Debbie, Fran and Lisa walked up the path between the lawns and flower beds, bare now apart from late blooming rose bushes, towards the college buildings. The main building, which held the administrative offices and most of the lecture rooms, was an old Victorian mansion that had fallen into disrepair following the Second World War. It had been renovated and brought up to date to fit the requirements of a college.
As well as the offices and lecture rooms there was a comfortable common room where the students could relax during their breaks, and a refectory; a new building at the back of the college, adjoining the large kitchen, where meals and snacks were served.
Beyond the college were acres of land for vegetable and flower gardens, shrubberies and greenhouses, where the practical work took place. There was also the area where those students studying landscaping, including Debbie and Fran, were working out their own ideas of garden planning.
The three friends separated once inside the building, making their way to the lecture rooms. Debbie and Fran were bound for the same place to listen to the next lecture in the series dealing with the development of the English garden.
Debbie enjoyed all the lectures, no matter what they were about, from the propagation of plants to pest control, trees and shrubs, maintenance of lawns or the art of topiary. She was ready to absorb it all, as a sponge absorbs water. Her chief interest, though, was in the study of landscape gardening.
Today they were learning how English garden design had been influenced by gardens in other countries. They were shown colourful slides of gardens of the ancient Near East; the hanging gardens of Babylon, paradise gardens in Persia, gardens in Rome and Egypt. Debbie wondered if she would ever be able to see such faraway places. She had not even been abroad. Her parents had never had any desire to venture so far, being more than content with the British Isles, and she had been obliged to follow their lead. She had, in fact, not been any further south than Blackpool! Apart, that is, from a three-day visit to London on a school trip, when she was fourteen. Her parents had taken a good deal of persuading that she would be perfectly safe; and as her friend, Shirley, was going, they had finally agreed. As it happened they had been watched over continually by hawk-eyed teachers, both in the hostel and outside. Debbie had been somewhat homesick on her first time away on her own, although she had enjoyed seeing all the sights of London.
She had no fears now about being away from home. She was determined to take any opportunity that came her way to see more of the world; well, if not the world then certainly more of the British Isles. The trip that was being planned for next spring to visit some of the well-known gardens would be a good start.
She noticed that Fran and Alistair were sitting together during the lecture, and they went off at the morning break chatting in a friendly way. She found Lisa in the common room. She was, of course, accompanied by Neil, and she joined them for coffee. They served themselves from a machine which offered a choice of black or white coffee, tea, hot chocolate or orange juice. The coffee was just about palatable, better than the tea at any rate, which always tasted stewed and smelled like the wood from sharpened pencils! Debbie had not noticed this until Lisa had pointed it out to her. Now it always took her back to her days in the Infant classroom.
When it was lunch time, Karen joined her in the refectory queue, rather to Debbie’s surprise.
‘Here I am, my jolly old self again … or nearly,’ she quipped. ‘Those aspirins and black coffee did the trick. I tell you what though, Debs; I’m off men, no kidding! I shan’t touch any of ’em with a barge pole from now on.’
Debbie grinned. ‘Good for you,’ she replied, though wondering how long it would last.
‘I made a real bloody fool of meself with Ben, didn’t I?’ Karen raised her eyebrows in horror. ‘I had no idea. I couldn’t believe I’d been so naive.’
‘If it’s any consolation I hadn’t twigged it either,’ said Debbie. ‘Fran and Alistair had a good laugh at my expense. I felt a real idiot! But I’d never come across any – what do they call ’em? – any “gays” before. At least not as far as I know. How did you find out about Ben?’
‘Oh, I suddenly realized there was summat not quite right. He was, sort of, backing away from me, and it came to me in a flash. I didn’t say anything, of course. I’d had too much to drink anyroad, and everything was getting rather fuzzy and unreal. I’ve learnt my lesson about the booze, an’ all. I bet little Lisa was horrified, wasn’t she?’
