Chapter Two #2
‘Insufficient for analysis,’ he said, gathering her in his arms. ‘And if we remove the element of surprise from my side of the equation …’
They kissed again, this time with more active participation on his part.
‘Now, that was first-rate,’ she said when they finally parted.
‘Good to know,’ he said.
He listened outside for a moment.
‘The commotion seems to have died down,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk you back to Newnham. If we come across any straggling bulldogs, we’re out on a date and quite shocked to learn that such pinko goings-on have been going on.’
‘A plausible cover story,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
He unlocked the door, listened again, then stepped outside, motioning for her to join him once he saw that the area was deserted. He closed the door behind her, locking it quietly, then offered her his arm. She took it.
The alley was illuminated only by the lights coming from the windows of the flats overlooking it. They walked quietly to St Edward’s Passage and turned to the right. The only signs of the evening’s mayhem were the odd discarded placard or burned-out torch.
‘What did you think of the rally?’ he asked as they strolled towards the Cam.
‘It was a decent turnout for a Thursday,’ she replied. ‘I found that encouraging.’
‘And the speeches?’
‘I thought Cornforth was particularly good. Forceful, succinct, no self-glorification, unlike Cornford. As for Dobb, I would be very much interested in attending one of his classes, but I felt like I was attending one of his classes.’
‘It wasn’t the most rhetorically inspiring speech,’ Danforth said with a laugh. ‘But you should definitely sign up for him next term if you have any interest in economic history. I recommend that we take the Mathematical Bridge. It’s less likely to be bulldogged at the moment.’
‘I will be guided by you, Mr Danforth.’
‘Please call me Tony, Iris.’
‘I will,’ she said. ‘But call me Sparks. Everyone does.’
‘Sparks, it shall be.’
They passed over the bridge, a construction of wooden beams and trusses that took them over the narrowed Cam.
To their left were staff cottages, so they went straight through the Fellows’ Garden and skirted the tennis courts on the other side.
From there they cut across to Sidgwick Avenue, which brought them a few minutes later to the bronze gates of Newnham College.
Which were closed and locked.
‘It’s after ten,’ muttered Sparks. ‘Blast.’
‘Will you get in trouble?’ asked Tony.
‘Only if I get caught,’ said Sparks. ‘Come with me.’
She led him along the walls to a section of wrought-iron fence, beyond which was Clough Hall, its white trim gleaming in the half-moonlight, lights still on in most of the rooms.
‘Give us a leg up, would you?’ she asked.
‘I’m in an experimental phase myself, you should know,’ he said as he interlocked his fingers and held his hands by the fence.
‘Interesting,’ she said as she placed her right foot on the step he had made for her.
‘Worthy of a follow-up?’ he asked as he boosted her up. ‘I realise I’m going about this backwards under your scheme, but could I take you to lunch Saturday? Maybe to the cinema after, although I’m hoping that the quality of the conversation will make that unnecessary.’
She hauled herself over the top, dangled by one hand for a moment, then dropped softly to the grass on the other side. She turned to face him through the bars.
‘Do not discount the cinema,’ said Sparks. ‘It is an essential part of character. I will be judging you on which film you choose.’
‘Extra pressure, good,’ he said. ‘I shall meet you here – well, not here, exactly, but in proper form at the front gate at eleven thirty.’
‘Agreed,’ she said.
She stuck two fingers through the fence, and he held them for a moment.
‘Goodnight, Sparks,’ he said.
‘Goodnight, Tony. Thanks for the sanctuary.’
He watched as she ran silently towards Clough Hall.
She stood under one of the lit upper-storey windows and whistled softly.
A moment later, the window opened and a rope snaked down from it.
She swarmed up it like a pirate and disappeared.
He grinned, then turned and walked back to Pembroke College.
Lunch was at the Whim Café, and they ended up not going to the cinema after all, the conversation continuing while they leaned across a small table on the upper level, wolfing down scrambled eggs with broiled tomatoes and toast, refilling their cups with more coffee when they felt there was any hint of being asked to make way for any waiting customers.
Around them was activity and noise – the Footlights crowd arguing over programming, aspiring authors ostentatiously scribbling in notebooks, hoping to be interrupted by other aspiring authors asking what they were writing, and the outnumbered women seated with anywhere from three to five men each, all desperate, all hopeful, all ultimately frustrated.
Sparks and Danforth interrogated each other thoroughly over a wide-ranging selection of topics. He was a second-year, so she had many questions as to his experience with courses she was thinking about taking, while he wanted to know more about her adventures since arriving.
