From The Moment I Saw Him .... (2 page)

“Eithne.  Are you Irish?”

“No, but my mother liked it.”

It was hardly the stuff of romance.  I decided I
would not be intimidated, and stared back at him.  He
was
good-looking,
he had a lean jaw and his cheekbones were most definitely visible, his floppy
dark hair fell casually over one eye.  But he did not seem very approachable.

“Eithne.” 

He pronounced my name in a soft, breathy way, which
made it sound sexy.  “Why don’t you straighten your hair?  Isn’t that the
fashion now?”

This time I flushed with annoyance.

“Why should I?  I like it like this, it’s got a
natural wave.  Most people think it’s very attractive.”

I was conscious of a faint ripple of embarrassment
around the table, and Eva said loudly,

“I hope you boys are coming to this dance.  All the
girls are looking forward to it.”

I was grateful to her, and the others started
speaking enthusiastically, as if to cover up an awkward moment.  I thought
“what a rude, opinionated boy”, and turned to converse with Peter with some
animation.

How things would have ended, I don’t know, but Eva
and Teddy, who had been deep in whispered giggles, suddenly announced they were
going to the cinema.  When he heard this, Nick, who had been slouched in his
chair, sat up.

“Eithne and I are going to see the ducks,” he
announced.  He pulled me to my feet, helped me on with my coat, and took my
hand purposefully.  I just had time to look back at the surprised faces of the
others as he propelled me out through the door and into the street.  

We began to walk away from the cafe.  Nick dropped
my hand, and lit a cigarette, whilst I stood there feeling awkward and unsure
what to do.  I wanted him to hold my hand again.

He blew out a mouthful of smoke.

“Well, Eithne.”

This time he really looked at me, and smiled that
dazzling, heart stopping smile.  I gulped.  Was it an accident, a chance
combination of physical features that made it so attractive?  Did he know the
effect it had on people?  I was pretty sure he did.

“Why do you smoke?  It’s awfully bad for you,” I
said, then wished I hadn’t sounded so prissy.

“Most things that are nice are bad for you.  Don’t
you know that yet?”

To my joy, he reached for my hand again, and I felt
an electric thrill run through me.  His hand was cool and dry, quite unlike the
sweaty palms I had held on a few previous occasions.

Now we were walking along the road to the park. 
Perhaps we
were
going to see the ducks.

“Don’t tell me you were enjoying that little scene
in there,” he said.

“Why are you so rude?” I countered.  I wasn’t sure
what I had hold of, but even to my inexperienced eyes, it didn’t seem like the
average boy.

“It’s tedious - that dating stuff,” Nick said.  “I
can’t be bothered with the preliminary moves.”

 “Well, I suppose most people have to start
somewhere,” I murmured.  My brain felt frozen, and I wasn’t sure how to respond
to him.

We walked slowly down the path to the lake.  It was
a crisp, clear winter afternoon, with the smell of wet leaves and chimney smoke
in the distance, and my heels rang cheerfully on the asphalt.

“I’m holding hands with a boy I really fancy,” I
told myself.  “I must remember this moment and this scene for ever.”

The skeletal park trees made a darkening frieze
against the low winter sun, and it seemed a suitably romantic setting.  I
racked my brains for something interesting or witty to say, but nothing would
come.

“Did you enjoy our little get together about the
Christmas dance, Eithne?  Are all you girls gagging for it then?” Nick asked,
giving my hand a little squeeze.  I was tempted to remove my own.

“No - and no again.  It’s some kind of ritual we
seem to have to go through,” I said.

In fact, I had already got my dress, and had spent
the last few days dreaming of dancing with the boy whose hand I was holding.

“In future, they’ll stop this old fashioned
nonsense, and just hold a disco,” Nick pronounced.  By now, we had reached the
lake, and he pulled me down to sit with him on a damp and chilly bench.  I
couldn’t see any ducks on the water, which looked dark and fathomless.  “Like
his eyes,” I thought, with a burst of girly romanticism.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he commanded, as
he dropped my hand, and chucked a fir cone into the water, watching the
receding ripples.  I wished he would look at me and not the lake.

