When Andorra Pett met Cy.

Part One.

I’ve been writing Andorra Pett stories for ten years now, yet there’s one thing that I’ve never given much detail about. It’s how Andi and her trusty sidekick, Cy, first met.

He’s been with her since long before she decided to leave London. In fact, they met up at college, where he was studying tailoring and she was learning art and design. The fact that they ended up going into business together, making high-end clothing, shows just how close they became. 

So, when she left the familiar surroundings of Greenwich for the space station (and you’ll have to read Andorra Pett on Mars for more details about the reasons for that!), naturally, he went with her.   

I’ve never told anyone the details about how they met before.

Then, someone asked me.

Here goes.

When Andi met Cy.

It was so good to get away from the nuns and go to a proper college, and an art college at that.

I suppose I was lucky to get in. After all, I applied even though I failed all my exams.

To my surprise, they still snapped me up. I made up a portfolio showing some designs for clothes, and a few pictures of how I decorated my bedroom using old tins of paint that I found in the shed.

That seemed to impress them when I had an interview. When I got the letter, Mum was pleased.

Tia, my older sister, was rather disparaging about it. “Everyone who fails goes to art college,” she said. “You should have gone to university like me.”

“And what’s that achieved for you?” I asked. “You’re still stupid.”

My reward for that observation was a slap around the back of my head. I looked at mum, she shook her head in despair. “I’ve had three years of peace while she was away,” she muttered. “Why can’t you two support each other?”

So here I was. It was the opening day of the term, and I was suddenly alone. Maisie wasn’t with me for the first time I could remember, and I needed a friend. She’d gone off to study health and social care on the other side of London.

Art college seemed to attract a strange selection of people. We all met up between lectures in a sort of canteen, for coffee or tea and biscuits. The others in my class were a nice enough bunch, but nothing like the girls I’d been at school with. They smoked and swore and wore weird clothes, and they had some strange ideas about convents. The boys weren’t much better.

There was one bloke in particular who stood out. He wasn’t in my class, but you couldn’t miss him. One of my new friends had told me he was in the second year of a tailoring course, learning to cut cloth and make clothes. Every time I saw him, he had a throng of people around him, mostly men and a couple of strangely-dressed women. Were they wearing his creations?

It looked like he was holding court. Like moths to a flame, they danced around him, hanging on his every word.

“And what does that tell you about him?” Lauren, my classmate, asked, raising one eyebrow. I couldn’t think of anything, except that he was popular and liked creating things, the same as I did. So, I did what I had learned to do in that sort of situation and said “Um.”

Although, to be fair, it did seem like a strange occupation for him. He was huge and muscled like a weightlifter. When we finally went over and introduced ourselves, he said his name was Cy, in a beautiful baritone.

“It’s short for Cyril,” he said, “and don’t ask about the rest. In fact, you can just call me Cy.”

It was only later when I twigged about what she meant. Cy was gay. So what? As long as he was a nice person, it didn’t bother me.

And Cy seemed like a nice person. He obviously had self-confidence, he was larger than life, and there was a sense of fun in the way he behaved. He had that indefinable something about him that made him fascinating.

The first week of lessons was exhausting, learning where everything was, what we had to do and putting names to faces. I needed a break, and on Friday, I called Maisie.

We arranged to meet on Saturday afternoon, at a place called Putney Hard, down by the river. I questioned the name with her, it sounded made up, but she just laughed. She said there was a coffee stand by the slipway, and I found it easily enough.

There was so much to tell her about my new friends. And I wanted to know how she was getting on, we’d hardly spoken or texted since I’d started, which made me feel both lonely and guilty.

I was early and strolled about in the late September sunshine, watching all these fit rowing-type people lugging boats in and out of the water. With the upturned boats over their heads, they looked like some sort of mental insect walking along. I was so busy gawping and trying not to laugh too loud when I bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” I said. He turned. It was Cy.

“Caught you,” he said, grinning. I must have gone red.

“Caught me doing what? I’m waiting for my friend.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he said. “I saw you eying up the bloke’s legs.”

“What do you mean? I asked, feeling flustered, guilty, and strangely pleased to have his attention. All at the same time. I started to gabble. “They just look funny, carrying the boats like that. And what’s it to do with you anyway? Why are you here then? You were doing the same thing.”

“I don’t mind admitting it,” he said. “There’s my fella, Daniel, over there.” He waved to a very good-looking man with a group of rowers. “We’re going for a quick drink,” he said. “You should join us.”

“Um,” I said. I was desperately trying to think of something to say. I didn’t want to do my usual trick of saying anything inappropriate.

“Have I shocked you?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “course not.”

He looked offended, “I’ll have to try harder then, won’t I?” he muttered, “And you a convent girl, too.”

“I’m not religious,” I said. “The convent was the only place that would take us when we got back to England.” Hang on a minute, I hadn’t told anyone that. “How did you know that?”

“Never you mind, Andorra Pett. My sources are secret. Come and have a drink with us and I might tell you.”

“It’s kind of you, but I really am waiting for my friend,” I said. I must admit the idea of going for a drink with them intrigued me. Cy had a sort of allure; he was fascinating to be around.

“Sure,” he said. “Bring her, too. We’ll be in there.” He waved his hand over the road to a large pub on a corner. He strolled off, crossing the road and going up to the man he had called Daniel. They hugged, and both waved at me before walking towards the pub.

“Who was that?” asked Maisie. She must have seen us talking. We embraced. It was so good to see her.

“Just a bloke from my college,” I said. “He’s invited us over for a drink in that pub.”

“He’s a bit of a dish,” she said, “are you in there?”

I shook my head, “No, he’s spoken for, I wasn’t expecting to see him here.”

“Oh,” she said. “Are we going to, or would it be awkward?”

“Up to you,” I said. “I want your news first.”

We got a takeaway coffee from the stall and strolled by the water. It was good to catch up on each other’s news. I tried to concentrate on Maisie’s stories, but I was distracted by thoughts of Cy. I think she must have noticed.

“Come on,” she said, as we neared a wider expanse of green. “Let’s get back to the pub. I can tell that you’re gagging to see that bloke again, and his friend might be interesting.”

I had a feeling that this was going to be fun.

If you liked that, the first book in the Andorra Pett series might be a perfect read for you.

Next week, part two of the story.

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