Downsizing (13 page)

Gregory was tall and slim with an open,
friendly face that was almost, but not quite, handsome. He had
brown hair that was cut short and kind gray eyes that appeared to
find the situation amusing. Unlike the rest of them he’d forsaken
jeans and wore chinos teamed with a college sweatshirt and suede
shoes. He handed her the last of her books and stuck out his
hand.

“
I don’t think we’ve had a chance
to talk to each other yet,” he said. “Greg Toomey.”

“
Maxine Small. And, in case you’re
thinking of it, don’t bother. I’ve already heard all the
jokes.”

He looked bewildered. “What do you
mean?

“
Never mind.” She shook her head,
not fooled. Everyone thought it was hilarious when they realized
someone of her size was lumbered with the name Small. She suspected
he was just better at hiding his reaction. “What do you think of
the course?” she asked him.

“
Too early to say, but I’m
impressed with the college. Very humbling, isn’t it, being
surrounded by all this history. Licentious nuns indeed,” he said
with a theatrical shudder that made her smile. “Still, I suppose
we’ll get used to it and take it all for granted soon
enough.”

“
Yes, I dare say.”

“
Sorry about Makepeace being such
an arse. He’s a dinosaur and has probably forgotten how daunting it
is to be a freshman, but you did well, and he should have
acknowledged you.”

“
Well, he’s supposed to have a
brilliant mind, so I guess we’ll have to excuse him for being set
in his ways. Anyway, I’ve decided that if he’s selected me as his
whipping-boy then he’s not going to have much fun. He won’t get the
better of me if I can help it.”

“
That’s the spirit!” He smiled at
her, emphasizing the laughter lines etched round his eyes. “Say,
have you got time for a drink?”

“
Well, I don’t know.” She looked
in the direction of the student bar and shook her head.

“
Oh lord, I don’t mean in there.
Do you have a bike?” She nodded. “Then mount up and follow
me.”

Jesus was set slightly away from the other
colleges, but a short bike ride found them on King Street. They
chained the bikes up next to those already parked outside The
Brewery, a favorite watering-hole with students, and went
inside.

“
This is a good place to come on a
Thursday night, apparently, if you’re into students honing their
karaoke skills, that is.” In response to Maxine’s horrified shudder
he chuckled. “Yeah, perhaps you’re right, but as a result of
diligent research I have reason to know that they serve a great
pint of Guinness here.” He shouldered his way to the bar and
ordered one. “What’s your poison, Maxine?”

“
White wine, please.”

They found an empty table, appraising one
another over the rims of their glasses as they drank. Maxine
decided that there was something about Greg that set him apart. He
didn’t appear to be a run-of-the-mill student, and she told him
so.

“
Guilty as charged. I took a
couple of years out to work abroad first, so it’s probably my
worldly wisdom and advanced age that’s got you
confused.”

She laughed. “Really, what were you
doing?”

“
Oh, this and that,” he said
vaguely. “What about you? Did you take a gap year?”

A master of prevarication herself, Maxine
instinctively knew he didn’t want to discuss his time abroad, and
so didn’t pursue it. “No, I came straight from school. I don’t want
to run up debts and start work with an overdraft to clear if I can
avoid it.”

“
You must be living in halls
then?”

“
Not exactly.” And she told him
about her arrangement with Derek.

He gave an approving nod. “That sounds like
it’ll work.”

“
Yes, but Gregory—”

“
I prefer Greg.”

“
Fair enough, Greg.” She took a
sip of her wine. “So what about you? Are you in the
dorms?”

“
No, I had enough communal living
abroad, so I’ve taken a small flat just outside of
town.”

“
You must have earned good money
abroad to be able to afford that.”

“
Wrong again! My work only earned
me bed and board, but my grandfather died recently and left me a
small legacy.”

“
I see. Where are you
from?”

“
Cornwall. My father’s an artist.”
He shrugged. “More of a piss-artist, truth to tell.”