‘How did it turn out with your crashing the Bumps?’ he asked.
‘We were fined and banned from taking our boat out between the Jesus and Baits Bite Locks for the remainder of the Lent and Easter terms,’ she said. ‘We expected that. There was never any danger of rustication for disrupting the Bumps. We made our point.’
‘And this social experiment of yours, have there been many other, erm, data points?’ he asked.
‘Do you mean have I kissed anyone besides you?’ she returned, smiling.
‘Yes.’
‘If I am going to maintain scientific objectivity, I must adhere to the complete confidentiality of my test subjects,’ she said loftily.
‘But this, right now with me, is a follow-up.’
‘Obviously.’
‘I confess to being uncertain how to proceed from this point,’ he said. ‘Do we travel back to the past to our first meeting, then part?’
‘I am bound by time’s arrow like everyone else,’ she said.
‘How do you feel about marriage?’
‘Why, sir!’ she exclaimed, wide-eyed. ‘This is so sudden! We still barely know each other.’
‘I mean, about the institution. Given your approach to romance.’
‘I think it’s an antiquated system designed to bring about the political and economic subjugation of women,’ she replied.
‘That seems harsh,’ he said, taken aback.
‘Do you believe that women can do anything that men can?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he replied.
Her face fell.
‘I believe that they can do more,’ he said. ‘And someday, the world may allow them to.’
‘Hmph,’ she said. ‘I think you’re only saying that because you’re hoping that we end up in bed together.’
‘What if I said that wasn’t true?’ he asked. ‘The bed part, I mean. Would you then relegate me to the bottomless pit with the other duds?’
‘Not at all. Most of the boys – excuse me, men – who have sought my attentions here have been single-mindedly focussed on getting me on a horizontal plane rather than an intellectual one. You, on the other hand, seem to enjoy the conversation. I like that.’
‘Same here,’ he said. ‘Tell me, and this is once again to delve further into your approach, how does—’ He dropped his voice for the next word, mouthing it more than giving it voice. ‘—sex come into it? Is it a logical development of a successful kiss?’
She glanced around the nearby tables. No one had reacted.
‘I don’t know how much of a part logic plays in it,’ she said.
‘The kiss is a condition precedent, of course, but it doesn’t always automatically follow that it sets that particular course of events in action.
Sex—’ She dropped her voice in an exaggerated imitation of his.
‘—carries with it its own set of complications, emotional, practical and otherwise.’
‘So you are saving yourself for the right man, whether or not matrimony is involved.’
‘Oh, that particular ship sailed a while ago,’ she said with a grin. ‘And other ships have— well, the metaphor is going to become grossly unsubtle. Again, I don’t attach romance to the actual act, and as a result, I have had more fun and less angst in my brief life.’
‘Has the first kiss project helped with the winnowing?’
‘Immensely.’
‘But I’m not a man you would consider a good candidate.’
‘Who says you’re not?’
‘Everyone I’ve asked so far,’ he said ruefully.
‘So you’re saving yourself for the right woman,’ she said mischievously.
‘More like I’ve been throwing myself at the wrong ones,’ he said. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
‘Where to?’
‘Just about,’ he said.
He paid the bill, and they left the Whim, eventually finding themselves strolling along the path of their flight two nights before. In the light of day, the Fellows’ Garden was filled with bare trees and gnarled bushes huddling in the cold, damp winter, awaiting the slightly less cold, damp spring.
‘Distinct lack of cover here,’ observed Sparks. ‘If seducing me is your intent.’
‘It isn’t,’ he said. ‘I wonder if they’ll preserve this garden when they put up the new building.’
‘I hadn’t heard about that.’
‘All of the servants’ and porters’ buildings are going to be razed for a new residential building for Queens’ College,’ he said. ‘Once again, the working class being trampled upon for the sake of the privileged.’
‘Are you privileged?’ asked Sparks.
‘I’m afraid so,’ he said. ‘You?’
‘Working class of the less trampled variety. Mum was a schoolteacher, Dad a businessman.’
‘What sort of businessman?’
‘I believed “failed” is the proper description. “Drunk” would also be an appropriate adjective.’
‘Sorry to pry.’
‘No, no secrets here,’ she said.
‘Yes, you’ve told me much that others would generally keep hidden,’ he said. ‘Tell me, are you able to keep secrets when called upon?’
‘I am,’ she said, looking at him curiously.
‘How serious are you about the socialist agenda?’
‘Quite serious. Why?’