Acquired Tastes (10 page)

She looked at the Dundee cake. Alicia had just helped herself to a second slice.

'That looks yummy. I think I'll have some. Is it from Marks & Sparks? '

Alicia gave her a large slice and a hurt look.

Vanessa took a bite. 'I was wondering,' she asked through the crumbs, 'about Fergus and you. The sex must be pretty wild.'

Alicia blushed and lowered her eyes. 'It's not that kind of relationship. We talk a lot and he likes to come round here for dinner. He says I'm the best cook he's ever met, like most men, he's hopeless at cooking for himself.'

Vanessa popped the last bit of Dundee cake into her mouth and reached for a chocolate brownie. 'Well, they do say the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but it wasn't
that
part of his anatomy I was thinking about reaching. Come on, Alicia, you can tell me. We've known each other long enough, haven't we?'

Alicia twisted a strand of hair around her finger.

She liked Fergus a lot, well, more than that really. He made her feel sort of warm and glowy inside, just like that glass of malt whisky he talked her into drinking the other evening. She never usually drank spirits and the smell had made her nose wrinkle, but when she drank it, she felt a tingly sensation which started at the base of her stomach and then spread outwards. She felt quite lightheaded after only a few sips, and suddenly found the courage to confide in him about feeling so fat and unattractive. She had never trusted any man enough to say such things before, but somehow she felt she could trust Fergus to understand her feelings of inadequacy - after all, he was not merely a man, he was a psychologist.

He had listened attentively with a grave expression on his face. But when she finished, he pushed his chair back from the table and waved his arms around expansively indicating her kitchen.

'A man could enter here,' he declared, 'and seeing you, partake in such an epicurean banquet, that he might never desire another meal. Anyone who chooses to eat thin dry bread and water when there is a feast such as you to be had, deserves to be horsewhipped. When you pick a fruit, you don't pick one which is small and hard, you choose one which is round and plump with the promise of sweetness.'

And with that he had kissed her hand.

Just thinking about that evening still made Alicia's cheeks go quite pink. She had giggled at Fergus and his extravagant language, but later that night, as she lay alone in bed and remembered his words, a hot deep blush enveloped her body and she had eventually been forced to get up and make herself a cup of cocoa.

'There's nothing to tell, really,' she protested. 'We're friends and colleagues, that's as far as it goes.'

'Look, I'm not trying to get at you, Alicia, quite the opposite,' Vanessa protested. 'I just don't think you get enough sex and that isn't healthy. I remember going without sex for two whole weeks once - I nearly went crazy. I virtually
raped
the next available man I was so desperate.' She threw back her head and laughed. 'Poor thing, he didn't know what had hit him. I wore him completely out.' She held out her cup for another refill. 'So, come on, when am I going to meet the great lover?'

'Oh, but he's not, really he's not…'

'But you'd like him to be.' Vanessa reached over and patted Alicia's arm. 'Don't worry sweetie, leave it to me. I'll have this man eating out of your hand.'

'Please Vanessa, don't say anything. I would be so awfully embarrassed,' pleaded Alicia.

Vanessa shrugged. 'If that's the way you want it. But I wouldn't hang about if I was you. Any half-way decent single man doesn’t stay single for long.'

Alicia glanced at her watch and seeing the time, began stacking plates. 'Would you like to freshen up while I clear away the tea things? I hope you don't mind, but I've signed us in to dine at High Table at my college tonight. I thought you might like to meet a few of my other colleagues. I know they're longing to meet you. Fergus is going to meet us in the Senior Common Room for a drink before dinner.'

'I do hope you remembered what I said about not mentioning the reason for my visit. People can be so tiresome when they know you work in television. They always think that their opinions are worth a fortune, and start demanding money,' said Vanessa brushing some crumbs off her lap on to the carpet. 'Fergus isn't like that at all,' protested Alicia. 'In fact I don't think you'll find anyone like that here at Heartlands.'

However, when they arrived at St Ethelred's that evening, they found most of Heartlands academic staff squeezed into Senior Common Room. Word had quickly spread that a television producer was coming, and St Ethelred's, normally known for its indifferent kitchen, had suddenly found High Table full for dinner and those too late to bag a seat, had decided to turn up for a pre-dinner drink.

