girlyswot

School disappeared so quickly into the past that Nicola had quite forgotten about Results' Day. Lawrie, feeling as though her entire career depended on the contents of one envelope, started counting down the days, running to meet the postman, just in case. Nicola knew when the letter had come from Lawrie's distant squeal and waited in the kitchen for the news. Lawrie ran in, brandishing Nicola's envelope and tearing at her own.

'Oh, I can't read it! Rowan, you look for me. I don't want to know if I've failed. Oh, let me see!' Breathless and red in the face she could not stay still enough or silent enough to read the results.

'Well. English, A. History, B. History of Art, C. General Studies, D. French, B.'

'Thank goodness!' breathed Lawrie. 'Did I pass them all?' Rowan nodded. 'Yes!' Lawrie began to dance around the room, singing triumphantly.

'Stop that, you revolting child. Don't you care how Nick did? Go on, Nick.'

'I… Um… You read it if you want to.' Nicola made as if she didn't care.

Rowan's eyebrows rose as she read. 'Mathematics, A. Physics, A. Chemistry, A. Religious Studies, B. General Studies, A. Nick! These are… even better than Kay's were.'

' 'Sright,' remembered Lawrie. 'She only got A’s in Latin and Greek and B’s in everything else. Well done.' She made a face at her twin and began to talk again about RADA.

Mrs Marlow, having heard the commotion from upstairs, came in to discover the news.

'Well! Nicky, darling, that's wonderful. Daddy will be so pleased. You're absolutely sure you don't want to go to university? It does seem such a shame.'

'Oh Ma! Not that again. Now everything's organised with Roger Clayton and Mr West. 'Sides, what would I do at university?'

'Maths, looks like,' suggested Rowan.

'I don't mean that. I mean what would I do? I couldn't go on being in teams and plays and all that. It's so childish.'

'Says the Old Man of the Sea.'

Kay and Edwin and their three came for a celebratory Sunday lunch. Nicola asked shyly if Patrick could come too. Mrs Marlow looked sideways at her but refrained from comment.

'Yes, alright. You'd better ask his parents as well.'

'Thanks, Ma.' Uncharacteristically demonstrative, Nicola reached to kiss her mother's cheek.

It was the hottest day of the year. The older generation showed every sign of settling down for a snooze in the shade after lunch, but Nicola was determined to marshal them into two teams for an afternoon's cricket.

'We'll draw for teams. Edwin, you'll play?' He nodded, resigned. 'Excellent, Chas and Rose?'

'And me!'

'Yes, of course, Fob. Mr Merrick? Good. We can be six on each side.'

Nicola organised her team into a makeshift field. Patrick kept wicket and Edwin opened the bowling. She decided that her father had better be positioned near enough to Fob to cover any weaknesses there. Edwin was a careful bowler, not aiming for anything beyond his capability, but reliable. Rowan, opening the batting, swiftly took his measure and was soon hitting him all over the field, making a couple of boundaries and calling on Lawrie to run. Lawrie, excitable and having drunk two glasses of wine at lunch, was much less sure of her mark. She sent her first ball sky high; an easy catch for Captain Marlow.

Mr Merrick came in next. Nicola, unsure of his abilities, called in her father to bowl. The two men eyed each other up, like stags at bay. Captain Marlow took a long run up and unleashed a fast, accurate ball which was competently blocked. The second was hit past Phoebe and stopped by Nicola just before the boundary. The third flashed past into Patrick's waiting hands, who promptly flung it back at the bails, and cried 'Howzat!'

Rowan nodded, reluctantly and Mr Merrick cheerfully cuffed his son on his way back to join the spectators. Ginty, hastily collecting bat and heading for the crease, looked nervous. Even to herself she would barely admit her fear of her father's fast balls. Captain Marlow, eyeing his daughter meditatively, reduced his run up and bowled her three easy, medium-paced balls of good length. She dealt with them, and her nerves, and looked ready to settle.

