An Ocean Apart (7 page)

“Well, that has to be the most expensive bottle of mouthwash I've ever been bought!” She paused for a moment, then, pushing her fingers through her hair, took a deep breath. “Look, what happened in the pub really doesn't justify you buying this.” She paused and pulled an embarrassed face. “I think that I probably over-reacted a bit. Anyway, it's not really for you to apologize.”

David smiled at her. “Well, I think someone has to.” He offered her the bottle. “Okay, if not an apology, then let's just call it—an introductory offer.”

After a moment's hesitation, she slowly took the bottle and clasped it in her arms next to the book. “Well, in that case, thank you, it's more than generous.” She held out her right hand towards him. “And by way of introduction, I'm Rachel Devereux.”

David took hold of her hand. “Hi, Rachel,” he said, overwhelmed with relief that the whole incident was apparently finished with. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm David Corstor——”

“I know you are,” Rachel interjected, a huge grin on her face. “Oxford Blue at tennis, titled, lieutenant in the army, what else was it? Oh yes, rock star…”

David felt himself blush. “Ah, of course, Toby's wretched introduction!” He looked up at her and smiled. “I think we'd both be better off if we forgot about that little interlude, don't you?”

Rachel smiled and nodded. “Maybe for the best.”

“Good! So, which way are you heading now?”

“Back the way we came.” Rachel flicked up her wrist and looked at her watch. “I was meant to be at the science buildings at two o'clock for a tutorial, but I don't think I'll make it.”

David put his hand on her arm and turned her in the direction of Broad Street. “Come on, I've got a car back at the pub. Even in this infernal traffic, I think we've more chance of making it on wheels than on foot. At any rate, I'm going up that way.” He glanced apprehensively at her as they walked. “Maybe I shouldn't really say this, but I'm meant to be watching Toby play cricket this afternoon.”

Rachel looked sideways at him, a rueful smile on her face. “Yes, you're right. Better left unsaid.”

They walked briskly up Cornmarket and around the corner into the Broad, sometimes divided and at other times pushed together by the crowds coming towards them. “So how does it work, you being here at Oxford and being in the army at the same time?”

“Well, I'm not really in the army yet. I'm what Toby quite rightly termed a ‘second lieutenant-in-brackets-on-probation.' I joined up after leaving school, the army pay my way through university, and then, if all goes well with my finals, I do six months at Sandhurst and five years with the regiment.”

“Right. So when
are
the finals?”

“God, I wish you wouldn't ask that question.” He looked over to her, pretending to chew on the fingernails of his right hand. “Next month!”

“Yeah, same as me.”

“Really? I can't believe that. Which college are you in?”

“Hertford. Why do you say you can't believe it?”

“Well … because … well, I just thought that I might have met you before now. I mean, Oxford's not that big a place.”

Rachel turned and smiled at him, but said nothing more until they had turned the corner of the Broad and were nearing the car. David took the keys from his pocket and Rachel walked out into the street to stand by the passenger door.

“Actually, I have seen
you
around,” she said, looking at him over the roof of the car.

David stopped as he put the key in the door and glanced at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “Really? Whereabouts?”

“I don't know. Just around.”

“Then why haven't I seen you?”

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know. Maybe you just haven't been looking in the right direction.”

The remark was laced with such possibly seductive innuendo that David felt an involuntary shiver of excitement course its way up his spine. He looked directly at her, catching the physical intent of the statement in her eyes.

“Obviously not,” he said quietly to himself. Unlocking the car, he climbed in, and having bundled the pile of cassettes back into the glove compartment, he reached over to open the passenger door. Rachel threw her book onto the back seat and jumped in, wedging the bottle of champagne between her feet.

“The science building, then?”

She thought for a moment. “No, I don't think it's worth it. My tutorial will have started by now.” She looked across at him. “Anyway, what the hell! I haven't had a break from my books in weeks. Maybe I'd be better doing something relaxing, like watching cricket.”

David was taken aback by her suggestion. “Are you sure?”

“Why not? As long as I don't have to make physical contact with your friend Toby again!”

David let out a short laugh and, pushing the car into gear, he pulled away from the kerb and manoeuvred a tight U-turn on the junction of Broad and Holywell Streets, then headed back up Parks Road towards the university grounds.

He counted five cricket matches in progress as he drove the car as unobtrusively as possible around the periphery of the grounds, straining his eyes to see if he could make out any familiar figure on the pitches. He passed by the first game, and on to the second, and there caught sight of Toby standing in the crease at the bowler's end, one hand leaning on his bat, the other placed firmly on his hip, an air of confidence about his person.

“There he is!” he said, pointing Toby out to Rachel. “We'll park here, next to the sight-screen, and hope we don't get moved along.”

“What's the sight-screen for?” Rachel asked, looking at the large white board that stood beside them.

“Well, it's positioned in direct line with the bowler and the batsman, so that the batsman can get a clear sight of the ball when it comes at him.” David looked over at the score-board. “God, the jammy devil! He's only three runs off his half-century! No wonder he's looking so cocky!”

Rachel sighed. “If he's only got three more runs to make his half-century or whatever, why is he standing around doing nothing?”

“He's not facing the bowling at the minute.”

“I've never understood the stupid game. When you're in, you're out there, and when you're out, you come back in here again.”

Leaning forward, she picked up the half-bottle of champagne and pulled off the foil top. She rolled down the window and, twisting off the wire, exploded the cork towards the sight-screen, quickly putting the top of the bottle to her lips to catch the first frothing mouthful. She handed it over to David.

“It's over,” he said, taking a swig and pointing towards the game.

“What, already?”

“No, not the game. ‘Over' just means it's time for someone to bowl from this end. It's Toby's turn to face now.”

Rachel shook her head. “It's a very stupid game.” She reached over for the bottle and took another sip.

