From The Moment I Saw Him ....

by MacDonald, Catherine

  Then John was sitting next to me. He put his arms round me, and I wept onto his shoulder.

  “Eithne, darling, don’t, it’s okay, she’s not coming back.”

  He offered me his handkerchief, and I began to mop myself up a bit. He kissed my hair.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetie. I guess the only thing people will remember about today is that Sofia is a first class bitch.”

  “It’s just that - she made it sound so cheap and nasty somehow. It wasn’t like that,” I said, with a shudder.

  “Of course not.”

  He held me while I grew calmer.

  “Do I look really terrible?” I asked at length.

  “Just pop into the restroom, honey, and dab cold water on your eyes.”

  “You’re missing your salmon,” I muttered.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I escaped to the Ladies. The tears had been stormy, but brief, and I soon began to look and feel better. John was still sitting in the window when I came out.

  He got up, and held out his hand.

  “Come on. I’m still hungry, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, John, I can’t go back in there,” I demurred.

  “Yes, you can. In fact, it’s essential that you do.”

  He gave me a bracing look.

  “You mustn’t run away from this, Eithne. It’s time to stop believing that you’re a victim, time to let everyone know you’re in control.”

  He opened the door, and ushered me in; there was a hush as people looked up from their plates and regarded us with a sympathetic curiosity. I looked at John, he smiled and I drew a deep breath.

  “As Sofia has started this - I did have an affair, it ended badly, and it’s taken me a long time to get over it,” I said.

  The faces round the table were friendly and concerned, and I realised that they were on my side.

  “But I’m not ashamed of it. And now it’s ancient history.”

  I said this with a sudden surge of relief, as I knew it was true. “Paul, I hope this hasn’t spoiled your party.”

  Paul rose, came swiftly round the table and embraced me.

  “I should think it’s the most exciting twenty-first anyone’s had for ages!” he exclaimed. People laughed, and raised their glasses, and suddenly everything was fine again.

  Darling John. He was such a special person. Who knows how different my life might have been if we’d both been treading the same path?

  Chapter 11

  I was sad to say good bye to John at the end of term. He had finished his studies at Oxford, and was returning permanently to America.

  We promised to keep in touch, and he invited me to visit him and his family in Boston at any time I wanted.

  “My mother would adore you - perfect daughter-in-law material,” he said wistfully.

  “You must find a way to talk to them about what you want, John. You won’t be able to move on with your life if you don’t,” I said, mindful of all the advice he had been giving me. After the incident at the party, I had told him a lot more about my affair with Nick, and he had been very supportive. I would miss his affection and gracious company.

  This year, I was spared the annual visit to North Berwick. Deidre, my godmother, had arranged for me to spend a month with her, working as a dogsbody in her company offices and seeing something of life in London and outside the narrow world of academia.

  It was great fun. We did a lot of girly and touristy things together, and I think she liked my company. The office was dull, but I enjoyed seeing how everything worked in a big firm, and was delighted to earn some money. I returned for the beginning of my second year at Oxford with a hugely replenished wardrobe and a big dollop of self-confidence, not to mention another great haircut from Sandro.

  Back at St Hugh’s, I couldn’t wait to meet up with my friends again. Emily had spent a loved-up summer in Yorkshire with Rupert, and was a trifle down about being so far apart from him now term had begun. Jo and William had holidayed in Scotland and Italy, and their relationship seemed as strong as ever.

  I think that Sofia had realised her behaviour at the party had been unacceptable, and she was cold-shouldered by a lot of our friends afterwards. I had hardly seen her since - just caught the occasional flash of gaudy skirts round the end of a corridor, and heard her mocking laugh echoing at a distance as she twitted a new victim. That was the way I wanted it to stay.

  Emily and I were discussing her over breakfast on our second day back.

  “Where do you suppose she met this Sam person?” Emily asked. “Did you really not recognise the name?”

  “Once she mentioned him in connection with St Peter’s, I realised who he was - some horrid, spotty little prefect, he wasn’t in with the cool gang, like Nick.”

  I stirred my coffee, trying to recall him.

  “I wouldn’t have thought he was a gossip, but Sofia pumped me once about where I grew up, so she must have been digging for dirt. Anyway, it’s in the past now.”

  “Yes. I do hope you find someone special this term, Eithne.”

  The first week back, I met a boy with whom I had acted in the Worcester melodrama. He told me that a friend of his, Ben Meredith, was directing a modern day pantomime to be produced at the end of term, and he was looking to cast two girls in the leading roles.

  “Why don’t you audition for it, Eithne?” he suggested. “Ben is such a talented guy, I’m sure he’ll go on to work in the professional theatre. Even if you don’t get one of those roles, there are some other terrific parts, and it will be lots of fun along the way - remember all the laughs we had in the summer?”

  I decided I would go to the auditions. I was missing the gentle companionship John had provided, and felt the need for something else in my life.

  I did not get cast as one of the lead female roles - I think I always knew that I was unlikely to be a good enough actress for that, but was delighted to be offered a supporting part of a sassy and scheming PA, with some very funny scenes, and I accepted with alacrity.