‘She was a bit taken aback,’ Debbie admitted. ‘But she’s getting more accustomed to the ways of the big wide world now. Like I am. I’m learning a thing or two as well … right now; what are we going to have today?’ She looked at the array of dishes keeping warm by the hotplates. There was a good choice, and they had found that the food was always well cooked. She decided on a piece of cheese and onion quiche, with salad and a few chips on the side, with a strawberry yogurt to follow. Karen was still a little unsettled after her excesses of the night before, so she had just a bowl of chicken soup and a roll.
She had recovered, though, by the end of the day, when they all sat down to enjoy beans on toast, followed by ice cream, one of their favourite meals, quick and easy to prepare.
‘Alistair has asked me to go out with him on Saturday,’ said Fran, in quite a casual manner; it was not her way to enthuse and show too much excitement. It was obvious, though, that she was pleased; she was unable to disguise the slight smile that played round her lips.
‘Nice work if you can get it!’ remarked Karen. ‘That didn’t take long, did it? Off with the old and on with the new, eh? I shall be a bit more wary meself. Like I said to Debs, I’m off men; you can’t trust any of ’em.’
‘We’re only going out for a meal,’ Fran replied. ‘It’s no big deal, is it? I’m not making anything of it. I’ve known Alistair for quite a while … Yes, I know it’s only a couple of months, but it’s the same length of time as I’ve known you girls, and I’ve seen him nearly every day. We’ve always got on quite well together. He noticed my engagement ring, though, didn’t he? It shows that he’s high-principled, or else he might have asked me out before now.’
Debbie was pondering on Fran’s words. It was, indeed, only a couple of months since the four flatmates had met one another; but it felt as though they had known one another for years. And she wouldn’t have described Alistair Kenyon as high-principled. She suspected that he might have a roving eye, but she made no comment.
‘Neil and I are going out on Saturday as well,’ said Lisa, ‘to the pictures, and then we’ll probably go for a bag of chips. My mum thinks it’s common to eat in the street, and I never did till I came here. It’s Neil who’s taught me to enjoy chips with lashings of salt and vinegar. Yummy!’ Her blue eyes lit up with delight.
‘Watch out! He’s leading you astray!’ laughed Karen. ‘So that leaves just thee and me, Debbie. What shall we do? Stay in and do our knitting? Or do you fancy a night on the town? Happen a disco and a few bevvies?’
‘Steady on,’ said Debbie. ‘You’re supposed to be off the booze as well as men, aren’t you?’
‘Whoops! I forgot,’ said Karen. ‘We couldn’t afford it anyroad, could we? Never mind; we can always go to bed with a cup of hot chocolate.’
Debbie was hoping, though, that Graham might contact her soon; there was the promised visit to his flat pending. She was not to be disappointed. Graham called at the flat the following evening, just as they were finishing their meal.
‘Cup of tea, Graham?’ asked Karen. ‘We’re just going to have one; well, a mug of tea to be more correct. You don’t mind a mug, do you?’
‘No, of course not,’ he replied. ‘Good old northern custom, isn’t it? A cup of tea at the end of every meal. That’s the way I was brought up.’
‘Like the rest of us I reckon,’ said Karen. ‘There’s nowt like a nice cup of tea.’
Debbie noticed Fran’s raised eyebrows and slightly contemptuous glance in Karen’s direction, although she made no comment. Fran, coming from Cheshire, liked to show that she was not used to such working-class customs. She was also aware that Karen, so far, was doing most of the talking.
‘How do you like your tea then?’ Karen asked now, picking up the large brown earthenware pot.
‘Oh hot and strong, please,’ said Graham.
‘Just like you, eh?’ retorted Karen, just as Debbie might have expected her to do.
Graham smiled weakly, looking a shade embarrassed as he took the large-sized mug, adorned with a fierce-looking tabby cat, from Karen.
‘And two sugars, please, if you don’t mind,’ he said.
