House of Windows

by Alexia Casale

  ‘Feeling no pain,’ sang one of the others. ‘Hundred proof through my veins and feelin’ no pain …’

  ‘Captain scores!’ came Brent’s yell from the corner as they staggered around the curve of the road.

  ‘Freeeessshing my cobblersh off. Wheresssh my kit?’ the twin was moaning. ‘You’re a cheater. Cheating cheat-y cheater.’

  ‘Hey, ladies. Wanna pick which one of us is the winner in the big stakes,’ Brent yelled, making an unpleasant gesture with his hips as a huddle of girls passed on the far side of the street. ‘Come on! Free show! Free … Oh bollocks.’

  Nick followed Brent’s suddenly riveted gaze, swerving sideways to hold on to the wall as the street seemed to tip. When his eyes focused, Brent and the naked twin were frantically hunting through the discarded clothes the others had collected as a pair of uniformed police officers approached.

  ‘Evening, boys.’

  ‘Evening, off’cers!’ came the chorus.

  ‘Getting a bit rowdy, aren’t we? Anyone else want to drop their keks and let it all hang out and freeze off?’

  The crew shook their heads, averting their eyes. The naked twin looked between the clothes in his brother’s arms and the police and took off down Trinity Lane, a crumpled T-shirt held protectively to his crotch. Brent groaned and abandoned his jeans to follow in his boxers. ‘CO-O-O-OLD!’ came the receding wail.

  The police turned to the rest of them. ‘And which college might you all be from?’

  The others fixed their eyes on the ground.

  ‘We’re going to be following you back somewhere, lads, so those of you who’re still fully clothed might want to be a bit more co-operative and save us the effort. We’ll end up having a much less friendly chat with your porters if you make us go for a midnight jog first.’

  ‘Trinity Hall,’ the clothed twin said.

  ‘All of you?’ asked the second police officer. Nick looked up to find that she was staring at him. ‘Aren’t you a bit young for a grad? One of these your brother, then?’

  Nick shook his head. ‘Not a grad. Still an unner … under … undergraduate,’ he got out, then had to stop to swallow.

  One of the others elbowed him, hissing, ‘Townies call us all grads.’

  ‘And what name should we run by your porters, then?’ the policewoman asked.

  ‘Nick.’

  ‘We’ll get back to the last name in a minute. Let’s try for an age now.’

  ‘Um,’ said Nick.

  ‘Um!’ said the policewoman. ‘Yeah, you look spot on for “um”. But I always thought students were a bit older than “um”. So let’s try that in normal numbers, shall we? Thirteen maybe?’

  ‘I’m fifteen!’ retorted Nick indignantly.

  ‘Ah, a fifteen sort of an um. That makes sense. Well, Nick aged um-slash-fifteen, how come you’re with this lot?’

  ‘Trinity Hall Men’s Third Boat cox,’ Nick said proudly. ‘I yell at them.’

  ‘He really is a student too. They let him in early,’ Nick heard one of the others say.

  ‘They let me in early,’ parroted Nick, nodding and then wishing he hadn’t. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, then turned and launched himself at the nearest rubbish bin, heaving the evening’s pub quiz ‘winnings’ into the basket.

  ‘Well, at least he’s neat,’ said the policewoman. ‘Let’s take you back to your room—’

  ‘Nick lives out,’ one of the others piped up helpfully. ‘His dad’s got digs out by the station.’

  ‘Right. If you lot can be trusted to get back to College without losing any of your clothing, we’ll leave you to it and catch up with your porters later. Not you, Nick-who-yells-at-them,’ the policewoman said as Nick turned to stagger after the others. ‘I think we’ll let your parents pick you up from the station instead. Have a little heart-to-heart on the way about peer pressure and hanging out with the wrong sort.’

  Nick shivered as the doors to the street opened, not bothering to look up. He’d been sitting in the waiting area at the front of the Parker’s Piece police station, under the desk officer’s watchful eye, for over an hour, sipping slowly from a cup of lukewarm water. When the police had called the house, they hadn’t been impressed to find the only responsible adult present was a lodger who had no legal role in Nick’s life. They’d had to get Michael to fax over a note authorising Tim to pick Nick up. Tim had obviously been in no hurry to oblige. The clock above the desk sergeant now read 03.18.

