Sweet Sorrow(94)

‘Okay.’

She took my arm and we left the subject, but teetering, about to fall.

We’d brought books and an ancient Thermos flask we’d found and filled with instant coffee, and we walked down through our gardens towards our favourite spot at the top of the meadow, near the place where we’d first met.

‘What did you think? The first time.’

‘I thought – who’s this freak?’

‘That’s nice.’

‘Lurking about with his top off, scaring the shit out of people.’

‘I wasn’t lurking, I was reading.’

‘I didn’t think it for long. When I’d calmed down, I thought, he’s all right. He seems safe.’

‘“Safe”?’

‘Trust me, girls don’t always think that with boys alone. It’s a good thing. I thought you were funny, too, the way you looked at my ankle like you had this medical training. I watched your face while you did it. You looked handsome. You mustn’t get big-headed, but it’s possible that I exaggerated the extent of my injuries –’ and here she yelped with pain, and slipped into a rolling, broken-hipped limp, one hand on my shoulder.

‘Yes, I did wonder about that.’

‘You didn’t believe me?’

‘The limp, it kind of came and went.’

‘It did not! How dare you! Anyway, it worked. You came back, didn’t you? When I saw you, on the second day, I just wanted to laugh, partly ’cause it was funny, you grinning and bearing it like that, me winning—’

‘You didn’t win!’

‘Well, no, I did – and partly because I was so pleased to see you. I was surprised by it, how pleased I was. It felt like – I don’t know – breathing out. Just …’ And here she stopped walking, closed her eyes and exhaled slowly and I recognised what I’d felt too. ‘And I loved walking home with you, and talking, I kept wishing it was further. I still do. The only thing you said that annoyed me …’ She hesitated.

‘Go on.’

‘The thing that annoyed me was you presuming I was going out with Miles, thinking ’cause he was that kind of boy, I must be that kind of girl. I mean, I like Miles, he’s quite good-looking in a sort of action-figure kind of way. But you thinking I was that, I don’t know … shallow.’

‘I was just jealous. I thought, Romeo, Juliet, aren’t you meant to live the role?’

‘Yeah, but the method only goes so far. ’Specially if he’s a bit of a dick.’

‘Bit older, he’s got a car, money, posh education—’

‘Stop it. You’ve got to stop it.’

‘What?’

‘You’ve got to stop, the whole education, confidence thing. These people, they don’t have special rights or powers.’

‘I think they do.’

‘They don’t! I mean, they have advantages and privilege, and money’s important, ’course it is. And even if the exams have gone wrong, I know you can still do something brilliant, something that will make you happy.’

‘Like what?’

She laughed. ‘I don’t know! It’s not for me to tell you, is it? You’ve got to work it out. But there’s a … potential. Stupid word, school-report word, but it’s what I mean.’

We were silent after that. Her intentions were sincere, I knew, but it was undignified to be the subject of a pep talk and I resented it. We found our spot in the meadow and settled in the long, dry grass, further apart than we might have. The silence continued.

And then her hand reached out and took mine.

‘Sorry. I know you don’t like talking about the future, but it is going to happen. That’s what the future is, it’s the thing that’s going to happen. There. Isn’t that profound?’

‘It is.’

‘Literally.’

‘Literally.’

‘You can’t see it at the moment, ’cause all these things have just gone wrong, and you’re nervous and angry about things you can’t control and which aren’t your fault. But if you … hang on, Charlie. I don’t know. I just think there’s something inside you and I love it. And you. I love you, Charlie.’

And there it was. She’d said it and now I could say it back, that most banal and brilliant exchange of dialogue, which we’d repeat, over and over, for just as long as we meant it.

Back at the gatehouse, we tidied up and compiled a list of essential supplies for the rest of the weekend – vodka, ice and Coke, some Chinese takeaway. Though I’d made little headway with The Name of the Rose, I noted that we’d need more condoms too and I felt a puff of pride at this. Despite my negotiations, I was still obliged to work three hours at the petrol station, but this would allow Fran to read and sleep. If I closed up promptly I could be back by eight thirty, and we could start the party once again.

But something of the ease had been lost in contemplation of the future, and our future, and we were silent as we walked back through the woodland to where we’d stashed our bicycles.

‘We could … go home,’ I said. ‘If you wanted? I mean, we don’t have to stay two nights …’

‘No! No, I want to. I’m just tired. Hurry back. Ride like the wind. We’ll start again.’ And she kissed me and I lugged my bike gracelessly over the stone wall. ‘Don’t forget the lilac wine,’ she said, and I set off towards town and the start of a series of catastrophes, each greater than the last, each following on immediately like the end of a Shakespeare play.