Stephen Burnet's flight is diverted to another city where the girl of his school-day dreams still lives. He decides to visit although about twenty years have gone by. He phones her first, and then gets a taxi to her house.
'Well, well, well, Stephen. After all these years!' she said. 'Why don't you come in? Perhaps you'd like a drink?'
Stephen was rather surprised to find that Jane's living room was quite messy. There were clothes here and there on the floor. The kitchen door was open and it seemed the washing-up hadn't been done for ages. She had to move piles of papers off the sofa so Stephen could sit down.
'I've been studying,' she said hurriedly like an apology. 'What do you do?'
'I'm a doctor. Heart disease. That sort of thing. I've just come from a conference in Paris. I'm flying back to Bristol.'
'Really,' said Jane. 'I remember you would always say you wanted to work for your dad.'
For a moment, Stephen wondered what she meant by that. His father was a writer. But they had just been children – and children say all sorts of things.
'Would you like a drink? I could make you a cocktail,' and she smiled again and pushed back some hair that had fallen in front of her face.
'No, please, don't bother. A glass of water will be fine.'
'Alcohol bad for the heart, right?' she joked, and turned to go into the kitchen before Stephen could answer.
She came back with a glass of water and two biscuits on a plate and sat down next to Stephen on the sofa. Stephen felt how close she was to him, her leg almost touching his.
'So are you married?' she asked with her bright voice again as though the question was of little importance.
'My wife died four years ago.' Stephen just said it. Six little words which spoke pages and pages of pain and suffering. He didn't add any more. He used to in the early days. He would go on and on about how wonderful she was, the events of her death. Those words had been for him, however – not for the listener. He didn't want anybody else saying they felt sorry for him. Those six words were enough. Time to change the subject.
'I really enjoyed our time at school. I mean, the time you were there. I was sorry when you left.'
Stephen felt a little anxious he was giving too much information. But it was true. School hadn't been the best time of his life, as some people say it is. The big boys would bully him. But then Jane arrived, and life became happier. He fell in love with her. They weren't even teenagers – just twelve years old. They hardly spoke to each other, really. Stephen just used to like watching her, being close to her, totally by chance usually, in the dinner queue, for instance.
Then in French lessons, he would sit next to her every class, but only because the teacher made all the pupils sit girl – boy, girl – boy so they would behave better. How he looked forward to those classes – twice a week. He would help her with the exercises, as she found them difficult, and sometimes they both laughed together because she had invented a comic phrase in French.
Then there had been the school Christmas party – one of the most wonderful days of his life.
'I wasn't the greatest student on Earth, was I?' she said, as she looked hard into her cocktail. 'It was great having you around. You used to be such good fun. It made life easier. My dad was in the air force. Always travelling around, going from one school to another. It was impossible to make real friends. Then there was you. You were so easy-going. I was so glad I met you.'
So she had remembered the French classes too. They obviously had been more important to her than Stephen had known. Stephen felt his heart beating more quickly.
'My husband stays away for long periods,' Jane said suddenly. She stood up and began to walk around the room. 'I sometimes wonder… No, I'm pretty sure he's seeing someone else.' She sat down quickly again next to Stephen. He realised it had been difficult for her to say that. But she had told him. She obviously trusted him.
'Are you sure you don't want a cocktail? It's no bother. It's already mixed. Piña colada,' she said with sad smile.
'Yes, please! I would,' Stephen replied rather too quickly. It was a way of sharing something with Jane, like a laugh over something silly in French.
She got up and went to the kitchen, and Stephen could hear her, pouring broken ice into a glass. She came back into the living room, and then stopped and put the glass on a table.
'I've just thought of something!' she said.
She looked at a bookcase on one side of the room and went over to it. Then she pulled out something that looked like a photograph album. She picked up the glass, came back to the sofa and sat back down next to Stephen. This time pressing against him.
'Photos,' she said quietly as though it were some dark secret. 'Of our school!'
'Really!' said Stephen. 'Where did you get those? I mean, children didn't use to have cameras in those days, did they?'
