Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Lucas
Is there anything worse than being up and about before the sun has risen? It’s 5.45 a.m. and I’m walking down King’s Parade in pitch darkness. I pass the Corpus Clock – a bizarre metallic sculpture displayed outside one of the colleges which features a giant grasshopper with glowing red eyes and feet that tick-tock back and forth.
It’s weird to be back in Cambridge, where curiosities like this are par for the course. I was only half an hour away at my mum’s house for most of the summer, but it felt like a different world. I have to admit it was nice not having to think about rowing. Unlike the rest of the squad, who spent the long summer break nursing their endorphin addictions in the gym, I could afford to basically forget about rowing for two whole months. I can’t say I missed it. But now that I’m back in Cambridge, I’m glad it’s going to be taking up all my free time. It’s all planned out for me, twice a day, six days a week, with barely a moment in between.
It’s going to be so weird rowing without George. I haven’t seen him since that day at the orchard in Grantchester. Edwin Dunn took the exam papers but showed no sign of giving in to my threats, so I left his office without knowing what his next move was.
I called George to let him know that I’d tried my best, only to find that he’d blocked me. Shortly after that, he vanished from Cambridge and stopped replying to the entire rowing squad. There’s no way I was going to go public without speaking to George first. In the end, I was forced to drop it.
It’s seared in my memory how angry George was the last time he looked at me. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was how I saw straight through his anger. Behind it was a devastation that was nothing to do with him not having a degree. It was how I’d betrayed him. Ignored the one time he stood up for what he wanted.
Maybe it’s no surprise that he still hasn’t forgiven me.
The day after it all went down, I told Amir about kissing George at the ball. He blinked twice, then asked if I thought it would happen again. I said no. Amir said that in that case, there wasn’t a problem. One week later, he took me on holiday to Tuscany.
The first week was just me and him. He’d planned everything meticulously. We stayed in the most amazing boutique hotel in Florence. Amir had a long list of galleries he wanted to visit, but was worried about queues, so we got up very early every morning, which meant we also went to bed early, and didn’t drink in the evenings. We saw so much, and even though I had an app which told me all about the paintings, Amir gave me his own mini lecture on every single one, right down to the smallest details.
For the second week of the holiday, we went to stay with Amir’s friend Wilbur and his family in a villa outside Siena. Ridiculous place with an infinity pool and a personal chef. It was the kind of holiday I never could have imagined growing up. I sort of know Wilbur from the boat club, though we’ve never really talked. For the first few days, I was uncomfortable. Then I remembered my mum’s philosophy: if they’re nice, I’m nice. I couldn’t deny that everyone was being welcoming. No one cared that I’d gone to a state school. I felt like we were all really bonding. But on my last day there, Wilbur’s mother took me aside and asked if I could put in a good word with Deb about Wilbur being picked for the Boat Race. Hard not to think that was the main reason I was invited.
After that, I was glad to go home to my mum’s house and dial the glamour down to a zero. That was until I told her what happened with George. She was livid. Don’t get me wrong, I’d spent weeks being mad at myself, but I hoped my mum might understand the misguided logic that led me to do what I did. Nope. She couldn’t see how I could have convinced myself to take someone else’s fate into my hands like that. She was in a mood with me for days. She only came round when she saw how much I was suffering. I think I was in shock at first. Then in Italy, there were too many distractions. But once I had no one for company but my mum and her manky old budgerigar Leslie, it came down to one simple and devastating fact: I miss him.
I miss him so much. I wake up thinking about that night at Trinity Ball. And not just the moment on the Ferris wheel. Sometimes at night I lie awake, wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t got caught swapping the papers and George was going to be in Cambridge next year. Amir has a job at Christie’s, so I’m only going to see him at weekends. If I’d been in the boat opposite George six days a week, would we really have been able to go back to how it was before?
I certainly wouldn’t have found it easy to be in close physical proximity. Maybe something would have happened between us. Maybe even more than last time. But that’s the problem with George, he’s too damn hot. Take that away, and what are you left with? We were great friends, yes. He’s incredibly sweet and fun. He brings out a side of me that I adore. He’s way smarter than you think when you first meet him.
Hang on, what were the negatives? Oh yeah – he hates me.
