Charity (18 page)

She saw him as she reached the brow of the hill. He was sitting on a grass bank by the signpost, his bicycle thrown down beside him and as he jumped up to run to her, her heart turned somersaults.

He was wearing faded blue jeans and a white short-sleeved shirt. His golden skin was tanned still darker since he left school over a week ago.

‘Charity,’ he said throwing his arms wide as he ran to her. ‘I thought you’d never get here!’

She had rehearsed this meeting a hundred times in the past few days, but again and again she’d reminded herself he might not show the same degree of enthusiasm now he was free of the school. But as his arms went round her and his lips came down on hers with passion, she was sure he really did love her.

‘Oh Charity!’ he gasped, holding her to him tightly, his lips on her hair. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

They sat in a pub garden drinking cider and he barely let go of her hand as he told her about the cottage, his friend Robert Cuthbertson and his plans for the holiday.

‘We’ve both got a job for four nights a week at the pub,’ he said, barely suppressed excitement dancing in his eyes. ‘But we’ll have the days free.’

Charity told him about Giles fixing up a bike for her, omitting the fact that her only attempt at riding one had been a wobbly ride down Easton Street several years before.

‘Great,’ he beamed. ‘I’ll meet you here tomorrow at ten and take you to the cottage. Then I’ll introduce you to Sonia and Angus at the pub. I’m sure they’ll give you a job too.’

Hugh was a great talker. He told her about the students who worked at the pub, many of whom he’d met the previous year. He painted a vivid, sometimes frightening, picture of heavy drinkers, wild parties and girls who seemed to have all the confidence she lacked.

As fascinated as Charity was by these revelations about his friends, she was scared. She might just be well-spoken enough to pass muster with these privileged, wild people, but could she hope to hold on to Hugh when she was seen next to girls from the same background as him?

‘What about Robert’s parents?’ she asked nervously. ‘Won’t they mind me visiting the cottage?’

‘They’ve gone off to Italy for six weeks,’ Hugh grinned. ‘It’s just a holiday cottage, on their estate. They certainly wouldn’t let us stay in the big house, they’d be scared we’d mess it up.’

‘Why don’t they take him on holiday with them?’ Charity asked, puzzled by such parental indifference.

Hugh looked bemused.

‘I doubt he wanted to go. His mother’s even weirder than mine, she’s been in and out of loony bins.’

Charity frowned, not quite liking such a callous remark.

‘Well she’s had at least two breakdowns.’ Hugh saw the disapproval and tried to appease her. ‘Besides, his dad is an ogre. He sent him off to Rugby instead of letting him come to Bowes Court with me. To “toughen him up” was his excuse. Even now he keeps on at him because Rob’s going to study English literature rather than law. I thought my parents were bad enough, but his are much worse.’

He gave Charity a crossbar back to the school gates soon after ten. He had no lights and the swoop down the narrow winding lane in pitch darkness was terrifying, even with his arms round her. But the promise he would meet her in the morning and his lingering kisses more than made up for it.

Charity was up the next morning at six. It was a beautiful day, early mist quickly clearing and a promise in the air it would be very hot later. The school was so quiet it was eerie, her footsteps echoing around the empty building as she ran downstairs.

She wheeled the bike out of the shed and walked with it round to the quadrangle. Giles had oiled it and pumped up the tyres. It was an old-fashioned black one, quite different from the lightweight, blue racing bike Hugh had, but Charity was determined that by ten she would be able to ride it properly.

Pushing herself off from a low wall round a flowerbed, she tried again and again. She fell off several times, grazed her knee and ended up with oil all over her legs, but by the time it was eight she’d managed to ride a complete circuit of the quad.

‘Use your brakes!’ Hugh yelled up at her in greeting as she came hurtling towards him at the crossroads, using her sandalled feet as brakes. ‘You’ll hurt your toes!’

She was so proud of herself she didn’t mind admitting now she’d only just learned to ride. As they sped down the hill together towards Five Ash Down her main fear was not passing cars, or the brakes, but wishing she’d had the sense to put on a pair of shorts like Hugh, instead of a summer dress that kept whipping back and showing her knickers.