David watched the new bowler walk back towards where they were sitting in the car, turn twenty-five yards from the wicket and set off like an express train towards the crease. The first ball was a vicious out-swinger at which Toby attempted to play a forward defensive shot, but missed it by a foot. He straightened and strutted up the wicket, tamping with his bat at various spots on the ground, obviously feeling that they were the major cause for his missing the last ball by such a wide margin. He returned to his crease, played a practice shot identical to the one that had just failed him, flexed his knees, and readied himself for the next ball.

“Wow, I'm not used to champagne!” Rachel said, leaning back in her seat. “I can feel it going straight to my head!” She rolled her head back and forth against the head-rest, then something on the dashboard of the car caught her eye. She leaned forward and pointed to the cassette player. “So, this is the famous stereo system that Toby was on about?”

David nodded. “Yeah, that's it.”

“Can we put it on?”

“Don't see why not—as long as we play it quietly.” Reaching forward, he pressed the on/off button and pushed the present cassette into the player. As the fadeout of Martha Reeves and the Vandellas hissed through the speakers, David watched Toby steer a ball off the edge of his bat for two runs.

“Come on, you fluky bastard,” he said under his breath, “one more like that and you've got your fifty!”

As Rachel was tilting back another measure of champagne into her mouth, the muted, mellow guitar introduction filled every corner of the car. She suddenly sat upright, her body taut as she waited to hear the next bar. The instrumental gave way to the close harmony of the backing vocalists.

“Oh my God! It
is!
It's Smokey Robinson and the Miracles!” She reached forward and turned the volume button full on. “Oh, David, this just has to be the most beautiful, sexy song that has
ever
been written!”

The sound of the music was deafening within the small confines of the car, and instinctively David put his hand forward to turn it down, realizing that it could be no doubt heard by the players on all five of the cricket pitches.

“I think that that's just a bit lou——”

“Oh, please don't touch it!” Rachel said, reaching out and catching his hand to stop him. “Oh,
David,
this is just too fantastic for words!” She pushed open the door and jumped out, leaving it wide open.

“What
are
you doing?” he laughed.

But Rachel never answered him. Taking another drink from the bottle, she kicked out each foot to rid herself of her shoes and began dancing on the grass, moving slowly but steadily away from the car towards the sight-screen. David watched her for a moment, then dragged his attention back to Toby, who by this time was becoming increasingly agitated at the speed of the bowling. It was then that it suddenly dawned on him what was about to happen.

“Oooooh, hell's teeth!” he exclaimed out loud. He threw open his door and leaped out. “Rachel, you can't—”

He didn't go any further. Suddenly the visual impact of the cricket game became a stark and uninteresting antithesis to the spectacle that he was now witnessing. He swallowed hard as he watched Rachel gradually approach the sight-screen, her movements liquid as she danced, her rhythm perfect, her body picking up every sensuous particle of the song, and he found himself transfixed by the combination of the words, the music, her beauty and her motion. She turned, mouthing the words of the song directly at him, using the bottle as a makeshift microphone, “So take a good look at my face, can't you see the smi-ile, it's out of place,” then again turned away from him, moving farther into the danger zone, gently swinging her hips and hands in complete symmetry and unison with the song.

A shout from the cricket pitch broke David's trance. He turned to look towards Toby's game. Everyone was gawking in their direction—all except Toby, who stood at the crease, waving his hand and yelling something at him.

“What?” David called back.

“I — said — get — her — away — from — the — bloody — sight-screen,” Toby called out at the top of his voice. “She's—a—bloody—distraction!”

“You can say that again,” David said to himself, and held up his hand in apology. He ran over to Rachel, who was now dancing directly in front of the huge white board.

“I think you'd better move,” he said. “You're right behind the bowler's arm.”

“No, I'm not. I'm miles away from him,” she replied, continuing to dance, her voice now slightly fuzzy from the effects of the champagne.

David swept back his hair and scratched at the back of his neck. “Listen, I don't think we're going to be very popular with Toby.”

Rachel said nothing but smiled wickedly at him.

“Come on, are you going to move, or am I going to have to carry you?”

Her reply was immediate. “All right.”

David shook his head. “Oh, hell's teeth!” he said under his breath as he walked up to her. Putting one hand behind her back and the other under her knees, he picked her up off her feet, and as he half-walked, half-ran towards the car, Rachel linked her arms around his neck.

The whole episode had a dramatic effect on Toby. He was finding it hard enough to deal with the pace of this new bowler without the distraction of a sudden burst of music and the appearance of a girl in front of the sight-screen. As he held his hand up to signal his state of unreadiness to the bowler, he recognized David's car, and realized immediately that this was the girl who had given him such a hard time in the pub. It was, to Toby, an ill-fated omen. As David carried the girl away, he took up his stance once more, but when the umpire dropped his arm and allowed the bowler to start his run, his eyes were distracted from their normal line of concentration to watch David and the girl move towards the car. He never saw the ball. He only heard the thump and clink as it cart-wheeled his middle stump out of the ground and knocked the bails clean over the wicket-keeper's head. The fielding side erupted in delight and ran to the bowler, slapping his hands and patting him on the back in congratulations.

As soon as they reached the car, David dropped Rachel onto her feet and dived inside to switch off the stereo. When he reappeared, she was looking out towards the cricket game.

“Toby seems to be walking off the pitch. Does that mean he's out or in?”

David glanced over to the score-board in time to see the number 49 taken off the main display and relegated to the “Last Man” position, then turned back to view the dejected figure of Toby as he slumped his way back to the pavilion, slamming his bat into the ground as he went. David looked across at Rachel, who was biting at her lip, a cringe of embarrassment on her face.

“Oops, was that my fault?” she asked quietly.