After Forever Ends (3 page)

I found myself giggling again.

“Everyone,” Oliver stood and put his hand on my shoulder, “This is Just Silvia Cotton and she’s just fine!”

Those were my friends at Bennington, the five of them I met first on the quad. I quite liked Sarah Farnsworth, but it was not long before she moved away to Canada, leaving Alexander somewhat heartbroken. That is to say he was as heartbroken as he was capable of being at the time, which did not add up to devastation. He rebounded quickly and within a few weeks he had a new flavour du jour.

Merlyn Pierce was a lovely bloke, handsome in an offbeat way. When I think of how he looked the first thing that comes to mind is that he had smooth, velvety skin. I swear he never had a blemish on him. His colour was dark and really beautiful, like creamy chocolate mousse spread flawlessly over his bones. His nose may have been a bit bulbous, but he had beautiful brown eyes and was always friendly and forever quick with a joke. Although he couldn’t carry a note and was not as great a violinist as he dreamed of being, Merlyn’s love of music blurred the lines of obsession. He could tell you at any moment what was happening in the World Opera scene and what the latest jazz artists were up to, as well as what was topping the pop charts in the UK, Western Europe and the US. He had connections that got him tickets to just about any show in Cardiff or London, so none of us ever lacked something to do on the weekends when we could leave grounds.

“We’re going to a show this Saturday,” He told me casually on my third day. I had been officially inducted into their midst, “I can get another ticket if your parents would give you permission to go. The thing is we don’t know if you’d want to.”

“Well, who are you seeing?”

“Motorhead,” Alexander answered as he playfully, but quite firmly, slapped his brother across the face. They had begun rough housing the moment they entered the common room. Oliver slapped him back harder and they both turned to me.

“Motorhead? Are you bloody joking? I love Motorhead!” I exclaimed. They all seemed shocked. Even Oliver gave me a great expression of surprise, “What?” I demanded, looking between them as they stared, “Just because I dress in skirts and wear lipstick doesn’t mean I don’t own a pair of Docter Martins or don’t love Lemmy! Who don’t love Lemmy? Lemmy is God!”

“Lemmy is God?” Oliver asked with an approving smirk.

“Damn right Lemmy’s God!” I swore, “He’s my boyfriend, too!”

“Lemmy is your boyfriend?” His eyes widened and his brows went up. Oh, he was adorable when he did that.

“Well, yes,” I began to laugh, “He is my future ex-husband, you know!”

This Alexander seemed to like. He laughed out loud and tossed an arm over his brother's shoulder with his hand dangling in front of his chest, “So you’re not one hundred percent committed to Lemmy then?”

“Well…you know...he’s very busy with Motorhead…”

“Not to mention being God,” Oliver interjected, “Blimey!”

And, thus, my first rock concert was front and centre at Motorhead, crushed against the stage right before the mosh pit, pinched in front of Oliver, who happily beat off the moshers. I very much enjoyed watching him block and shove people away from doing me harm. It made me feel quite special, not to mention that he seemed to be having the time of his life doing it. Often the onslaught caused us to be pressed close together. Merlyn and Alexander, however, abandoned us both and were in the thick of it, caught in the mosh with the other hell raisers.

Sometimes I think my ears still ring because of that show, it was so bloody loud. Years later, Oliver told me he considered it our first date.

Lance Crosby had opted to go and see his mother for the weekend rather than come with us to Motorhead. Lance was more difficult to sort out than the rest. He was a diminutive young man, almost freakishly small, with dusty blonde hair and fresh green eyes that were nearly too big for his face. Not a great looking chap at all, though, plus he was only five feet tall and shuffled when he walked, which was a bit annoying. Still, he was kind and quiet and kept to himself for the most part. I think he was really shy, especially with girls, even the ones like me who wanted nothing other than just to be his friend. Lance never talked about himself in conversation. Everything I knew about him was what the other boys had told me, like he was rich as hell, but never acted it, and lived on a medieval estate in Caernarfon with his mother. He had a good heart and the right idea about family and country. He wanted to join the military after he graduated, then go to university and find a wife and raise a family. Very simple man, Lance Crosby was. If he hadn’t been so loveable, I’d have thought him boring, except that he was usually found glued to the side of Alex Dickinson, who was always getting involved in one form of mayhem or another.