Debbie offered him the sugar bowl. ‘So … what brings you here?’ she asked. ‘We’re pleased to see you, of course.’ He hadn’t, yet, said why he was there. It had been Lisa who had answered the ring at the doorbell.
‘I’ve come to invite you for a meal at my flat on Saturday,’ he said to Debbie. ‘Nothing special, you know, but I thought it would be … rather nice,’ he finished lamely.
‘Ooh, that sounds good!’ said the irrepressible Karen. ‘Can we all come? Only joking,’ she added at Graham’s startled expression. She winked at him. ‘Two’s company, but three, four, five, would be a crowd.’
‘We haven’t room anyway,’ Graham commented. ‘Mark – he’s my flatmate – he and I don’t do much entertaining, Not that he’ll be there on Friday. We have an arrangement that the other one goes out if one of us wants to entertain … depending on who it is, of course,’ he added.
‘Of course,’ said Karen, smiling. ‘Sounds like a good idea. ‘Like I said, three’s a crowd.’
Debbie threw a ‘shut up, can’t you?’ sort of glance in her direction before turning to Graham. ‘I shall look forward to it,’ she said.
‘I can’t stay long now,’ he told her. ‘I’ll go when I’ve finished my tea and leave you girls to your washing up. I’m meeting a chap at a pub in Leeds. I answered an advert saying that members were wanted for a newly formed brass band, so I’m going to find out about it tonight.’
‘Oh, how nice! What do you play?’ It was Lisa, surprisingly, who asked the question. ‘My dad likes brass band music,’ she added, ‘being a Yorkshireman; and so do I.’
‘I play the French horn,’ he replied. ‘I was in a band at school, and at uni as well; so I’ve been looking for another opening.’
‘French horn; that’s a round curly thing, isn’t it, with lots of twiddly bits?’ said Karen.
Graham laughed. ‘Not a bad description,’ he said. ‘It has a lovely tone, if it’s played well, of course. I’m a bit out of practice. I don’t like to play when Mark’s around, and I’m worried about disturbing the neighbours. We’ve got the upstairs flat, and there’s a couple with a baby downstairs.’
‘So I’ll be all on my owny-own on Saturday,’ said Karen, after Graham had gone. She gave a mock sniff and pretended to wipe her eyes.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Debbie, although there was nothing unusual about one of them being alone in the flat. They had all agreed that they must each ‘do their own thing’. They were not tied to one another in any way. Debbie knew, though, that Karen might be feeling rather vulnerable, being the only one at the moment without a male companion, despite her vow to give men a wide berth.
Debbie had said goodbye to Graham downstairs, away from the rest of the girls, especially from the outspoken remarks that Karen was apt to make. Graham always seemed rather embarrassed and wary with Karen, although Debbie knew that what she said was only meant to be in fun. They had agreed that Debbie should find her own way to Graham’s flat in Headingley. He had offered to come and collect her, but she assured him she was a big girl now, quite capable of getting a bus for the few stops, then walking the short distance to the flat. He said it was quite easy to find, situated on the corner of a road that led up to Beckett’s Park.
‘It will give you plenty of time to prepare a sumptuous meal,’ she told him. ‘I’m expecting great things, you know, Graham.’
He laughed. ‘Then I hope you won’t be disappointed! I must admit I’d never done a damn thing in the kitchen before I left home. My mum spoiled me rotten. I learned to fend for myself a bit at uni, so I’m rather more experienced now. Not cordon bleu, though, by any means.’
‘It was just the same with me,’ Debbie assured him. ‘I was spoiled as well by my doting mum. But I’m learning! Fran and Karen are pretty good in the kitchen, but they insist on Lisa and me taking our turns.’
‘Is there anything you specially like?’ he asked her. ‘Chicken, beef steak, salmon …?’
‘Oh, I like most things,’ she told him ‘Surprise me, Graham! I’m sure it’ll be great, whatever it is. I’m looking forward to it already.’
‘That’s good!’ He grinned at her, then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘I’m looking forward to it as well, just you and me. Bye for now, Debbie.’