believe in sex before marriage.’
‘And what about you?’ asked Claire softly. ‘What do you believe in?’
Helly blushed at Claire’s question. She looked down at her bitten fingernails and twisted her engagement ring as she did so. I don’t know why, but I felt sad for her just then. I
felt as though there was something she wasn’t telling, and I felt it strongly between us on that afternoon. But whatever it was, she was giving nothing away.
‘Of course not,’ she said again. But her lower lip trembled. ‘I have more respect for myself than that.’ And then she looked right at Claire.
Georgie and I glanced at one another but it was Claire who changed the subject. I thought Nora’s words had stung. There was just the tiniest flicker across Claire’s eyes to show that
she had registered Nora’s remark. Respect? I remember thinking. What has respect got to do with anything? She and Paul were still an item at that stage. They used to disappear into
Claire’s room on a Friday night and not come out till Sunday, most weekends. Well, apart from the occasional searches for food and bottles of wine. Georgie used to roll her eyes at the sounds
of muffled laughter coming from the bedroom. We’d turn up the music when the laughter stopped and the cries became more, well . . . private. They really loved one another, those two. By that
stage, too, Claire and I had become good friends. I’d stopped thinking of her as a threat. I was glad for Paul, too. I hadn’t liked any of his previous girlfriends. Didn’t think
any of them were good enough.
I still don’t know what possessed him to do what he did. All I know is, Claire was never the same afterwards. I still feel badly about that, that she felt she couldn’t talk to me,
because he was my big brother. She knew how close we were. She murmured something once about divided loyalties and families and blood being thicker than water. When I tried to say no, that that
wasn’t how it had to be between us, she silenced me with one of her clear, blue-eyed looks: half fire, half ice. On that afternoon in O’Neill’s, she looked at Nora in the same
way, but it was wasted on her. I admired Claire for her coolness. She no longer showed any trace of annoyance at the fact that someone who was supposed to be her friend had all but called her a
slut.
‘Well, as long as you’re comfortable with whatever you’ve decided,’ she said to Helly ‘Each to their own.’ She drained her glass. ‘And now it’s
your round, Georgie. Mine’s a glass of Guinness, this time. Don’t go wasting another pint on me.’
Claire and I spent one whole afternoon together the following September, a couple of weeks before Nora and Frank got married. It was unusual for there to be just the two of us,
but Georgie was off doing her repeats. Failing her first-year exams had shocked her – shocked all of us. She was cranky and tired all the time, no fun at all. It was a relief when she headed
off at half-past eight each morning. I was just back from London. I’d have stayed a lot longer only for Nora and Frank’s wedding. I loved London, loved the feeling that nobody knew me
there. Georgie liked it too, but not as much as I did. I think she was relieved to come back in August to study for her exams. In a funny way, I think she found that London was too big for her.
Georgie has always liked to be the big fish in a small pond. That’s not a criticism, by the way. That’s just how she is and she’s very good at it.
Me, I loved the spread-outness of the city, the different kinds of people, the whole feeling that London was kind of an extended village, made up of lots of smaller villages all strung together.
I spent every free minute in Carnaby Street and Petticoat Lane, rummaging in the stalls for bargains. And I got them, too, by the ton. I couldn’t believe the things I was able to pick up for
half-nothing. Georgie and I stayed in a hostel in central London and our caretaker
‘And what about you?’ asked Claire softly. ‘What do you believe in?’
Helly blushed at Claire’s question. She looked down at her bitten fingernails and twisted her engagement ring as she did so. I don’t know why, but I felt sad for her just then. I
felt as though there was something she wasn’t telling, and I felt it strongly between us on that afternoon. But whatever it was, she was giving nothing away.
‘Of course not,’ she said again. But her lower lip trembled. ‘I have more respect for myself than that.’ And then she looked right at Claire.
Georgie and I glanced at one another but it was Claire who changed the subject. I thought Nora’s words had stung. There was just the tiniest flicker across Claire’s eyes to show that
she had registered Nora’s remark. Respect? I remember thinking. What has respect got to do with anything? She and Paul were still an item at that stage. They used to disappear into
Claire’s room on a Friday night and not come out till Sunday, most weekends. Well, apart from the occasional searches for food and bottles of wine. Georgie used to roll her eyes at the sounds
of muffled laughter coming from the bedroom. We’d turn up the music when the laughter stopped and the cries became more, well . . . private. They really loved one another, those two. By that
stage, too, Claire and I had become good friends. I’d stopped thinking of her as a threat. I was glad for Paul, too. I hadn’t liked any of his previous girlfriends. Didn’t think
any of them were good enough.
I still don’t know what possessed him to do what he did. All I know is, Claire was never the same afterwards. I still feel badly about that, that she felt she couldn’t talk to me,
because he was my big brother. She knew how close we were. She murmured something once about divided loyalties and families and blood being thicker than water. When I tried to say no, that that
wasn’t how it had to be between us, she silenced me with one of her clear, blue-eyed looks: half fire, half ice. On that afternoon in O’Neill’s, she looked at Nora in the same
way, but it was wasted on her. I admired Claire for her coolness. She no longer showed any trace of annoyance at the fact that someone who was supposed to be her friend had all but called her a
slut.
‘Well, as long as you’re comfortable with whatever you’ve decided,’ she said to Helly ‘Each to their own.’ She drained her glass. ‘And now it’s
your round, Georgie. Mine’s a glass of Guinness, this time. Don’t go wasting another pint on me.’
Claire and I spent one whole afternoon together the following September, a couple of weeks before Nora and Frank got married. It was unusual for there to be just the two of us,
but Georgie was off doing her repeats. Failing her first-year exams had shocked her – shocked all of us. She was cranky and tired all the time, no fun at all. It was a relief when she headed
off at half-past eight each morning. I was just back from London. I’d have stayed a lot longer only for Nora and Frank’s wedding. I loved London, loved the feeling that nobody knew me
there. Georgie liked it too, but not as much as I did. I think she was relieved to come back in August to study for her exams. In a funny way, I think she found that London was too big for her.
Georgie has always liked to be the big fish in a small pond. That’s not a criticism, by the way. That’s just how she is and she’s very good at it.
Me, I loved the spread-outness of the city, the different kinds of people, the whole feeling that London was kind of an extended village, made up of lots of smaller villages all strung together.
I spent every free minute in Carnaby Street and Petticoat Lane, rummaging in the stalls for bargains. And I got them, too, by the ton. I couldn’t believe the things I was able to pick up for
half-nothing. Georgie and I stayed in a hostel in central London and our caretaker
Similar Books