“Oh, Lancelot!” Alexander would call in the tone of a mother hailing a child. That particular day he was motivating down the corridor at a casual speed, hands jammed into his jacket pockets.

“Yes, Alexander?” Lance would counter as if replying to his mother.

“You’ll never guess what I have!” Alex would sing this part like a show tune.

“What do you have?” Lance would sing back.

“Balloons, Mate! Loads of balloons!” He pulled handfuls out of his pockets, “We’ve just enough time to fill them before the first years leave the North Tower!”

Lance’s horns, tiny as they may have been, would poke out from beneath his mop of hair and off they’d go to declare war on unsuspecting eleven year olds making their way from class.

I was a little surprised at how quickly the lot of them took me under their wings. In truth, it was immediate, which was a great comfort since I was not only in a new school, but as well in a country I had only lived in for a few weeks. It was Oliver and Merlyn who showed me about the school that first day and made sure that I knew where all of my classes would be. They gave me the guidance and warnings I needed on which professors to watch out for and which to kiss up to, as well as the heads up on the more troublesome students. I shared my lunch hour with them, Alex and Lance, and then spent the remainder of the day on the quad in their company as well. Having been called to a meeting for the girls in my dormitory to discuss the rules, I got separated from them just before dinner and when the meal bell rang I found myself standing in the cafeteria alone in a busy crowd of students. There seemed to be no vacant tables where I could sit by myself.

I hated that. If I had to be somewhere where I felt so very alone then I wanted to be alone. There was somehow always more comfort in being apart from everyone than being in the middle of it all and not having a place. I was contemplating taking my tray and having my dinner in the girl’s toilet when a familiar voice came from behind me.

“Hi, Silvia!” I turned to see Oliver grinning at me. He was trailed by Alexander, who was looking to his right and walked directly into Oliver’s back, “I saved you a seat at our table,” He said as he stumbled forward.

I could actually feel people watching us, as if half the heads in the hall turned, but I was too overwhelmed with the fact that these boys had sought me out to look around and make sure.

Alexander winked at me and then hung his tongue out at a girl to our left and pretended to pick his nose. “Always sit with us,” He turned back to me and pointed to the far wall, “We’re over by there. Come on then!”

Oh, the relief! Oh, the joy! Being paid so much attention to by two handsome boys is a great way to start any first day at school. There was something happening even then between Oliver and me, no matter if we were being coy about it.

I had dinner with them. Don’t ask me why I remember, but it was turkey with gravy and mash and Alex had three plates. Oliver barely touched his. All through dinner he talked to me. Random things, really, like asking me about where I'd boarded before and if I liked rugby. Alexander didn't say much. He just ate and sort of started at me and then Ollie would turn and give him a hard look and he'd laugh a bit and look away. I noticed off the top that those two could speak to each other without words, although at the time I had no idea of the depth of some of those conversations.

At the end of the meal, a professor came to the table and asked the twins if they would lead a group of first years to their common room and thus they disappeared from the hall while I followed Merlyn and Lance to our own. “This way, this way,” Lance mumbled as he shuffled along, “Careful on the stairs, Love, people fall on them all the time.”

“Lance is the resident mother hen,” Merlyn told me almost apologetically, “People fall all over this place, not just on the stairs.”

I sat with those boys in the common room discussing the many hair colours of Duran Duran until we were joined by Ollie and Alex. We all sat together joking until the first bell rang for curfew.

“Do you know your way to your hall of residence?” Merlyn asked, rising to his feet.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Well, we’ll walk you anyway,” Oliver said firmly. He stood above me, peering down with a playful expression. “We can't have you getting lost, can we?”

“You do that, Ollie,” Alex stood up and looked about the room, “I gotta go talk to Sarah a minute before she goes to bed or she’ll get all upset and I’ll never hear the end of it, mind. See you in the morning, Silvia. Welcome to Bennington!”