And settle they did. Rowan was enjoying herself, carefully aiming each shot for the inevitable large gaps in the field, making them run as much as possible. After four overs, Nicola decided enough was enough. She took the ball herself with the clear aim of forcing a single so she would face Ginty. No run from the first. Two from the second. Then an awkward bounce caught Rowan off guard. She sneaked the ball past Chas and called. Chas ran, picked up the ball and threw competently back to Nicola, leaving Ginty to face the bowling. On the third ball, Ginty gave up, and practically stood aside to let her wicket be taken. After that, Rowan managed to keep hold of the batting for two more overs while Karen ran obediently. But soon enough, she was dismissed for four and Rose came in, determined above all else not to let her team down. But it wasn't long before Rose was left to face her father's bowling. And despite Edwin's kindly efforts to help his daughter, she managed to block just two balls before being dismissed, leg before.

'Forty-seven's not bad,' admitted Nicola. 'D'you want to open, Patrick?'

'No!' He shook his head vigorously. 'Tail-ender, that's me, ma'am!'

'Very well. Dad?' He nodded. 'Okay. Dad, me, Edwin, Chas, Patrick, Phoebe. Alright with everyone? Good. Not too much tea, okay?'

They wandered over to the table which Mrs Marlow had laid out with sandwiches and cakes. Patrick and Nicola drifted together.

'I'm glad I wasn't in your cricket team.' She raised an eyebrow at him. 'Too much like hard work, I'll bet.' She grinned.

'Worth it though, to win.'

'Mmm. P'raps.' He didn't sound convinced and she let it go. The sun was too hot and the tea too tempting to care much, even about cricket.

The second innings was a more languid affair than the first. Stuffed with tea and cake, no-one seemed to be playing at more than half-pace. Nicola made ten runs before being caught by a surprised Ginty at slip. Edwin stayed in for three and a half overs, hitting just four balls and making three. Chas, with a determined look, stepped forward and bashed his crease professionally. Karen, bowling, sent down an easy, slow ball which he hit for four, to great cheers from his team. Evidently deciding this was a fluke, Karen's next ball was of a similar quality and was dealt with equally effectively. Notching up a gear, she still found herself being hit hard and often and was glad to throw the ball back to Rowan at the end of the over. Captain Marlow, without making any great flourish had steadily built up a healthy score of fifteen. Together, he and Chas added twenty runs in four overs, sending the winning ball over the treetops into the field beyond.

Handshakes all round, the grownups collapsed onto the grass beside the tea table and sent the children off to recover the ball.

'Just how I like it,' Patrick murmured.

'The tea?' said Nicola, confused.

'No, the cricket. All done before it gets anywhere near yours truly.'

'Ah well,' sighed Nicola indulgently, stretching happily on the grass beside him.

'Nick?'

'Mmm?'

'D'you think anyone would mind if we sloped off soonish?'

She turned her head to contemplate him, unnerved by the eager look in his eyes.

'I'd mind.'

'Oh!' He turned away, shading his eyes against the sun. Presently, Chas and Rose came running back, having discovered not only the ball but also the remnants of a long-dead pigeon.

'We thought you might want it. For the hawks.'

Unwilling to disappoint their evident ghoul, Patrick heaved himself up and went to inspect the remains. Nicola removed herself to the safety of her family. Patrick was a problem she hadn't yet worked out the answer to.

Mondays to Fridays she was safe. He was living up on the Strewe estate, working all hours with the hawks and horses and evidently enjoying washing less frequently than his mother would have demanded. At weekends he dutifully came home, lugging his dirty clothes for Nellie to deal with. He took for granted that he would spend Saturdays with Nicola, Sundays with parents. They fell into an easy routine, riding out across the Crowlands, flying Regina at duck and gorging themselves on tea. Then, having washed and brushed, Patrick would pick Nicola up from Trennels and take her out for chips or to the pub or the cinema. Occasionally they'd take a moonlight hack along the beach or go for a stroll, listening for owls and nightjars. Generally at some point during these walks, Patrick would take hold of her hand. At first she wondered if she should mind but then realised that she didn't.

One Saturday night, late in August, they'd walked along the beach and found a smooth boulder to climb on and sit looking out to sea. Nicola was uneasily aware of Patrick's closeness to her and cast around for something neutral to say.

'Look. I think it must be the QE2. Lit up like fairy lights.'

Patrick was not to be distracted and slipped his arm around her waist. Instinctively, Nicola rested her head against his shoulder. Slowly, cautiously, he bent his head until his lips were just inches from hers.

'Nick?' he whispered.

She gulped. 'Yes?'

'I do so love you.' And he kissed her.

