Trophy Life (5 page)

'What are you like?' Lucy asked in disbelief, but then she relented. 'How is the gorgeous Harry then? I saw that thing in the
Mail
. Very impressive.'

They chatted easily, smoothly meandering through topics old and new. Lucy was regaling Amy with stories of the politics in her office. From the sounds of things, the world of PR could be a brutal one. Lucy was telling Amy about how one girl had exacted revenge on a former friend and colleague.

'By the end of that day, she had all her clients, her desk and her boyfriend. Though I think she was most upset about the desk. Right by the window.'

'Speaking of work, you know we’ve been here an hour, right? Is work ok with that?' Lucy had never been able to meet for coffee when she had been working for an insurance company last year. She had been too worried about appearing hard working as well as actually working hard. 

'Oh yes,' Lucy replied breezily, 'I just told them this was a meeting for Palatial Pooch.' Catching Amy’s look of surprise, she added dismissively, 'Everybody does it.'

Amy didn’t doubt that. From the sounds of things, Lucy could have robbed a Tesco Metro without so much as raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her office, but it just wasn’t something she’d have expected Lucy to do. Lucy, who once spent the whole day ringing doorbells in their road to return a wallet she’d found, who always did the right thing. She would never expect super honest Lucy Darlington to lie about anything. She was even useless at watching soap operas because she was the kind of person who couldn’t forgive a character for doing something bad to another, even once the writers had decided to redeem them. It just wasn’t her. But then Amy chastised herself for her melodrama. It wasn’t exactly a big deal. All she’d done was had a chat with Amy for a bit longer. What difference did it make? She bet Lucy would even stay longer in the office to make up for it later.

Putting those thoughts aside, she decided to get Lucy’s take on her joining the London Ladies.

'Oh my gosh, you’re actually going to join the Society?' Lucy sounded breathless, her pronunciation of 'the Society' reverential. Lucy was clearly in the know. Her own family roots didn’t stray far from aristocracy. Her father was a teacher without any upper crust claims, but Lucy’s mother had gone on to become the third wife of a Lord and Lucy had been brought up in the highest of social circles, attending one of the country’s most exclusive girls’ schools. In fact, it was through Lucy that Amy had met Harry. She leaned forward. 'I hear that Justice Harper is a member. Not to mention the Hijinx sisters.'

Amy flinched at the mention of their name. Due to client confidentiality Lucy never knew about her involvement with the sisters or their property empire.

'So you think I should?'

'Of course! I would kill to be a member. It’s an amazing opportunity to really get in with the right crowd.' Switching to a cut-glass accent, she drawled, 'You’re a society wife my dear, it’s time you started acting like it.' Reverting back to her own tones she added, 'Plus you’ll get invited to the most amazing parties and what else are you doing that’s so important?'

She knew her friend was right about the people and parties. It stung, but she was also right about her not doing anything important. But was this the way she was going to change things? To define herself as a society wife? When she had left the legal world, she hadn’t given any thought to what she might do instead, but she had always imagined she would eventually find a different career. Not that she knew what that might be.

'I just want to do something that I’m proud of.  Do you know what I mean?'

'Well they raise bucket loads for charity. That’s important.'

Amy considered this point for the second time that day. It wasn’t a bad one by any measure. She really could do a lot worse than help needy causes. So why not join? It would definitely be an experience and it would give her time to think about what she could do in the long term.

***

That evening, Amy was pleased to hear Harry’s key in the door at 8:30. It would be nice to have dinner together. She had been planning on a pizza for one, but she’d have to find something else.

'Hello,' he said brightly, kissing her on the cheek as he walked into the kitchen.

'You’re home early.' She tried very hard not to make it sound like an accusation or a guilt trip.

'It was a light day. Made excellent progress on a couple of big things and of course there was my
This Morning
interview. Phil and Holly are just great, you know. I always say to them that there’s nowhere I like to be interviewed more,' he chattered as he fixed himself a drink. 'Didn’t you think they did a marvellous job? Phil asked me when I was going to run for Parliament you know.' He chuckled self-deprecatingly. 'I told him not to be ridiculous, but I guess you never know.'

Rummaging through the American style fridge-freezer in hope of finding a Marks and Spencer ready meal, Amy racked her brain to remember whether he had told her about this interview. Maybe last night? She definitely hadn’t watched it. She would need to
YouTube
it later. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice her silence.

'So,' he said, drawing out the word. He looked at her expectantly, hands moving to her shoulders as she closed the freezer door, having come away empty handed. 'I hear congratulations are in order?'

'Huh?'

'The Society,' he prompted. 'Mummy’s finally invited you.'

