Kiteworld by Keith Roberts

Author:Keith Roberts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

He tucked the note under his pillow that night. He got the best sleep he’d had in weeks.

He met the coach when it jolted in, the day before the start of summer term. She ran to him at once, and kissed. Put her arms round his neck. He swung her, laughing, set her back on her feet; to the envy of some, and the fury of quite a few. That didn’t matter though; nothing mattered, except that she was back. He walked her to her digs, she chattering all the way; about the races, and the farm, and the new foal. She insisted he come in and wait while she bathed and changed. ‘I’m all grot,’ she said. ‘Dead yucky. Look at this.’ She pulled her skirt hem up, exposing a vista of bronzed thigh, frowned at the dirt that marked the creases. ‘Those coaches are filthy,’ she said. ‘I’m going to write to College. Suggest they clean them at least once a year. Maybe Foundation Day. Shan’t be long.’ She dashed for the stairs.

In fact she was gone an hour or more. He didn’t mind. He sat and sipped at the wine she’d left him and pondered. There was a change in her, something he couldn’t place. She had always been vivacious; now she was electric. Poised somehow, like a dancer. As if some inner excitement was about to burst through.

She came back looking radiant in white. Twirled to make the skirt fly out again. He said, ‘How do you get so brown?’

‘There’s this barn,’ she said. ‘You can get out on the roof. I lie up there all day with nothing on.’

He thought his heart was going into spasm.

She grinned at him. ‘Where shall we go?’ she said.

He kissed her. ‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘As long as it’s with you.’

She took his hand. ‘Let’s go and have something to eat,’ she said. ‘Then I feel like getting drunk. Just to celebrate.’ She waved a wad of notes. ‘Don’t worry, Daddy put my allowance up. It’s all on me…’ For once, he didn’t argue.

They walked past Master Bone’s on the way into town. She glanced through the gates and turned her nose up. ‘You can chuck that grotty old place soon,’ she said. ‘You won’t need it any more. Anyway you’ll have to when you get your posting.’

Again the little pang; and once more it seemed she read his thoughts. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s still a term away. And a term’s a lifetime. I should know: I have to live through them too.’

‘Perhaps I might fail the Finals,’ he said. ‘Deliberately, just to stay with you.’

She looked solemn. She said, ‘You say the nicest things.’ She took his arm. ‘How about the “Twisted Trace”?’ she said. ‘Then we can go on to the “Master of Streanling”. The lobster there’s divine…’

She did get drunk. Not raucously so, it wouldn’t have been her style. But very definitely tipsy. He walked back with her finally, saw her to the door of the little cottage.

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