myself to join in.
Even if I could have found the courage to ask her out,
we were too young to be dating, but too old to be childhood
friends. If I hadn't deliberately engineered our
meetings, there was no way that I would have seen her
at all.
Imagine how I felt when I saw a card in the
newsagent's looking for a boy for the early-morning
paper round that included her road. It was the perfect
excuse to cycle past her house every day. If I left her road
until last, there was a good chance that I would see
Laura as she walked the family's Labrador, Barney,
before school. The girls took it in turns, so I was soon
on nodding terms with Faye, her shyness eliminating
the need for much in the way of conversation. If there
was an ambassador for the Albury family, it was Laura.
Not wanting to look too obvious, I sometimes pretended
that I hadn't seen her.
'Pete!' she called after me as I sailed past. I looked
back to see her broad smile and her wave. I took my
time turning round and cycled back as casually as
possible.
'You just rode right past Barney and me.' She smiled.
'We might think you're deliberately ignoring us.'
'I didn't see you. You were hidden behind the cars.'
'I could see you just fine.'
'I must have been higher up on my bike.'
'Rotter!' She laughed. 'Have you got time to go my
way to school?'
I pretended to look at my watch to check if she would
be disappointed. 'I should be just about all right.'
'I know how you hate being late. I'll just let Barney
back in.'
After school, I occasionally changed my route home
to cycle by St Winifred's and see if I could spot her.
Pretending to have been on an errand, I would stop and
we would walk home just as we used to. I don't know
why I found it impossible to say, 'I thought I'd come
and walk you home, just like the old days.' It was the
same when I bumped into her at the weekends. Instead
of saying 'Would you like an ice cream?' the words that
would actually tumble out of my mouth were, 'I was
about to get an ice cream. Shall I get you one while I'm
at it?'
She'd start to search for her purse, saying, 'Hang
on, I know I've got enough money here somewhere.'
'I've just got my paper-round money,' I would say,
feeling extravagant. 'You get them next time.'
Although the end result might have been the same,
Laura complained years later that I had never once told
her how I felt about her. It's possible that by making our
meetings appear to be accidental, I just didn't make her
feel special enough.
Chapter Seventeen
When I discuss relationships with other people, they tell
me you never love the second or third time around as
passionately as you do the first. How, after being hurt,
you learn to put up defences, your own invisible force
field. Not consciously perhaps. Not even obviously. But
they are there, nonetheless. How would I know? I have
only ever been in love once. Although you may not
think that I was lucky in love, I know that I was
fortunate enough to fall in love with the right girl and
that my love lasted for the best part of forty years. How
many people can claim that?
I am currently working on a divorce case for an undeniably
beautiful client – let's call her Michelle. When
she walked into my book-lined office in a well-cut suit
and high heels, hair smoothed back tightly from her
face and a shade of pink lipstick just on the right side of
good taste, I thought she lit up the room. Then I began
to notice her hard edges. Gradually, I am beginning to
think she looks more and more like a stick-insect
in drag.
'Where do we start?' she asked, straight down to
business.
When I suggested that she told me everything she
thought was relevant, I got rather more than I bargained
for. She told me how in her teens she had been very
insecure and that this expressed itself as jealousy. She
imagined that her boyfriend – let's call him Brendan –
had a bit of a roving eye. She thought that when he was
with her, his eyes should have been on her only. In her
mind, he had
Even if I could have found the courage to ask her out,
we were too young to be dating, but too old to be childhood
friends. If I hadn't deliberately engineered our
meetings, there was no way that I would have seen her
at all.
Imagine how I felt when I saw a card in the
newsagent's looking for a boy for the early-morning
paper round that included her road. It was the perfect
excuse to cycle past her house every day. If I left her road
until last, there was a good chance that I would see
Laura as she walked the family's Labrador, Barney,
before school. The girls took it in turns, so I was soon
on nodding terms with Faye, her shyness eliminating
the need for much in the way of conversation. If there
was an ambassador for the Albury family, it was Laura.
Not wanting to look too obvious, I sometimes pretended
that I hadn't seen her.
'Pete!' she called after me as I sailed past. I looked
back to see her broad smile and her wave. I took my
time turning round and cycled back as casually as
possible.
'You just rode right past Barney and me.' She smiled.
'We might think you're deliberately ignoring us.'
'I didn't see you. You were hidden behind the cars.'
'I could see you just fine.'
'I must have been higher up on my bike.'
'Rotter!' She laughed. 'Have you got time to go my
way to school?'
I pretended to look at my watch to check if she would
be disappointed. 'I should be just about all right.'
'I know how you hate being late. I'll just let Barney
back in.'
After school, I occasionally changed my route home
to cycle by St Winifred's and see if I could spot her.
Pretending to have been on an errand, I would stop and
we would walk home just as we used to. I don't know
why I found it impossible to say, 'I thought I'd come
and walk you home, just like the old days.' It was the
same when I bumped into her at the weekends. Instead
of saying 'Would you like an ice cream?' the words that
would actually tumble out of my mouth were, 'I was
about to get an ice cream. Shall I get you one while I'm
at it?'
She'd start to search for her purse, saying, 'Hang
on, I know I've got enough money here somewhere.'
'I've just got my paper-round money,' I would say,
feeling extravagant. 'You get them next time.'
Although the end result might have been the same,
Laura complained years later that I had never once told
her how I felt about her. It's possible that by making our
meetings appear to be accidental, I just didn't make her
feel special enough.
Chapter Seventeen
When I discuss relationships with other people, they tell
me you never love the second or third time around as
passionately as you do the first. How, after being hurt,
you learn to put up defences, your own invisible force
field. Not consciously perhaps. Not even obviously. But
they are there, nonetheless. How would I know? I have
only ever been in love once. Although you may not
think that I was lucky in love, I know that I was
fortunate enough to fall in love with the right girl and
that my love lasted for the best part of forty years. How
many people can claim that?
I am currently working on a divorce case for an undeniably
beautiful client – let's call her Michelle. When
she walked into my book-lined office in a well-cut suit
and high heels, hair smoothed back tightly from her
face and a shade of pink lipstick just on the right side of
good taste, I thought she lit up the room. Then I began
to notice her hard edges. Gradually, I am beginning to
think she looks more and more like a stick-insect
in drag.
'Where do we start?' she asked, straight down to
business.
When I suggested that she told me everything she
thought was relevant, I got rather more than I bargained
for. She told me how in her teens she had been very
insecure and that this expressed itself as jealousy. She
imagined that her boyfriend – let's call him Brendan –
had a bit of a roving eye. She thought that when he was
with her, his eyes should have been on her only. In her
mind, he had
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