His American Fling

by Brogan, Kim

  He pulled his eyes up to meet hers, noticing that she had caught him in the act. Campbell cleared his throat. "Hello Miss McGee. Are you working here now?"

  "I thought I was." Her brows were knitted and her mouth turned down. "But I’ve been told that once I work this shift, not to come back until I’m out of the cast. I’m just too slow. They called in a barmaid to take my place, she should be here soon."

  "Maggie, do you have another job?" Henry asked.

  She looked down and bit her lip, "No."

  "Why are you here in Cambridge?"

  "I’m attending Downing, finishing my senior year in law school through an exchange program. But we’re required to help support ourselves while we’re here. Excuse me, but the barmaid is here. I need to turn over the drink orders."

  Henry jumped up. "Come join us when you’re done."

  "Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m very good company right now." She said sadly.

  "Nonsense, we won’t let you go home without a little nog. Will we Campbell?"

  Campbell was uncomfortable; he really didn’t want a stranger at their table. He had been looking forward to some time with his friends to whinge about work. But his manners prevented him from saying what he was thinking, "No, of course you must join us."

  She looked around and sighed. "I’ll join you for one."

  Henry nodded enthusiastically. "Great! We really don’t bite." He paused for effect. "Although, Campbell gnaws occasionally."

  Maggie managed a weak smile.

  After Maggie left, Campbell gave Henry a steady glare. "What are we—the United Nations? We give the Yanks our troops and the PM’s undying affection; do we have to also entertain them?"

  Henry narrowed his grey eyes and smiled at his aggravated friends. "Oh come now, she’s all alone over here, just lost her position—because of you I might add—the least we can do is buy her a drink." He tilted back on the old wood chair and drank his pint while balancing on two legs. “She seems a little old to be at University. But then, she is an American--they do everything different.”

  Campbell sneered back at Henry and then began telling his friends about his case involving a zoonotic infectious disease from a soldier just back from Iraq. The doctors at the table were actually interested; it was something out of the norm and had nothing to do with the typical leukemia, diabetes, and influenza they treated on a daily basis. Fiona, Henry and Campbell argued over a recent article in Nature while Charles and Peter carried on a conversation about the last cricket game at Lords’.

  A few minutes later, Maggie walked over to the table with her backpack, her shoulders drooping. Henry grabbed a chair for her, putting it between his chair and Campbell’s, and then ordered her a Pimms with Ginger Ale which the new barmaid quickly retrieved.

  Henry handed the drink to Maggie. She looked at it and hunched her shoulders. "I’ve never had one of these. Well, bottoms up." She took a drink and smiled at Henry in thanks.

  Campbell remained quiet. He had nothing to say to the Yank. He found most Americans to be loud, insensitive, and moronic. However, he had to admit, in addition to being pretty, from what he had seen down her blouse; she was quite a piece of crumpet. But, Campbell wasn’t interested in her for anything, unless she was up for quick shag. However, it appeared that Henry genuinely wanted to get to know her, so Campbell decided to be low key and let Henry make his move.

  Henry raised a glass to Maggie. "So Maggie, you’re a law student. What Law School?"

  "UCLA at home, Downing while I’m here. As part of the exchange program my tuition is all paid for, but I was supposed to arrange my own lodgings and job for the summer. I wouldn’t have come so early, but the university insisted that the exchange students attend a few orientation seminars before school starts."

  Henry leaned forward and asked, "Didn’t they help you with employment?"

  "I was told that this waitress job would be available for me.” Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I need a job to pay for room and board until school starts. Once school starts, I’ll be living in the dorm and eating in the dining hall. I’ll be able to tap into my student loan at the end of August. Until then, I’m footing the bill." She knocked back half of her drink out of sheer desperation.

  Campbell watched her, realizing she was deeply worried. It was barely noticeable, but Campbell could see that her hand was shaking. He almost said something reassuring, but then decided not to get involved. Henry took up the mantle for him.