“Well - I’m seventeen.  I’m hoping to go to Oxford,
to read English.  I live at home with my parents.”  It sounded very dull as I
said it.  “What about you?”

“Me?  I’m eighteen - just.  I’m hoping to go to
Oxford to read PPE.  I live at home with my parents, but I have an older sister
who’s a dancer, so I trump you.”

He turned and grinned at me then, and I relaxed a
little.

“Perhaps we’ll get to know each other at Oxford
then,” he said.  “But not if you’re at St Hugh’s.  Don’t tell me you’ve applied
to that barracks right up the Banbury Road.  I’m not coming all the way up
there to see you.”

I gazed at him, aghast.  I
had
applied for a
place at St Hugh’s, as our English teacher had been a student there herself,
and knew one of the dons.  Would all the men at Oxford think like this?  I had
a sudden panicky vision of myself as a student, crouching in a little room,
neglected and forever unvisited by the opposite sex.

 “Oh God - you have.”

  Nick seemed amused that his guess had hit the
target.  “Don’t worry.  Maybe I’ll have to make an exception for you then.”

“There aren’t so very many women’s colleges to
choose from,” I murmured, in excuse.

“No, I suppose not.  I want to go to Balliol, you
can’t get much more central than that.”

We sat in silence for some minutes, contemplating
the chilly water.  I began to think that talking to boys was harder work than I
had imagined it would be.

“Why did you choose PPE?”  I asked, eventually.  Not
many girls at our school seemed to go in for that degree, and I knew little
about it.  Politics, Philosophy and Economics seemed a challenging set of
subjects to me.

“I’m going to be a journalist, and I think it’s a
good combination to start with.”

   “Wouldn’t an English degree be more suitable?”

“No.  I can write decently already.  Journalists
don’t need to use flowery prose, they have to be incisive, get to the point of
things.”

His dark gaze lingered on my face.  I hoped he was
thinking I looked pretty.  Then he said, with an amused smile,

“Do take off those terrible earrings.  I bet they’re
your mother’s. They don’t suit you at all, much too fussy. You’ve got a face
like a little flower, it doesn’t need embellishing.”

I tugged sulkily at my ear lobes, which were glad to
be rid of their burden.  By now I was cross as well as embarrassed. 

“Curly hair, bad earrings, wrong college...... why
am I sitting here with you, Nick?”

 I half rose to go, but he pulled me back down.

“No, stay!  I’m sorry - I don’t mean to be rude,
it’s just the way I am.  Please, Eithne, I really like you......” 

 It didn’t sound like it to me.  He failed to keep a
note of amusement from his voice, and that attractive, curving mouth began to
twitch.

“You’re not very easy to talk to,” I said
resentfully.

He took me by the shoulder, and turned me to face
him, putting out his hand to stroke my cheek.  His touch was very gentle, and I
was suddenly afraid I might burst into tears.

“Sometimes we grow up at different speeds, I
suppose,” he murmured.  “You’d make mincemeat of Smithers and Leigh” - (he
meant the other boys in the cafe) - “they wouldn’t stand a chance, but
........” 

The unspoken assumption was that he was a different,
more challenging prospect.

I remembered what Eva had said.  He’s a bad boy,
he’s trouble.  Was that why he was so much more attractive than the others? 

A clock chimed four in the distance, and I jumped
up.  My Auntie Pat was coming for tea, and I was supposed to be home by five.

“I have to be going now.”

It was almost a relief.  I felt right out of my depth. 
Nick got up, and took my hand again.

“Come on, then.  Quick march back, your hands are
frozen.” 

He chatted more normally as we retraced our steps -
he was hoping to take his driving test soon, he preferred the Stones to the
Beatles, he was going to see the Moody Blues at Christmas - and I felt better,
and more confident of keeping up my part of the conversation.

    “There weren’t any ducks,” I said, as we
approached the park boundary.

“You’re right.  We must come again,” he replied,
laughing.

Was this the offer of another date, a proper one
this time?  I felt elated and bold.

