Jeffrey Archer - Sons of Fortune

‘That wouldn’t have been difficult,’ said Nat. ‘If it wasn’t on my desk, he would have found it filed under Yale.’

‘But he still took a hell of a risk going into your room when you weren’t there.’

‘Not when you’re the student president. Don’t forget he has the run of the place — no one questions his coming or going. He would easily have had enough time to copy out the text and return the original to my room the same evening without anyone being any the wiser.’

‘So what have the board decided?’

‘Thanks to the principal going overboard on my behalf, Yale has agreed to defer my application for a year.’

‘So Elliot gets away with it once again.’

‘No, he does not,’ said Nat firmly. ‘The principal worked out what must have happened, because Yale have also withdrawn Elliot’s place.’

‘But that only delays the problem for a year,’ said Tom.

‘Happily not,’ said Nat, smiling for the first time. ‘Mr Thompson also decided to step in, and rang the admissions tutor, with the result that Yale have not offered Elliot the chance to reapply.’

‘Good old Thomo,’ said Tom. ‘So what are you planning to do in your year out? Join the Peace Corps?’

‘No, I’m going to spend the year at the University of Connecticut.’

‘Why UConn?’ asked Tom, ‘when you could...’

‘Because it was Rebecca’s first choice.’

The president of Yale stared down at a thousand expectant freshmen. In a year’s time, some of them would have found the going too tough and moved on to other universities, while others would have simply given up. Fletcher Davenport and Jimmy Gates sat in the body of the hall and listened intently to every word President Waterman had to say.

‘Do not waste a moment of your time while you are at Yale, or you will regret for the rest of your life not having taken advantage of all this university has to offer. A fool leaves Yale with only a degree, a wise man with enough knowledge to face whatever life throws at him. Seize every opportunity that is offered to you. Do not be frightened of any new challenge, and should you fail, there is no reason to be ashamed. You will learn far more from your mistakes than from your triumphs. Do not be afraid of your destiny. Be afraid of nothing. Challenge every writ, and let it not be said of you, I walked a path but never left an imprint.’

The president of Yale resumed his place after nearly an hour on his feet, and received a prolonged standing ovation. Trent Waterman, who did not approve of such displays, rose and left the stage.

‘I thought you weren’t going to join in the standing ovation?’ said Fletcher to his friend as they filed out of the hall. ‘“Just because everyone else has for the past ten years, doesn’t mean I shall join in the ritual,” if I remember your sentiments correctly.’

‘I admit it, I was wrong,’ said Jimmy. ‘It was even more impressive than my father had assured me it would be.’

‘I feel confident your endorsement will come as a relief to Mr Waterman,’ said Fletcher, as Jimmy spotted a young woman laden with books walking a few paces ahead of them.

‘Seize every opportunity,’ he whispered in Fletcher’s ear. Fletcher wondered whether to stop Jimmy making a complete fool of himself, or just let him find out the hard way.

‘Hi, I’m Jimmy Gates. Would you like me to help you with your books?’

‘What did you have in mind, Mr Gates? Carrying them, or reading them to me?’ replied the woman who didn’t break her stride.

‘I was thinking of carrying them to begin with, and then why don’t we see how it goes from there?’

‘Mr Gates, I have two rules I never break: dating a freshman and dating someone with red hair.’

‘Don’t you think the time has come,’ said Jimmy, ‘to break them both at once? After all, the president did tell us to never be frightened of a new challenge.’

‘Jimmy,’ said Fletcher, ‘I think...’

‘Ah yes, this is my friend Fletcher Davenport, he’s very clever, so he could help you with the reading part.’

‘I don’t think so, Jimmy.’

‘And he’s also very modest, as you can see.’

‘Not a problem you suffer from, Mr Gates.’

‘Certainly not,’ said Jimmy. ‘By the way, what’s your name?’

‘Joanna Palmer.’

‘So you’re obviously not a freshman, Joanna,’ said Jimmy.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Then you’re the ideal person to help and succour me.’

‘What do you have in mind?’ asked Miss Palmer, as they climbed the steps to Sudler Hall.

‘Why don’t you invite me to supper this evening, and then you can tell me everything I should know about Yale,’ ventured Jimmy just as they came to a halt outside the lecture hall. ‘Hey,’ he said, turning to Fletcher, ‘isn’t this where we’re meant to be?’

‘Yes it is, and I did try to warn you.’

‘Warn me? About what?’ asked Jimmy, as he opened the door for Miss Palmer and followed her into the room, hoping he could sit next to her. The undergraduates immediately stopped talking, which took Jimmy by surprise.

‘I apologize for my friend, Miss Palmer,’ whispered Fletcher, ‘but I can assure you he has a heart of gold.’

‘And the balls to go with it, it would seem,’ Joanna replied. ‘By the way, never let him know, but I was extremely flattered that he thought I might be a freshman.’

Joanna Palmer placed her books on the long desk and turned to face the packed lecture theatre. ‘The French Revolution is the turning point of modern European history,’ she began to a rapt audience. ‘Although America had already removed a monarch,’ she paused, ‘without having to remove his head...’ Her eyes swept the tiered benches as her pupils laughed, before coming to rest on Jimmy Gates. He winked.

They held hands as they walked across the campus to their first lecture. They had become friends during the rehearsals of the play, inseparable in the week of the performance, and had both lost their virginity together during spring vacation. When Nat told his lover that he would not be going to Yale, but joining her at the University of Connecticut, Rebecca felt guilty about how happy the news made her.

Susan and Michael Cartwright liked Rebecca the moment they met her, and their disappointment over Nat not being offered an immediate place at Yale was softened by seeing their son so relaxed for the first time in his life.

The opening lecture in Buckley Hall was on the subject of American literature, and delivered by Professor Hayman. During the summer vacation, Nat and Rebecca had read all the authors on the assigned list — James, Steinbeck, Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Bellow — and then discussed in detail Washington Square, The Grapes of Wrath, For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Great Gatsby, and Herzog. So by the time they took their places in the lecture theatre that Tuesday morning, they both felt confident they were well prepared. Within moments of Professor Hayman delivering his opening salvo, they both realized that they had done little more than read the texts. They had not considered the different influences on the authors that birth, upbringing, education, religion and mere circumstance had brought to their work, nor given any thought to the fact that the gift of storytelling was not bestowed on any particular class, colour or creed.

‘Take, for example, Scott Fitzgerald,’ continued the professor, ‘in his short story, “Bernice Bobs Her Hair”...’

Nat looked up from his notes and saw the back of his head. He felt sick. He stopped listening to Professor Hayman’s views on Fitzgerald and continued to stare for some time before the student turned and began talking to his neighbour. Nat’s worst fears were confirmed. Ralph Elliot was not only at the same university, but taking the same course. Almost as if conscious of being stared at, Elliot suddenly turned round. He didn’t acknowledge Nat, as his attention settled on Rebecca. Nat glanced across at her, but she was too busy taking notes on Fitzgerald’s drinking problems during his time in Hollywood to register Elliot’s unsubtle interest.