Love's Cold Burn Page 5

  ‘But she is so pretty … she is.’

  ‘That doesn’t stop you talking to her,’ Tom encouraged.

  ‘Get in there before she shags someone else.’ Brian was impatient and less understanding of Andrew’s self doubt.

  ‘He does have a point,’ Tom had to admit.

  ‘You have a point too Andrew, but if you don’t take your hands out of your pockets and talk to the girl, you’ll never get a chance to use it,’

  ‘She probably has a boyfriend at home.’ Andrew was finding excuses.

  ‘Maybe she hasn’t,’ Tom said, at the same time patting his shy friend on the back and gently pressing him in the direction of Pink Socks.

  Brian beckoned Tom over and took him to one side. Andrew pushed his hands deep into his pockets while the brothers talked quietly to each other. Moments later they both approached Andrew, each grabbed an arm and cradled him between them. He struggled, feet running against fresh air as they carried him through the crowd.

  ‘Penny for the Guy,’ Brian asked Pink Socks.

  ‘Any loose change will do,’ added Tom.

  Andrew’s scared eyes looked up.

  She addressed Andrew with a soft Birmingham accent and a kind smile. ‘I have five pence. Will that do?’

  The brothers turned to Andrew for his answer. Pink Socks waited for an answer, the smile still warm. Andrew’s mind raced. He could not think of anything and the pause was growing to an awkward length.

  ‘I … I think I have change,’ he stammered. He fumbled in his pocket for coppers and handed them over. Her friends called. She made her excuses and left.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad.’ Tom told Andrew. ‘At least you’ve made contact now, so you have an excuse to talk to her next time you see her.’

  ‘Maybe you can progress to asking her name next time.’ Sarcasm from Brian.

  ‘I think I have change.’ Andrew repeated his words. ‘She must think I’m an idiot now … she must.’

  ‘Even idiots have girlfriends,’ Brian advised. ‘Not all Labour voters are single.’

  Tom couldn’t let that go. ‘Not all Tory voters are single.’

  Tom tried to find something positive to add. ‘She probably thought you were being ironic.

  ‘She hates me.’ Andrew was miserable.

  The boys were taken along by the flow of the crowd. Southside Common was still a bit muddy from rain earlier in the week. They dodged the mud and stuck to the trail of straw, which the council had put down for footpaths. Tom’s attention was caught by one of the fairground stalls offering a wide selection of useless gifts as prizes for hooking a plastic duck. It was easy to hook the ducks and Tom presumed the prizes cost less than the fee to take part. An elderly grey-haired lady with her hands in a money pouch around her waist beamed in Tom’s direction revealing an incomplete set of teeth.

  ‘Fancy your chances my lad? Hook one duck and you win anything on the bottom shelf.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll try later.’ He broke away from her stare before she could push him further. ‘Do you remember when we cheated on a stall like this as kids?’ Tom asked Brian with a smile of nostalgia. ‘We were only about eight years old,’ Brian nodded. Tom addressed his memories to Andrew. ‘The stall was so busy that the attendant was run off her feet. As quickly as she collected ducks, she handed out prizes and, in the same movement, gathered payment. She left winners briefly to consider what prize they wanted and went back to them. When they finally made their choice, she grabbed the prize and handed it over.’

  ‘Yes.’ Andrew listened carefully, his brush with Pinks Socks forgotten for a minute, but only a minute.

  ‘We had no money but she was so busy, we just told her what prize we had chosen, moved around a bit, told her our choice again, and just collected prizes without ever paying. She didn’t notice we hadn’t paid until we had a pencil sharpener each, four T-Rex badges, a furry pig and three sticks of rock. She was too busy to chase us.’

  Andrew was impressed.

  Brian had been checking out the ladies, but paused, unusually, to watch a toddler struggle with a toffee apple. She or he, Brian couldn’t tell, had only been able to lick the treat and had got toffee all around its mouth, chin and cheeks. The mother had seen the mess and reached for her handkerchief, which she licked and wiped the child’s face. As the toddler strained to avoid the mother’s attention, the toffee apple was held at arms length. The family dog, which had been following the apple with interest from the start, took its chance, grabbed it and swallowed it after only crunching twice. The child’s startled face turned in disbelief as it realised what had happened. The tears came with loud sobs and screwed up eyes.

