Sod's Law Pt. 04

"Helen, listen to me," I began.

"Not again!" she exploded. "For God's sake David, give over meithering me! I've got to do this."

"Meithering you?" I spluttered. "I worry about you! Anyway, I thought you were from Yorkshire - 'meither' is Lancashire! Where d'you get that from?"

"Living with three Lancashire lasses." and she grinned. That was Helen, she never hung on to anger for very long.

"Well," I said. "I'll meither thee if tha'rt bein' gawmless."

"Let me get on, or I will be gormless," she said, turning back to her books.

Next evening, being told she had not arrived for food, I took her some stew and dumplings.

"Eat!" I said, putting it on the table. She sighed, but down her pen and ate, thanked me, then went back to revision.

It came to a head a few days later, when I woke up at three in the morning and she had not yet arrived in bed. I got up and went to our living room to find her asleep with her head literally in a book on the desk.

I gently roused her.

"Come on, my love, time for bed."

She woke with a start and looked at the page in front of her. "In a bit, I just need-"

"No, you don't," I said. "You need to sleep. It'll still be there in the morning."

I took her under her arms and lifted her up, and mercifully she did not resist or argue, but meekly came with me. Together we undressed her and I put her to bed. She fell asleep immediately.

The following evening I told her to stop and turn round away from the table.

"Read this," I said, giving her a piece of A4 paper, on which I had copied research findings on learning and retention. She shrugged and did as I asked. When she finished she looked up. "So?" she said.

"What you are doing at the moment is counter-productive," I told her. "I was doing the same before my finals, and my tutor picked up on my physical condition.

"He said that everything I needed for finals was already in my head, stored away, and I was actually making things worse by over-tiring myself. He told me I was acting out of fear and that it was pointless.

"I'm telling you the same thing. You are damaging your health by depriving yourself of sleep, eating poorly, and not giving yourself breathing space.

"Helen, I'm begging you to stop this. You have three weeks to your first exam. You need to ease off now. Believe me, from what we've discussed together, the questions you've been asking, and your comments, it's obvious to me you are going to get a First. Please, please, trust me on this.

"If you want, I will ask you questions about the areas for each exam, and you can answer me orally, but reading as you have been will give you mental indigestion, and you will lose the wider picture."

She looked dazed, looked at the sheet of paper again, and her shoulders sagged.

"I'm being stupid, aren't I?" she said with a shy grin.

We organised a regime for the next few weeks, balancing food, exercise, relaxation and study. She began coming to bed with me and this led to some much needed exercise on her part (and mine). Each evening I would ask her questions based on the syllabus and past exam questions, and she would discuss them with me.

The night before each exam, I forbade any study at all, and usually we went out for one drink at the Welcome followed by cocoa and an early night. The night before the first exam she assured me she would not sleep, but fell asleep quickly enough. After that she stopped worrying.

Of course we dissected her performance in each exam., and her confidence grew as we progressed through them and she found she thought she had 'done all right'.

Finally the stress was over, and the housemates organised an impromptu party for her to celebrate.

While Helen told them she was not sure how well she'd done, I was absolutely sure she had a First, based on her discussions with me, and her marks in tutorials and essays.

Sure enough, I was right. After all, I'd been in the middle of it all and knew her ability: First Class Honours in Law.

She had applied to a different law practice in Manchester from mine, Phillimore and Partners, and having notified them of her success was accepted onto their 'apprenticeship' scheme, or more formally a 'position to train for two years'.

After we had celebrated her success, both privately together (naked, a number of times), and at that party with the other residents, Helen began to be more withdrawn.

"What's the matter?" I asked as it became more and more obvious.

She shook her head. "You noticed?" she observed. There was a pause and I waited patiently. Then she sighed and stared at me. Then began to speak.

"Partly I just feel flat. All that intensity, all that aiming for the best, and now it's behind me, and I don't feel any different."

"That's not all," I said, surprising myself by my own perception. "What else?"

"My parents?" It was really a statement, though the intonation was that of a question. She continued. "I've met your mother but never had the courage to bring you to meet my mother and father."

