Disclaimer: The following story is entirely make believe. Any resemblance to any other work written about Harry is entirely coincidental. (I've only ever read one or two fics about him as opposed to the multitude of fics dedicated to Guy). It is very loosely (maybe a bit of an untruth) based on the character, Harry Kennedy, played by RA in VoD. Apologies in advance for inaccuracies to do with locations and universities as I don't live in the UK and I could hardly make Harry an ex pat Australian, tempting though it might be. (Some of you will have already read this as i posted on the RACemtral fic. board last year).
15th March 2011
The Vicarage of St Barnabas
Dibley
Dear Mulubinba,
Following is a bit about myself – I hope you don’t find it too boring!
I was brought up in a small town in the UK. My dad was a dentist and mum helped out by managing his practice, along with a dental nurse they employed. My uncle on mum’s side is an accountant (retired now). We led an ordinary life, I guess. Rosie, my sister, is 5 years younger than I am and I remember people saying we were the “perfect” family. I went to the local school and was then sent off to boarding school when I was 11. Mum would insist on us going to Sunday school when we were little so I guess that when I met Geraldine, I had a bit of grounding in the church of England (thanks Mum!) but as a teenager she was lucky to get me to Christmas and Easter services and as an adult at University I didn’t go at all (except once or twice … I’ll explain later). In summer we would often take a picnic up onto the moors, which were not too far away. I think this was when I first started loving the countryside. I would try to go off for a walk by myself whenever possible, just to enjoy the peace of nature. I also used to love camping and hiking with dad, my uncle and the school. I used to take off camping and hiking in university holidays whenever I could – if I could afford it I’d hike overseas, if not, I would stay closer to home.
At school I was one of those kids that was OK at study and sport but never outstanding. I loved reading and I loved being outdoors. I guess maths and economics were my stronger subjects and I’m embarrassed to write here that I took more of an interest in what my uncle was doing compared to what dad did as a career. Investments and the share market fascinated me. My uncle was and still is a good teacher and taught me a lot. He also tried to instil in me a sense of balance between work and recreation – something I found difficult to achieve in my adult life. He and dad were keen outdoors people so I enjoyed their company. Rosie and mum used to come along whenever the camping was what I would call “tame” but they couldn’t cope with roughing it so preferred to stay at home when we decided to go on our more adventurous expeditions. Rosie in those days was “the younger sister I had to put up with”. I used to have to walk with her home from school on the days mum worked at dad’s, she would dawdle, she would complain that I left her out of the games I was playing with my friends. She would interrupt our games and she would make fun of me if I so much as talked to the girls in my class. In short she was an embarrassment! It’s strange to think how close we are now.
Speaking of girlfriends, I went to a boys’ boarding school so there wasn’t much opportunity to get to know girls. There were one or two girls I took out in senior school but I couldn’t say I ever felt strongly that I was in love, maybe a bit infatuated. They were fun companions and when we broke up, there were no recriminations or scenes.
I went off to study at the LSE in London and threw myself into my studies. The high-powered environment of the financial district of London fascinated me. My one goal was to work there. By the end of my third year just after graduating with my Bsc in accounting and finance, my parents were killed in a car accident on holiday in France. I had just received word that I had gained a scholarship to do my MSc in accounting and finance. Our family were going to celebrate on my parents’ return. We never got to do that.
The funeral was a total blur; my aunt and uncle were there for support and became guardians to Rosie who had just started her final years in boarding school. There was a lot to be settled and I think I grew up rapidly over the few weeks leading up to and following the funeral. Fortunately, mum and dad (forever proper and forward thinking) had left Rosie and I very well off. My uncle and I were both able to sort our finances so that Rosie and I could live without financial worry provided we were prudent. I had enough to buy a small two bedroom flat in London after the sale of our family home, which Rosie and I would never live in again. Rosie, we decided, would spend her holidays with my aunt and uncle until she left school. In this we met a challenge from Rosie herself who was determined to spend part of her holidays with me in London. I have to say at first I was dismayed at the thought of having to chaperone my young sister in London. I wasn’t with anyone at the time, which was probably just as well. The presence of a younger sister in my flat would certainly put the brakes on any romantic evenings I might be intending in the future however. Once things had settled after the funeral, my uncle and I took Rosie back to school together. Up until then I hadn’t realised that she really cared for me but as I said goodbye she clung to me and sobbed as if she felt I was deserting her. I promised her I would come down to visit her at school and that she could spend part of her holidays with me – how could I not?
I returned to London feeling depressed, lethargic and at the same time angry at life and the unfairness of it all. The full extent of my own loss hit me hard. On one of my first nights back, I decided to drown my sorrows by getting so drunk I ended up with a filthy hangover the following day. (I’ve never been a person who drank excessively and this binge affected me badly). My friends brought me a stack of greasy food stating that eating cured hangovers and nausea … not so! That evening after sleeping half the day, I decided to take a walk in the brisk London air in order to clear my head. Walking past a church, I heard the sound of a choir. I had not entered a church for years. I don’t know what possessed me but for some reason I was drawn to the sound. I think I had come in at the end of Evensong – I had a vague memory of the Magnificat and Nunc Dimitis from school chapel days. I sat at the back lost in my own fuzzy thoughts never realising the service had ended and the choir and clergy had processed out. This was when I first met Janis.
I need to take a break now so will send you another letter continuing my story soon.
Love
Harry X