Part 2 (2/2)

Niles sat in a darkness so total it seemed solid and s.h.i.+fting, like deep water. He realised he was holding his breath and let it out slowly. He peered intensely in front of him, a screen of blasting mental supernova and arcing tracer bullets exploding before his eyes, brightening the absence of vision. Only the unyielding firmness of the court floor beneath his b.u.t.tocks anch.o.r.ed him to the dimensional world.

He heard Alison move. How close was she?

”Are you all right?” he whispered. He stretched out his hand, encountering nothing.

”Yes,” she said. ”Is there anyone?”

”I don't think so. False alarm. Just Panton panicking.” His hand touched her shoulder. ”Sorry. Can't see a thing.”

”I'm here.”

”Oh.” The darkness began to retreat. He sensed rather than saw Alison. He moved across the rug, closer to her.

”b.l.o.o.d.y dark.”

”Yes.”

He moved his head towards her, gently, almost blindly, like two docking s.p.a.cecraft. After some soft b.u.mps and readjustments, their lips connected tenuously, then sealed. Niles felt his heart swell to inflate his chest as he felt her thin cool lips beneath his. This was the fifth girl he had kissed properly. It remained as thrilling and exciting as the first time. He wondered if he would always feel this way. With little grunts and discreet pressures he managed to lie Alison down on the rug. Her long hair caught across his face, strands filling his mouth which he had to pull free with his fingers. They kissed again. Niles felt enormously humble and reverential. The acc.u.mulated sensations of triumph and release in a kiss were almost enough for him really, but he promptly banished such heretical thoughts from his mind. He managed to get both his arms round Alison and he felt her hands move on his back. His head was resting comfortably on his own left shoulder, Alison's head nestled in the crook of his left elbow. Their knees were touching; her face was perhaps three inches away from his. Some faint source of light picked out a curve on a cheekbone, a glimmer in an eye. The warm breath of her exhalations grazed his cheek. What should he do now? he wondered. Had he much time? What would she like him to do? What was she expecting? Perhaps she wanted to make love too? The novelty of this last idea came to him as rather a shock. He felt suddenly vulnerable and insecure; he sensed the alien presence of her femininity descend on and enfold him. He became immediately aware of his vast ignorance about Alison-the person, the girl-separating him ineluctably from her. Despite the fact that they were lying in each other's arms, they might have been facing each other across some great river estuary. The figure on the far bank was a girl's, yes, but that was all he knew.

He felt a gentle shaking. He woke up with a start. His eyes were open but he saw nothing. He sat up. His left arm was dead. It flopped lifelessly at his side.

”You've been asleep,” Alison said. ”I've got to go.”

”What?”

”It's just gone eleven. I've got to get the last bus.”

”Jesus. Asleep? You mean I ...? How long was ...?”

”You just drifted off. You've been sleeping about half an hour. I didn't want to wake you.”

Niles felt shame and disgrace cause tears to p.r.i.c.kle at the corner of his eyes. He picked up his left hand and started to ma.s.sage it. In the darkness it was like holding an amputated limb. To his right hand his nerveless left felt rough and calloused, like a stranger's.

”Can you find the door?”

They went outside. Alison wondered about the remains of the picnic. Niles told her he'd clean up in the morning before anyone came.

He was about to lock the door. ”What about the others?” he asked, fighting to keep the bitterness from his voice.

”They left about ten minutes ago. I heard them going.”

Niles locked the squash court door. He gazed bleakly round him. Alison stood patiently, knotting her scarf at her throat. It was a sharp, frosty night. The school buildings loomed on either side, dark and unpeopled.

”I'd better go, Quentin,” Alison said.

”I'll come with you to the bus stop.”

They sat out together, Niles looking nervously back over his shoulder. He was taking a calculated risk. The bus stop lay half a mile beyond the school gates. If he was caught out of bounds with a girl at this time of night he would be in serious trouble. But equally he felt that whatever happened, nothing should prevent him from being with Alison at this moment. They walked on in silence. Niles' mind was a tangle of conflicting emotions. Sentences formed in his head, only to split into whirling separate words like some modish animated film. He felt he should say something, explain that he hadn't meant to fall asleep, allude to his romantic plans, but his tongue and his mind refused to co-ordinate. His brain seemed to lock into an imbecille stupidity. He couldn't do anything right.