  ‘Brian,’ Tom shouted. ‘She was too busy to chase us.’

  ‘Yes. I remember.’

  They moved on. It was a popular event. Very well attended and, much to the liking of Tom and Brian, there was an equal number of men and women, unlike the distorted, unreal situation on campus.

  ‘We should come into town more often,’ Brian suggested.

  ‘Might be worth it,’ Tom agreed.

  Brian noticed a trendy looking girl struggling with a cigarette machine. She had a thin face, matching thin mouth with black lipstick and black clothes from top to bottom. Brian had heard such girls described as ‘Goths’ or New Romantics. She was tall, only an inch or so less than Brian, with crew cut black hair. Although a mild night for November, the girl wore a heavy black coat, which hid details that Brian usually preferred to check in advance. She was still struggling with the vending machine and Brian could see no friends rushing to help her. He thought a ‘cool’ thump on the machine would break the ice. It broke more than the ice.

  The machine’s four legs had been on soft ground and the application of force from Brian’s fist pushed one of the legs deeper into the mud. The machine fell back and the glass front shattered from the impact with a concrete bollard. As the device clattered to the ground, a large rocket exploded overhead thankfully drowning the sound and giving the three boys the chance to make a quick exit. They ran to the video game tent where Colin and Hugh had been trying a scam on the fruit machines.

  The second year friends had been using a system which they had purchased from a final-year mechanical engineering student, whose thesis had been on the workings of gaming machines. They had broken even. It was the latest in a long line of ideas they had tried in the pursuit of easy money, a study which they devoted more time to than any of their academic options at the university.

  The nearest pub to Southside Common was the Horse And Groom on London Road. Brian shouted over the noise of the video games, ‘meet you in the Horse And Groom.’ The boys rushed off.

  The three boys followed a wide path to the edge of the common, which led to tennis courts and a crazy golf course. A path between these two facilities led to London Road, but it was only wide enough for two. The three boys had been walking side by side in relative quiet to get their breath back but Andrew noticed the path was about to narrow.

  He could see that one of them would be on their own, front or back, while the other two continued side by side. To avoid being left out, he struck up a conversation with Tom as they approached the narrow section of the path. His plan worked. Brian fell in line behind them and the brothers had not noticed Andrew’s trick, although Tom did find it a little strange that his friend suddenly started checking on his general health and talking about the weather.

  ‘Bollocks. I was in there.’ Brian drank half his pint of beer in one go. It had taken 10 minutes to get served. The Horse And Groom was packed with bonfire night revellers, mostly on the way home from Southside Common, although one or two drinkers looked as if they had never made it as far as the bonfire and spent all night in the pub.

  The pub was much smarter than the other places they had visited in town. There were high ceilings with ornate mouldings, gold coloured light fittings with heavy velvet curtains over bay windows. The boys found some standing space alongside a copy of Michaelangelo’s
David statue. Tom was upbeat as usual and having tried to raised Andrew’s spirits after their brush with Pink Socks, now needed to build his brother up.

  ‘But Brian, just think, if you see her again, you will have plenty to talk about.’

  Andrew, who had never seen anyone dressed all in black, including lipstick, tried to be supportive. ‘She did look a bit weird.’

  ‘True, but I wasn’t interested in talking to her or borrowing her clothes. I wanted to squeeze her tits.’

  Tom felt that his brother needed to change his focus. ‘You do need to do a certain amount of talking in the initial stages. Some blokes even do a bit of talking after the deed.’

  ‘Now that is weird.’ Brian’s focus was unchanged.

  The room was packed and as Tom reached for the David statue to steady himself, he slightly bumped a woman who nearly spilled her drink. She was followed by an aggressive man of about 20 stone, who glared at Tom. No words needed. The warning was noted.

  The boys moved to a clearer space near a passage, which led to the toilets. It was a better spot as they were alongside a group of three girls. The young lady closest to Tom was either tanned or of mixed race with bright friendly eyes, long eye lashes and large orange and green gaudy ear-rings, which matched nothing she wore.