  ‘Nick.’

  He squinted into the glare of the strip lights, wincing against the pain in his head as his eyes watered. ‘Hi,’ he whispered, attempting a smile that Tim did not return.

  ‘Who do I have to talk to?’ Tim asked.

  Nick gestured towards the reception desk, getting slowly to his feet as Tim marched over. He leaned wearily against the counter as Tim talked with the desk officer, showed his passport, signed a form.

  ‘Come on. We’ve got a taxi waiting outside.’

  Nick cringed, hands over his ears, when Tim slammed the car door.

  ‘Seatbelt,’ he ordered tersely.

  Five silent minutes later, they were home. Tim paid the driver, then pushed past Nick to open the front door. ‘Michael says he’ll be home tomorrow afternoon to talk.’

  ‘Oh joy,’ Nick mumbled, trailing him into the kitchen.

  ‘Do you want paracetamol?’ Tim didn’t wait for an answer, slamming the packet and a pint glass of water down on the table.

  ‘I’m sorry to drag you out in the middle of the night,’ Nick said, eyes fixed firmly on his shoes.

  ‘This is not what Professor Gosswin had in mind when she suggested you needed a housemate in case of emergencies. She meant flood, fire and food poisoning, not drunken run-ins with the police.’

  Nick hunched his shoulders miserably.

  Tim sighed. ‘Drink the water, Nick. I’m tired and I want to go back to sleep while it’s still night-time.’

  ‘You don’t have to stay up,’ Nick said quietly. ‘I’ve finished doing stupid things for the next few hours.’

  Tim leaned back against the counter and scrubbed a hand across his face. ‘Look, it’s nothing I haven’t done myself. But I was older and with friends who didn’t scarper and leave me in the lurch. I just … This is proper in loco parentis levels of responsibility. I didn’t sign up for this.’

  Nick slouched down even further, applying himself to the water. He pushed the empty glass back on to the table.

  Tim took it and refilled it. ‘Drink this in the night and you’ll be just about OK in the morning.’

  Nick clutched the glass to his chest. ‘Thanks for coming to get me.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Tim said stiffly. ‘Let’s just go to bed, OK?’

  He let Tim steer him through the living room, flicking off lights as they went. They clumped wearily upstairs, Nick turning off to the second flight.

  ‘I really am … sorry,’ Nick said. The words were lost as Tim’s door snapped closed.

  When Michael let himself into the house, Tim was sitting at the kitchen table, head propped on his hand, sipping his way through his third cup of coffee since lunch.

  ‘You look done in,’ Michael said, dropping his briefcase in the corner, then helping himself from the cafetiere. ‘I’m sorry about last night, Tim. I appreciate you holding the fort. Where’s Nick?’

  ‘Upstairs. Shall I call him?’

  ‘Think I’ll have my coffee first, then I’ll go find him.’

  Tim settled back, shuffling his papers awkwardly, as Michael heaved a long-suffering sigh.

  ‘I’m going to have to tell him the Boat Club’s out, aren’t I? I mean, there’s no way he can avoid getting caught up in this type of thing otherwise. I wish it weren’t the case but … You’re still a student, Tim. You know how these things work. It’s for the best, right?’

  Tim shrugged. ‘I suppose if he promised not to drink again—’

  ‘It’s never going to work, though, is it?’
>
  ‘I honestly don’t know, but … Look, I’m really sorry if you were expecting me to keep a better eye on Nick. Maybe we should spell out some ground rules, if there’s something you’re expecting me to do. Like if there’s a curfew or something Nick should be keeping. I mean, I can’t be responsible for knowing where he is all the time, but maybe he should call the house if he’s not back before ten or something.’

  Michael nodded. ‘That sounds like a very sensible idea. I don’t mind if he wants to be out late for a film or something, but you’re right: he should let us know where he is.’ He rubbed at his temples. ‘Nick’s just always been so responsible. He didn’t have anyone to hang out with at school, so he was always home when I got there. I never really had to worry about him getting into trouble.’