‘That’s Rob’s parents’ house.’ Hugh pulled up to point out an old house partly concealed by trees. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘Nice’ was inadequate. Splendid or magnificent would have been more appropriate. The house was partly sixteenth century, one end being half-timbered, the rest covered in white weatherboarding, with a rich red-tiled roof and tall chimneys. Charity had seen many picturesque cottages around Heathfield, but none so big or so perfect as this one. A dovecote on the lawn, the graceful trees grouped around the house, beds of carefully tended roses and small, manicured low hedges all created an impression of extreme wealth.

‘It’s even bigger than it looks,’ Hugh said almost casually as he made off down a narrow rutted lane a little further along. ‘They’ve got an indoor swimming pool built in an extension at the back and a billiard room.’

‘What does his father do?’ Charity called out as she rode.

‘I don’t know exactly,’ Hugh replied. ‘He’s some sort of tycoon, buys and sells companies I think. All this belongs to him too.’ He pointed out a farm in the distance. ‘He doesn’t work it himself, he’s got a tenant farmer in to run it.’

Then just when Charity was despairing of ever getting to the cottage, Hugh pointed in front of them. ‘That’s it!’ he shouted back to her. ‘What do you think?’

Charity could only gape in amazement. Just a tiny cottage backing on to a wood, covered in the white weatherboarding so common in this area, two windows up, two down and a central wooden porch covered in an abundance of honeysuckle. White picket fencing completed the picture of something right out of a child’s fairytale book. Pink and red hollyhocks rose up above the downstairs windows.

Hugh tinkled his bell and a boy appeared in the open doorway.

‘Hallo there,’ he yelled out.

Charity had imagined this friend of Hugh’s as big, confident and possibly resentful that his friend had a girl in tow, but as they rested their bikes against the picket fence and he came forward to greet them, she felt the oddest sensation of instant kinship.

For one thing he was small, only marginally taller than herself and very skinny. He had the worst acne she’d ever seen, floppy fair hair, and a warm, if shy smile.

‘You’re even prettier than he said,’ Robert said awkwardly, looking down at his bare feet, as Hugh introduced them. ‘Come on in.’

The front door led straight into a kitchen. Although it was fitted with honey-coloured modern units, it had the feel of a farmhouse with its central pine table and chairs. With windows at both back and front it was very light and cheery, yellow gingham curtains bringing in more sunshine.

‘It was just a farm labourer’s cottage,’ Robert explained, clearly pleased by Charity’s gasps of delight. ‘There’s three altogether on the estate. Dad had this done up as a holiday place, but he hardly ever bothers to let it. This is the sitting room,’ he said, putting one hand on her elbow and drawing her into the other room downstairs.

Charity felt a stab of real envy that some people considered this a holiday home, when she would die to live in it for ever. Like the kitchen it was furnished simply, but the grass-green carpet, the beautiful old stone fireplace with its tub of beech leaves and the chintz-covered armchairs all looked so perfectly in place. Beneath an open pine staircase was an old desk and bookshelves stuffed with paperbacks. The walls were white apart from two black beams across the ceiling, and carefully chosen small watercolours and pretty plates broke up the starkness.

‘It’s wonderful,’ she enthused, amazed that the boys seemed so casual. ‘Can I see upstairs?’

Robert stayed in the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and Hugh dragged Charity up the open staircase making jokes about Robert not forgetting to cut cucumber sandwiches.

There were only two bedrooms, with the bathroom slotted in between. They contained old-fashioned double beds, big chests of drawers and tiled wash-stands as dressing-tables.

The windows were set low to the floor, the ceilings curving down to meet them. Charity dropped to her knees in the room Hugh said was his, to look at the view.

‘It’s like a doll’s house, isn’t it?’ Hugh said behind her.

Charity was struck speechless. It wasn’t a doll’s house to her, but a dream of a house for happy ever after. Across the lane in a meadow were a herd of black and white cows grazing on the lush grass. Birds sang in the trees that came right up to the back of the cottage and it was so quiet and still she could hear the buzzing of bees.

‘You do like it?’ Hugh said coming up behind her and kneeling to hold her. ‘You will stay here too? It’s a long way back to the school.’

‘I love it.’ She smiled hesitantly. That double bed with its thick white cover was too close and she hadn’t quite realised that they would be so isolated, or that Hugh intended her to sleep here. ‘But of course I can’t stay, Hugh. It wouldn’t be right.’