'Oh, yes,' Amy answered, deliberately blocking out as she always did the fact that he called his mother 'mummy'. Harry and his mother were extremely close. This piece of intel was clearly a result of one of their daily hour-long conversations. Amy wondered what he meant by 'Finally'. Feeling a touch competitive she pushed for more information.

'How long did it take her to ask Giselle?' Amy had never shaken the feeling that her mother-in-law was not her greatest fan. Nor that she favoured her more beautiful and poised other daughter-in-law.

'I think Elle was in just before their wedding.' Seeing Amy’s indignation, he added, 'But don’t forget, she’s practically German royalty.' He was referring to the minor aristocratic title held by Giselle’s father. Her features must have betrayed her feelings of nettled dismay because Harry changed tack. 'Mummy loves you,' he crooned. 'It was probably just an oversight. What are we having for din dins by the way?'

Amy decided to accept this well timed change of subject. 'Good question. Fancy ordering in?'

They ordered a Chinese takeaway and watched a DVD of
The West Wing
, one of their favourite shows. Harry made comments about the American political system every few minutes and she listened with interest to what he had to say, adding her own views.

'Oh hold on, this is Hoocho,' Harry said as his mobile rang at the same moment that a soaking President Barlet faced a vast press conference. Hoocho was an old university friend of Harry’s and one of the ushers at their wedding. He was in fact called Francis Hetherington, but, like many of Harry’s friends, had acquired a nickname the provenance of which dated back to some unremembered time and could only be traced through some obscure story of which Amy had heard several. She had no idea where the name Hoocho had come from, but no doubt it was the subject of a hilarious ‘you had to be there’ anecdote.

She looked longingly at the screen where a series cliff hanger was in the process of being solved. She honestly didn’t mind that Harry was on the phone, even at the beginning of a good
West Wing
episode. After all, he was so busy, he deserved time to relax and catch up with friends. In fact, as a quieter, more shy personality than him she often relied on his social butterfly skills to bring her out of her shell. Thanks to the combination of Harry’s work nights out and his social commitments there was hardly a week where they didn’t have at least two nights out and she enjoyed this. Nevertheless, she did relish these rare evenings in.

Harry spent the next hour on the phone uttering exclamations such as 'No! The bastard!' and 'You would never sail that time of year in the Bahamas'. By the time he’d finished, Amy had cleared the dinner and given up on finishing the episode they had been watching. Finally, she motioned to him that she was going up to bed. He held up a finger as if to say 'one minute', before returning to his conversation.

Sighing, she walked up to their master bedroom, with its huge walk-in wardrobe that Lucy always said she 'would die for' and located her old pyjamas, a Guns ‘n’ Roses t-shirt that had been washed so many times it was gaping with holes and a pair of shorts. She got ready for bed slowly, taking her time, brushing her teeth carefully, cleansing and moisturising at a leisurely pace in the hope that Harry would be able to catch up with her. Yet, she was under the sheets and asleep before he had even made it up the stairs.

Chapter 4

As Amy stepped out of the car, she breathed in the fresh spring air, embracing the thrum of anticipation. She had seen this scene in so many movies, the new student moving into their dorm. It really was a great way to start a film. After all, nothing said new beginnings, infinite possibilities, like starting university. All around her amidst the muted colours of autumn leaves and a pale blue sky were other young, excited and anxious guys and girls, each emptying overly filled cars with fussing parents or disinterested siblings nearby. Nobody knew what the year would bring. It was like watching a collective mass of sheer, unexplored potential. This was the start of something. For better or for worse.

Her mum was chatting to one of the student coordinators while her boyfriend, Will took her suitcases out of the boot.

'Remind me again why you’ve brought everything you own?' he grumbled affectionately, kissing her on the forehead. He wasn’t starting university until next week so he was helping her move in and was planning on staying for a day or so.

The decision to go to different universities had been a difficult one. Having started dating at 16, they had been virtually inseparable for almost two years. But when Will had been accepted at Cambridge, a place to which Amy hadn’t even applied, there was no way she could let him turn it down. It would be hard, but they could do it. They planned to meet up at home every other weekend and with their free mobile phone minutes they could talk on a daily basis.

'Tanya here is going to show us to your room,' her mum said officiously. Big events always made her mother nervous, which made her even more organised, more abrupt. 

'You’re in N block, second floor, not a bad place although a bit dated,' Tanya started telling Amy as they walked into the 1970’s brick building, Amy carrying a box of her beloved DVD’s. 'You’re probably going to want to personalise it a bit,' she continued confidingly. 'But you get all your food in the canteen, which is good. A lot of the halls don’t have that. Plus, the common rooms are a great place to meet up. Every half of a floor has its own common room.'