  ‘Of course. I didn’t mean …’ Tim blew out a sigh, reaching back to rub at his neck. ‘I don’t want to be here on false pretences: I know it’s my role to deal with emergencies, but I’m not sure if I’m comfortable being a pseudo-parent, having day-to-day responsibility for someone—’

  ‘Of course not, Tim,’ Michael said, waving further protest away. ‘It’s not what we said at all: not what I’m expecting. We won’t put you in that position again, though I really appreciate you bailing us out – no pun intended.’ He shook his head, yawned, took a sip of coffee.

  Tim ran a hand through his hair. ‘So, um … just to be super clear so I don’t let down my end of the bargain, is there anything else you want me to help with?’

  ‘Like hanging, drawing and quartering, you mean?’ Nick asked from the doorway.

  Tim saw resignation flash across Michael’s face.

  ‘Could we skip the talk if I promise I won’t get drunk again?’ Nick asked hopefully. ‘It wasn’t all that much fun – and certainly not worth the trouble afterwards.’

  ‘The trouble’s mostly been Tim’s,’ Michael said tartly.

  Tim winced. ‘Let me know what you guys agree and I’ll see we keep to the rules,’ he told Michael, grabbing his papers and hurrying out of the room without looking back, even though Nick was clearly trying to catch his eye.

  Nick sighed as he sank into Tim’s chair.

  ‘We’re going to have a new system, Nick. If you’re not going to be back by ten o’clock, I want you to call the house and leave a message or text Tim. And if you’re going to be later than you say, you’ve got to let him know.’

  ‘Oh, Tim’s going to love that.’

  ‘It was Tim’s idea.’

  Nick scowled. ‘I doubt he thought it through. He’s made it perfectly clear he’s not interested in being my keeper.’

  Michael cleared his throat, sipped from his coffee mug. ‘So, the other thing I wanted to talk about … You’re not going to like this, Nick, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to quit the Boat Club.’ He waited a moment, but Nick didn’t say anything. ‘I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but there’s just no way you’ll be able to avoid further trouble. It wouldn’t be responsible of me to let you continue putting yourself in that position. I mean, if you want to stick with the rowing, I suppose we could talk about that, but I really don’t want you involved with the rest of it.’

  Nick closed his eyes, absently tracing patterns on the table. ‘OK,’ he said softly.

  Michael frowned in surprise. ‘Nick, I don’t want you telling me one thing—’

  ‘I said “OK”!’ Nick snapped, then sighed. ‘I’ll quit. I won’t cox any more and then it’s not an issue. It wasn’t as if I really liked the actual rowing. The whole point was the social stuff so if I can’t do that … Not that I enjoyed it all that much anyway – they’re not really my sort of people – but at least I tried.’ Only it was just a different sort of loneliness. Maybe that’s all there is. He whispered it to the table, his lips barely forming the words, as his father turned aside to check his phone.

  ‘Why don’t you think about what other clubs or societies you could join?’ Michael said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. ‘There must be something where the social elements don’t revolve around alcohol.’

  ‘What, like CICCU?’

  ‘Kick who?’

  ‘It stands for … actually, I don’t know exactly what it stands for – Cambridge something something Christian Union. But who did you know at Cambridge outside the God Squad who didn’t drink? I tried all the book clubs and they were a wash-out. I’m short and small and not terribly co-ordinated. Exactly what else am I going to be any good at?’

  ‘How about … how about pool?’

  ‘I don’t play pool. And even if I did, most people play pool in bars and pubs, Dad. And before you ask, yes, I tried the film club too, but everyone basically just sat around after the showing and drank. No one really wanted to discuss the film.’

  ‘I enjoyed fishing as a boy.’

  Nick gave him a flat stare. ‘I’d rather have the whole College laugh at me for trying out for the rugby team.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing wrong with trying, Nick.’

  ‘Except I hate rugby. I’ve always hated rugby.’

  ‘There’s no need to be belligerent. Though it makes me wonder if I should ground you for a few weeks, seeing as how you did land yourself in the police station.’

  ‘Like I’ve got anywhere better to be any more,’ hissed Nick.