  It was only after I had accepted, that I realised the production was to be staged under the auspices of Balliol and not Worcester. This made me pause for a minute - Nick was a student at Balliol - but I decided that he was unlikely to be interested in drama, and in any case, I could not go on worrying about meeting him for ever. In some ways, I rather wished it would happen, so I could get it over with.

  Ben Meredith, the director, sent me a note via the college messenger, asking me to a drinks party in Balliol on Sunday morning, for cast and the backstage team to meet up for the first time.

  “Make sure you’re looking as stunning as possible then,” advised Jo, when I mentioned it. “Just in case you-know-who happens to be lurking about.”

  I was quite sure that Nick was not the sort of person who would lurk anywhere, however, it was with a slight feeling of trepidation that I made my way into the college on the Sunday, and asked the porter for directions to the room where we were meeting. Like most of the men’s colleges, Balliol was old and imposing. There was a sense of history in the green turfed quadrangles and mellow stonework, centuries of young men studying and socialising before making their way in the world. I sometimes felt jealous of the established feeling this continuity imparted to the male undergraduates - being so much newer, the women’s colleges lacked this depth of character.

  The room was buzzing with chatter, glowing with sunlight streaking the walls through mullioned windows.

  Ben greeted me and handed me a glass of wine. He was tall and red headed, with a wicked sense of humour, and I thought I would like to know him better.

  “Good to see you Eithne, now let’s think, who haven’t you met?” he enquired.

  But at that moment, a slim, dark figure detached itself from another group, and hurried across the room towards us.

  “Eithne… how wonderful to see you!”

  “Oh good, you two know each other already then,” Ben said. “Look after her for a minute,
Nick, I must just speak to Suzy.”

  I really hadn’t expected to see him there. In fact, at first, I did not recognise him - his hair had grown very long, and a moustache drooped over that curving upper lip. I didn’t like it, it got in the way of his beautiful smile, and made his handsome face seem older and harder.

  Nick flashed a demi - grin at me. I think for once he was not quite sure of his reception.

  “You look fantastic,” he said with enthusiasm.

  I was wearing one of my London outfits, and my newly washed hair curled on my shoulders. I knew I looked pretty. For once I looked better than he did.

  “Thanks,” I said curtly.

  He was gazing intently at me from top to toe, as if remembering something that had once been cherished.

  “You’re all grown up now - but I do miss that funny little Eithne.”

  His dark eyes grew softer as he spoke. He put out a hand, and twined a tendril of my hair around his finger, and I shied away like a frightened horse.

  “Funny little Eithne is dead, Nick. You killed her, the summer before last,” I said sharply. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

  The venom in my tone clearly took him aback. For a long moment, we stared at each other, me, hostile, him, surprised and possibly a little alarmed. I waited for him to break the silence.

  “I’m not particularly proud of the way I behaved towards you, Eithne.”

  Nick actually looked abashed. “But I’ve wanted to see you so often, to try to explain ...”

  He broke off, and put a hand on my arm. I removed it.

  “Well I think you’ve known for at least a year where you could find me, so it couldn’t have been that pressing a desire,” I said. “But I forgot - you don’t venture north of St Giles’ and up the Banbury Road, do you?”

  I was beginning to enjoy myself a little. For the first time ever, I sensed I had the upper hand.

  I sipped at my wine, and gazed out of the window. Nick seemed stunned by my frosty reaction.

  “Look, I can understand if you’re annoyed with me...” he began urgently, but I turned on him with savage precision.

  “Annoyed! Nick! You dumped me without a word of explanation.”

  I remembered all the days and nights of weeping and misery.

  “You broke my heart!” I hissed. “You’re a complete bastard. So believe me when I say I want nothing more to do with you. I’m a different person. I didn’t know you were involved with this play, but I still intend to be a part of it, so I suggest we ignore each other as best we can - starting from now.”

  I turned on my heel, and walked away.

  “And you look appalling with that silly moustache,” I threw over my shoulder.

  Perhaps it was a cheap shot, but it felt really good to see him flinch. I didn’t much care if anyone heard me, either.

  Ben called to me from the other side of the room, and I shook off my spat with Nick and concentrated on getting to know the other undergraduates I would be rehearsing with over the next weeks. They seemed a lively and somewhat more sophisticated crowd than the Worcester bunch, and I could tell it would be fun working together.

  Nick had kept himself to the fringes of the room since our altercation. I could feel his dark gaze linger on me from time to time, but he made no attempt to converse with me again.

  Part of me felt very sad. I didn’t want the memory of the good times we had shared to be swamped by the fallout of our parting, but I could see how impossible it would be to behave as though nothing had happened between us. I still looked forward to being in the play, but things would be more complicated with Nick about as well.

  To round off the morning, Ben invited me to join him, Suzy and Eleanor, the two leading actresses, for lunch.

  “I like to be seen in the company of beautiful women. I have a reputation to maintain,” he explained as we walked with linked arms down Broad Street to the King’s Arms pub. I thought that I would be more than willing to help him maintain it.

  Jo and Emily were agog to hear all the details when I returned.

