Chapter 10
I’d been revising hard for weeks for my A levels, but the fact that I got such good results can be partly attributed to the sunshine in the May before my exams. In contrast to many a disappointing British summer, this was the hottest in years.
Every day brought another scorcher, the kind when sweat clings to the back of your knees and only the shade will do.
There was a public park within walking distance of the house Jeff and I grew up in, so as soon as sixth-formers were released on study leave, I took to strolling up there with my books and a blanket to revise.
The rhododendrons were in full bloom and the sky a perfect cornflower blue, patterned with loops of vapour and the odd floss of cloud.
I’d find a spot under a tree and set myself up with my Walkman and mix-tapes, carefully curated collections of music that still stir up intense nostalgia in me.
I only need to hear the first four beats of ‘Summertime’ by DJ Jazzy Jeff to recall the main points of Queen Elizabeth I’s foreign policy and reasons for the defeat of the Spanish Armada.
Every so often, I’d drift off and have a little power nap, which is exactly what happened a few weeks before my first exam.
I was lying on my front, head resting on my forearms when I got that weird sixth sense that you sometimes have when you know you’re not alone.
I opened an eye to discover someone standing over me.
‘Hi.’
I scrambled to my knees and shielded my gaze against the sun.
‘I think this might be yours.’
Sam was holding an essay in his hand that appeared to be mine. A light breeze had drifted in and blown it halfway across the field, before he’d apparently rescued it.
‘Oh God!’
With a bolt of panic, I realised it wasn’t the only paper fluttering across my picnic blanket, threatening to take flight. I frantically began to gather up the rest, as he dropped down to help.
‘You’re fine, I think that’s the only one that went too far,’ he said.
When I’d finally secured a term’s worth of Tudor history,
I exhaled and sat back.
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s Julie, isn’t it?’
‘Jules,’ I corrected him. By now I was too sophisticated for the name my parents had given me. I’d never understood why they couldn’t have just called me Julia, which had a far more elegant ring to it.
‘We went to school together, didn’t we?’
I’m not sure how he recognised me. My hair was straight again now and I had blonde highlights, proper ones done by a hairdresser and not just the orange tinge I used to get from my Sun-In habit.
‘Is it . . . Sam?’
‘Yes!’ he said, clearly pleased I knew who he was.
He’d shot up a foot and a half since I’d last seen him but that wasn’t the most astonishing thing about the way he looked.
He was a man, far more so than anyone in our sixth form, at least. He’d grown tall, with broad shoulders and clear evidence of facial hair, judging by the little shaving nick on the side of his square chin.
He still had thick, light-brown curls though and a full-bodied smile that made his eyes sparkle.
I’d never met anyone who’d gone to a boarding school before.
Part of me was expecting him to be wearing a cap and gown and have developed the kind of accent found in Jane Austen adaptations.
He was well-spoken, but his voice was deep and neutral, rather than stiff and superior, and he dressed like your average nineties indie kid, in a vintage T-shirt and retro trainers.
‘How’s the studying going?’ he asked, which threw me momentarily. I hadn’t anticipated small talk.
‘Um . . . fine,’ I managed. ‘I’ll be glad when exams are over though. How about you?’
‘Yeah, not bad. I mean . . . there’s a lot to cover but hopefully I’ll be okay,’ he said, sounding far more relaxed about them than I was.
Still, I detected the faintest hint of awkwardness, which I found reassuring.
Even at that age there were still times when I had to battle to overcome the shyness that had plagued my early teens.
Most of the time, the art of conversation still felt like one long, exhausting exercise in trying not to make an idiot of myself.
‘Right then. I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, when the conversation had run out of steam. But he didn’t move. And for a split second all I could focus on was the way the light reflected in his eyes and brought out a myriad of green shades in his irises.
‘Bye,’ I smiled, with a little wave.
I watched as he crossed the field, contemplating the broad stretch of his back and the way the sunlight caught his hair. Then I rose to my feet and did something quite unprecedented.
‘Sam!’
He turned around.
‘You could come and work over here if you’d like?’
He brought over the portable CD player he’d been listening to on the other side of the field and we didn’t get a jot of work done for the rest of the day.
Sam was not remotely stressed about any of his forthcoming exams, despite taking the kind of subjects only the brainiest kids did: all three sciences and further maths.
I’d never understood the appeal personally, largely because I was terrible at them.
‘Where are you going to uni?’ I asked.
‘Imperial College London. I’ve got a place to study medicine,’ he told me.