Alicia was startled by the sea of expectant faces which turned towards them as they came through the door. Every chair was occupied, forcing many people to stand or perch uneasily on the arms of chairs. Even though it was a warm June evening, the large arched windows which overlooked the green were firmly shut, and the room was suffocatingly musty. Despite the heat, men and women alike wore tweed or corduroy suits together with academic gowns. An odour of chalk, stale tobacco and perspiration lingered expressively in the air, together with the ghosts of thwarted ambition.

Heartlands University was not among the first rank of academic institutions in the country, nor even in the second. While it had been a sanctuary for Alicia, for many others denied entry into more prestigious universities, it had been a last resort. In the time before league tables, this lack of academic excellence had not mattered. The pursuit, and not necessarily the acquisition, of learning was considered enough. But since the 1980s, when market forces began to stalk the land hungrily, preying on the weak and the ailing, Heartlands had found it difficult to attract grants. Several of its more esoteric departments had already closed down and further cuts were threatened. Word that a television producer was coming to dine had spread like a computer virus through the university, and with it the hope for publicity for a cherished department or thesis.

Vanessa hesitated in the doorway. She did not like academics. They always had such a superior air about them which, in her book, they did not merit. Degrees were a waste of time and meant absolutely nothing in the real world. She did not have one and it had not held
her
back. All the same, she had chosen her outfit for the evening with care, nothing too outrageous, just a simple black crepe skirt and cream silk blouse. It made her look elegant but substantive, although glancing around she wondered why she had bothered. She had never seen so many badly dressed people in one room before.

With a confident toss of her head, she tucked her black clutch bag firmly under her arm and followed Alicia across the room, looking neither to left or right.

A girl of about eighteen or nineteen, her black dress grey with washing, and her straw-like hair unsuccessfully scraped back under a starched white cap, stood to attention behind a table which served as the bar before dinner.

'What kind of sherry would you like, Miss?' she asked Vanessa.

'We have every type of sherry you can possibly imagine,' added Alicia enthusiastically.

'I'd like a large vodka and tonic with lots of ice,' said Vanessa firmly. She had a feeling she was going to need it to get through the evening.

'Vodka, Miss?' the girl squeaked. She looked helplessly at Alicia.

'It's all right, Shirley,' Alicia reassured her then turned to Vanessa.

'I'm afraid it's a silly tradition at St Ethelred's, but we have sherry for the women and whisky for the men, although most of the men drink sherry too. We're known for our sherry cellars.' This last was said with pride.

'You mean you don't have anything else?' Vanessa glared at Shirley, who shook her head, eyes wide with fright. 'Oh for heaven's sake, I'll have a large whisky with lots of ice.'

The girl looked ready to burst into tears.

'What's the matter now?' snapped Vanessa, 'aren't women allowed to drink whisky?'

Shirley leant across the table and whispered in Alicia's ear.

'I'm afraid we have no ice,' said Alicia hopelessly. 'The men drink whisky with water or soda. But Shirley could run down to the kitchen and see if they have any.'

'God forbid! I'll have it with water.'

'And I'll have a drop of that nice Amontillado, if I may,' Alicia added.

Shirley gave her a grateful nod and hastily poured their drinks.

'Can we go over by the window? If I don't get some air I shall simply die,' Vanessa said loudly, taking her drink and leading the way. 'Would you mind?' she asked two elderly professors who were standing in front of the windows, deep in conversation. They moved hurriedly away.

Vanessa put her drink down on the windowsill and tried one of the windows. At first it stuck fast, but with a sudden whoosh of air and encrusted dirt, it shot open. Fresh cool air flooded the room.

The surrounding academics backed away as though nervous of this unheard-of intrusion. Alicia and Vanessa were left standing alone, separated from the rest of the room by an invisible no-man's land.

'Dr Binns,' a deep voice suddenly boomed from the back of the room.

It was so deep, that for a moment, Vanessa thought the speaker was a man, but an imperiously-bosomed woman was elbowing her way through the common room towards them. She had dark, mannishly cropped hair and a pronounced Roman nose. Her dark-green, tweed suit looked decidedly military, but instead of the comfortable lace-ups Vanessa expected to see on her feet, she wore feminine, high-heeled court shoes below surprisingly slim, shapely calves.