Just then, Amy’s box met an obstacle and there was a sharp clatter as some of the contents escaped. Unable to see beyond the cardboard, she stopped for a moment, placed it on the ground and looked around the floor, searching for lost items, not the easiest thing whilst people milled about her. Engrossed in her monologue, Tanya had continued her journey down the hall without her charge, her voice slowly melding into the background.

'Think you’re looking for this.' The first thing she saw was a
Friends
DVD being thrust at her. Her DVD.

"Thanks." Taking it, she looked up at the source of the voice to see warm brown eyes and a crooked smile amidst a smattering of dark stubble. 'Good choice by the way.' His smile grew wider as he gestured to the box. Amy could feel her own mouth curving upwards, involuntarily, helplessly.

'Thanks,' she said falteringly.

There was a pause. An expectation she thought she could see reflected in his eyes. He was expecting her to speak. And all she could think was that she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Why couldn’t she think of anything? She couldn’t formulate a single cogent thought, couldn't move her eyes from his, could barely breathe.

Think.

Think of something funny. Or clever. Or just words that make sequential sense. But nothing. Fantastic.

'Amy?' Her mother’s voice, sharp and questioning, broke the static silence that had enveloped her. 'Tanya’s found your room.'

'Mate, we’re next door to the toilets.' This next interruption came from tall, loping figure with reddish blond hair, his accent Manchunian. Amy watched as DVD guy turned to his friend. When his eyes returned to her, she realised she was staring.

She had to stop gawping at him.

'Amy?' The word had a final jolt of an effect.

'Coming mum.' Smiling sheepishly, she giving a slight wave of the hand holding the DVD before releasing into the air the only word she seemed capable of uttering in his presence.

'Thanks.'

She turned quickly, lowering her head and focusing every ounce of energy in her being on not falling over. Moving in the direction of her mother's voice, she went to see her new home.

Her mum, Tanya and Will were in the doorway, surveying the room, like visitors at a museum behind a red rope. Taking the role of a docent describing historical significance, Tanya started pointing out the features before them. Coming to stand next to the impromptu tour, Amy had an overwhelming impression of brown and yellow. The single bed, small wardrobe, the desk, all brown against the yellow walls. But she didn’t care. This room was all hers: This is where she would study, sit with as-yet-unknown friends and watch TV in the evenings. Her little base.

Once Tanya had finished telling them about Freshers’ Week and where they could find her if they needed anything, she was gone and it didn’t take long for them to fill the room with Amy’s things. With all the practicalities taken care of, Amy’s mum left soon thereafter, squeezing her tightly before going.

***

The next day, she and Will wandered onto the main campus, joining the throngs of other students making their way to the Freshers’ Fair. All around were stalls with big signs proclaiming things like
Hockey Club
and
Debating Society
, young, earnest faces making speeches or addressing individual students at each one. Then there were the more esoteric interests such as pigeon breeding and bell ringing. One particularly excitable group were apparently dedicated to ancient calligraphy.

Amy couldn’t quite believe how many societies there were. She definitely wanted to join the newspaper - she had come knowing that - but presented with this myriad of choices she wondered whether she might also try something completely different, like paragliding or flamenco dancing.

Will was in a long conversation with a member of the football society when Amy felt her stomach rumble.

'I think I’ll go get us something from that café,' she said to an engrossed Will.

It was more of a kiosk really, with a couple of metal sets of tables and chairs, but it did have a decent assortment of muffins. Ignoring the stare of the bored student at the till, Amy examined the selection, entranced. Would blueberry perhaps count as one of her five a day?

'Oh dear, I’ve seen this before. The stress of Freshers’ Week has taken its toll and you no longer possess the ability to make simple nutritional decisions. Very common. Very, very sad.' It was the voice from yesterday, which Amy now realised had an Irish accent. DVD guy was standing beside her, also looking at the muffins, but shaking his head in mock sadness.

'That sounds like a professional opinion. Are you a medical student?' Amy couldn’t believe her flirty tone. She was quite impressed with her opening line.

'Just a good Samaritan. Saving one damsel at a time.' His voice took on the sombre defiance of Batman vowing to protect Gotham City before quickly switching back. 'Good guess though. I’m actually a shrink in the making. Psychology. You?'

'Law,' she replied, smiling.

'Tempting to make a comment about ambulance chasing, but not going to,' he said, eyes not moving from the muffins.

Amy laughed. 'I appreciate it.' She too kept her eyes on the baked selection. It was like a game. Who would look away first?

'I’m Freddie by the way.'

'Amy.'

'So what’s it going to be Amy?' he asked, finally turning to her and gesturing to the muffins. 'My treat.'

'Oh no,' she started before feeling a hand on her shoulder.

'Hey, sorry, turns out I know that guy’s brother. You remember Gavin?' Will said before looking questioningly at Freddie and putting his arm around her.

