The Ullswater Undertaking

the wrong subject. I know it’s embarrassing and makes me look an idiot, but I can’t help that. What I’m doing is too narrow, too restricting. I was too young when I made the decision, and never even considered changing it.’ He was addressing Simmy exclusively. ‘I feel I’m letting you down,’ he concluded in a quiet voice.
‘Me? It’s none of my business, is it? What are you going to do instead? Have you told your parents? Will the university just let you change, halfway through the year?’
‘You and Moxon, he means,’ Bonnie explained. ‘After all this time, all through the A-levels and everything, you’ve both been so proud of him. More than Helen and David, really.’
Simmy was horrified. ‘You can’t possibly think I was pressurising you.’ She wanted to throw it back at him, to explain that she had always taken her lead from what he showed every sign of wanting. She regarded herself as little more than a bystander, watching with awe as the young genius forged his way through the educational system. Instead, she felt close to tears and said nothing more.
‘History,’ said Ben quickly. ‘I want to change to history. It fits infinitely better with my interests – and abilities. I like researching and making timelines and that sort of thing.’
‘Yes, but …’ said Simmy. ‘Don’t those things come into the course you’re doing?’
‘Not really.’ He worked his shoulders, and Bonnie patted his leg. ‘It’s more than that, if I’m honest. I don’t much like university life. I expected to meet people like me, as well as people who knew more and were sharper and quicker …’
‘He means cleverer,’ said Bonnie, with a little nod.
‘And didn’t you?’ asked Christopher.
‘Sort of. The trouble is, they’re still like schoolkids, trying to devalue their own abilities. And they’re so helpless. And timid. I tried telling a couple of them about what happened to me in Hawkshead, and they almost ran out of the room. I’m telling you, most of them are like six-year-olds. I can’t even talk to them.’
‘So how will a history course be better?’ wondered Christopher.
Ben grimaced. ‘Good question. I was thinking maybe I could do it through the OU instead. Maybe there’d be a lot of much older students at the tutorials and things, and I might get on better with them.’
‘It sounds to me as if you’ve been horribly miserable,’ said Simmy, feeling an overwhelming sympathy for him.
‘He has,’ said Bonnie. ‘It’s been awful.’
‘Not all the time,’ said Ben. ‘And I really did go for the wrong course. I’ve been very stupid, I know now. Letting all those childish adventures dictate my entire career.’
‘Childish?’ Again, Simmy felt like crying. ‘People have died. You were always so clever, and focused. Don’t rubbish all that now. It’s one thing to feel you don’t fit the life there and another to chuck away the actual studies.’ She looked from Bonnie to Christopher for support. ‘Say something, one of you!’
‘I don’t think you need get upset,’ said Christopher carefully. ‘He’s trying to explain, and you need to stop being so defensive.’ He looked at the youngster. ‘And maybe you could be a bit more sensitive in what you say. Things are a bit overwrought in this house just now.’ He indicated the baby lying on the sofa fast asleep. ‘Even the best of babies creates a degree of stress. Hormones, if I’m allowed to say that.’
‘It’s probably true,’ said Simmy with a short burst of slightly damp laughter. ‘Everything gets out of proportion somehow. It’s like living in a weird sort of bubble.’
‘He didn’t mean to say childish,’ Bonnie explained. ‘He said it much better when he told me.’ She gave Ben an accusing glare. ‘He got it from that quote in the Bible about putting away childish things. You know?’
She was met with blank looks.
‘Anyway, I think he’s right – history is much better. I mean, that’s what we’ve been doing for the past two years, when you think about it – isn’t it? Researching, checking facts, looking at past influences. Not all the time, I know, but some of the murders have needed that kind of work. So he’s not rubbishing anything. Just broadening it out.’
‘Thanks, kid,’ said Ben softly, giving Simmy a wary look. ‘Sorry if I was clumsy.’
‘Maybe it’s just Newcastle that doesn’t suit you,’ suggested Christopher. ‘What about transferring somewhere else? I mean a real university with all the other things that go with it. Theatres and sports and interest groups and things you’d enjoy. Would the OU even have you, under the circumstances?’
Ben sighed. ‘I’d probably have to start again as a first-year in October and just lose this coming term. I’m not sure what all the options are.’
‘You mean, you might not go back next week after all?’ Christopher made a very adult face, indicating scepticism. ‘That does seem like a waste.’
‘It wouldn’t have to be. I could do a whole load of reading, even write some sort of dissertation, if that helped get me in. I’ve had good marks for work done at Newcastle. I think the prof could probably swing it for me.’
‘Listen, Ben,’ said Simmy urgently. ‘It’s absolutely fine by me, whatever you do. I hate to think I might have influenced you. I never meant to. I still can’t get my head round the very idea.’
Bonnie and Ben both gave her looks that said Duh! and Think about it for a minute. Christopher sat back in his chair, clearly wanting to stay out of it.
Finally, Bonnie spoke. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now. The point is, it’s all changing. It was already, anyway, with the baby and Ben being away. And Verity …’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do about Verity, I really don’t.’
Simmy laughed again. ‘You sound like someone my mother’s age – d’you know that? What’s the matter with Verity? I thought she was doing very well.’
Bonnie repeated a criticism that Simmy had heard before. ‘She talks all the time. Most of it