In June of 1978, George graduated from Cambridge with First Class Honors. Trish, Helen, and Tamsin, now almost three, drove down to watch him graduate. Cathy had exams that day and couldn’t be there. Mark showed up at the last minute. They sat together to watch him accept his scroll from Princess Camilla. “Now you’ll be able to tell them at MIT that you’ve met her,” Helen teased him beforehand. Trish found the ceremony moving, much more so than when she had graduated herself, which she barely remembered. They didn’t have this kind of ceremony at St. Hilda’s. Even though New College was still new they managed to make the occasion feel special. After all the BA and BSc graduands, those completing Ph.D.s came in, with their bright hoods over their academic gowns. Last a special award was made to a female scientist, Professor Dickinson, who had apparently done something to cure Dutch Elm Disease. Trish clapped with everyone as she walked across the stage, then got up immediately to try to find George in the crush.
Mark insisted that they should all have lunch together in a restaurant he knew. George brought along a girl. “This is Sophie Picton,” he said. “She’s a biologist. I wanted you to meet her.” She had long fair hair neatly wound up in a French twist. Trish liked her smile and the way she listened patiently to Tamsin’s chatter. This was especially noticeable as Mark was not patient with Tamsin and kept telling her to be quiet. They ate overcooked food. George, Helen, Mark, and Sophie shared a bottle of white wine, which Mark ordered. Trish noticed that Sophie wrinkled her nose up when she took her first sip.
“So are you still planning to go to America?” Mark asked.
“Yes, I’m going to do my doctorate at MIT, starting in the new academic year,” George said.
“You’re not expecting me to pay for that?”
“It’s fully funded,” George said coolly. “As was this. You’ve only been expected to bring my living expenses up to what you could comfortably afford. I’m sorry if it has left you short.”
Trish noticed that Sophie had put her hand surreptitiously on George’s elbow, whether to give him support or stop him she didn’t know. Mark spluttered and changed the subject—Tamsin had just dropped a piece of chicken onto the table and picked it up and eaten it, which gave him an excuse to fulminate about her table manners.
When they had finished, Mark paid for the meal and left. “I’ve got a long way to go to get home.” He did not seem to realize that the rest of the family also had a long way to go. The rest of them stood outside the restaurant after he had left. “Are you in an awful hurry too, or shall we go down somewhere outside for an hour and enjoy the sunshine?” Sophie suggested.
“Are there any playgrounds where Tamsin could run around for a bit?” Helen asked.
George and Sophie looked at each other blankly. “I can’t think of anything like that in Cambridge,” George said. “But if we go down by the river she can run around, as long as she doesn’t fall into the water.”
Trish agreed happily to the river plan. “I used to adore rowing when I was at Oxford. In fact I think I’ve missed it ever since. I haven’t lived anywhere where there was a river.”
“You could go out this afternoon,” George said. “I had no idea you rowed. Did you get your blue?”
“My college blue,” Trish said. “In those days girls couldn’t row for Oxford.” The young people were suitably horrified. “You’ve got no idea of the battles we’ve already won, especially when you’re busy looking ahead to the battles we still have to fight.”
“That’s very true,” Sophie said as they sat down on the grass by the river. “Professor Dickinson was talking the other day about how hard it was to be a woman in science when she was starting out, and it made me realize that even though it’s hard now it’s so much easier than it was twenty years ago.”
“And are you enthusiastic about our future in space too?” Helen asked.
“I certainly am,” Sophie said, exchanging looks with George. “I’ve been doing some work on hydroponics that I hope will be useful for the moonbase.”
“And are you also going to MIT?” Trish asked.
“Harvard,” Sophie said, and blushed.
Trish laughed. “How well you are managing your lives!”
“Dad doesn’t think so,” George said.
“I think he’s jealous,” Sophie said, unexpectedly.
“Jealous?” George asked.
“I think Sophie’s right,” Trish said, remembering. “He got a Third you know, and he was expected to do brilliantly and become a star. It took him a long time to get accepted, to get back into academia. I don’t think he has ever really got over that. You’re doing what he wanted to do. He’s bound to resent it.”
“I wish you’d stop making excuses for him,” Helen said. She looked at Tamsin, who was running in circles above them on the slope and making plane noises. “You always try to justify him when he’s just being a shit.”
Trish laughed nervously.
“No, you do, Mum,” George said. “Helen’s right.”
“I suppose I spent so many years doing it to myself that I keep on doing it,” Trish said. “I’m sorry. I know I should have been a better mother.”
“It’s not your fault that Dad’s the way he is,” George said. “Though I must say that one of the advantages of Boston is putting an entire ocean between me and him.”
“Did you get married directly after Oxford?” Sophie asked.
“I taught for two years,” Trish said. “Down in Cornwall. Why, are you thinking—”
“Not until we have our doctorates and we’re financially in a better place,” George said. “We were thinking of it before Sophie was accepted at Harvard, so she’d be able to come to America, but as things are we don’t need to rush it.”