At the school gates he let Alison stride confidently through and go a little way down the road before he snaked beneath the lodge windows, squirmed through the side gate and made a sequence of zigzag dashes from bush to tree trunk, like a commando behind enemy lines, before he caught up with her.

Alison stood in the middle of the road waiting for him. ”That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?”

”I'm out of bounds, you see. If I get caught...”

”I don't want you to get into trouble, Quentin.”

”Forget it, really. I don't care.” He took her hand. There was a small shelter by the bus stop.... ”Come on, let's go.” They walked briskly down the road.

The shelter was empty. A nearby street light threw the graffiti carved on its green wooden bench into high relief. Small drifts of cigarette packs, soft-drink cans and wrappers were banked beneath it.

”Alison,” Niles began. ”Listen. I have to say this. I don't want you to think that...”

”Here it comes,” cried Alison, as the bus appeared round the corner. ”That was lucky.”

The bus stopped. She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, so swift it was almost a clash of heads, and got on. Niles looked at the single-decker bus. Inside, it was soft-yellow and smoky. A couple of old women looked curiously back at him. On the rear seats some louts drank beer from cans. Alison stood at the top of the steps, her back to him, buying her ticket from the driver. Her long legs seemed twin symbols of rebuke.

”I'll phone,” he shouted, louder than he meant. It sounded like a grievance, a threat. She turned, smiled, and walked down the bus to take her seat. Niles saw her thick dark hair on her blazer, saw her head toss as she sat down. She waved. The bus drove off. He didn't wave back.

Niles walked morosely up the drive. He walked on the verge, ready to duck behind one of the beech trees that lined the road should a car come by. He stumbled over a root, stopped, turned and kicked savagely at it. In a sombre mood of rea.s.sessment he cursed his school, the closed society he was compelled to live in, his demanding, predatory, so-called friends. ”Women,” his father had once patronisingly told him, ”are a lifetime's study.” He was off to a late start then, he observed grimly, and wondered if he would ever catch up. He felt suddenly exhausted by the daily, monotonous absorption with s.e.x, disgusted by the lonely idolatry of masturbation. He felt that his s.e.xual nature, whatever it might be, was irretrievably corrupted.

He paused and took a few deep breaths, trying to shake the mood from him. At this point the drive curved gently to the right, back towards main school. On his left and ahead of him lay a wide flat expanse of playing fields, fixed and still under a faint starlight. His house lay in that direction. It would be quicker, but he wondered if he dared expose himself on the open s.p.a.ce. He made up his mind. He set off, breaking into a steady jog, feeling the frost cracking under his feet, puffing his condensed breath ahead of him like a steam engine. He loped silently and strongly across the pitches. He felt that he could run for ever. He would be back in the dorm before twelve. They would all be waiting for him. Fillery had said they'd stay up specially. They wanted to know everything, Fillery had said, every little detail. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, Niles said to himself, smiling. His mind began to work. He'd give them a good story tonight, all right. They wouldn't forget this one in a long time. He ran on, a strange jubilation lengthening his stride.

The Care and Attention of Swimming Pools

Listen to this. Read it to yourself. Out loud. Read it slow and think about it.

A swimming pool is like a child, Leave it alone and it will surely run wild.

Who said that? Answer: Me. I did.

WINTERING.

”Can I swim?” says Noelle-Joy. ”It's a fantastic pool.”

Much as I would like to see her jugs in a swimsuit, I have to say no.

”Aw. Pretty please? Why not?”

”I'm afraid the pool is wintering.”

Noelle-Joy squints skeptically up at the clear blue sky. There's not even any smog today. She exposes the palms of her hands to the sun's powerful rays.

”But it's hot hot, man. Anyways, we don't get no winter in L.A.,” she argues.

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