"I know you didn't want me to meet them," I said. "You told me why, and those phone calls reinforced what you told me, but now I'm beginning to think there's a reason it's beginning to worry you now." We both smiled.

She nodded. "My parents love me very much. The problem is that no one is good enough for me, and really I'm sure they don't want to let me go. I wonder sometimes if they dream that I'll go back home when I get my degree.

"Fortunately it's never bothered me, because I've never got really serious with anyone until you. It also didn't bother me because I wanted to get my degree and find a good practice to join, so once at university I never got seriously involved with anyone. But now..."

"Now it's going to be inevitable that I meet them."

"Yes," she said pensively. "I'll have to go and visit them now exams are over and I've got my degree... but... "

"It's better I don't come with you. You want to soften them up first."

"Exactly!" she smiled broadly. "You're so understanding. I think the safest time to meet them will be at graduation."

"So you're warning me in advance, so I'll be prepared for them at the graduation ceremony."

"I don't want you to be put off, and I want to tell you in advance that they won't put me off. It's a shame really, 'cos in every other respect they're lovely."

"Don't worry, I'll be civil, no matter what they say."

She went home for the weekend before graduation on Wednesday 18th June. She arrived on Sunday night, running to my arms at the station. She looked relieved to be back.

"So how was it?" I asked as we drove back to the house.

"We had an argument on Friday night. I told them that they had to let me go, and that I knew my own mind. I also told them we've been living together for over a year, and that we were very compatible and very happy together. That really got to them. I think Dad finally realised that his little girl was not a virgin any more, but a grown woman.

"They were pretty inscrutable about their feelings on the matter, but by Saturday they seemed resigned. You were not mentioned at all on Saturday or Sunday. As a parting shot I said you'd meet them at my graduation. There was no real reaction to that."

"Ok," I said. "I'm sure we can be civil to one another, if nothing more. Perhaps I'll grow on them!" She laughed.

We had some cheese and crackers with a nice red wine then went to bed and proved how compatible we were.

-

Chapter 08

Wednesday 18th July 1984

On graduation day, I found that I had little opportunity to be civil, but I was polite.

"Mum, Dad, this is my boyfriend David. He's been so helpful to me in my final year and my preparation for Finals; he's the reason I've got a First."

There was a half smile from both parents, I extended a hand to her mother.

"Mrs Metcalfe."

"David." There was a smile as she took my hand, but no warmth in it.

"Mr Metcalfe."

"David." Again the reluctant smile of acknowledgement and rather limp unenthusiastic handshake, and much reserve.

From then on, I was ignored in favour of their daughter, which was reasonable enough I suppose. Once she had left them to join the graduands, I did attempt some conversation as we sat in Owen's Hall waiting for the ceremony to begin.

"I trust you had a good journey here," I said, "in spite of the road works on the motorway."

"Yes," said Metcalfe, "no problems." Immediately he began to talk to his wife.

I made no further effort to communicate with the pair and they ignored me.

After the ceremony and photographs, which included a picture of Helen and me taken on Helen's camera by her father, Metcalfe spoke to Helen as we were leaving the premises.

"We have made a table reservation for three for lunch," he said. "I'm sure they can fit in an extra one. Will you join us, David?"

Since they knew in advance I would be there they could have booked a table for four, so it was clear from that and from his tone of voice, that I was expected to refuse, which I did.

"I'm afraid I have an appointment with a client later this afternoon," I lied. "So I'll take my leave of you. I'll see you later Helen. Have a safe journey back," I said to her parents and walked off.

Suddenly she was by my side. "David!" she begged me. "I'm so sorry!"

I stopped and turned to her and saw her relax as she saw my expression was not anger, but love and affection.

"Don't worry," I said. "We can celebrate together later on when they've gone. You go back and have your lunch."

Her hands went round my neck and she kissed me. I kissed her back. It was in full view of her parents and it was clear she was making a statement.

She smiled lovingly at me, winked and went back to where her parents were standing. I watched her go - I never tired of watching her rear view - then turned and decided I might as well go to work and make my lie into truth, at least partially.

