love with you three years ago,’ I told her. ‘I’ve been dreaming, fantasising about you ever since. I’ve wanted you for ever, El. I’m just terrified you’ll get bored with me.’
‘Now who’s insane?’ she murmured, picking at the duvet cover, though she was smiling.
I told her about seeing her at the Lido that sun-hazy day during the summer of 2000, about how just that single head-to-the-side, hair-swinging-out gesture had captivated me utterly.
She snorted, then laughed. ‘I get water in my ears if I don’t do that,’ she told me. ‘It’s like walking around with my head underwater all day if I don’t.’
Elliewas crazily self-conscious about her looks; according to her, her entire body was just plain weird. I can’t even remember which breast she thought was bigger than the other; they were both OMG-I’m-going-to-faint beautiful and looked like a perfect matching pair to me, but to hear her talk one was a tennis ball and the other a crash helmet. There was a cute little crease across the end of one of her gorgeous light-brown nipples but as far as she was concerned it was the Grand Canyon.
We were a week’s worth of sex into our relationship before I got to go down on her, for goodness’ sake; she was convinced her body was a feast of freakishness below the waist.
‘But this is beautiful!’ I told her, the first time I was allowed to get down there in daylight and take a look. It was also the first time it occurred to me that this is why girls like frills and frilly things; they have their own frilliness, built in. ‘Seriously;
beautiful.
’
‘Oh, God!’ she said, slapping a hand over her eyes, patently mortified.
‘What?’
‘Engineering and Philosophy.’
‘I didn’t even know you could do that. Anywhere.’
Ellie looked thoughtful. ‘I think strings might have been pulled,’ she admitted. I looked at her. She shrugged. ‘Not directly Dad; John Ancraime.’
‘Honestly?’ I said. ‘Engineering and Philosophy? This isn’t a wind-up?’
A tiny frown puckered between her eyebrows. ‘Of course not.’
I whistled. ‘Best of luck with that.’ I wiped some spray off my face.
We were sailing; Ellie had a wee dinghy you could squeeze two people on to. We’d trailed it down from the house to the slip at the end of the Promenade and pushed the thing through light surf, wetsuited up. Dinghies were sort of weirdly old school, I reckoned; everybody else I knew who was aquatically sporty was into surfing,windsurfing, kite-surfing and jet-skis, but Ellie liked old-fashioned sailing, and admittedly it was something we could do together. This mostly meant getting cold and wet together, but it was, well, bracing.
‘Yeah, it’s a challenge,’ Ellie agreed. She had her hair up under a peaked cap, a few strands blowing loose. She looked great. She squinted at the breeze-swollen sail, then at the ruffled patterns the gusts of wind were pressing onto the waters all around us. ‘Going about,’ she announced.
We started bum-shuffling, hauling on some ropes and slackening off others.
Engineering and Philosophy. She was crazy. But, then, why not? Ellie always got what she wanted, always eased through life, accepting her familial, financial and intellectual advantages as her natural right. And if securing courses in the two subjects that most intrigued her at the time took some academic string-pulling via her dad and our local toffs, well, that was cool, even amusing.
At school she had got used to being top of the class in whatever subjects she could be bothered to put any effort into, but she never really studied and consistently underperformed in exams. Her teachers despaired; she was a star pupil but still, somehow, a disappointment. She got A grades, but then was told she could do better. She developed a mindset that found learning rather fun but being tested on it just a hassle; she did better than almost anybody else but still people seemed dissatisfied with her. What was
‘Now who’s insane?’ she murmured, picking at the duvet cover, though she was smiling.
I told her about seeing her at the Lido that sun-hazy day during the summer of 2000, about how just that single head-to-the-side, hair-swinging-out gesture had captivated me utterly.
She snorted, then laughed. ‘I get water in my ears if I don’t do that,’ she told me. ‘It’s like walking around with my head underwater all day if I don’t.’
Elliewas crazily self-conscious about her looks; according to her, her entire body was just plain weird. I can’t even remember which breast she thought was bigger than the other; they were both OMG-I’m-going-to-faint beautiful and looked like a perfect matching pair to me, but to hear her talk one was a tennis ball and the other a crash helmet. There was a cute little crease across the end of one of her gorgeous light-brown nipples but as far as she was concerned it was the Grand Canyon.
We were a week’s worth of sex into our relationship before I got to go down on her, for goodness’ sake; she was convinced her body was a feast of freakishness below the waist.
‘But this is beautiful!’ I told her, the first time I was allowed to get down there in daylight and take a look. It was also the first time it occurred to me that this is why girls like frills and frilly things; they have their own frilliness, built in. ‘Seriously;
beautiful.
’
‘Oh, God!’ she said, slapping a hand over her eyes, patently mortified.
‘What?’
‘Engineering and Philosophy.’
‘I didn’t even know you could do that. Anywhere.’
Ellie looked thoughtful. ‘I think strings might have been pulled,’ she admitted. I looked at her. She shrugged. ‘Not directly Dad; John Ancraime.’
‘Honestly?’ I said. ‘Engineering and Philosophy? This isn’t a wind-up?’
A tiny frown puckered between her eyebrows. ‘Of course not.’
I whistled. ‘Best of luck with that.’ I wiped some spray off my face.
We were sailing; Ellie had a wee dinghy you could squeeze two people on to. We’d trailed it down from the house to the slip at the end of the Promenade and pushed the thing through light surf, wetsuited up. Dinghies were sort of weirdly old school, I reckoned; everybody else I knew who was aquatically sporty was into surfing,windsurfing, kite-surfing and jet-skis, but Ellie liked old-fashioned sailing, and admittedly it was something we could do together. This mostly meant getting cold and wet together, but it was, well, bracing.
‘Yeah, it’s a challenge,’ Ellie agreed. She had her hair up under a peaked cap, a few strands blowing loose. She looked great. She squinted at the breeze-swollen sail, then at the ruffled patterns the gusts of wind were pressing onto the waters all around us. ‘Going about,’ she announced.
We started bum-shuffling, hauling on some ropes and slackening off others.
Engineering and Philosophy. She was crazy. But, then, why not? Ellie always got what she wanted, always eased through life, accepting her familial, financial and intellectual advantages as her natural right. And if securing courses in the two subjects that most intrigued her at the time took some academic string-pulling via her dad and our local toffs, well, that was cool, even amusing.
At school she had got used to being top of the class in whatever subjects she could be bothered to put any effort into, but she never really studied and consistently underperformed in exams. Her teachers despaired; she was a star pupil but still, somehow, a disappointment. She got A grades, but then was told she could do better. She developed a mindset that found learning rather fun but being tested on it just a hassle; she did better than almost anybody else but still people seemed dissatisfied with her. What was
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