I don’t blame him. I deserve that reaction. I don’t know where he is, what he’s doing or who he’s with. He’s moved on from Cambridge. I don’t doubt that he’s moved on from whatever weird crush he developed from spending too much time with me. Hard to think what he can be doing without a degree. He’s probably back in Wisconsin, working at his parents’ country club and taking the hottest girl in town for corn dogs at Big Bertha’s Barn Dance. I’m sure I’ll move on soon too. I’m so lucky to have Amir. My biggest dream came true.
Sure, I never dreamed that my first boyfriend would spend hours of his free time trying to track down the perfect fountain pen ink. But everyone has their quirks. He’s kind. He loves taking care of me. He’s even promised I can move into his flat in Mayfair at the end of this year when I finish my master’s. By then, George will barely be a memory.
Six a.m. at the train station isn’t the best time for catch-ups. Deb informed the squad over the summer that George wouldn’t be returning, and everyone assumed he failed his exams and moved back to America. There are a few new faces, while Dakani has joined the civil service fast stream and Sprout has gone off to be a management consultant, but most of last year’s squad have chosen to stick around and finish what we started. As I get on the train and hear Ed and Ted moaning about the price of Pret breakfast baps, it feels weirdly good to be back. I save a seat for Fran, but Johannes swoops in next to me.
‘Hey, man,’ I say in surprise. Johannes and I have never been seat buddies.
‘I’ve got a proposition for you,’ Johannes says urgently.
I perk up in intrigue.
‘Tristan is running to be boat club president.’
‘Yes, I saw the announcement.’
Until recently, everyone assumed that George would be president again this year. He was so perfect for the role that no one would have dreamed of running against him. I hadn’t thought about the fact that the position was now vacant until Tristan sent a grandiose email to the squad last week announcing his candidacy as if he was running to be president of the free world. He’ll make a terrible boat club president, but I can’t bring myself to care.
‘We need you to run against him,’ says Johannes.
I laugh in surprise. ‘Why me?’
‘You’re the only one who can beat him.’
I feel exhausted just at the thought of it.
‘I really don’t have time to be boat club president.’
‘Lucas, you have to. Tristan’s parents got divorced over the summer. He’s in such a bad mood. Think how shit it will be if he’s our leader.’
‘Yeah, it will suck, but that doesn’t mean I should have to do it. Why can’t you?’
Johannes looks baffled. The thought of being in a leadership role and having to constantly take a position on things is completely unfathomable to him. Even what he’s doing right now is a big step.
‘I can’t be president. It’s Tristan or you.’
He’s right. Anyone else, and Tristan would get in their ear and turn them into a puppet leader. It’s not like I have anything else to fill my winter evenings with.
‘OK, yes, fine – I’ll do it.’
When we arrive in Ely, I bump into Wilbur. We have nothing in common, but now that we’ve been on holiday together, we have to act like we’re friends. I’m only now realising how much it’s going to suck not having George here. I’m chatting to Wilbur about how great it’s going for Amir at Christie’s when Tristan marches up to me, brimming with rage.
‘I heard you’re running against me for president.’
Jesus, that got around fast.
‘I haven’t committed to it.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘I don’t know, Tristan, maybe because no one likes you?’
Tristan glares at me as if he wants to crack my skull open, then reaches up and flicks my ear lobe.
‘Ow!’ I yell, recoiling. ‘What the fuck was that?’
‘You asked for it.’
‘You’re such a fucking gimp, Tristan. At least punch me in the face.’
Tristan starts sizing up to me, which is hilarious, because he’s so much taller than me that it only makes him look dumb, like he’s picking a fight with a child.
‘Boys!’ shouts Deb.
‘He started it!’ screams Tristan. ‘He’s running for boat club president purely so he—’
‘Enough!’ says Deb.
She claps her hands and divides us into crews. Everyone falls quiet. After what just happened, Wilbur is suddenly looking like a desirable option, but Deb puts me in a boat with Tristan as stroke. I look at her in disbelief.
‘You’re gonna make me sit in a boat with him after that?’
Deb shrugs. I have no choice but to slouch over to the boat. I’m planning on ignoring Tristan, but as he gets in his seat, he’s buzzing.
‘Hey, I didn’t mean it back there.’
I don’t respond.
‘Look who she picked. This is definitely the first boat.’
