From The Moment I Saw Him .... (4 page)

“Walk away from what?”

Nick appeared at my shoulder, frowning slightly, as
if he had overheard the last part of the conversation.  Martin held up a
placatory palm.

“No worries.  Good to see you Nick.  Look after
Eithne for me.”

He moved away into the throng of dancers.  Nick
looked after him, puzzled.

“What does maudlin mean?” I asked.

“Drunk, squiffy, sentimental.  I should think he’s
had one or two too many tonight.”

 His face cleared.  “I hope he wasn’t bothering
you.”

“No, not really.  I think he loves Rosine,” I said
dramatically.

“Ah, yes.  That’s an occupational hazard.  Come on,
I think we should play some guitar again.”

By the time he finally said good night to me, I knew
I couldn’t walk away even if I had wanted to.

The rest of the holiday went quickly.  I was in a
hazy dream of love, both pleasurable and painful.  I wanted to be with Nick as
much as possible, but I only saw him a few times before the beginning of the
spring term. 

We went to the cinema, where we actually watched the
film.  Nick disapproved of snogging in public, rather to my disappointment. 
The second time was more thrilling.  I was asked to his house for lunch, after
which his parents left to go to a race meeting.

“So now we have the house to ourselves,” said Nick. 
“Time for another guitar lesson, don’t you think?”

I had always loathed the phrase
heavy petting,
something
that we had giggled and speculated about in hushed tones at school, and it
seemed to have no relation at all to the blissful tuition I was now receiving. 
Other “lessons” followed in quick succession.

I was drunk on the physical closeness, could not get
enough of Nick’s smooth skin and demanding mouth.  No one had ever warned me my
body might feel like this, my imagination had never encompassed such wonderful
sensations.

What a waste of time sex education was at school. 
Dry words from embarrassed teachers, and diagrams on pages could give no idea
of the heavenly things which could happen in the flesh. 

  I was absolutely besotted with Nick, and was both
proud and a little frightened to think how much I had learned about boys - or
one particular boy - in a very short time.  I felt that the awkward girl in the
park was a long way away.   Actually - and I only realised this a lot later - I
had learned very little at all.

When term started, we quickly got into a routine. 
On several nights a week, I would go to his house after school.  Nick’s father
was often away, and his mother never got home until after 6pm, so we were
undisturbed by a parental presence for several hours.  I unaccountably forgot
to tell my own parents about this fact.

At the weekend, we usually went out with other
friends.  I preferred our weekday assignations when I had Nick’s undivided
attention.  He was too often at the centre of things when we were in a crowd,
and I hated sharing him.

My parents very much approved of him.  I felt myself
blossoming with happiness, and it was a good job that my A level results could
not affect my Oxford place, as my school work began to come a poor second to my
all-consuming love life.

I was happy and excited to be known as Nick’s
girlfriend now.  It gave me a real kudos with the other girls at school, and I
felt myself growing a little conceited as a result.

Some very thrilling weeks sped by.  My 18th birthday
was due in March.

“Thank goodness - I can finally do it,” I explained
to Nick.

“Can we?” 

He sat up, pleased.

“No!  I meant get my ears pierced, silly.”

“Oh.”

 He slumped down again.

 For some time, Nick had been pressing me to sleep
with him.  When we were intimate in his bedroom, he would whisper silkily as he
caressed me that I would enjoy it, that it would bring us closer together, and
make our relationship special.

I wanted to do it.  I wanted more than anything to
please him, and I understood what he was telling me, but the warnings we grew
up with made me hesitate.

“Boys won’t respect you afterwards; you will regret
it on your wedding night”.

 This was the received wisdom, dispensed by women’s
magazines and teachers.  Even Eva and Teddy hadn’t taken this step, as far as I
knew.

I was also concerned about the risks involved, but
Nick assured me we would be quite safe so long as “precautions” were taken.  He
seemed to know all about this, and I realised regretfully that he spoke from
experience.

“Do boys really only want One Thing?” I asked
wistfully as we lay, entwined on the couch, watching some programme about
Swinging London and the terrible goings on of the youth of today.

“Christ, yes!”

 He turned those deep, dark eyes on me, knowing I
always found it hard to resist him when he looked at me like that.  “You know
we have these uncontrollable urges,
Eithne.  It’s your duty to help us
cope with them.”

Then, seeing my blank look, he stopped teasing and
became matter of fact.

“If I just wanted to have sex, Eithne, I could go
out and find someone like that!”

 He snapped his fingers.

“But I happen to be involved with you - and I’d like
to make love with you.  There
is
a difference.” 

I wanted him to say he loved me.  He never had.  It
was too hard for me to say it first, it was part of our girlish lore that the
boy should be the one to do so, and I had my pride.

Then I began to worry about losing him if I
continued to say no.  I couldn’t help but notice how other girls reacted to him
when we were out together, and already I had felt some miserable pangs of
jealousy.  I hoped our relationship would stretch into the future, because life
without Nick was unthinkable.  So I dithered, until one Friday in early April,
he made the decision for me.  Perhaps it was just as well.

Nick telephoned when I got in from school.

“Would you be able to come and stay the night? 
We‘ve all been invited to a party next door.  It’s going on late so Mum says
bring your things, if that’s okay with your parents.  The spare room’s made up
for you.”

“Wait - I’d better just check.”

There was no objection at all from my parents.  They
didn’t really know the DeLisles, but were faintly in awe of them.

“Great.  I’ll come and pick you up about seven, then.”

Nick had recently passed his driving test, and was
the proud possessor of a black Mini.

I put on a party dress, and packed a bag with my
nightie and clothes for the next day.

“What time do you want her home tomorrow?” he asked
my mother when he arrived. They had become great buddies, and he flirted with
her in a way that made her laugh and seem younger.