He kissed her then, kneeling before the window. The sun was hot on her arms and face, he smelt of fresh air and soap and the way his tongue insinuated its way into her mouth in turn thrilled and frightened her.

‘I could sleep downstairs,’ he said at length as he paused to nuzzle into her neck. ‘There’s a chair that makes into a bed. I didn’t mean –’ he stopped short.

Charity covered his face with soft little kisses.

‘I have to go back. Mrs Cod’ll send out a search party,’ she said quickly. ‘But we must go downstairs again and see Rob, we can’t make him feel awkward by me being here.’

The day passed all too quickly. They rode down to the village shop and brought groceries and ice-cream, explored the woods behind the cottage and later Charity cooked them sausages and mash, but as the hands of the clock got nearer to eight and the pub was mentioned, Charity made her excuses.

‘I’ll go home,’ she said. ‘You go and meet all your old friends.’

Hugh looked a bit sulky. She sensed he was dying to get down to the pub but at the same time he didn’t want her to go.

‘I’ll come back in the morning,’ she suggested, ‘but I must go now.’

‘Stay tomorrow?’ Rob suggested and she was sure it wasn’t prompted by Hugh, but because he liked her. A day in the sun had brought out a few freckles across his nose and she noticed for the first time how lovely his eyes were, a kind of browny greeny colour with tiny flecks of amber. ‘It’s such a long way for you to ride alone, and besides you want to work at the pub too, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know, Rob.’ She wished she could fully explain her fears. ‘If your mother was near it might be different.’

‘I don’t see why,’ he said. ‘It’s more dangerous riding home on a bike in the dark than staying with us. We’ll look after you. Hugh will sleep downstairs, or even with me.’

Rob had a gentlemanly quality which Hugh didn’t share. He showed his appreciation when she cooked their meal, he helped her wash up and now he was concerned about the danger of her riding home alone.

‘I’ll see.’ She looked across at Hugh, hoping he’d suggest at least going part of the way with her. ‘I’d have to think up something to tell Mrs Cod anyway.’

‘Just say you’ve got a job at the pub.’ Rob’s face broke into a wide grin. ‘She’ll just assume you’re staying there, some of the students do.’

It was a long way back. Much further than Charity had realised, and most of it uphill. Worse still, it got dark before she’d even got to the halfway point. Without lights she couldn’t be seen by cars, and once she had to throw herself into a ditch. Branches struck her face and arms and the soreness she’d felt that morning in her bottom was now real pain. By the time she reached the school gates she’d already decided: if she wanted to spend time with Hugh, she had to stay at the cottage.

Hugh’s eyes lit up when he saw her sponge bag and a change of clothing in the basket the next morning.

‘Yippee!’ he yelled. ‘You’re going to stay!’

‘You will behave, and sleep downstairs?’ she begged him, wishing she knew how other girls behaved at times like this. ‘I’ll go home if you don’t.’

‘Scout’s honour.’ He did a mock salute. ‘Now come on in, we thought we’d have a picnic today.’

*

‘No Hugh, you can’t!’ Charity pushed him towards the bedroom door.

‘Please! I only want to cuddle you,’ he pleaded.

She was in her cotton nightdress brushing her hair when Hugh came in. He wore nothing but a pair of jeans and in the soft lamplight his bare golden chest looked all too inviting.

The first night she’d stayed at the cottage Hugh had been very well behaved. He’d kissed her goodnight downstairs and even when he came up to use the bathroom he hadn’t attempted to come into the bedroom.

But this afternoon while Rob was out checking everything was all right over at the big house, Hugh had got a bit heated while they lay sunbathing in the garden.

Charity didn’t know how to explain she wasn’t prepared to do anything more than kiss and cuddle. Aside from being certain it was wrong to go any further, she had her period.

Yet each time he held her, strange, wonderful sensations crept over her and she was beginning to understand why Carol had spoken of ‘getting carried away’.

‘I’m scared it might lead to more,’ she insisted, her eyes wide in panic as she pushed him back towards the door. ‘Please go downstairs!’

‘Don’t you trust me?’ He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. ‘I love you, Charity. Why should it be wrong to hold you in my arms all night?’

She remembered Carol telling her that boys always said that, quickly followed by ‘you would if you loved me’. He was so close now his bare chest was just touching her nipples and it brought back all those confused feelings.