Hope
Phil had no idea what to expect as he made his way to room 903. The lift doors opened to the corridor of magnolia painted
brick. The window at the end of the corridor looked down onto eerily quiet London traffic that resembled his plaything
garage and myriad of Dinky toys of yesteryear. Yet it was alive. He reread the introductory letter that the Halls Warden
Mr Adrian Hart had sent him a week ago. He particularly appreciated the closing paragraph: "So, Mr Johnson, please
enjoy your stay in our Halls. We think they are of a high standard. Nevertheless, should you feel there is anything
requiring attention, if this is maintenance, feel free to contact our handyman, John, in Room 101. Or if you have any other
suggestions come and see me in 601. I enjoy company and if you have an eye for wooden art I'd be pleased to show you
some of my carvings".
He had found it remarkably easy to make friends with the few neighbours he joined on the ninth floor. Their study patterns
were disparate, but for a few hours most evenings they found themselves congregating in one or other of the rooms
listening to music, occasionally paying a visit to the Halls of Residence bar.
One warm evening, egged on by the loss of inhibitions alcohol brings, they had purloined a timber name board from the
local underground station. The flip side of the sign polished up well. Thanks to a pre-existing disused Rawlplug and one of
the panels elsewhere managing to stay put with one fewer screw than originally intended, it went on the wall opposite the lift
door. They chose the name R.A.T. - Rent-A-Thug, for the whole of the ninth floor. It’s not as if they had ever done
anything violent either within their peer group or outside of it. Boisterous yes; thugs... don't think so. However, all of us
were big lads, Roger had a ginger beard resembling a lion's mane and R.A.T. seemed appropriate. Nick, the dextrous
practical one amongst us, borrowed some shaping chisels from Mr Hart and deftly finished the name plaque. "Lucky Hart
was out. I think he's out again tomorrow night so I can return his tools" said Nick with a grin.
"Have you got a way into Hart's suite, you old sod?" enquired Pete with some degree of envy"
Nick thumbed his nose in reply and the subject was closed.
.
Phil's life as a student was almost complete. He attended lectures on weekday mornings, visited the library and computer
centres on alternate afternoons Tuesday to Friday, socialised with R.A.T during the evenings and went home to his parents
in his aged but very reliable souped-up mini at the weekends. However, Monday afternoon was his free period.
As the weeks went by, his R.A.T. soulmates started pairing up with girls around the campus. The circle of evening
friendship got smaller until there was just Alan, Nick and Phil himself. Nevertheless, the name R.A.T remained. In any
crisis we could all rely on each other to take the Mickey for a while, but always help out eventually.
One particular Monday afternoon Phil was about to take his well-trodden tour around the statues in the grounds, when, he
knew not why, but he was strangely compelled to look upward to the windows in the Residents' Hall. There on the sixth floor
he saw Mrs Hart, the beautiful young bride of the Warden. She was looking down. He suddenly realised he had stopped
and was staring and that she had caught his eye. Although he was embarrassed, impulsively and out of politeness, he
reached up to touch his cap. A further embarrassment as of course he didn't wear a cap any more. His heart skipped a
beat as he realised she was gesticulating for him to stay put and that she would come down to meet him. He nodded and
pointed at the ground in front of him to confirm he had understood as she disappeared from the window.
After what seemed like hours but could have been only 3 minutes, she appeared at the door. He was so mesmerised that
he'd missed the opportunity of getting to the door first to open it for her. She introduced herself as Jane and he felt quite at
ease. They walked and talked, exchanging pleasantries and getting to know one another. However, it soon became clear
that she had a motive other than passing the time of day.
"Phil, this is a bit awkward but.... "
"Yes...."
"Well... where did you get the plaque that says 'Rat' on your floor?"
"Oh! That’s not ‘Rat@ its Ah Ay Tee – it’s a joke, stands for ‘Rent-A-Thug’. I am not sure where that came from. I
think one of the lads ni... er.." He suddenly realised where this was leading and stopped in his tracks.
"We had an enquiry from London Underground to ask us to be on the look out for a station sign as one had gone
missing. I was wondering if that might have been it at one stage".
He hoped against hope that she hadn't twigged, though somehow he was sure she already knew. He felt his cheeks flush
with embarrassment not realising quite how to break the pregnant pause. His awkwardness was further enhanced at Jane's
next utterance.
"Adrian was particularly impressed with the carving of that sign. Did you do it or did you order it carved?"
"Ah, ..."
Again he stopped in his tracks, remembering how Nick had "borrowed" Mr Hart's tools. How he hoped she didn't twig. He
had been legless on the night the sign arrived, but his R.A.T. colleagues had assured him that he was the one that got it.
He hadn't believed them of course, but now he was uneasy, as he could not account for that evening at all. He had always
hated the way Nick had got hold of Mr Hart's tools without his consent.
"It's ok" Jane said reassuringly, and with a little mischievous grin. "Adrian and I realise that underground signs go for the
occasional walk. However, how you managed to do the carving is amazing."
The conversation moved to less awkward topics as they continued their walk. Finally they arrived back at the Halls
entrance. This time he remembered his manners in time and deftly swung the door aside for her.
"Thank you for walking with me, Jane. It was nice of you"
"It was my pleasure. You know, if ever you need to, you can always borrow Adrian's carving tools. He guards them
jealously but I don't mind if you're careful when he's not about. I've lent them to one of your colleagues before to do some modelling work"