Edward returned to his rooms and lay on the bed. He found their tales of sexual prowess faintly ridiculous. He had not seen one woman in Cambridge he would bother to speak to, let alone have sex with. Not that he had been inundated with offers — far from it.
He awoke to hear shouting from below in the courtyard and looked out of the window to see Charlie, so drunk he could hardly stand up without help. He was attempting to climb up the side of the building, holding what looked like a rag doll. The place was in darkness because of the blackout, and Edward had to squint to see what was going on. Charlie was standing on Freddy’s shoulders, clinging on to a window-ledge. Edward swore at his foolishness, grabbed his dressing gown and made his way down the inky-black staircase to the courtyard. Charlie was now up to the second window-ledge and stood, weaving, one hand holding on to the window and the other still clutching the rag doll.
‘Get him to come down, the idiot, he’ll hurt himself.’
Freddy smirked and waved his arms for Edward to follow Charlie up if he was so clever. From the main gate voices echoed, a torch flickered, and Charlie’s friends all ran like hell, knowing they would be in for it if they were caught.
Edward climbed up and grabbed Charlie’s legs, hauled him down, and they both crashed to the ground. The torchlight moved closer. Edward heaved Charlie over his shoulder and moved back into the shadows.
‘This is very decent of you, old boy, but if you don’t put me down I’ll vomit all over your dressing gown.’
Edward put his hand across Charlie’s mouth as the two porters searched the courtyard. ‘Bloody war on, you’d think these lads would have better things to do than play silly buggers.’
The porters departed with the rag doll and Edward released his hold on Charlie’s mouth. The next moment Charlie had passed out in his arms. Edward carried him back to his quarters, all the way up the stairs, opened the door and dumped the drunken boy on the bed.
‘Thanks awfully.’ Charlie fell immediately into a deep, drunken sleep, and Edward stripped him and put him to bed. The room was a shambles, the remains of tea still all over the table. Edward stared around the room, at the closet full of clothes, rows of shoes, every drawer half open. He crossed the room to blow out a guttering candle.
He couldn’t help but see the stacks of papers stuffed into a desk drawer, and he carefully inched one out. There were shoals of bills — unpaid bills — from tailors, bakers, wine merchants, clubs and restaurants. Edward left his sleeping friend and closed the door silently behind him.
The following morning Charlie did not appear at the lecture, which was not unusual, but this time Edward was looking out for him, had even kept a space for him.
After lunch Edward went to see Professor Emmott to ask his permission to move out of the hall of residence into lodgings. He tapped on the study door and a high-pitched voice bade him enter. Emmott was sitting at his desk, elbow-deep in papers. He was a strange-looking man in his late forties, and his thick black hair had receded to the halfway point, making his domed forehead look even larger above his thick, round, black-rimmed glasses. He also had an unfortunate humped back that forced him to bend almost double to walk. Sitting down, however, he was a chilling spectacle, and he looked over the top of his glasses with strange, clear eyes.
‘Ah, Stubbs, come in, come in, wanted to have a chat with you. Take a seat. I have been looking over your half-term’s work, excellent, excellent. What was it you wanted to speak to me about?’
Edward tried not to sound desperate, he just said that he felt it would be more convenient if he moved into lodgings.
‘Finding it a tight squeeze, are you, old chap? You do know that there are certain extra scholarships, exhibitions, sizarships, sub-sizarships and what have you, grants for those in special need? Those eligible for, shall we say, “poor student grants” are usually restricted to divinity students, a lot of conditions, of course, City companies and so forth, but if you would like me to put forward an application...?’
Edward flushed. It was the ‘poor student’ line that really got to him, and he assured Emmott that it would not be necessary. In truth he hated the mere mention of ‘poor’, and wouldn’t even stay to listen to the pros and cons of applying to a company to supplement the scholarship he had already won.
‘I’ll be able to manage quite well, sir, you see, I can save a little by taking lodgings instead of remaining in residence.’
‘As you will, as you will. Got your notes here, good work in the laboratories, Stubbs. Like your essay on petrology, good identification, chemical analysis faultless... got a few books of my own, maybe you’d like to take them away with you?’
Edward smiled his thanks. He wanted to leave the hot, stuffy study, the fumes from the gas fire were drying his mouth.
‘All work and no play, not always a good thing, you know, Stubbs. I notice you do not take part in any form of sport, any reason? Good to socialize a bit — not too much, I grant you — but from what I have seen you are working harder than any other student I have this term. Takes me all my time to keep up with you.’
Edward heard a weird, high-pitched cackle and realized it was a laugh, the strange little man was laughing. ‘Remind me of myself when I was your age, but then, well, I’d say it was slightly different with me! Thought of joining any debating societies? Good to come out of yourself, you know, get up on the platform and spout a few illogical things, always good for the future. You a member of any of the societies?’
There were two reasons why Edward did not belong to any of the clubs. One was financial and the other was embarrassment at not being sure exactly what to do.
‘Fine chap like you should perhaps try for the boating crew, you are fit, I presume? Fit, yes?’
Edward was quite obviously fit. He stood six feet two and a half inches tall, but his body was slender, not yet filled out. He was deeply embarrassed by Emmott’s enquiries and looked down at his shoes. Eventually Emmott got round to his reason for wanting to speak to Edward; his name would be going before the board, and he could quite easily be called up to the army.
‘You’ll have to go before them in a few months’ time. If you are fit, which you obviously are, you will stand in line like the majority of students this term. I have already made my feelings felt on this matter. You are one of my best students and I would be loath to lose you, very loath, but there is a war on, and... you see all right, do you? No problem with your eyesight? Not deaf either? In certain cases the medical is pretty rigorous, there again, occasionally not, flat feet is a certain let-out... I just wondered, as you have not joined any of the sports societies, if perhaps you are flat-footed...’ Edward was still slightly unsure of what Professor Emmott had been hinting at, but he thought that if he had read the old boy right he was tipping Edward off before he went for his medical. The last thing Edward wanted was to be conscripted, having got this far, and if he joined up it could be years before he came back to college, if ever.
As Edward left the study Emmott was already sitting back at his paper-strewn desk and, without looking up, he suggested that if Edward wanted to make a few bob, the radio factory just out of town was looking for people to do shift work, perhaps he should look into it.
Edward smiled his thanks, and Emmott gave him a direct look, then returned to his studies. He believed Edward to be academically brilliant, with a great future ahead of him. It was rare to find a student who was so diligent, but Emmott’s uppermost thought was that Edward was the first student he had ever come across who touched on his own obsessive interests. Emmott’s life centred on study, stretching his mind inside that domed forehead. Edward had the same yearning, Emmott recognized his hunger for knowledge and would have liked to express it in words. He didn’t, however; not many virile young men wanted to be told they were akin to a bent cripple.