  "So, do you have enough money to stay at the bed and breakfast if you’re not able to work?"

  "I really don’t want to talk about it," she said.

  Campbell couldn’t resist, "But surely you brought enough money to see you through these two months?"

  She turned and looked at him like he was crazy. "Do you know how much law school costs? I pay close to $28,000 a semester plus my living expenses. Luckily, I have a scholarship that pays half of it. But, I’m living hand-to-mouth. I had enough between what I brought and what I thought I’d earn. That is, until I lost my job tonight. I don’t have....oh, let’s not talk about it." Maggie’s voice choked.

  "So, is the landlady going to let you stay at the bed and breakfast until you can cash in on your student loan?" Henry asked. He sat back on all four legs and scooted nearer to the table.

  "No, she’s kicked me out. She wanted next week’s rent, but I don’t have it.” Maggie went quiet, “I’ll think of something, I always do." She took another drink and then a deep breath of desperation.

  Fiona had simply taken all of this in, sizing up Maggie as she listened. She liked Maggie even though she seemed so blatantly American. Maggie had that, “determined to make lemonade out of lemons," attitude that was so annoying. "What are you going to do?" Fiona asked.

  "Not sure. I tried a homeless shelter, but they said I’m not British. They suggested a hostel, but they were all full."

  Fiona was a sophisticated woman from a family of politicians, who had recently divorced, moving out of the home she shared with her husband and back into her old flat that she had rented to her cousins. "I’d offer to let you stay with me, but I already share my flat with my cousins." She turned and looked at Henry and Campbell and then focused on Campbell who was looking very uncomfortable with the fact that she had fixed her gaze on him.

  "Campbell, you have room, and you live by yourself. Surely you can let her stay until she can either find a job or get that damn cast off?"

  Campbell felt beads of sweat form on his forehead. He stammered and squirmed a little in his seat, "Oh, I don’t know. I’m not very good company ..."

  "Nonsense, you’re always asking if any of us know a good maid." Fiona fixed her huge green eyes on Maggie and with her broad, thin, mouth barely moving asked, "You can cook and clean, can’t you?"

  Maggie turned bright red, "I can see that Dr....I mean Professor Adair doesn’t need any company. It’s okay, I’ll figure something out."

  Fiona kicked Campbell in the shin and gave him a look that said it all—if he didn’t step up to the plate, he was going to suffer. Campbell knew all too well that Fiona could and would make him suffer. She was one of the few who had some control over his social life since Fiona often organized the activities of their social circle. Upsetting her could mean that she might “forget” to include him. Or, on overnight outings, she might arrange for his accommodations to be close to the railroad track. The last time he upset her, he ended up sitting all weekend next to Peter, a boring twit that they tolerated because he had always been around. As children, Peter had been with them at the Dragon’s School, Eaton, Cambridge and med school. But Peter was, well, just ‘there.” Campbell didn’t want Fiona upset with him.

  "No," he practically yelled, "you should come and stay with me until your cast is removed or you get another job. I do have the room." He said this, but he was shooting daggers at Fiona when Maggie wasn’t looking. Fiona just smiled, finding the entire evening rather amusing.

  Peter bu
tted in, "Maggie, where are you staying tonight?"

  Maggie was clearly uncomfortable, "I thought I’d try knocking on a few B & B doors."

  The entire table turned to Campbell who furtively looked at all of them. He closed his eyes briefly in resignation and then piped up, "By all means, come and stay at my house tonight."

  "That’s really nice of you. Are you sure?"

  "Yes, of course." Campbell watched Fiona and Henry give each other big grins. His friends were always amused at how private Campbell was, and they knew that this turn of events was going to make him miserable. They relished the fact that Campbell was twisting in the wind.

  When Maggie excused herself to go to the bathroom, Campbell exploded, "This is bollocks!" He looked from Fiona to Henry. "You must get me out of this mess. I will never forgive either of you. Sticking me with that gormless Yank is hitting below the belt."

