Nell, Fergie and Me
By tony_millin
- 277 reads
Nell, Fergie And Me
A Short Story
So there she was. 5 feet 4 inches, and 7 stone grappling with a pile of
items obtained from the library opposite. But, between us stood a door.
And that was the problem. It would appear to be simple, I should open
the door, Of course my free hands would be most sensibly utilised in
opening the door And in so doing allow an extremely paper weighted
person into the university refectory from which I was about to depart.
And it was this course of action that in the split second available I
decided to take. I opened the door and as our eyes met beckoned her
in.
"After You", I said. She walked in peering at me over Women's Estate
by Juliet Mitchell
"Fascist Git" she said firmly enough to be heard through her pile of
feminist psychology text books. "typical male, asserting his
masculinity"
I walked on smiling and fuming inwardly. There was something humorous
about the incident that also made me want to run back and explain the
logic of my actions but I fought back both feelings, choosing to carry
on expressionless across the main concourse up to the university
library. There had been no particular incident that had engendered any
ill feeling between us. True we had locked horns at the Union debating
society during a debate on Women's equality but everyone at some time
seemed to have argued with Nell Bawden.
That evening I got back to my digs with the incident fresh in my mind.
When I arrived Bob, my house mate was there watching TV whilst
scrutinising a copy of the student union rules.
"Stuck it up Nell Bawden and those women today." Bob said triumphantly
moving his gaze from the rule book to the TV.
"It's funny you should mention her" I said " I think I got her back up
opening a door for her in the refectory. You remember that debate when
she said doing things like that was an insult to all women. I did think
about doing nothing, but I just couldn't"
"Oh I bet it wasn't that" Bob chipped in face lightening up and moving
enthusiastically to the edge of his seat. "Do you remember that Fight
Altons Bill campaign. You know that abortion thing they've been going
on about"
"Well no but"
"Well at the last union council meeting them lesbo feminist bastards
packed it out and passed a motion giving a few grand to the cause. Well
they can't get away with it. I found out you can overturn anything they
pass with a referendum. And we're having one a week Thursday. All I
needed was me to propose and three seconders - You Jammo and Beefer. I
knew you wouldn't mind"
Of course I protested. But Bob never saw anything anyone else felt as
his problem. As he saw it the "lesbo feminist bastards" were the enemy
and it was his congenital duty to fight them. Predictably in mid
eighties Thatcher torn Britain an attempt to overturn a decision made
by some loony lefty socialists as the less extreme called met with
large favour amongst the generally apathetic masses. Bob soon became a
cult hero in the campus magazine. The other two of us who allegedly put
our names to the motion, whilst remaining largely unknown campus wide
had become the enemies of the university labour club and women's group
who had supported the initial motion. It was with great unease that I
continued to attend the debates held at the debating society being
derided and heckled at any opportunity by the ranks of left wing
activists with whom I had more than a little sympathy. Often I locked
horns with Nell Bawden on subjects as diverse as Sport on TV, fox
hunting, creation v evolution and the role of socialism in late
twentieth Britain. Even arguing when as happened most often we took the
same side.
