Read From The Moment I Saw Him .... Online
Authors: Catherine MacDonald
In the Christmas holidays, it felt strange to be
back in Beresford and seeing Nick again.
Mr and Mrs DeLisle greeted me with their usual calm
courtesy, as if we had never had a break in our relationship. It was harder
for my parents, who still harboured nightmare visions of their stricken
daughter weeping on the sofa, but they put on a brave face, and if they didn’t
exactly welcome Nick back, they were not outwardly hostile towards him.
After a few days, Nick said to me
“I’ve told mum that you’ll be staying the night with
me tonight. You’d better let your parents know.”
“Doesn’t your mother mind?”
I was surprised. I could not see my mother agreeing
to Nick sharing my bed at home, not that it was big enough anyway.
“No, she knows that we’re adults now.”
The thought of spending a whole night together was
blissful. We had only managed it once before, when we made love for the first
time, and it hadn’t been the easiest of occasions.
My mother pursed her lips a little when I told her
I would be absent overnight. I made it sound as though I would be in one of
the DeLisles’ spare rooms, but I don’t think she was fooled.
Mr and Mrs DeLisle were going out to a dinner dance,
from which they would be late back. It seemed strange to settle down for the
night with Nick, but I felt I could easily get used to it. How wonderful it
was to be close to him for so long. I woke in the early hours, and lay awake,
listening to the funny little noises he made in his sleep, and loving every
minute.
In the morning, he nuzzled me awake, and made very
sleepy, gentle love to me.
Mrs DeLisle was at home on holiday until after the
Christmas period. I didn’t think I should go down to breakfast in nightwear,
it seemed a bit too blatant, and so I quickly showered and dressed while Nick
dozed. When I did go down to the kitchen, I was a little embarrassed when I
reflected on what I had just been doing with her son, but Mrs DeLisle seemed
perfectly at ease - as always.
“I’ll take a cup up for Nick, he’s not properly
awake yet,” I said, blushing.
“Here you are then dear, it’s his special mug.”
Back in the bedroom, I plonked the tea down on the table
by the bed.
“Come on, Nick, get up. I’m holding the fort
downstairs,” I muttered in his ear.
He didn’t show much sign of moving, and I wandered
back to the kitchen. Mrs DeLisle was deep in
The Times
, so I helped
myself to some cereal, and waited for Nick to come down.
He emerged about half an hour later, just as I was
beginning to wonder what to do with myself. Unlike me, he sported the
just-out-of-bed look, in pyjamas and dressing gown, with tousled hair and
incipient stubble. I couldn’t help thinking, with some annoyance, how much it
suited him.
“At last, darling, poor Eithne’s been waiting for
you for ages. And so have I - there’s some wonderful news. Rosine rang first
thing this morning, and she is engaged. Won’t it be lovely to have a summer
wedding?”
Nick paused over the toaster.
“Engaged? Who to? Not that terrible Charlie?”
“No, don’t be silly darling, to a very nice young
man called Andrew Maynard. Dad and I have met him. He’s crazy about Rosine,
and they make a lovely couple.”
Nick grunted.
“What does he do, then?”
“He’s a banker, he works in the City. They intend
to stay in London after they’re married, but I think Rosine may give up her
dancing.”
“She’ll be pleased to do that. A banker - very
clever of her.”
Nick’s tone was cynical. Mrs DeLisle looked faintly
affronted.
“Don’t be like that, Nick, they’re very much in
love.”
“Yeah.”
I was surprised by this exchange, which cast a new
light on aspects of Nick’s family for me.
“Will they be coming to your Boxing Day party?” I
asked politely.
“Yes - which reminds me, Nick, I hope you and Eithne
can help me this year, especially with the music and decorations. If you want
to ask some of your friends as well, that’s fine.”
“Okay.”
Nick didn’t exactly sound enthusiastic. I played at
being a good guest and asked some more questions about Rosine and Andrew while
he demolished a pile of toast, and then we went back upstairs to gather my
things together.
Nick sat on the end of his bed, fiddling with his
guitar.
“You weren’t very nice about Rosine,” I remarked, as
I zipped up my case. He snorted.
“She’s been after a rich husband for ages, lazy
cow.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong in wanting to be
settled - she is quite a lot older than you, after all,” I said.
He put his guitar down, and stretched, yawning.
“Listen - there’s something on at Dave’s tonight,
but it’s not your cup of tea.”
He flashed an apologetic grin at me. “Why don’t you
spend the night here again tomorrow? It was nice.”
“I suppose the parents might as well get used to
it.”
I was going in to town, to meet Eva, I hadn’t seen
her for ages. Nick reached up and tweaked my hair.
“Give my love to Little Eva, ask her to the party if
you want to.”
“I might just do that.”
I leaned down, and kissed the top of his dark head.
“Have fun at Dave’s. Don’t get too stoned, will
you?”
Some things would never change.
The days passed quickly. Christmas Day was more exciting
than usual, as I had an aunt and uncle staying, and Nick came in at teatime
with my present - a lovely leather handbag from his mother’s store.
After lunch on Boxing Day, I went round to the
DeLisles’ house, to help with the party as promised. Rosine and Andrew were
already there, and Rosine introduced me to her fiancé.
“It’s good to see you Eithne,” she said. “I’m
surprised you’re still putting up with my little brother after the way he
beha-”
Nick threw a cushion at her, and she broke off in mid-sentence.
“Piss off, Rosine.”