On my way to work, I was irked at Helen's parents' cold attitude which amounted to rudeness in my eyes, and the thought, more an urge really, came to me that we should get married sooner rather than later. That would teach them!

Needless to say I immediately scotched that idea. In the panoply of reasons why one should even contemplate marriage, revenge on the bride's parents was right at the bottom of any list. One marries one's partner to commit one's life to her and in my eyes nothing less as a reason would do. However...

Leaving her parent's aside (and I transiently thought that leaving them aside would be a wonderful idea), she was over the major hurdle in her academic life, she would be employed locally and we had de facto settled into a happy life together. There was no doubt in my mind that I need not look any further for a marriage partner, and was reasonably sure she felt the same way.

So before I had even reached the office, I had decided to ask her to marry me, for the right reasons this time. I would do it that same evening.

I then spent most of the afternoon day-dreaming about being married. We could look for a ring tomorrow lunchtime: she was on holiday from now until she began work in September, so we could meet at lunchtime in town and choose a ring.

Visions came of a neat house in the suburbs filled with a suitable number of children. How many would we have? Two? Six? I laughed at myself for being a fool. Marriage first, living together second, children when she was ready for them. Perhaps in view of the fact we were already living together, I thought I should revise that order, but marriage before children would be the ideal.

First things first. Ask her tonight. Now get some work done, which I did.

Now the romantic stories have the besotted swain on one knee at some public gathering making his profession of love, his putative bride blushing and gasping at the surprise and shouting 'Yes, yes, yes!'. Applause from the appreciative audience. The ring slipped on.

Sorry. Not my way. For one thing I always thought it puts the woman in a terrible position if she has to say 'no' in front of a roomful of people.

I returned home, arriving at five thirty to find she had not returned yet. I had my name on the carnivores' list for dinner, but Helen's name was not there. However she had had a celebration lunch with her parents and may not have wanted a full evening meal.

Christian was cooking, and it seemed was to serve lasagne and salad, so I asked him to allow for Helen wanting some, pointing out she had had a celebration lunch. He laughed.

"Oh, yes!" he said. "She graduated today, didn't she? Was it good?"

"Very satisfying!" I asserted. "Fitting tribute to all her hard work."

"And yours," said Imogen, as she came into the room having caught the conversation as she entered. "Will we see her for dinner tonight?"

I explained the situation.

"Get her to come down anyway," she suggested. "We've missed her these past few weeks."

I took some tea up to our rooms and changed out of my work clothes and into something smart casual. I thought perhaps we might go out for a drink after the meal.

I picked up the novel I was reading, and as if on cue, she arrived breathless, breezing into the room with a huge grin on her face. She bustled across the room and parked herself on my lap, turning my head in her hands and kissing me voraciously. Then she stood and moved to the bedroom.

"Come on!" she urged. "Half an hour to dinner. Come and congratulate me on my success." She thought for a moment, then, "And yours, my love, and yours. Couldn't have done it without you!"

I got up and followed her, and by the time I reached the doorway she was naked, one hand tweaking a breast and the other plunged between her legs. She seemed the mistress of the quick strip!

"Well?" she said with a feral grin.

I gazed my appreciation then rapidly shed my clothes, thankful that I had not as yet put on any socks. As I moved towards her she did a back flip onto the bed, legs wide. Her fingers returned to stroke herself.

"I've been looking forward to this all afternoon," she chuckled. "I kept losing what my dear parents were saying during the meal, I had this amazing itch for you."

I knew what she wanted and fell on her, or rather fell above her, whereupon she gripped my solid cock, put it to her and with one thrust I was in. My single thought was, 'I'm home, this is my wife'.

And she said with a gasp, "Yes! This is where you belong, deep in me."

What is home, if not the place where you belong? We said the same thing, and then began the frantic action, the pulling and pushing my hands gripping her waist and she my bottom, trying to push me deeper.

Afterwards she lay on me, having somehow reversed our positions so she was on top. I was still hard, still deep, and she was now moving her hips languidly, relishing our connection, keeping me hard, all the better to feel each other. There could not be a better time to ask that question.

"Helen, my sweet, I've got a question to ask you."

"So have I," she said.