“Did you really sleep with Shona McQueen?” I asked,
in what I hoped was a teasing, adult way.

Nick stopped short and dropped my hand.

“Why do you ask that?” he queried, and this time,
his dark eyes were cold and unfriendly.

“I ..I .. it was just a rumour at school,” I
faltered, wishing I had kept my mouth shut.

“If I had, don’t you think that would be between
Shona and me?  You girls should keep your noses out of other people’s affairs.”

“I’m sorry....”

We walked the last paces to the road in silence. 
Nick looked up and down the street.

“Can you get home okay from here?”

“Yes, my bus goes along North Street.”

The afternoon was ending appallingly.  He stood
there, frowning at me - I was still half hoping he would embrace me.  Then he
said,

    “I was going to kiss you, but I don’t want to
now.  Goodbye Eithne”.

I was mortified.  Somehow, I got the bus home, where
Auntie Pat’s presence luckily helped to hide the fact that I wasn’t really
listening to anything that was going on.

“I don’t want to kiss you”.

Oh God - suppose he told Teddy and the others?  The
phone rang, and I jumped at it, realising at the same time that it couldn’t be
him as he did not have my number.

It was Eva, full of her trip to the cinema with
Teddy Clifford.  I didn’t want to hear about the snogging and what have you,
but I had to anyway.

“Oh yeah - how did you get on with the famous Nick? 
I couldn’t believe it when he dragged you out of the cafe like that.  I think
the others wanted to come and make sure you were okay, he does seem to have a
bad reputation.  Did he snog you in the bushes?” asked Eva when she was all
talked out.

“Nothing like that.  We just walked for a bit, and
sat by the lake.  I don’t think I’m his type.”  I felt hot all over at the
remembrance of the afternoon.

“I must say he is good-looking, but I’m not sure I’d
trust him.  By the way, I found out his name isn’t Delilah, but DeLisle.  Funny
name.  I hope you didn’t call him Delilah,” she sniggered.

“I don’t think I called him anything.  Bye now -
sweet dreams of Teddy.”

  I hadn’t realised it would be so hard - or that
you could be wounded by someone you hardly knew.  Perhaps boys weren’t going to
be worth all the trouble and effort, after all.

The next week dragged slowly on without any
excitement.  Eva and Teddy had a date for Saturday, and she kindly offered to
fix me up with Peter, but I wasn’t interested.  Nick might be irritating, but
he made the other boys seem rather dull in comparison.

Things looked up when I was called for interview for
a place at St Hugh’s.

 Oxford looked very attractive with its
pre-Christmas bustle, soft lights gleaming through the misty streets, and I
liked the Victorian college buildings with their corridors smelling of wood,
floor polish and the distant whiff of lunch. There was a busy hum of academic
life in the air.

 I waited with a few others outside the principal’s
office for my final interview.  Undergraduates hurried past, sending curious
glances in our direction, and I noticed a few men making their way down the
corridor.

“I see that not all men are put off by the fact that
St Hugh’s is a long way out,” I said triumphantly to a serious looking girl
sitting next to me.  She gave me a puzzled glance, and I realised with
embarrassment that this was not necessarily a priority for everyone in their
choice of college.

The principal kept talking about dogs, (one was
present, snoring horribly, in front of the fire), which threw me - I had
expected a more rigorous intellectual exchange.  However, I kept my end up, and
went home feeling I had done the best I could.  At least I had stopped thinking
about Nick DeLisle so much, which had to be a good thing.

Then it was the last week of term, and time for the
dance.  My fellow pupils had talked about little else for some time.

My ears pricked up when I heard Nick’s name being
discussed at break time.

“
He
won’t come,” opined a science student I
barely knew.  “Thinks he’s above that kind of thing, and anyway, he has masses
of girls at his beck and call.”

“Don’t be so sure,” replied her friend.  “I hear
he’s dated all the pretty ones at St Faith’s.  He’ll be after fresh meat.”

They laughed, and I cringed.  Why ever had I thought
this Casanova might be interested in me? 