At 6 foot 2, Will had always towered a foot over her and now she could compare his bulky, sometimes slightly chubby frame with Freddie’s more compact physique. He was much leaner and probably around 5 foot 9 at a guess. Amy could feel Will tensing; there was the slightest strain in the air.

Freddie thrust his hand forward, 'Hi, I’m Freddie. I think me and Amy are neighbours.'

Reciprocating, Will shook his hand and introduced himself as, 'Amy’s boyfriend, Will.'

'Freddie helped me when I dropped a DVD,' Amy explained nervously. Why was she nervous? She had that guilty feeling she always got when she was at the airport. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, but felt a desperate need to prove it.

Freddie ordered four cappuccinos before asking Will, 'So are you at Joplin Halls too?' 

'I’m just here for the weekend. I’m off tomorrow,' Will said.

Amy wasn’t sure why, but she added, 'Will’s at Cambridge.' Freddie looked suitably impressed.

'You don’t need to tell everyone that,' Will laughed.

'She’s a proud girlfriend,' Freddie smiled. 'Look, I’d better be off, my mates will wonder where their coffee is. Really great meeting you. See you around.' He raised a hand in a goodbye, she and Will reciprocating both the wave and the 'great meeting you's' before he turned and walking into the crowd.

'Nice guy,' Will said simply after Freddie had gone. 'I’ve found the newspaper’s stall by the way.'

***

After Will left the next morning, Amy felt that he had taken with him a piece of home, leaving a void. Like a comfort blanket ripped away. As she walked forlornly back to her room having seen him off, a voice with a distinct northern twang called out from the open door next to her own closed one.

'Hi!' It was full of energy. A tall, Amazonian blonde bounced out of the room, from which Amy could hear a Britpop anthem blaring from a boom box. 'I’m Georgie. I think we’re next door neighbours!' she squealed.

'We are,' Amy couldn’t help laughing. 'I’m Amy, this is my room.'

'Was that your boyfriend I saw you with yesterday?'

'Yes, he just left,' Amy said sadly. 'He was just helping me settle in.'

'Doing the long distance thing, hey? Come in, come in! Welcome to my boudoir.' Georgie pronounced the last word with a flourish as she ushered Amy in. 'This is Lucy and this is Scott,' she said gesturing at her bed where a plump blond sat next to a skinny guy holding a guitar. 'They’re both on the corridor.'

Amy smiled and surveyed the room as she sat on the chair by the desk. The walls were in the process of being covered with colourful posters. Bright pink curtains had been hung and a fuchsia bedspread covered the bed, itself being spattered with soft toys and cushions. Amy found it hard to believe that their rooms had started out the same and envied her neighbour’s sense of style. 

'My John and I thought of staying together, but I said to him, we’ll just end up hating each other. Not that that will happen to you!' Her words were like a torrent flowing towards Amy. There was no chance to take anything in, let alone respond, but Amy was enjoying the steady flow of speech. It was strangely soothing and Amy loved this girl’s openness. 

For the next hour, she, Georgie, Lucy and Scott sat chatting and listening to music. Georgie was from Leeds and she and Lucy were also law students. Georgie was especially excited to have her own room after sharing with her two younger sisters and she was looking forward to joining the hockey team.

Like Amy, Lucy and Scott were from London and Scott was studying Geography. Lucy had come from a prestigious private school, yet seemed bewilderingly normal. Apparently her mum had married a duke - or was it a lord? - who treated her like his own, but Lucy maintained a down-to-earth nature, something which she attributed to her teacher father.

'If it were up to my step-dad, I’d be married to someone with a double-barrelled name and a trust fund by now,' she had laughed.

Amy felt immediately comfortable with this group of strangers. They agreed to meet for dinner that evening and maybe go to the union bar afterwards.

Over the next couple of weeks, they developed a little routine. They would all eat dinner together before either going to the bar or on one of the many nights out advertised for students at local clubs. Amy, Lucy and Georgie went to lectures together, meeting Scott and his friends afterwards, all enjoying the security of their little gang in this new environment.

Amy had also joined the newspaper as a trial features writer and had already had one article published about student room furnishing as well one about student housing shortages. She felt exhilarated.

Will meanwhile had just started his own university routine, which sounded exhausting. Like a pile of bricks dropped from a great height onto a concrete floor, his workload crashed into his existence and had him in the library for hours on end. But they still managed their nightly phone calls.

It was almost three weeks before she saw Freddie again. She had wandered into the common room one Saturday night to watch the movie of the day,
Dogma
. She had planned to go home that weekend, but Will had needed to stay in Cambridge to finish a paper so they planned to meet a week later. Most people had gone home for the weekend, but she relished the opportunity for some quiet. So Amy had decided to go alone, looking forward to sitting with a bag of popcorn in the company of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.