I hold Tristan’s gaze. ‘It better fucking not be.’
‘It blatantly is. We need to lay down a marker.’
‘Oh, now you want to be best friends. Which is it, Tristan?’
Tristan quivers with rage and leans in close to me.
‘Listen, I know I’m not George, but I’m the best you’re going to get, so you might as well get over it. Should have sucked his dick while you had the chance.’
Tristan has succeeded in firing me up. Just not in the way he intended. Once we’ve completed our warm-up, Deb orders a sprint, and Tristan nods at me. But as Deb blows her whistle, I start counting the stroke rate deliberately slowly. Tristan frowns. Usually, it’s his job to set the pace. The cox only intervenes when something’s gone wrong. Tristan slides forward on his seat.
‘What are you doing?’
‘You’re out of time,’ I hiss.
‘No I’m not.’
‘Yes you are. Follow me.’
I continue to count, and Tristan has no choice but to follow. He can feel in his bones that we aren’t going as fast as we could be, but there’s nothing he can do about it. He just keeps getting redder and redder, more and more frustrated. By the time we cross the finish line, he’s ready to explode.
I ignore him and look over at Deb. Her expression is impervious as usual. But as we row into the bank and carry the boat up to the van, Deb approaches me with a stern look.
‘A word, Lucas?’
‘Go for it.’
‘Not here. Boathouse, this afternoon.’
Private meetings away from the squad are never a good thing. What the hell was I thinking out there on the river? Of course Deb saw what I was doing. There’s nothing she hates more than people trying to game the system. In my eagerness to piss off Tristan, I’ve signed my own death warrant. On the train back to Cambridge, I sit with Fran.
‘It could be about anything,’ Fran insists.
‘No it couldn’t. It’s obvious. Me and George found a way to make it work, but I’m never going to get there with Tristan.’
‘What, and you think I am?’
‘I think you’ll handle him better than me.’
Fran looks doubtful.
‘I’m glad it’s worked out this way,’ I say. ‘When you joined the men’s squad, a part of me thought I should just step aside and let you have your chance.’
Fran looks at me with disdain. ‘When are you guys going to get over the fact that I’ve got a pair of tits?’
I’m rendered momentarily speechless.
‘I didn’t come here to be patronised,’ Fran declares. ‘My dream is to cox at the Olympics. I don’t want anything handed to me on a plate. I want to earn it.’
That afternoon, I walk down to the boathouse and find Deb already waiting.
‘Balcony?’ she says.
She leads me to two wooden deckchairs on the first-floor balcony that look onto the river. Beneath us people are strolling along the towpath, but the river is quiet aside from a man in a kayak.
‘It’s really not a great river to row on,’ I say.
‘No.’
I turn to Deb. ‘You don’t have to beat around the bush. I can take it.’
Deb doesn’t follow.
‘I know you’re going to drop me.’
‘What?’
‘I lost it out there today. I was mad at Tristan, and I wanted to punish him.’ I look away, shamefaced. ‘I shouldn’t have done it.’
‘Did you see how Tristan reacted?’ asks Deb.
‘Er, yeah. He was furious.’
‘But what did he do about it?’
‘Nothing. There was nothing he could do.’
‘You think he would have reacted that way with Fran?’
I look at Deb in surprise. And not because she just spoke three sentences in a row.
‘Because I don’t,’ says Deb. ‘I think he would have ignored her and gone at the speed he wanted.’
I really don’t know where she’s going with this.
‘It’s going to be you, Lucas. You and Tristan. I’ve made my decision.’
‘Wait, because Tristan’s a misogynist?’
Deb is silent.
‘But .?.?. me and Tristan hate each other. Do you really think this is a good idea? Look at what happened with me and George in last year’s Boat Race.’
‘That was different.’
‘But—’
‘Forget about George,’ says Deb. ‘I know what I’m doing. Oh and one other thing . . . don’t run for president.’
I stare at her. ‘I .?.?. why?’
‘Tristan needs it.’
‘That’s not how it works! You can’t reward him for being a monster.’
Deb grits her teeth. There’s nothing she wants less than to explain herself, but I’ve backed her into a corner.
‘Look,’ she says, ‘we’ve lost our best rower. Our next best rower has some .?.?. issues, but we need him on the team. We need him to win. And we are going to win this year. Understood?’