  "Don’t be a pillock! It’s only for a few weeks. You could use some female company." Henry said.

  "I have Fiona." Campbell said defensively.

  Fiona’s brow scrunched together, and she narrowed her eyes, "Me? You don’t have me. We’ve been best friends for years, but we don’t have each other. You need a woman in the biblical sense. You’re as boring as they come, and your life is as limp as a dead fish, as I’m sure other pieces of your anatomy are too. You need to mix it up, take her in. You never know, she may have a friend or two who know which way to look when they cross the road."

  He snorted and took a drink, the foam of the black and tan covering his upper lip. He wanted to yell at all of them to stay out of his life—it was just fine the way it was, but something inside him knew that they were right. The light had gone out of his life since Gemma left, and that had been three years ago. He had no real passion anymore except his work and cricket.

  He exhaled and shook his head. Maggie came back to the table and joined them again. They talked for several hours, debating political issues, laughing at each other’s faults and generally enjoying the evening. Campbell had to admit that Maggie kept up her end of the conversation and seemed to have a good grasp of American politics.

  The landlord called, "Time, Gentlemen." They drank up, and Campbell looked over at her. "Do you need my address? How do you want to work this?"

  "The landlady is keeping most of my luggage for me. I have a change of clothes and some toiletries in my backpack. I can go back and get the rest tomorrow."

  "Fine, I came on my bicycle."

  "I’ll walk." Maggie said.

  "You shouldn’t walk alone. My bike is locked up in the car park behind here. Come with me." He turned to Fiona, Henry and Peter and said with distinct disapproval in his voice, "Good night you turncoats. I will speak to you soon."

  They all knew he meant that he would chastise them in the morning, but they just laughed at him. Maggie waved goodbye to the others as she followed Campbell to a mostly empty car park. Campbell glanced at his watch; it said 11:38 p.m. He looked at Maggie as he began to walk his bike towards the exit.

  Maggie put a hand on his, "I’m not going with you."

  His mouth dropped open and with eyebrows raised he shook his head. "What? I don’t understand?"

  "I know you were volunteering to let me stay because your friends were haranguing you. But, you don’t hide your feelings very well. I can tell that the idea of me being a guest in your home is more than distasteful. Judging from some of the comments made at the table tonight, I don’t think you and your friends approve of Americans. I don’t want to stay where I’m not wanted. Thank you for the offer and for buying the drinks." She smiled at him and turned, walking down the sidewalk through the city center.

  Campbell was so stunned he didn’t respond at first. He watched her walk away in her jeans and hoodie. Composing himself, he jumped on his bike to chase her down, riding at a fast clip. He finally caught up to her. He leaned on the curb shaking his head.

  "Miss McGee, where are you going to go?"

  "Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out. Please, I really don’t want you to feel responsible or guilty. Go home." She waved her hand at him to move along.

  Maggie walked by the Sainsbury Grocery Store and then past Heffers book store. He followed behind, half walking, half riding, not really sure what he should say or do. Campbell watched her cross the road, walking towards Marks and Spencer. Giving up, he took a deep breath, mounted his bike and pedaled towards home in the cool June night. It smelled like rain coming. Only another four blocks separated him from his home. And just in time, a couple of drops hit his face. Home was only one more block. The turn onto Park Boulevard marked the end of his journey. But Campbell felt a nagging in the back of his mind.

  Cursing to himself, he slowed down, knowing he had to do something. Campbell pulled the handlebars to the left and made a U-turn, pedaling back to where he had last seen Maggie in the hopes that she had not walked too far. But there was no sign of her, she had disappeared. He pedaled around, but it was as if she had sprinted off somewhere. Making a few more passes through the city center, he had no luck.

  Finding a couple walking up to an Indian restaurant, he stopped. "Excuse me, did you see a woman in a UCLA hoodie walk by?"