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Nick,’ Michael said, getting up to make a fresh pot of coffee. ‘I’m only trying to help. I’ve got a meeting in a few hours, but I’ve come home to have a chat, so let’s not waste the time arguing.’ Michael turned only to find the room empty.

  Chapter 16

  (Lent Term × Week 2 [≈ end of January])

  The light spilling through the windows splashed across the side of Professor Gosswin’s face, making her eyes look backlit and feral.

  ‘I gather that Mr Brethan was helpful to you after the unfortunate incident with the “boaties”.’ She said the word as if it were somehow uncouth.

  ‘Yeah.’ Nick shifted in his chair. ‘He was pretty cross but he still made me drink all this water before I went to bed so I wouldn’t feel too hungover in the morning.’

  When he looked up, Professor Gosswin was smiling: a strange, slightly melancholy twist of the lips.

  ‘You look positively mellow right now.’

  Professor Gosswin lifted her lip in a sneer. ‘I look “mellow”, do I, Mr Derran?’

  ‘Not so much now.’

  ‘It is a pity about the rowing but the thing about good ideas is that they often fail to take account of how complex and unpredictable the real world is. Some refinement is clearly needed. Have you thought, perhaps, of offering your services as secretary to a sporting club? Those who run around perspiring and becoming malodorous, not to mention unclean, need someone to be focused on loftier matters.’

  ‘I get enough maths in class,’ Nick grumbled. ‘And I doubt they’d want to put their accounts in the hands of a fifteen-year-old. It never helps that I look my age.’

  Professor Gosswin sighed, suddenly looking tired. ‘I don’t suppose it does.’ She rubbed at her eyes.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but people …’ He shrugged, turned away to pick at a catch in his thumbnail. ‘They just don’t seem to want things from me. Some people, everyone wants to be friends with them: wants to talk to them, get to know them, be close to them. And other people … I do all the right things – at least I try to – but I just feel so … humiliated.’ He hunched his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘It’s all so hard and nothing ever comes of it and I don’t know why, unless there’s just something wrong with me. At least I know how to be clever. If I can’t be anything else, that’s still good, right?’

  ‘Your worth does not lie only in your academic ability. You surely see that.’ She raised her hands, massaged the sharp angle of bone beside her eyes. ‘It is always better to accomplish something than nothing, but coming of age is about more than learning who you are inside: it’s as much about
who you are in relation to others – and who you want to be.’ She sighed softly, looking away to the light spilling through the window. ‘No matter how hard we try, no one ever sees inside us. It’s who we are on the outside that leaves a mark on the world and so, in a way, all we ever are is the person we show to the world.’ Suddenly she smiled, her voice losing the odd wistful note. ‘That being the case, we should all strive to put on a great show.’

  ‘But if you’re just pretending—’

  ‘Not pretending, Mr Derran: realising that who you are on the outside may as well be different from who you are on the inside since no one will ever know the difference. We all have a difficult relationship with ourselves. But we can have better relationships with those around us if we choose to act as the person we want to be. And sometimes, over time, who we are on the inside comes to match. Those who suggest it is the other way around don’t understand the way humans work.’

  ‘And where does the waxing philosophical come in?’ He expected Professor Gosswin to snap at him, but instead she just sighed, shifted stiffly in her chair.

  ‘Impossible boy,’ she said, but almost fondly. ‘You still think you’re here to learn mathematics.’

  ‘And chess. Shall I bring the board over or do you want coffee before you trounce me?’

  ‘You’re not listening. Like so many people, you think that the important moments in the story of a life are big and loud, where really they’re small and quiet. Someone on the outside would think these moments unworthy of note, but you must recognise the important moments of your own life when they happen, Nicholas. It is very important.’

  She sighed again, rubbing at her right temple. ‘Now fetch me a coffee and perhaps a paracetamol.’

  Chapter 17

  (Lent Term × Week 3 [≈ start of February])

  For once, supervision went smoothly. It was his turn to work the problems through with Dr Davis and today Susie and Frank seemed content to sit back and watch. It was almost friendly. Until the end of the supervision, when Frank and Susie rushed off in different directions without even saying goodbye.