about something.” Christopher paused, looking into his coffee for inspiration.
“You can say anything to me, Chris. There is nothing new in this world to a Cambridge tutor. I am like your priest and lawyer combined.”
“Hmm, good, but this is a tricky one and may be something new. It’s quite personal for me, Stephen, I haven’t mentioned it to anybody else,” replied Christopher.
Stephen regarded Christopher openly. The younger man looked back, still collecting his thoughts. “You know I do have a partner, Chris, don’t you?” Stephen inquired.
Christopher did a quick take. He thinks I am coming out to him! Immediately he could see it might look that way to Stephen, who had a history of grappling with his sexuality at Christopher’s age. The confluence of that radically new thought counterpoint to Christopher’s actual reason for seeing Stephen was suddenly comical. He smiled, “Oh it’s nothing like that! Nothing that normal at all, I am afraid.”
Stephen was relieved that at least he was not being presented with a new complication in his personal life, only mildly miffed Christopher was not here to confess his attraction to him. “Well in that case, whatever it is must be easy to sort out, don’t you think?”
Star Matters Page 33