It was a few months later, towards the end of the spring term that we
were informed that Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York would be
coming to open an extension to the Chemistry building. Of course this
triggered several debates concerning the role of the royal family,
motions passed by student council attempting to make the campus a royal
free zone but pulling little wait with the university authorities
precipitating the inevitable student strike. It was a little after ten
in the morning of the day in question that the yellow helicopter was
seen approaching the campus. This induced the crowd of mainly
undergraduate students who had been waiting for some time to prick
their ears and begin their demonstrations chant. The banners of 'Royals
out', 'British Universities Conservative Society welcomes Fergy', 'Say
no to Student Loans' and 'Hang Mandela' iconised the conflict in the
air. These banners were waived enthusiastically as the royal helicopter
approached the car park to increasing shouts. As the royal vessel
landed chants of "Parasite" was sounded by a small but loud group of
students at the front, countered by "Fergie, Fergie, Fergie" in
football supporter fashion by a band of pseudo royalists deliberately
antagonising the socialists. The extra intensity of the activity
encouraged the local police force who had been there in numbers to
deploy extra troops forming a barrier between the students and the
helipad. There were some including myself who had appeared only out of
recreational interest who together with the sense of the imminence of
the royal inception egged on the demonstrators and increased the
amplitude of the chanting. The introduction of the police presence
further increased the intensity of the feelings and the anti royal
chants increased their speed and volume as the committed anti royalists
were joined by a few spectators including myself in a mutual disrespect
of the policing methods being introduced. Soon about 30 PCs began to
push us back further from the helicopter. Of course this increased the
feeling of oppression and both sides royal and anti royal closed ranks
and pushing back condensed into what became a fairly large scrum. The
unity of feeling on the student side did not last long and within a few
minutes the frustration of the lack of success against the police
manifested itself in ill feelings between protesters holding opposing
views. To one side there were grappling whines and scrapes of two
sections of the throng in dispute. Presumably it was this was that
caused a proportion of the police in front of me to move left to try
and bring peace to what was becoming an increasingly heated situation.
Those behind me continued to push but now facing a depleted line of
policemen succeeded in pushing forward. With this increase in movement,
I lost my footing slightly and staggered forward desperate not to hit
the deck and be trampled by a surge from the rear. The police however
soon gained control of the surge and with almost an equal amount of
acceleration brought the movement to a halt. However my reduced height
due to my stagger and the instinct for self preservation kept me moving
forwards past the legs of those in front and against my better
judgement I found myself beyond the police line. In what seemed much
longer than the split second that it took I regained my normal gait and
looked around surveying the faces of student and police. In front of me
the bright yellow and drone of the as yet unopened helicopter
momentarily caught my attention, before the cheers of my student
comrades increased further the level of adrenaline flowing through my
blood.
'Go get her!' a voice I vaguely recognised shouted. I began to run
lacking conviction
'Go home you ginger parasite' were the words that I now regret but
shouted lacking humour, anger or belief as a young policeman tackled
and grappled me to the floor, briskly pulling my hands behind me. I was
marched off away from the scene past students shouted claiming police
brutality amongst others encouraged them to make an example of me.
Within a few hundred yards the shouting became distant and the scene of
an angry mob only a few people deep looked almost pitiful against a
well organised and equally large police force. And within a few minutes
I found myself alone staring at the inside of a police van. At first I
felt pleased that I had possibly become a folk hero, defying the rule
of law in favour of well founded idealism and now being persecuted. But
as I looked through the small window at the top of the van I could see
crowds of students on their way to lectures oblivious to the events
occurring only yards away and realised that my selfless act was not
after all going to herald a triumphant march to republicanism. Worse
than that a vision of my mother scolding me after travelling 150 miles
to bail me out was becoming as prominent as the voice of my head of
department telling me he was sorry but rules were rules and that I
could always start again at another university. Exhilaration was
transforming into depression. But before the depths depression became
too deep I saw through the rear window of the van the face of Nell
Bawden. This time however neither me nor Nell opened the door but 16
stone of monosyllabic copper who manhandling her into the van became
the centre of a much more violent verbal onslaught than I had ever been
given.
'Fascist Bastard' she shouted on hitting the floor attempting to spit
at the more authoritative looking officer of the two, but probably due
to her continual spitting during her transfer from protest to the van
had little if any sputum available.
'Bloody students, haven't got no brains between em' the other
policemen of about 19 years of age shouted 'Your all gone in the ed' he
added continuing in his south walian accent restoring my maternal
vision. At first we sat in silence, Nell I'm sure as surprised to meet
me in this situation as I was to be in it. We had barely communicated
one to one over the nearly two years that we had both spent as
students, her circle of friends mainly female social scientists rarely
crossing paths with the rugby playing scientists with which brush I was
tarred. But now we found ourselves in each other's company and in an
identical situation. It was Nell that broke the silence.