'Alicia, my dear girl,' the woman said as she reached them, putting a beautifully manicured hand on Alicia's arm to emphasise her greeting, 'how nice to see you. We thought you were in London.'

For a moment Vanessa couldn't see the 'we'. Then, peeping round the large woman's elbow, she noticed a thin balding man with watery blue eyes. His mouth constantly twitched, which had an unfortunate effect on his wispy goatee beard.

'Dr Zelda Drake and Professor Ernst Gruber, I'd like you to meet my friend, Vanessa Swift,' said Alicia.

'Ah, you must be the television director we have all heard so much about,' Zelda said, grasping Vanessa's hand firmly. 'I'm afraid you have Ernst and me at quite a disadvantage. We never watch television, do we, Ernst?'

Ernst appeared to both nod and shake his head at the same time.

Vanessa was surprised to find herself looking down at Zelda. Her bearing had given the impression she was much taller, but the eyes looking up at her yielded supremacy to no one.

'You mean a television set won't fit into your ivory tower?' riposted Vanessa.

She hit her mark but Zelda did not flinch. With barely the suggestion of a hesitation, Zelda smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. 'No, no my dear, I was saying to Ernst just the other day, that it's time we academics tried to communicate more to the masses. So often they are fed either wishy-washy pap or downright rubbish, don't you think? I am of the opinion that they deserve something a little more challenging, perhaps even provocative, and certainly more original than most of the fare that is served up on our screens these days.'

Zelda's thrust was the more effective. The two women stared at each other for a long moment and then Vanessa's eyelashes flickered and she looked away.

Years of intellectual sword play had sharpened Zelda's ability to find an opponent's vulnerable spots, but she had found few worthy opponents since coming to Heartlands two years ago. She was a psychologist, and before Heartlands had lived in Vienna for twelve years, where she had been pursuing her research into patterns of emotional response and arousal. It was there she had met Professor Ernst Gruber, who was a palaeontologist. Their passion for uncovering the hidden past - in people's unconscious minds on her part, and in the earth's rocks on his - had developed into a passion for each other, according to Zelda. They felt no need of marriage for they were both well past forty, and were mature enough not to require the psychological prop of a sanction for their union from either church or state.

However, not long after they arrived at the university, a rumour that Gruber had a formidable wife back in Vienna who refused to divorce him and, moreover, had run Zelda out of town had stealthily begun to circulate. No one at Heartlands had ever dared ask Zelda whether the rumour was true, partly out of fear of her and partly because the idea of anyone daring to run Zelda out of town was inconceivable. Zelda herself, when given to complaining about Heartlands, which was often, explained that she would never have accepted a post at such a lowly university if it had not been for her elderly father whose rapidly ailing health had forced her to return to England to care for him. And it was true: she and Gruber did share a large and rambling manor house with her ninety-four year-old father, ten miles outside Heartlands. It was unfortunate that the woman who cleaned the manor house also cleaned for another lecturer. Over coffee one morning she had let it be known that she had accidentally seen blueprints for converting the manor house into a block of luxury timeshare flats, and she was convinced that Zelda had only come back to England to wait for her father to die so she could move the builders in.

Unlike most of the other academics, Alicia liked Zelda, and refused to listen to unkind gossip about her. She liked Zelda's elderly father too, and often visited him, even when Zelda was not there, taking him homemade steak and kidney pies and bread and butter pudding, which he loved. He was very sprightly for a ninety-four year-old and flirted outrageously. He loved to pinch her bottom if she ever turned her back to him. When Alicia laughingly told him off, he would wickedly protest that he had learned the habit defending king and country in the First World War in France. Nobody could possibly want a sweet old man like that to die, least of all Zelda. Of that, Alicia was certain.

But the expression in Zelda's eyes as she looked up at Vanessa in the Senior Common Room, made Alicia's certainty waver for a moment. For a moment it was the same look she had seen in the eyes of a leopard on a wildlife programme, just before it went in for the kill, but then it was gone and Zelda was sipping her sherry and smiling benevolently.