  “And it didn’t upset you at all? You have moved on,” exclaimed Emily, pleased on my behalf.

  “I did feel a bit of a pang, he looked stunned when I laid into him,” I admitted. “He’s been so used to dictating terms to me. But also - he looked terrible. In some ways I couldn’t believe it was the same person.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” said wise Jo.

  Chapter 12

  Of course, it wasn’t true to say that I had felt nothing at all on seeing Nick again. It was unsettling, and even though I felt I had acquitted myself well, I was upset. It took a determined effort to push the incident to the back of my mind, and get back to routine matters. I was glad he looked different to the Nick I remembered, the Nick who was still in my heart. It made it easier for me to walk away.

  Next day, I received a rehearsal schedule, along with my lines. It didn’t appear that I would need to attend too frequently to begin with, and I felt confident I could get the balance between work and acting right without much difficulty.

  On Wednesday morning, I was up smartly for an early tutorial with three of my fellow students. As usual, I had been down to the dining hall for breakfast to start the day - I was good at throwing back the bed covers and getting on with things. Jo, Emily and I always took the trouble to dress and sometimes even put on make-up before we emerged in the mornings, unlike many others who stumbled down at the last minute in their night clothes, with unkempt hair and unwashed faces. We believed in keeping up appearances, even if the only people around were other female undergraduates.

  The tutorial took place in the sitting room of the Junior English Don, Miss Brydon. Each week, one of us read an essay on a selected subject, and we would then discuss the topic in more detail. I always enjoyed Miss Brydon’s tutorials. She had a sharp Northern wit, and I liked to hear her reading Middle English aloud - it brought the language vividly to life for me.

  This week, Emma, a fiercely feminist student, had written about the different attitudes to women in Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, something to which we could all relate. Emma was particularly indignant about the suffering inflicted upon “Patient Griselda” by her horrible husband in The Clerk’s Tale, and a robust debate ensued.

  “No woman, even hundreds of years ago, would stand for such treatment,” she declared.

  I agreed, but couldn’t help recalling ruefully how much I had been prepared to put up with when I was so much in love with Nick. Women could be like that, and I had every sympathy for poor Griselda.

  The tutorial ended promptly, and I made my way back to my room. A figure got up from the steps outside my door.

  It was Nick - but a very different Nick from Sunday’s hirsute creature. His hair had been trimmed, and the moustache had vanished entirely. He looked much more like the ravishing boy who had played havoc with my heart, and I hastened to raise my defences.

  We exchanged a long glance.

  “I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to see you,” I said coldly.

  “Come on, Eithne. I need to clear a few things up,” he responded, his eyes pleading with me to understand.

  The scout, our cleaner, came out of the corridor, and started to sweep the stairs. We couldn’t converse there, it was obvious I would have to invite him into my room. I unlocked the door, he followed me in, and closed the door behind him.

  “What happened?”

  I gestured towards his face.

  “I looked in the mirror,” he said wryly. “I bet your boyfriends exact danger money if they come to call on you in the mornings, Eithne. I’ve never seen so many terrible frights roaming the corridors, your fellow students are significantly lacking in sex appeal, you know.”

  I bit my lip, I didn’t want him to make me laugh.

  “What do you want, Nick?”

  I tried to sound cold and disinterested.

  “Well, to talk to you obviously.”

  “Congratulation
s on making it up the Banbury Road.”

  He came further into the room.

  “Please, Eithne, don’t be like that. If you knew all the times I’ve wanted to come....”

  “Well, I know all the times you didn’t come.”

  He was standing very close to me now. I could smell his aftershave, the same one he had always used, and it gave me a real physical jolt. I had a piercing memory of being in his arms, skin on skin, lost in ...... no, it would be fatal to remember that. I had to hide my confusion.

  “Would you like a coffee?” I asked. I hadn’t intended him to stay, but needed to cover up that sudden moment of weakness somehow.

  “That would be great.”

  He seemed relieved that I was less hostile than when we last met, and sat down in the arm chair, while I filled my kettle from the basin. This year, I had a room in one of the new blocks, and the facilities were more civilised.

  Nick scanned the room and my surroundings.

  “Nice view.”

  We both looked with disinterest at the college gardens stretching mistily into the distance. They weren’t at their best in autumn, everything looked damp and decaying.

  “You must come and see my room, it’s up the most wonderful twisty stone staircase, and I can see lots of spires and towers from my window.”

  How strange it seemed to be making social chit-chat with him. I wasn’t sure I could keep it up for long.

  He took his coffee mug from me.

  “You remembered,” he said, smiling. I looked down. I had made his coffee black, strong and unsweetened without thinking, it was the way he always used to like it, and suddenly I felt vulnerable, exposed.

  “Nick - I have an essay to finish, so this can’t take long,” I said.

  He hesitated, looking down into the depths of his mug.

  “When I went to France, that summer, it was really great,” he said slowly. “Things had got - well, you know, Eithne, it had got a bit heavy somehow between us, and then there I was - sun, sea, sexy French girls. I didn’t have to take any responsibility for anyone, just enjoy myself.”