Free Red Joan by Jennie Rooney Page B

came out to see how they were getting on, they had all died,’ she says, half laughing, half desolate at the memory of so many upturned frogs’ bodies. ‘Boiled to death. We thought we were giving them such a treat.’
    She takes another swig of ginger beer and sees that Leo is looking oddly at her.
    â€˜What?’ she asks.
    â€˜So you chose to read science to make up for killing those frogs?’
    â€˜In a way. They made me want to understand things,’ she says, more serious now. ‘And I like the fact that it’s useful.’
    â€˜To whom?’
    Joan shrugs. ‘Everyone, hopefully.’
    She feels the heat of Leo’s body as he edges a little closer and she decides that if he should attempt to kiss her she will not move away. Yes, she thinks, she will allow it, and the thought makes her fidgety and anxious.
    But he does not. Not now. ‘There you are then,’ he says. ‘I knew you were one of us really.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜Science is the truest form of communism.’
    Joan takes a gulp of ginger beer as she absorbs this information, and then follows it up with a bite of bread and ham.
    â€˜Its aim is the conscious subordination of self to serve the common purpose of all humanity,’ Leo continues, and although his words are grandiose, his tone retains a hint of his earlier playfulness. He smiles at her and she smiles back at him. ‘There’s nothing individualistic about it, which is a rare quality.’
    â€˜I suppose so,’ she says, attempting to convey an awareness that her chosen degree subject is indeed a noble occupation, even though she has never seen it in this light until now.
    They sit together, eating plums and looking at the view, until Leo glances at his watch and slides his arm away. ‘We’d better go back down. You’ve got to get to your afternoon session.’
    Joan feels a small snap in her chest as he begins to clear everything up and wonders whether to tell him that, truly, she doesn’t mind missing the experiment. She can catch it up later, or just copy the notes from one of the other girls. But she senses that Leo has somewhere he needs to get to as well, and so she helps him to gather up the remainder of the picnic. She must not be cross with him for being so conscious of the time, she tells herself. She should be glad that he is concerned about her. He goes on ahead while she pauses to take one last look at the city from this new perspective, and he only turns to check she is following him once he has reached the small wooden door.
    They walk down in silence, their feet clipping against the stone. The steps are noticeably steep on the descent, but the curve of the wall means that when she puts out her hand to steady herself, she experiences a strange sort of vertigo, as if she is being sucked down a long tunnel, and it only serves to put her more off-balance. It is a relief when the steps widen so that she can walk straight again; less dizzying.
    When Leo reaches the bottom of the stairs he stops suddenly, and the abruptness of this movement causes Joan to bump into him. She tries to step away but there is no room, and now they are standing so close to each other that she is certain he must be able to hear the hammering of her heart against her ribcage. In the darkness, he bends forward to kiss her, very gently, a little too gently, on the lips. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth, and as she does she feels the prickle of his skin, the hardness of his teeth, and the edges of her body seem to dissolve momentarily.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he whispers suddenly, shaking his head and turning to unlock the door so that she has no time to protest that she really didn’t mind him kissing her, and that he could do it again if he liked. True, it was not the long, impassioned embrace that she had envisaged for her first kiss, but there is an excess of sensation in her mouth as he holds