  She had one plump friend and another in a bright red polo-necked jumper. The plump friend didn’t like the gaudy ear-rings, which had been a gift from the girl in the polo-necked jumper, and she had been trying to say so without offending either of her friends.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I love the ear-rings, but I don’t think orange works with your skin tone.’

  ‘It so does. And the green is the same as your eyes.’ Polo-Neck was getting defensive.

  ‘I like them and the colours are lush, but maybe they were wrong for this outfit.’ Gaudy Ear-rings was trying to be diplomatic.

  ‘Okay.’ Plump Friend was being assertive. ‘Let’s ask a complete stranger.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Polo-Neck, who was definitely not fine.

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Gaudy Ear-rings, who turned around to face Tom Hill and immediately forgot what she was supposed to be asking. She had seen this young man earlier across the other side of the bar and pointed him out to her friends as the sort of man she would like to be stuck with on a desert island. The three girls had all been picking one man, one outfit and one music album to take to a desert island.

  ‘Hi. How’s it going?’ Tom asked, wondering why she had turned towards him.

  ‘Good thanks.’

  After a pause, Polo-Neck intervened. ‘Stop staring at him and ask him.’

  ‘Ask me what?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Yes. Okay. Err …’ She couldn’t think of the best way to ask. ‘If you were buying your girlfriend a gift.’

  ‘I don’t have a girlfriend,’ Tom interrupted.

  Her smile widened as she continued. ‘If you had a girlfriend and you were buying her some ear-rings, would you choose the ones I am wearing?’

  ‘Hmm. Tough one.’ Tom narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin in thought. He had overheard their conversation and tried to answer in a way that kept them all happy. ‘It would depend who they were for.’ He paused to register if he were on the right track. Okay so far. ‘If they were for you, the orange might not match your skin tone.’ Plump Friend was nodding approval. ‘But the green matches your eyes.’ Polo-Neck nodded. ‘But perhaps the green and orange together would not be right for your outfit, so I’m not sure.’

  All three girls were happy with that but Gaudy Ear-rings thought Tom had shown greater perception than might have been expected. ‘You heard our conversation didn’t you?’ She asked smiling.

  ‘Yes. Okay. I did. But honestly, they’re nice,’ he lied. He thought they were tacky, but he loved her smile. It was a bit cheeky and challenging. Tom liked girls with spirit.

  Brian took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with Polo-Neck while Andrew looked sheepishly at Plump Friend. He had squeezed a spot that morning on his cheek and he couldn’t tell if she was looking at his eyes or the blemish. He held his glass a bit higher to cover the spot, then realised he was holding a half pint glass while his confident friends had pint glasses. He lowered the glass and held his hand over his cheek in a way which he hoped looked natural. ‘Have you been up to the bonfire?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. It was very good,’ Plump Friend replied politely, but Andrew came back with nothing and the girl started to look around the room before edging towards her friends and joining in their conversations instead. Andrew put his free hand in his pocket and looked down at his shoes.

  ‘Oy. Leopard. Why did you run off?’ shouted Hugh Grundy over the heads. He was pushing his way through followed by Colin Dean, both carrying pints of snakebite, half lager, half cider. Hugh spilled a few people’s drinks with his impatient advance, but made no attempt to apologise. Andrew explained how Brian had knocked over the cigarette machine.

  ‘Nice one Brian.’ Hugh slapped his floor-mate on the back with the same force that Brian had used on the vending machine, but on this occasion it launched Brian’s beer all over Polo-Neck, who squealed first as a result of the soaking and second as an apologetic Brian clumsily tried to mop up the beer with his dirty hanky. She pushed him away. This was becoming a habit, Brian thought.

  The girls left quickly, although Gaudy had been reluctant to stay with her friends. She had enjoyed meeting Tom and wanted to see him again. Unfortunately she hadn’t even told him her name. She had told him which insurance company she worked for in town. He seemed bright, maybe he would contact her there if she had made a good impression.

  Tom was angry with Hugh. He had met a girl he liked and who he thought liked him, but he hadn’t even got her name, let alone her phone number. ‘What a dickhead Hugh.’ Tom said forcefully.