What happened next was uncanny, but summed up how closely our thoughts lay together, we spoke together:

"Would you like us to get married?" Me.

"I think we need to marry." Her.

She started. Lifted herself and stared into my eyes. Again we spoke together:

"So do I." Me.

"Yes, I would." Her.

We looked at each other, then a smile began to grow, then a chuckle, a giggle, laughter.

"What are we like?" she spluttered.

"Each other!" I howled.

Eventually we quietened.

"It seems we are now engaged to be married." I said.

"I can feel how engaged we are. You're still hard enough that I can feel you," she said.

"Tomorrow lunchtime. Look for a ring?"

"Two rings."

"Ok. Two rings."

There was a knock at the living room door, and Nuala shouted, "Dinner time!"

Helen averred that she was still hungry so we dressed hurriedly and attempted by use of a comb and hairbrush to look as if we'd not come straight from bed, 'just fucked.' The looks we got showed we failed in that endeavour.

Helen looked around at the knowing faces, and seeing most of the residents were there: "OK, we've been celebrating my graduation, and we've decided to get married."

Congratulations rained down on us. The women were looking at Helen's left hand.

"We're going looking for a ring tomorrow," Helen assured them. The women looked relieved; they would have something to squeal over the next evening.

"Good enough reason to 'celebrate'," said Harry. "and I should know. I'm quite good at celebrating."

The rest of the evening was taken out of our hands. We were taken to the pub and bought drinks all night, which of course meant that we were more than a little drunk when we were at last alone in the bedroom.

We undressed, and climbed into bed.

"Too tired," she slurred. "And drunk."

"Just as well we sealed the deal before dinner," I said, but she was asleep before my sentence was completed. I followed her example.

I announced our engagement to the office next morning, having overslept and, after a couple of paracetamol and a hasty cup of tea, arrived only five minutes late, my hangover almost gone.

Ezra heard the news and arrived to congratulate me, then surprised me by giving me the afternoon off to go and buy a ring.

We bought two rings, a solitaire diamond for her and an engraved signet ring for me.

On Friday we went to Mum's house, and announced our engagement. Gina, after the obligatory squeal and examination of Helen's ring, immediately insisted on a party, with which Mum agreed. It was arranged there and then for the following Friday. Helen went over to Mum's during the week to help with the preparations.

"I love it there," she told me. "I can see why you're so wonderful, being brought up there!"

I had to agree - about being wonderful as well as being well brought up.

Craig and Gina were exultant at our news and a number of the 'children' came back for the party. Craig was able to tell me that all was now well with his life, and his new girlfriend Vanessa was keeping him on the strait and narrow. I knew that, she'd told me as much when Helen and I first visited the house.

The party was quite a rowdy affair. The immediate neighbours were invited, and because they knew me well, having seen me grow up there, they actually turned up and so no one was disturbed by the noise. Helen's ring was duly exclaimed over, and Gina's questions which far crossed the line into intrusiveness, were answered, much to her surprise.

Gaynor, another ex-foster sister took Helen aside and told her that she, Gaynor, had initiated me into the mysteries of sex, and hoped her work had borne fruit. Helen said she had no complaints, and that Gaynor had done a good job. My blushes were not spared.

Once again we were invited to stay and were given 'our' room. Out of respect for the younger folk, we kept ecstatic noise to a minimum.

For the weekend following the party, Helen had arranged for us to visit her parents. After the weekend, she would stay on for a few days to tell her friends. I had to work. We arrived on Friday evening.

While she would not tell them the reason for our visit, I suspected that they suspected.

The house was, by comparison with Mum's house, or the mansion in which we lived, small.

However in this it was identical to every other house on the road, indeed, with minor variations identical to millions of houses which were built in the 1930s by speculative builders for the middle classes.

They had two rooms on the ground floor, each approximately twelve feet by twelve feet, with a fireplace, and a kitchen about ten by ten feet, or less. Upstairs were two bedrooms the same size as the living rooms, situated above them, with a bathroom, toilet, sometimes separate from the bathroom, sometimes part of the bathroom, and a very small third bedroom over the entrance hall.