‘Impressive.’
He winced a little, then smiled. ‘Well, I’m not doing it for the kudos.’
I scrunched up my nose. ‘Really? Not even a little bit?’ I teased.
‘Does it make me a very sad person to say I’m one of those bleeding hearts who wants to save lives and make a difference?’
‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘I applaud that wholeheartedly, even if I’m still convinced there must be a part of you hoping you’ll look good in a white coat.’
‘I mean . . . it works for George Clooney,’ he grinned.
‘This is true. Though, are you aware he’s not a real doctor?’
He really laughed at that. And the sight of his face lighting up at something I’d said made me feel mildly elated, drunk on sunshine.
He was unbelievably easy to talk to, for reasons I couldn’t entirely define, and I relaxed into the conversation to an almost unprecedented degree, finally managing to act like my best self, instead of the usual jabbering wreck I was in front of the opposite sex.
‘So what about you?’ he said. ‘Where are you off to uni?’
‘I’ve got a place in London too. Goldsmiths.’
‘Oh really? To study what?’
‘Art history,’ I said.
‘Fascinating,’ he replied, apparently with more conviction than most of my family members, who’d been bewildered by my choice.
I wasn’t going to tell them that my initial interest in the subject had mainly been sparked by watching the Antiques Roadshow every Sunday, when Jeff and I would compete to guess the nearest price of each item before its reveal.
‘I’m probably not going to go to London though,’ I added, vaguely. ‘I’m still in two minds about my first choice. It’ll probably be Newcastle. Not sure.’
At that stage I was working on the basis that it would be way too expensive to live in the capital. Plus, I didn’t know a soul who’d be there. At least I hadn’t until then . . .
‘Anyway, I’m off to do Camp America over the summer first,’ I continued.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I’ll be working as a counsellor at a horse-riding camp in Michigan.’
‘Wow. How long have you been riding horses?’
‘I haven’t, unless you count the big metal ones you find on fairground rides. I’m going as an art teacher and general dogsbody. I’m just hoping nobody notices I can’t actually draw.’
‘I must say, it sounds like you’re absolutely made for this job,’ he grinned.
‘Doesn’t it?’ I laughed. ‘Are you doing anything this summer? Going away? Getting a job?’
He shrugged and looked down at his notebook.
‘I’m going to play it by ear, I think. I’ve got a few things going on.
’ I didn’t know why but he looked slightly cagey about the subject.
It was only then that I started to question my initial assumptions about him.
I’d thought at first that he wasn’t your classic heartthrob.
He was handsome, undoubtedly – gorgeous, if the truth be told.
But if he’d been in a boy band, he’d have been the quiet, thoughtful one – not the mouthy lead singer everyone plastered on their walls.
The more we chatted, the more I felt na?ve to have thought I might have been the only one to notice his charms. His brains alone were a massive aphrodisiac.
It wouldn’t have surprised me if he ended up curing cancer one day.
Plus, he had this way of looking at you that had the most arresting physical effect on me.
My limbs would soften. My blood started to run a little warmer.
He must have a girlfriend already. Why wouldn’t he?
As the sun began to set and it became clear that it was time to go, we gathered our things and walked slowly to the park gate.
‘Why don’t you call yourself Julie anymore, as a matter of interest?’ he asked.
I lifted my sunglasses up. ‘Do I look like a Julie? Be very careful before you answer that.’
He looked confused. ‘What does a Julie look like?’
‘Not me, that’s for sure.’
He puffed out a laugh.
‘I just would’ve preferred something else, that’s all. I couldn’t say that in front of my mum though. She was a Sound of Music superfan. Her first-born daughter could never have been called anything else.’
A smile danced at his lips. ‘You’re named after Julie Andrews?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Well, it could’ve been worse,’ he sighed. ‘Your mum might have used some curtains to make matching lederhosen for you and the rest of the family.’
This cracked me up. We were still laughing as we reached the gate and our feet slowed. He turned to me.
‘You know, I have no idea why you’d object to that name. It’s really pretty.’ Then he looked me in the eyes and added, ‘Like you.’
Heat shot to my cheeks. I could hear my heart in my ears. And I remember gazing at him and thinking, Please, oh please, kiss me right this second because if you don’t I might just die on the spot. A slow smile appeared on his face and my palms suddenly felt slick.
‘Same time again tomorrow?’ he said.
I tried to look like this was no big deal but suspect I failed entirely.
‘Sure,’ I replied. ‘Why not?’