She returned the cushion with some force, and then
ran off, shrieking, as Nick pursued her with a rolled up magazine.
Andrew and I exchanged glances.
“Brothers and sisters, eh?” he said, with a light
laugh.
I thought he looked nice. He was not handsome like
Nick, but had a good natured face, and his brown hair was cut shorter than was
fashionable. However, he exuded an air of quiet privilege which I recognised
from some of my Oxford contemporaries, and he was expensively dressed. Rosine
had done well for herself.
Even better, he was clearly besotted with her. It
was sweet to watch him doting on her every word and move.
“Have you known Nick for a long time, Eithne?” he
asked politely.
“Well - on and off for about two years,” I replied.
“I think you’re at Oxford, too?”
“Yes. We’re both in second year,”
Good humour restored, brother and sister returned to
the room, laughing. Rosine looked at me more closely.
“You’ve changed such a lot, Eithne. I do like your
hair,” she said.
She turned to Andrew. “You should have seen her two
years ago, such a sweet little school girl, with Alice-in-Wonderland locks, and
now she’s all grown up.”
Later on I asked Rosine if her friend Martin was
coming, mindful of the last party I had attended.
“Who’s Martin?”
I was surprised by this response, and wondered
whether I might have dreamed the entire episode.
I had a good time at the party. It was nice to feel
properly involved, and not a goggling novice like two years before. Quite a
few of Nick’s old buddies from school were there, and I was concerned at the
fumes wafting from his bedroom whilst his parents entertained the chief
constable below, but there was nothing I could do about it. Eventually, we
rolled into bed about 3 am, too tired to do anything except sleep for once.
Back at Oxford, life settled down into a pattern of
work and seeing Nick. We did not meet so frequently as in the preceding term.
Nick began to be busier with his journalism, as he was hoping to get an
internship with a London newspaper over the summer and needed to build up his
portfolio.
I did not act again. Ben was chosen to direct an
important new play for OUDS in the early summer, but there were only a few
female roles, and they needed more competent actresses than me. When the
college summer productions came around, I left things too late, and contented
myself with enjoying the usual Oxford summer activities instead - tennis, going
on the river, and outdoor parties.
Nick was overjoyed to be offered a six week
placement with
The Times
during the long vacation. He arranged to stay
with Rosine, by now the possessor of a charming house in Fulham. We attended
her marriage at the beginning of July, a suitably lavish affair in which all
the DeLisles appeared to their best advantage. Nick looked especially devilish
and handsome in morning dress, although he made it plain he disliked all the
fuss.
I decided to spend time with my girlfriends while
Nick was in London, and Jo, Emily and I travelled around Europe by train,
returning broke and dirty, but with a vastly improved knowledge of other
countries, how to eat as cheaply as possible without actually starving to
death, and how to avoid having one’s bottom or other parts of the anatomy
pinched.
Third year meant serious academic study, with our
final exams due in June. Nick was now sharing a flat in Norham Gardens with
two other Balliol undergraduates. I could have lived out, but preferred to
stay in college, where all my meals and cleaning were provided, so I could
concentrate on working. However, I did quite often spend the night with Nick,
slipping back in to my room in the mornings as unobtrusively as possible.
Our relationship seemed to be good and solid. There
were one or two periods when I thought he seemed a little more detached from
me, a little less available, and occasionally I saw him walking, or having
drinks, with another girl. I wondered if he might be pursuing what I hoped
were only flirtations.
I debated whether to confront him, but in the end, I
decided to let things lie. When I thought his attention was wandering, I took
care to let him know I was also in demand, and this brought him back to his
normal affectionate self.
One cloud on the horizon was that Jo and William had
gone their separate ways, after almost three happy years together. She had
discovered that he was secretly seeing someone else, and then he told her that
as far as he was concerned, their relationship was over. She dealt with it
better than I had done when Nick and I broke up, but I knew she was very
unhappy, and that made me sad too.
Christmas at Beresford followed its usual routine.
My parents were anxious to know what I intended to do after university, and I
explained that companies would be visiting on the spring term milk round, so
undergraduates could assess the opportunities on offer.
I also visited the university careers service, where
I was appalled to find that women were definitely considered second best in the
hunt for jobs.
“Have you considered teaching, or secretarial work?”
seemed to be the stock response from those supposedly advising us on our future
life paths.
I did not want to do either, nor did I want to
pursue an academic career. In the end, a friend suggested I apply to
advertising agencies. This seemed to be one of the few fields where women had
as many opportunities as men. I attended some presentations by London based
companies, made a few applications, and after an interview, where I thought I
made a complete fool of myself, but nevertheless looked very smart, I was
thrilled to be offered a job as a trainee account executive by Marsham and
Hunter, one of the top twenty agencies, at a salary of £1300 a year.
Nick took me out to dinner to celebrate.
”You’ve done really well, babe,” he said. It’s
tough out there, and you’ll have beaten off a lot of competition.”
“I think that blue dress helped,” I said. “When do
you think you’ll get something settled?”
I had happy visions of us sharing a little flat
together, enjoying proper grown-up life in London. He looked cagey.
“Mmmm, I’m looking at some different options. There’s
not much around at the moment. I should know where I am by next term,
hopefully.”
Next term meant our final university exams. It was
essential to get as much work done as possible, so most of my time was spent in
the library or revising in my room. There was not much time left to see
friends or boyfriend, and Nick and I would occasionally go for several days
without being able to meet. It made me all the more determined to have a more
regular existence together in future.