“
Like the bottle then, does
he?”

Greg rolled his eyes. “And some.” He leaned
back in his chair. “How about you? Where do you hail
from?”

“
Colebrook, near
Winchester.”

She quickly changed the subject. “What do you
make of our fellow students?”

“
Mixed bag, really. I find it
amusing to watch them scrabbling for supremacy already. Mr. McFee
obviously wants to gather the brightest sparks around his
well-heeled heels.”

“
I noticed that, too. I’m
surprised he hasn’t targeted you.”

“
He did, but I told him to piss
off. I’ve got better things to do with my time than support lame
ducks.
Are you sure you’ve come to the right place, Mr.
McFee?”
he mimicked, so accurately taking off Professor
Makepeace’s sarcastic voice that Maxine giggled aloud.

“
How do you suppose he got a place
here then?”

“
Oh, that’s easy. His family owns
half of Scotland. His father is an old Jesuan and probably bestowed
something or other on the college in order to swing it.”

“
Still, study groups are a good
idea, I suppose.”

“
Depends who’s in them. Sometimes
they can be too big and people are so keen to debate every little
thing that you finish up going round in circles and achieve
nothing. But, that said, how about you and me forming a group of
two?”

“
Would that be enough people to
make it worthwhile?”

“
There’s only one way to find out.
What do you say?”

Maxine didn’t immediately respond. She
wondered when she’d stopped beaming like an idiot whenever a person
offered to include her in something, questioning their motives
instead of latching onto them as though they were
lifesavers.

“
You’re on,” she eventually said,
raising her glass to his.

“
Great! So what do you make of
Makepeace’s assignment?”

“
Well, let’s see. A mother takes a
small child onto a seaside pier. There are signs everywhere
disclaiming responsibility for accidents, cautioning adults to keep
children under control. The courts have ruled the owners of the
pier have no case to answer when a child, running out of control,
trips and injures himself. But some ambulance-chasing lawyer has
persuaded the mother to sue. What category of tort would it fall
under?”

“
Liability.”

“
Possibly, but I think that’s too
vague,” Maxine argued, leaning forward, arms on the table, ready
for a good intellectual debate with her new sparring partner.
“There are too many gaps for the case to slide between. I think
it’s negligence.”

He rubbed his chin for a moment or two before
responding. “Wouldn’t it be much harder to prepare a solid case for
negligence?”

“
Yes, but I expect all the others
will take the easy option and go for liability. If we could make an
argument for negligence I think we’ll stand out.”

“
Hmm, I don’t think pairing up
with you is such a good idea after all.”

“
Why?” Maxine asked
anxiously.

Greg flashed a rueful smile. “Because I came
to Cambridge in search of an easy life and it’s already obvious
that you’re going to make me work much too hard.”

Cycling home an hour later, Maxine didn’t even
notice that the temperature had dropped and it had started to
drizzle. She’d found a friend, loved academic life, and was no
longer lonely. She would survive.

With time to spare before she had to take over
with the children she flung herself full length on her bed and told
Noah’s picture all about it.

Chapter Ten

Four weeks after the party, Noah and Cassie
were still living under Charles’s roof. Noah, frustrated by the
delay and almost driven to distraction by his mother-in-law’s
constant sniping, couldn’t understand what had upset the
apple-cart. Everything had been going so well, but suddenly the
Building Inspectors were all over him like a rash, coming on all
officious. They picked up on every little thing and refused to sign
off the conversion until he complied fully with their endless list
of requirements.

They weren’t nearly so pedantic when it came
to Ryan Watts’s conversions. Could that be because Ryan eased his
path by greasing their palms? Should he try a similar approach?
He’d never needed advice more, but couldn’t ask Ryan. He was miffed
as hell about Noah getting the place, and alert for signs of him
slacking on the day job.