The dress code for the dance had become more
flexible in recent years.  Some girls were planning to wear minidresses,
although Miss Hayman threatened to send home anyone whose hem was more than
three inches above the knee. 

My mother was a competent dressmaker, and she had
made me a long, slim-fitting shift dress with a high neckline in dark green,
with a small silver pattern - long dresses were just coming in to fashion.  I
went to her hairdresser to have my hair put up for a change.

 I think I did look nice - not
too girlish, not too frumpy, not trying too hard to be sexy.  I remembered
Nick’s admonition, and wore no jewellery, apart from a plain silver bangle. 
Eva had gone to the other extreme, and wore a minidress with lurid psychedelic
patterns over metallic tights.  She admitted they were horribly uncomfortable,
but worth it for the effect.

The hall was thronged with
people as we made our way in.  Despite our pretence at disdain, most of us were
eager to attend and get a bit of (innocent) practice with boys for once, and I
hoped the boys felt the same way about meeting girls.  The coloured lights and
Christmas decorations added to an undercurrent of excited expectation.  Eva
left me as she went to find Teddy, and I tried very hard not to look for a dark
boy with a dazzling smile.  He probably wouldn’t come, anyway.

The boys were wearing suits,
which made them look more grown up than they really were, but the overall
effect was pleasing.  At first, the atmosphere was thick with self-consciousness,
as groups of pupils made heroic efforts to mingle socially.  Several times, I
was almost knocked over by the wafts of unsubtle aftershave emanating from a
gaggle of boys, but it was an improvement on the sweat and gym shoes I
remembered from St. Peter’s.  The combo band struck up a barn dance to get
things going, and I was watching from the back of the hall with my friends,
when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

It was Nick DeLisle.  I
realised with a sinking heart that his suit and neatly arranged hair only made
him more look more desirable than ever.

“Hullo Eithne.  May I have the
next dance?”

“No,” I said shortly, then
immediately wished I hadn’t.  Nick laughed.

“Come on - haven’t you had The
Talk?  It’s rude to refuse to dance when you’re asked.  And I’m asking nicely.”

“That makes a change.”

My heart was beating furiously.

“Can we say we just got off to
a bad start?” 

 He gave me a swift,
deprecating glance.  “Let’s try again.  You look really nice tonight,
especially compared to your overdressed - and underdressed - fellow pupils. 
Don’t you girls have someone to teach you about fashion and beauty?”

“At Beresford High?  What do
you think?”

 I tried desperately to think
of a witty retort.  “Anyway, if you’re such an expert, why don’t you persuade
your mates to tone down the Brut a bit?”

Nick smiled at me, and I felt
fluttery in my stomach. 

“Yes, it is a bit much en
masse.”

He bent his face closer to
mine, and a couple of passing girls shot surprised glances our way.

“Do you like the aftershave I’m
wearing any better?” he asked breathily.

“Yes, it’s fine,” I mumbled,
shying away in embarrassment.  The Barn dance finished.

“Good, a waltz.  Easier to
talk.”

He held out his arms, and I
took his hand stiffly, conscious of my tomato complexion. 

I had dreamed about dancing
with Nick.  He was not an especially graceful mover, but he was light and
competent on his feet.  After a few bars, I began to relax, and told myself to
enjoy the moment, it might be the only chance I had to dance with him.  He
certainly seemed more willing to talk tonight.

“Have you got into St Hugh’s
then?” he asked, whisking me round a corner.  I was very impressed that he
could do this without treading on my toes.

“I had an interview, but I
haven’t heard yet.  How about you?”

“Yep, I’m in.  The Master gave
me a pretty good grilling, but the don who interviewed me was a pushover.  I
think he fancied me, I’ll have to be careful there.”

“Not really?”

 I was rather shocked.

“Well, it does happen, you
know.”

He was smiling to himself, in a
reminiscent sort of way.   As before, I felt very conscious of the different
boundaries of our experience.

We danced in silence for a
while.  An antiquated master glowered at us as we went past.

