From The Moment I Saw Him ....

by MacDonald, Catherine

  “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”.

  Chapter 3

  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 talk
ative 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.

  Chapter 4

  I sat in the back of the car with a soppy grin plastered over my face, while Eva did all the talking. Yes, we’d had fun, yes, boys had asked us to dance, no, no-one had misbehaved. As far as we knew, the bicycle sheds remained undesecrated.