'Bloody pigs' she said quietly to me but continuing 'Your all a bunch
of Fascists' at full volume to the driver hitting the side of the van
but failing to provoke any response from him but continued to listen to
the crackle of the radio. There were however signs of defeat in the
reducing enthusiasm towards the end of this outburst. She sat next to
me and told me in a matter of fact way , how much she hated them, and
were symbols of all that was wrong in society. I was on the point
apologising on their behalf having my gender in common with all but one
of the perceived enemy. But then I noticed Nell's face. It was muddy as
was parts of my clothes as a result of wrestling on a grass verge in
early spring. But as well as the obvious dirt there was swelling on her
cheek obviously caused by a heavy blow by a blunt instrument next to
what was obviously a superficial but painful graze. A small amount of
blood flowed from her nose and as we sat there in the returning silence
I noticed her breathing was slightly wheezy and the depths of
inhalation shallow.
'Are you allright' I asked
'My ribs are killing me' she replied clutching her torso with her
hands 'took a bit of a kicking from the bastards'
'Bastards.' I agreed 'What did you do?'
'Nothing to them. They hate people like me' But as she spoke her voice
broke, tears rolled down her swelling cheeks and she shifted closer as
if I was a comforting father about to embrace her. As soon as we
realised what was about to happen we moved apart. I tried to introduce
some comforting words but they fell flat due to their obvious
manufacture. I found my anger against this establishment increase as I
saw her spirit so broken that she looked for comfort in someone she had
previously accused of being an icon of male domination
'It so bloody useless' Nell said with convicted defeat. 'What is my
father going to say'
This was a bolt from the blue. It had never occurred to me that left
wing feminists had any sort of family life or upbringing, least of all
a male paternal figure with whom to gain favour.
'Damn' she shouted with breaking voice bringing her fists into her
knees. Again leaning against me. But perhaps encouraged by this display
of weakness I opened my arm and she muzzled into me.
'They may not do anything' I said quietly trying to look on the bright
side for both our sakes. But that was all I could think of saying. I
embraced Nell tighter and felt her tense shoulders jump up and down as
tears flowed. I looked down upon her tear stained face and realised how
despite the mud, swelling and all of Bob's labels she was an attractive
woman. I longed to be able to comfort her, and now that we were comrade
fugitives I suppose I felt at one with her. The words 'I love you' and
'It'll be allright' often able to restore happiness to similar
situations were almost on my lips but I knew neither were true and
anyway I was in love with another, I had no doubt about that, but
something within me desired to gain favour in Nell's eyes by making
everything okay again. Was this an attempt to assert my masculinity or
a display of love for my fellow person displaying his head. But I
fought the words back and sat back breathing the aroma of royal mud and
home made cigarettes. As the van started and pulled out of the campus I
looked back and saw a group of students marching towards and following
the van. I pointed them out to Nell but she had no interest and laid
her head on my shoulder and continued to stare blankly forward. This
lack of response disappointed me and as we approached the police
station about 2 miles from the campus the sound of another helicopter
could be heard. As we were unloaded from the van into the police
station a gleeful copper told us that that was the one carrying fergie
and the first one was just to check security. Again I was disappointed
to see that this caused little emotion in Nell despite us being about
to gain a criminal record for demonstrating about the arrival of a
security guard.
We parted at the desk after giving our details, as we were led off to
our respective cells our eyes met and the stony faced angry young
person returned. I wondered about her for the hour or so I sat pacing
about in my cell. Was she crying? was the feminist the majority of
students held in contempt gone for good? and was there anything I could
do? But of course I had no answer to any of those questions
We met again in the foyer of the police station, no charges were to be
made and we were told we could leave. Outside the station were about 20
or so students who had been demonstrating with us against the royal
arrival but now were championing the cause against police brutality.
Nell hesitated at the desk.
'I'm not sure I want to......' she said looking to me as if I had
directions to a back door
'Come on Nell, no charges just a few bruises and just look you're
their heroine.' I pointed to the faces chanting her name. She breathed
in and thought for a while wiping her eyes and regaining that look of
strength so often seen at the union debates.
'Hero' she said admonishing me 'I may be their hero'
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