Tension simmered just below the surface in his
far from satisfactory home life, and had culminated in a fierce row
with Cassie the previous Sunday. She and her mother had ganged up
on him, pressuring him to buy a new flat instead of moving into the
apartment on Broad Street. Cassie was supposedly feeling unwell,
and her mother seemed to think that if they couldn’t move straight
away then she wouldn’t be well enough to stand the upheaval nearer
her due date.

Noah couldn’t figure out what all the fuss was
about. Cassie was still only four months gone and seemingly as fit
as a flea. Mrs. Turner had put these ideas into her daughter’s
head, and her interfering ways caused Noah’s temper to erupt. Only
Charles’s intervention saw the matter resolved without blood being
spilled.

Noah’s uncompromising rage frightened his wife
into forgetting about living anywhere except Broad Street—at least
for the moment. She told him that the idea of a new flat had come
from her mother, but Noah had already sussed out her habit of
blaming others when her various schemes failed to bear fruit. Her
manipulating ways really riled him. He was trying, for God’s sake,
really trying to put his disappointments behind him and make a go
of this farce of a marriage. But nothing he did appeared to be good
enough. Angrily hammering a nail home, he almost welcomed the
distraction when Ryan Watts waved to attract his
attention.

“
Come to the office, lad,” he
said, scowling. “I wanna talk to you.”

Noah dropped his tools, wondering what had put
his boss in such an obviously bad mood. He shut the door behind
him, and Watts, in his usual blunt fashion, came straight to the
point.

“
Who gave you the money to buy the
gaff on Broad Street, son?”

Noah hadn’t been expecting the question.
Caught off guard, instead of telling Watts to mind his own
business, he shrugged and said he’d borrowed it.

“
Well, I didn’t think you’d robbed
a fucking bank, but I wanna know where it came from.”

“
It’s confidential.” Noah stared
at the thick tufts of hair growing out of his boss’s ears,
wondering where this was leading. It didn’t take him long to find
out.

“
Did you wheedle it out of my
wife?” When Noah didn’t immediately deny it, Watts crashed his fist
on his desk so hard that Noah was surprised he didn’t splinter the
wood. “That’s it, ain’t it? You conniving little fuck! After all
I’ve done for you, you go bleating behind my back to a woman. Get
out!” he roared. “Get out and don’t ever come back. You’re sacked.
And take that toe-rag Jones with you. I don’t wanna see either of
you ever again.”

Too angry to trust himself to speak, Noah
walked out of the office for the last time, infuriated by Watts’s
intransigent attitude, but at the same time, almost relieved to be
shot of him. He even managed to wink at a stunned Shirley as he
passed her desk. He tracked Joey down and told him to pack up his
stuff. Joey was understandably confused.

“
I’ll explain in a minute, Joey,
but I need to make a call first.”

He rang Kitty and explained what had
happened.

“
Don’t worry, Noah,” she said,
sounding commendably calm. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

“
Yeah, but how did he find out,
that’s what I wanna know. I didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure you
didn’t, and we didn’t leave a paper trail.”

“
Calm yourself, Noah. I dare say
Ryan will enlighten me. You know how he blurts things out when he’s
angry.” She still sounded perfectly composed. “I’m more concerned
about you and Joey. How will you manage without your
jobs?”

“
We’ll be okay. If I can just get
the bloody Building Inspectors off my back, then we’ll be ready to
put the upper floor on the market, and we shouldn’t have any
trouble shifting it. Then, perhaps, I’ll be able to pick up another
place and do it all over again.”

“
Talk to me first, Noah. I might
wish to become involved again.”

“
What, even after Ryan’s found out
about Broad Street?” Noah couldn’t keep the surprise out of his
voice.

“
Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m not
the same person that I used to be, and I’ve no intention of
allowing my husband to bully me. I intend to tell him the truth,
both about
my
money and my voluntary involvement with you.
If he doesn’t like it, then he’s welcome to move out whenever he
wishes.”