“No rush dear, we never worry about her when she’s
with you.”

I thought he seemed a bit funny.  As we were driving
back to his house, he appeared to be preoccupied, and I wondered if he was
feeling unwell.

The house was very quiet when we arrived.  I
couldn’t see any lights on, either.

“Have your parents gone on without us?” I enquired,
as our footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.  Nick put my bag down on the
floor.

“Darling, darling Eithne.  There is no party, there
are no parents; they’re in Ireland for the weekend.  We have the house to
ourselves.”

“You mean - stay the night with you?”

 My voice sounded squeaky as I spoke. 

“Yes. Is that so terrible?”

I was silent, surprised and apprehensive.  I knew
what that meant. 

“What about - what about....”

I was trying to find words to ask about
contraception but they wouldn’t come.  He understood anyway.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got all that sorted.”

He turned, and led me upstairs.

Wordlessly, he began to undress me.  I started to
speak, he stifled my mouth with kisses.  He would always have an answer to any
protest I could make.

The next morning, Nick prepared breakfast, humming
the latest hits along with the radio in the kitchen. 

“I suppose we couldn’t get your parents to agree to
your staying the night again tonight?” he asked, plonking down a pile of rather
burned toast on the table.  I was hunched up in an old dressing gown of his,
feeling self-conscious and somewhat ill at ease.

“My mother appears to agree to anything you ask, but
perhaps we’d better not risk it.”

I thought with a sudden pang of my small, white,
virginal bed at home, not so virginal any more.

Nick looked at me, trying to gauge my mood.

“Don’t be so woebegone.  Didn’t you enjoy it at
all?”

“Well - the first time was a bit - uncomfortable. 
It was better later,” I admitted, not wanting to say that it hadn’t exactly
been the sublime experience I had anticipated.

To my horror, I began to cry.

“Oh Christ.  Don’t, Eithne.”

He put his arms round me, while I sniffled a bit.  I
didn’t know what I was supposed to feel, but I hadn’t expected to be so muddled
afterwards - I felt a curious mixture of pain, embarrassment and excitement. 
It horrified me to think that I was the first to take this momentous step
amongst all my friends, and how little persuasion I had needed.  I didn’t want
to be the Shona McQueen of my year.  And there was no going back now.

Nick stroked my hair.

“Look.  We’ll go into town for the morning, and then
have lunch back here.  One of the boys is having a do tonight, and I’ll buy you
that necklace you liked in Fenwicks.  Eat your toast now, there’s some lovely
honey, your favourite.”

“I’m not a child you have to placate with treats,” I
said, with some dignity.  Momentarily, I remembered Martin at the party.

“Yes, you are.  I always forget what a babe in arms
you are really.  Oh, don’t start crying again.  I thought you’d be pleased to
get it over with; I promise you you’ll be fine later on.”

He was very sweet and kind to me all day.  We went
into town, and, like thousands, millions of girls before me, I wondered whether
I still looked and moved like the same person.  Obviously I did, because we met
a number of friends while we were out - I felt I was giving out visibly sparky
vibes which shrieked “I’ve slept with Nick!” -  but they didn’t seem to notice
anything different about me.

Later that afternoon, he coaxed me back into his
bed, and there seemed little point in resisting; not that I ever could resist
him for long.

And this time, I began to appreciate that sex could
be something enjoyable, rather than the sequence of uncomfortable surprises I
had experienced the night before.  I was more relaxed; now my body responded
rather than reacted to his, and I was very happy afterwards as we lay together,
entwined and breathless.  It was wonderful to feel we were so close, I didn’t
want to let him out of my arms.

“Don’t go round telling everyone,” I begged, as we
prepared for the party later on.  He rolled his eyes, but I hoped I could trust
him.  I could not bear to think of being labelled as another one of his
conquests; could hardly bear to think that there had been others before me. 

When we got to Dave’s house, everything was in full
swing.  Another set of absent parents meant that whoopee was being made all
over town, apparently.  As well as Nick’s usual friends, there were a number of
girls from St Faith’s, our rival school, in attendance.

I saw appraising eyes slide towards Nick, as ever,
the coolest boy at the party in a new leather jacket.  One girl - loud, dark,
heavily made up, accosted him with an air of familiarity, and bore him off into
the kitchen, where they seemed to be sharing a private joke.

I was miserable.  After the events of the night
before, I would have preferred to spend a quiet evening with Nick, not attempt
some forced jollity in a noisy crowd.  None of my special girlfriends were there,
and everything seemed rather hostile and hard work.  My body was sore and I
felt bereft.

At about ten o’ clock, Nick - I had hardly seen him
for an hour - came across and took me by the elbow.

“Eithne’s tired, I’m going to take her home.  Be
back later,” he called over his shoulder.

I was tired, and I didn’t protest as he walked me to
the car, but I didn’t like his last words.

“You’re not really going back to Dave’s?”

“I am.  Sam’s got some great dope.  I’ll probably
crash there.” 

He knew I didn’t like him taking drugs.  He turned
the car radio up loud, to fill the silence between us.

Always polite, he fetched my case from the boot when
we arrived at my house, and then enveloped me in a hug.  It felt false to me
after the intimacy of the afternoon and previous night, and I was suddenly
apprehensive.

“Sweet dreams, E.  I’ll call you tomorrow,” he
said.  Then, seeing my long face, “Don’t be so
down
.
 
We haven’t
done anything wrong.”

I heard irritation in his voice, saw exasperation in
his eyes.  I couldn’t let him leave me like that.  Quickly, I reached up and
kissed him, for once, the initiator.

“I’m looking forward to the next time,” I whispered.

He drove away, and left me standing in the
darkness.  It occurred to me that I had slept with a boy who couldn’t wait to
get back to where the action was.  How on earth had I been such a fool?