'They were taken by the school photographer. The ones they would always take at school events for the local newspaper. You know, like the Christmas party,' she answered. 'The school gave them to me when I left. I just kept the ones I liked.'
She turned to the first photos. The Christmas party. Jane and Stephen smiled at the bad quality photos of Jane and her girlfriends looking rather embarrassed but happy into the camera. All in their school uniforms, wearing colourful paper hats and drinking lemonade.
Stephen was careful how he said the following words:
'I think I remember we sat next to each other at the Christmas party, didn't we?' That had been a moment of pure magic for Stephen. The headmaster* had stood up with his orangeade (or was it something stronger? the students always wondered) and wished everybody a merry Christmas. All the children did the same, and during the laughing and shouting, Jane turned to Stephen and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Merry Christmas!' she said and laughed in that way that Stephen used to love so much. “Merry Christmas!” he replied, and he kissed her briefly on the lips again, and Jane didn't mind. At that moment, Stephen felt something deep inside that was close to perfect happiness.
'I don't remember sitting next to you. I can't remember who I was sitting next to.' Jane said. Then she turned to Stephen and said suddenly 'But I remember kissing you!' She was smiling and Stephen could see her perfectly white teeth. 'We kissed like this!' Jane moved her face towards Stephen's and kissed him on the lips. She held her mouth there for a long time, and Stephen didn't want to move his face away. He closed his eyes and kissed her too.
When finally they moved apart, Stephen felt the world had stopped for a moment, and Jane and himself were on a little island, where only happiness existed.
'Another cocktail?' she breathed quietly into his ear.
'Yes, please,' said Stephen in a tiny voice. He wanted to add that he hadn't remembered that their Christmas kiss all those years ago had been anything like this, but he could hardly make himself speak.
'Here you are, Stephen,' said Jane with two cocktails as she sat down on the sofa, pushing her body close to his. Stephen now felt a little nervous, and it was good to have the photograph album between them. Something they could both concentrate on, instead of each other.
'And what about the school trip to Cheddar Gorge?' said Jane, the broad smile returning. Stephen dug down into his memory, but no pictures came to his mind.
'Cheddar Gorge?' he asked.
Jane turned some pages in her album. More photos of schoolchildren.
'You know,' Jane said. 'Where we visited the caves.'
'Ehm,' said Stephen, thinking hard.
'You don't remember?' said Jane. 'You don't remember how we found a little cave just for you and me? You don't remember how we kissed each other there?'
Jane pointed to herself in a photo and the boy next to her. Stephen looked hard at the boy. The photo wasn't very clear but it was clear enough.
'That's not me!' said Stephen, and his blood went cold. It was the other Stephen in his year at school: confident, cool, well-dressed, the sporty type, and charming too – all the girls used to love him. He wasn't bright at all – but the girls didn't mind that.
'Of course it's you!' said Jane. 'What do you mean?'
'That's not me.' Stephen repeated. 'I didn't go on the Cheddar Gorge school trip. I was ill. That's Stephen Bartlett. He used to look a lot like me. We were the same height too.'
Jane's smile disappeared. 'But you are Stephen Bartlett. You said so on the telephone!'
'I'm Stephen Burnett. Don't you remember? We used to sit next to each other in French.'
Jane stood up and the album fell off her knees onto the floor.
'Oh, my God! I suppose I didn't hear well… the cocktails… It's true, you aren't him. Stephen wasn't shy like you. I used to like him – a lot… I…'
She turned to Stephen still sitting on the sofa. 'That kiss I gave you at the Christmas party. I remember now. It was just a Christmas kiss. It meant nothing. I was talking about something else that happened… with Stephen Bartlett… He…'
Jane walked towards the other side of the room and turned around. 'Didn't you say you had a flight to catch? You'll miss it!'
Stephen stood up. 'But, Jane!' I thought we were very close at school. I thought…'
'I knew you liked me. Sorry. I didn't feel the same way. My God! What a big mistake I've made. I'm so stupid,' and she put her hand into her black hair. She walked towards the door and opened it, and said coldly 'It was lovely to see you again, Stephen. Thanks for visiting me after all these years.'
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