  "Yes, we saw her walking towards Robert Sayles." the woman said, pointing up the road.

  "Thank you." Campbell got back on his bike and took off towards Robert Sayles, the department store in the middle of town. She wasn’t there, so he kept cycling up the road towards Parker’s Piece.

  He rode his bike around, but the rain-clouds had blocked the moon and the stars. He could see nothing except what little was lit by the street lamps. Campbell had been riding for twenty minutes in the rain with no luck when, in a last ditch effort, he cycled towards Hobbs Pavilion. After squinting his eyes, he thought he noticed a roll of clothing on the porch leaning on the wooden bench. The blob was difficult to see unless you were looking hard for something. He got off his bike and walked up onto the wide plank porch.

  The sound of his shoes on the wooden floor startled her; she jerked back and looked up. Campbell shook his head and expelled a heavy breath, "For God’s sake, you can’t stay here! The police chase the homeless away from here every night on the hour.” He shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair. “We both know you have no place to go. At least stay tonight at my place. If you won’t accept a bedroom, you can sleep on my sofa." He leaned on one of the posts holding up the porch, looking around to see if there were any officers policing the area.

  She stood up and, with a look of defeat, asked, "Are you sure they check that often?"

  He pointed across the park towards a row of townhouses. "That’s my townhouse, second from the right. I pass through here all the time. The Bill are here every hour on the hour chasing blighters away."

  She glanced over at the townhouse and then up at him. Grimacing, she snatched up her backpack, putting it on her shoulder. Maggie looked around, her hand rubbing her forehead. "Dr. Adair, I don’t understand. Why are you offering me a place to stay tonight if you can’t stand me?"

  Campbell felt sheepish. He really didn’t dislike her at all. Maggie had been very pleasant, even funny, while they were sitting in the pub drinking. She was self-effacing and incredibly bright, despite her inability to read the writing on the pavement. It was just the idea of a stranger being in his home, an American at that, which bothered him.

  His posture softened slightly, his voice almost kind, "I don’t dislike you." Campbell looked around, took a deep breath and confessed, "I’m just a private person and it’s been a long time since I’ve had overnight company that wasn’t related to me. Please, Maggie, be my guest tonight." He smiled for the first time since leaving the pub.

  She smiled back, "You have a really nice smile. You ought to do it more often. Maggie paused as she considered her situation and then nodded. "Okay, Professor, lead on."

  Campbell got off the bike. They walked the length of Parker’s Piece in the light rain and then crossed the st
reet to the townhomes. He carried the bicycle up the steps to the front door. Setting the bike down inside the small entry area, he unlocked the second, interior door. They crossed through, entering the foyer of the home.

  “Wow, it’s so beautiful and so quiet!”

  He motioned for her to go forward. They walked past the staircase which led to the second floor and basement. The hall, which was about thirty feet long, had two doors on the left and a door at the opposite end from the front door. They stopped at the first door.

  "There’s an office here," he said, turning on the light in the first room on the left. The office had an old burl desk, computer, leather wingback chairs and mahogany book shelves spanning fourteen feet up to the ceilings. They walked down the hall, entered the luxurious and spacious parlor and Maggie stood while Campbell checked his messages. The room had equally tall ceilings, a fireplace and several built in book cases. The tall picture windows in front overlooked Parker’s Piece. Opposite the windows there were large French doors leading to the back garden. The house was far grander than she had expected from the outside.

  "There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall, and the stairs going down take you to the kitchen, a dining area and the laundry room.”

  “How many floors are there?”

  “Four, including the lower floor. Upstairs on the first floor is the guest room, guest bath and master bedroom with an ensuite bath. On the second floor are two additional bedrooms and bathroom.” He stopped and thought for a second, remembering that she had trouble with the differences between England and the States. “Just a reminder, we refer to what Americans consider the first floor as the “ground floor” and the second floor as the first floor, etcetera.”