“Ah. That’s old Radley.  If you
look closely, you can see where rats have gnawed the bottom of his gown over the
years,” said Nick.  “As I am known to have a certain reputation, he has been
deputed to watch me closely throughout the evening......by the way, where
exactly are these bicycle sheds?”

I couldn’t help laughing out
loud.  Nick’s bright gaze swept over me.

“That’s better.  I like you
when you’re laughing much more than your frightened rabbit look.”

“And I don’t know whether I
like you or loathe you!” I exclaimed, wriggling out of his embrace as the music
ended.

“Good.  It’s all part of my
charm.”

He actually kissed my hand.

“Thank you for the dance.  I’ll
be back for another one.”

I stood there feeling a bit of
a dummy as he walked off.  Then I was accosted by Peter from the cafe, and we
began the tortures of a quickstep.  After a minute, having stumbled over my
feet for the third time, he suggested we sit it out, and I was glad to do so.

We chatted briefly.  He was
hoping to study engineering somewhere or other.  I thought he seemed
preoccupied, and then he said abruptly,

“You like Nick, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” I lied.  “He’s
very different to the rest of you, somehow.  I can’t really make him out.  Why
do you ask?”

I was hoping he would say that
Nick fancied me or something, but he just shuffled his feet.

“Sorry, I know it’s none of my
business.” 

It was interesting to see that
boys could blush as much as girls, but I was too inexperienced to realise what
he was trying to tell me.  I kept looking at my hand where Nick had kissed it,
I could still feel the cool imprint of his lips.  What a shame I would not be
able to keep it unwashed for long.

The evening wore on.  The room
became noisy with adolescent laughter, grew hot and sweaty, the gloss of the
occasion began to diminish.  I danced with quite a few different boys, but to
my disappointment, Nick did not ask me again.

However, just as I was telling
myself it would be too late, he reappeared, cold and smoky, and claimed me for
the final waltz.

“You’ve been out for a fag,” I
said accusingly.

“Quite a few, actually.  Dope
too.  Must have something to survive the evening.”

Little drops of frost clung to
his dark hair, and his eyes were starry with cold.  He held me close, so that
we were actually dancing cheek to cheek, and I wondered how many of the other
girls were longing to be in my place.  Judging from the glances I was getting
from my fellow pupils, quite a number were envious, and I felt my status rising
accordingly.

He didn’t seem so talkative
now.  After dancing in silence for a while, he said

“Some of us are going back to
Dave Jackson’s afterwards.  I don’t suppose you’d be able to come?”

“Sorry, no.  My dad’s picking
us up at eleven.”

“Mustn’t miss your bedtime
then.”

His glance wandered away, and I
hoped he wasn’t looking for other, less well chaperoned girls with whom to have
some fun.

It seemed as though the evening
would end on a low note, after all.  When the dance finished, he thanked me
politely.

“Tell Eva to give Teddy your
number for me - I’ve got nothing to write on now.  I’ll give you a call to see
how you got on at St Hugh’s,” he said, almost formally.  “I’ll want to know if
I need to get a bicycle.”

He was smiling at me - not his
devastating full-on beam, but as if it was good to share a joke together, and I
felt happier.

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Goodbye then, Eithne.  Get
home safely.”

I found Eva saying a fond
goodbye to Teddy, and we went to get our coats.  She was in a bubbly mood.

“Well, that went better than
expected.  Did you enjoy yourself, Eithne?  I hardly saw you.  Nick DeLisle was
there, wasn’t he?  Most people thought he wouldn’t come.”

“Yes. I danced with him twice,”
I said.  “Will you give Teddy my number to pass on to Nick?  He’s going to call
me.”

“Okay, fine.  If you’re sure
you want to tangle with the tiger.”

The cold air outside came as a
shock after the damp heat of the school hall.  My father was late for once, and
we wandered out on to the misty road to wait for him, shivering in our thin
dresses and coats.  Suddenly, a hand grabbed mine, and Nick pulled me into the
shadows.  He kissed me - really kissed me, until I felt I was never coming up
for air.  And then he melted away
again, into the
darkness.