“Thank you, Alexander! Good night!”

He nodded and crossed the room to his girlfriend.

Merlyn, Lance and Oliver walked me to the entrance of my dormitory, which was the building on the opposite side of the great hall from theirs. “Sit with us in the morning at breakfast,” Oliver told me with a grin as he left, “We always sit at the same table. I’ll make sure you have a spot.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely, feeling very special.

“No worries! Cheers, Just Silvia!”

“Cheers!”

He grinned, gave a short wave, and the three of them turned away.

I let loose a long sigh, and then held my breath tight in my chest. He was sincerely beautiful, very sweet, and my heart was already stuck on him.

I wandered around the hall of residence for some time trying to make sense of the room numbers. When I couldn’t find mine, I decided I must be on the wrong floor and headed up one, only to discover that I was completely in the wrong place. Frustrated, I returned downstairs and wandered the labyrinth of corridors until I realised that someone had switched all the numbers on the doors. There were a several girls running up and down the halls, but none seemed to be in any rush to help me. I finally located the prefect’s office, which was nothing more than a wooden desk shoved into a large, empty cupboard. The girl inside seemed to know without me telling her what had happened and set about righting all the number plates on the doors instead of helping me find my room.

She was very rude and I was quite upset by the time she was through. I was even more so when I walked into the wrong room and two girls stared at me as if I were stupid. At least they were nice, however, and told me that there must have been a misprint on my card because they’d been there for three years and knew they were both in the right place. “You’re going to have to go to the prefect. She has the master list and she’ll set you right.”

I thanked them and walked reluctantly back down the hall to ask. “Sorry,” I said as I tapped on the door of her makeshift office, “My room is wrong.”

She gave me a hard look as if I were bothering her, even though all she was doing was eating a pastry. “What’s the room?”

“Two-fifteen.”

“Can’t be. That’s the third year floor.”

I sighed, “I know that now.”

She mumbled something about new students being as retarded as first years and picked up her ledger, “What’s your name?”

“Silvia Cotton.”

“You’re in room three seventeen,” She glanced up at me, “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from the Dickinson twins.”

Where the bloody hell did that come from? I wondered, but I asked, “Oh? What do you mean?”

The girl raised her eyebrows at me, then looked down at a list and turned several papers on a clipboard, tapping her pen on each one, “You‘ll find out.”

I waited a moment to see if she wanted to elaborate, but she never glanced up again. I left her sitting at her fold away desk in the corner thinking to myself about how completely unpleasant she’d been. What she said made me a bit nervous, though. I’d only been there a day and although they’d seemed so kind, maybe those boys were trouble. Oh, I hated the idea of having made friends already and of then having to ditch them so quickly. I finally made my way back down the corridor and up the stairs to my new room. I opened the door to find a girl standing in front of the window with her back to me.

“Hello,” I said not too loudly.

She turned, spun, really, on her heels and immediately stuck her hands behind her back as if I’d caught her up to something. The expression on her face was odd, as if she’d swallowed too hard and needed to cough. She looked me up and down for a moment before she spoke, “Hello. I’m Sandra.”

“I’m Silvia,” I smiled. Sandra was incredibly tall and a little too thin, but she looked harmless enough in her little wire rimmed glasses. “Which bed have you taken?”

“I haven’t, but I’d like this one,” She pointed to the one nearest her, “I like to sleep by the window. I mean, if that‘s all right.”

“That’s fine. Which cupboard have you taken?”

“I took the one by the door unless you want it. It doesn‘t matter to me.”

“First come, first serve,” I dropped my leather satchel on my new bed, thinking that she seemed very thoughtful, “I’m just glad I found the room! I had a terrible time!”

“They changed the plates again?” She asked without a smile.

“Yes, they did!”

“Bitches,” Sandy mumbled firmly, “All of them.”

I laughed softly, “I just had one of them tell me to watch myself around the Dickinson twins. Do you know what she meant?”

Her narrow eyes flashed wide for just an instant, “Who was it who said it?”

“I don’t know. The prefect downstairs.”

“Did she have dark hair?” Sandy asked. I nodded. “Long?”