Bringing the Summer by Julia Green Page B

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    Wildness and wet .
    Visit?
    He’s written his address in tiny writing along the top of the card, and a mobile number.
    It doesn’t take me long on the computer to track down Binsey, a place near Oxford, and another link takes me to a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, called ‘ Binsey Poplars’ , and then, another hop, to ‘ Inversnaid’ and the line about wildness and wet . But I still don’t know what he’s going on about.
    And visit?
    Me, does he mean?
    I prop the postcard on my bookshelf, next to Evie’s whale. The picture is of something called the Radcliffe Camera, which is nothing to do with cameras actually, but a circular building made of stone, with a famous library inside. Theo’s drawn a stick man in one of the little windows, and an arrow pointing to it. T.F., reading .
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    Miranda comes round after college, Friday afternoon, so we can plan the weekend. Our college tutor says we’ve all got to start thinking about whether we are going to apply for university next year, and Miranda’s wondering about visiting Edinburgh, for one of those Open Days that universities put on.
    â€˜And then it would be fine to email Jamie, wouldn’t it? Without coming over too keen? Just friendly, seeing as I was going to be in Edinburgh anyway.’
    It takes me a minute to catch up. ‘Jamie?’
    â€˜The guy I met on holiday. Who’s a student in Edinburgh? Remember? Freya! Concentrate!’
    â€˜Sorry, Yes, Only, I thought you’d moved on, you know, to Charlie.’
    Miranda gives a hollow laugh. ‘Well, that’s dead and buried. He’s made that perfectly clear. He’s married to his music.’
    I laugh. ‘He doesn’t deserve you, anyway. He only wants an admiring audience. You don’t want to be yet another groupie.’
    â€˜You’ve never said that before!’
    â€˜I know, well, you wouldn’t have listened before.’
    â€˜So? What do you reckon?’ She gets up off my bed and turns on my computer on the desk in front of the window. She goes on her Facebook, to show me her holiday photos again.
    Jamie looks nice enough. ‘What’s he doing at uni?’
    â€˜Physics.’
    â€˜Hmmm. Well, why not? You can but try. But don’t actually stay at his place; get a room in the youth hostel. Just arrange to have coffee or something.’
    â€˜How sensible you are, Freya.’
    â€˜Only cos I care about you!’
    â€˜What about you? You going to visit some art colleges?’
    â€˜No, I don’t think so.’ And then I see Theo’s card on my table and the words just come out of my mouth. ‘I might go to Oxford for a look around.’
    â€˜Dead posh! You could check out Cambridge, too.’
    â€˜I don’t know; maybe it’s a stupid idea. Way out of my league. I’d have to get three As!’
    â€˜Which you will.’
    â€˜It’s probably not my kind of place, anyway. I don’t even know if you can do Art there.’
    â€˜Which is why you have to go and see! Sorted. Now: tonight. Film first, then round to Tabby’s place?’
    We look at what’s on at the multiplex. Miranda starts phoning round, to get everyone to come with us. I go downstairs to make us something to eat.
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    It wasn’t really a serious idea, when I first said it. But over the next days it begins to seem quite a sensible thing; something I might actually do. I look up the colleges and the trains to get there. I tell Dad and he starts waxing lyrical about Oxford – medieval buildings, all that history. So I write a postcard to Theo – I spend ages choosing which – I decide on a painting by Edward Hopper, called Nighthawks: gloomy and atmospheric, a single man at a bar at night.
    Dear Theo, I’m coming to Oxford second weekend in November for Open Day visits at Oxford Brookes and Ruskin. Suggest a café if you want to meet me on the Saturday some