She put up a hand to grasp his sweater. When he had freed her and she had regained her breath she remembered what she had been going to say.

'I love you, too, Patrick.'

'Truly?'

'Oh yes.' And she reached up to kiss him.

They sat closely embracing, watched only by wind and waves, until the chill of the night made itself felt in Nicola's joints.

'We can't stay here forever.'

'We can, you know. It's a very forever place, the beach.'

'It's half past twelve! There'll probably be a panic on at home. Come on!' She had already scrambled down onto the sand and was laughing up at him. Patrick followed at a more leisurely pace, tucking Nicola's hand comfortably into his pocket.

They wandered home slowly, enjoying the novelty of love acknowledged. Every time their hands touched, clasped and let go, Nicola felt shivers up and down her spine. Eventually, Trennels came in sight. Patrick walked Nicola to the back door, then stopped and took both her hands in his, looking down with a sparkle in his eyes.

‘Can you come over for lunch tomorrow?’

She nodded. ‘I expect so. If your parents won’t mind?’

‘No, they’ll be relieved, I should think. Pa’s been waiting for us to get round to this for years.’ She squeezed his hands and smiled shyly.

‘Sorry to be so slow.’

‘Doesn’t matter now.’

Nicola trod silently up the stairs, carefully avoiding the steps which creaked loudest. Carrying her shoes in her hands, she tentatively pushed open the door of the room she still shared with Lawrie.

‘It’s alright, I’m still awake.’ Lawrie sat up and fixed her twin with an uncharacteristically piercing stare. ‘What time d’you call this, my girl?’

‘Um.’ Nicola glanced across at her alarm clock. ‘Quarter past one.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’ replied Nicola as she began to undress quickly.

‘What have you been up to at this hour of night?’ Nicola permitted herself one secret smile, safely hidden under her pyjama top.

‘Just out with Patrick. We went down to the beach.’

‘It’s no good, y’know.’

‘What isn’t?’ Nicola switched the light off and scrambled into bed.

‘Thinking you can pretend to me.’

‘Oh.’

There was a pause during which Nicola fervently hoped Lawrie was going to sleep.

‘Nick?’

‘Mmm?’

‘D’you… do you love him?’

Nicola remembered how it had felt when Patrick had kissed her; how she’d instinctively drawn closer to him; how everything had suddenly fallen into place.

‘Yes.’

Lawrie shifted in her bed.

‘Lal? You don’t mind, do you?’

‘M going to sleep now.’

Nicola didn’t usually enjoy Matins at the village church. But that particular Sunday morning, the sun streamed through the coloured glass, the choir sang as if they were angels and her heart decided it just might believe. She told her mother she was going to the Merricks’ for lunch and hoped she wasn’t blushing.

Instead of instantly changing into shorts and shirt like the others, Nicola kept her Sunday skirt and blouse on. She wondered if she should borrow Rowan’s lipstick but didn’t dare. She brushed her hair, removed Tessa’s stray moult from her skirt and squirted some of Gin’s Christmas present scent on.

Wondering whether she should go to the front door, she chewed her lip and pushed her hands through her hair, restoring it to its usual disorder. In the end she headed for the hawk garden, deciding that she could always walk through to the house if there was no sign of Patrick.

But he was waiting there, sitting on the bench, looking nervous.

‘Hi!’ He came over and took her hand. ‘Alright?’ She nodded. ‘Look, as soon as we can get away, let’s take Bucket and go for a walk. I don’t need to head off until sixish. Okay?’

‘Sure. Patrick?’

‘Hmm?’ He had put a hand up to smooth her hair down and she was finding it difficult to concentrate.

‘Have you told your parents?’

He grinned suddenly. ‘Didn’t have to.’

She blushed. ‘Me either. Oh well, let’s get on with it.’

Mr Merrick winked at her when she arrived but he was as friendly as he’d always been, asking her all about the trip to Norway.

‘And then the world?’

‘Yes, well. We’ll see.’

‘But not on your own, Nicola, surely?’ Mrs Merrick sounded horrified.

‘Yes. I’ll have proper radio contact and everything. And I want to stop at lots of places and see things, you know.’

‘Well.’ She looked stunned for a moment, then turned with an anxious look to her son.

‘It’s alright, Ma.’ Patrick sounded amused. ‘I’m not planning to go with her.’