Free Dance While You Can by Susan Lewis Page B

my suspenders. ‘I want you to make love to me.’
    His face was suddenly serious. ‘I’ll be there,’ he said.
    I’d bought us some wine, and put out some crisps and peanuts, but when he arrived all that was forgotten. Later, when we were sitting in front of the fire with our clothes all over the room, he started to talk about what we had done. It had been the first time we’d had oral sex. I don’t know why – probably because I’d been feeling insecure all day – but suddenly I burst into tears.
    He stopped what he was saying straightaway, and moved round to sit next to me. ‘What is it?’ he said. ‘I thought you’d like it. I’m sorry, we won’t do it again.’
    I laughed then. ‘Of course I liked it,’ I said. ‘That’s why I’m crying.’
    He gave me one of his lop-sided looks. ‘And I suppose I’ve got to work that one out for myself.’
    I sighed and leaned my head back on his shoulder. He picked up his wine and held it to my mouth, then, taking a sip himself, he pulled the chair round so he could rest against it.
    ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
    ‘I’m thinking that one day I hope you’ll look back on all this and remember it the way it was. You know, how much we loved each other, how much we taught each other . . . .’
    ‘I don’t like the sound of what you’re saying. We’ll be looking back together, won’t we?’
    ‘All I’m trying to say is that, if for some reason that doesn’t happen, I hope we’ll always be a very special memory for each other.’
    ‘Stop it, Elizabeth. Stop saying things like that. It’s what Henry said this afternoon, isn’t it? Well, I might as well tell you now, I won’t be going up to Oxford. I’ve decided it will be easier for us if I don’t.’
    I smiled at that. ‘You will go to Oxford. If you don’t, then I really will leave you. Anyway, I’m just being morbid, Alexander – ignore me. Where’s the wine?’
    He got up to get the bottle, and when he came back I watched him as he poured. ‘Smile, Alexander. I want to see your crooked tooth.’
    He laughed and then sat forward, bringing his mouth to mine. And all my insecurities went away, because every time we were together we became more a part of one another.
    A few mornings later I was sitting with Miss Angrid, packing up first-aid boxes for the Easter Outward Bound course, and idly chatting about the current experiment of introducing St Winifred’s girls into the sixth form lectures at Foxton’s. Deciding that the girls were, without a doubt, an unnecessary distraction for boys who were trying to achieve a’ decent grade in A levels, she went off to make a cup of tea – but when she came back and settled herself in her chair, instead of picking up her cup she took a long, hard look at me.
    I felt uncomfortable, and tried to laugh. ‘It’s me, Elizabeth,’ I said. ‘You look as though you’re seeing me for the first time.’
    She shook her head. ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘not the first time. I’ve seen you plenty of times, my dear.’
    ‘What a strange thing to say.’
    She sighed heavily, and reached out for her tea. I waited for her to go on, trying to ignore the alarm bells that were already ringing inside my head.
    It was a while before she spoke again. ‘All that chit-chat just now about the girls . . .’ she began. ‘Well, I suppose there’s no point in beating about the bush. You know what I was leading up to.’ She stared at me, waiting for me to answer. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ she asked, bluntly.
    ‘Packing the first-aid boxes,’ I quipped.
    ‘Elizabeth.’
    I felt myself colour, and looked away.
    ‘I saw him leaving the cottage the other night,’ she said.
    When I looked into her face I understood the silent request for no lies, and though I wanted to deny it, tell her she was imagining things, I found I couldn’t. I got up from my chair and went to stand by the window. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
    ‘There’s nothing to say.