  If he had been joking Hugh would have let it go. Hugh couldn’t tell if Tom was being serious or not, but responded as if he had been. ‘Nobody calls me a dickhead.’

  ‘Dickhead.’

  ‘Do you want to take this outside?’ Hugh still wasn’t sure.

  ‘Ready when you are Dickhead.’

  Hugh wasn’t sure what to do now. He was more bark than bite and he wasn’t much bigger than Tom. Besides, he quite liked Tom and didn’t want to fall out so he backed off. ‘I’ll let you off this once, but watch your step. Nobody messes with Hugh Grundy.’

  ‘Union bar for last orders,’ Brian ended the exchange.

  ‘Yes. Let’s go.’ Tom was ready.

  ‘We’ll catch you up,’ Colin thought it safe to join in now.

  The three boys left.

  It was a long walk across town and the union building was shut by the time they got there.

  ‘Coffee Bar,’ suggested Brian.

  ‘Sure thing Brian,’ replied Tom, but Andrew wasn’t keen. He had seen Pink Socks in the Coffee Bar a couple of times and he felt he had had enough humiliation for one night. He made his excuses and headed back to Dickens Court.

  The brothers walked beyond the union building, round the bio-chemistry block, along the edge of the staff car park and into the Coffee Bar, which occupied what had once been a store room underneath the lecture halls. It had been converted to a coffee bar after pressure from the student council to provide an alternative place for students to socialise other that the bar in the union building. It was run by students for students and its relaxed rules on closing time had made it the place to go when the union bar shut for a bit of a wind down. They also made toasted sandwiches, which were very popular. A lot of students who hadn’t been drinking often went there at the end of a long study session and the atmosphere was more casual than the union bar.

  There was a low ceiling and it was not a large room. There were a few bar stools around the outside edge alongside a wide continuous shelf. Above that were murals of iconic actors and pop stars, which had been painted by students in the art department. Lou Reed was alongside Annie Lennox, followed by Charlie Chaplin and Jame
s Dean. As Tom and Brian arrived the juke-box was playing Do You Really Want To Hurt Me by Culture Club.

  The place was always full in the run-up to midnight and it was standing room only. Tom ordered two hot chocolates and a cheese toastie to share. The boys edged over to the corner under Charlie Chaplin.

  ‘I liked that girl.’ Tom was still disappointed to have not collected a phone number from Gaudy Ear-rings in the Horse And Groom.

  ‘Actually I quite liked Polo-Neck. I liked her enough to talk to her face without looking down at her breasts.’

  ‘That’s progress Brian.’

  He smiled inwardly, pleased with himself for briefly changing his focus away from sex. But it didn’t last long. He saw a poster on the notice-board advertising a Greenpeace meeting. ‘Was Greenpeace Badge a good shag?’

  ‘Is there anything in your head apart from shagging?’ Tom knew there wasn’t but thought he needed to make a point.

  Brian thought for a moment. ‘Football?’ More of a question than an answer. ‘Did you use one of the condoms we bought two years ago?’ If it had been a question the answer was ‘no’. Brian had gone straight back to sex.

  ‘I did. And yes. It was good, but brief.’ Now Tom paused in reflection. ‘Too brief. It can’t have been that special for her.’ The thought seemed to have only now come to him and there was a bit of guilt creeping into his mind. ‘Thinking about it, I have to say I probably used her. She could have been anybody. I just wanted to lose my virginity, so yes, I used her and it’s not a good feeling.’

  Brian nodded his understanding, but thought to himself that he would be unlikely to feel the same way.

  ‘Having said that, I also felt relieved knowing that virginity was no longer an issue, so next time it won’t cloud my judgement and I can make the girl’s feelings a higher priority.’

  Brian again nodded understanding but knew he would never be as thoughtful as his brother and believed that Tom would not be as considerate as his ideals told him to be. Brian thought Tom was deluding himself.

  The juke-box song finished and the hum of conversation filled the Coffee Bar. As Andrew had expected, Pink Socks arrived. Brian noticed her first and pointed her out to Tom. ‘There’s Pink Socks. I wonder why Andrew can’t speak to her.’