Page 51 of The Way We Are Now

‘Oh, the sport, absolutely.’ Theo grinned down at me. ‘Football! I coveted dreams of becoming the next Trevor Brooking or Emlyn Hughes.’

‘I thought you public-school lot only played rugby union?’

‘Absolutely. Footie was frowned upon – not seen as a gentleman’s game. I used to skive off and kick a ball around with the local lads. I was all right, you know. Could have gone far.’ Theo picked up a large pebble, demonstrating a rather impressive feat of keepy-uppy on his white trousered knee. ‘But then, I discovered squash.’

‘And?’

‘And I want to go as far as I can with it.’ Theo’s voice was animated. ‘I want to be the next Jonah Barrington or Gawain Briars.’

‘And what do your parents think to that?’

‘Not much.’ Theo frowned. ‘I don’t tell them how much I’m playing. You know, I bet if it was tennis I’d got into, they’d have been OK with it. John Lloyd and Wimbledon and all that. They see the mania for squash that everyone seems to have at the moment as a ten-minute wonder.’

‘Talk to them,’ I urged, taking Theo’s hand in my own. ‘You never know. They might be really proud of you if you managed to go far with this dream of yours.’

‘Oh, it’s all too new, not established. I reckon Dad sees it as something like playing darts or snooker – not quite the done thing. My father is somewhat old-fashioned.’

‘You’re joking.’ I took Theo’s hand. ‘Your dad was listening to the Stones as he trimmed your mother’s bush…’ I broke off, laughing as I remembered, and Theo gave a rueful grin.

‘Sorry about that. He likes to think he’s a bit of a comedian. Especially when he’s had a drink.’

‘Well, he was boogying on down to Frankie Goes to Hollywood – I wouldn’t call that old-fashioned. I bet your dad would love to have a famous squash player for a son.’

‘He wants me back here eventually, taking over this place. He’s determined it won’t go to the local authority like your Cannon Hall has done. Me gallivanting all over the world playing squash, instead of taking over the running of Mandeville Hall, isn’t something he’d consider.’

‘You should talk to him…’ I started again.

‘I don’t know why we’re talking about my dad… Hang on…’ Theo pulled the red jacket closer around my shoulders as I shivered in the cool morning air. ‘I’ve often made a fire down here…’ He moved off, gathering dry bracken, dead grass, twigs and larger pieces of wood, expertly building a triangle on a sheltered spot where there’d clearly been previous fires built.

‘Matches?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yep.’ Theo produced a small book of matches from the back pocket of his breeches, tearing off and striking a match from the cardboard and, squatting, attempted with much blowing at the flame to light the dried tinder.

I started to laugh at his exertions. ‘You could do with some Rothersley coal.’ And then, when he didn’t reply, ‘Do you always carry matches on you? Or had you planned to bring me down here? You know, to light a fire, to show me your lake?’

‘First time I’ve ever had it called that,’ Theo muttered through one final blow. He laughed then, sitting back on his heels before fishing into his pocket once more. ‘Have to hold up my hands!’

‘To your intention of bringing me down here?’

Theo brought out a rather squashed cigarette. ‘Nope! To this! I’m a reformed smoker. Got into it at school. Still fancy one occasionally.’

‘And you a sportsman?’

‘I know, I know. I allow myself one every now and again.’

‘Me too.’ I laughed, reaching for the crumpled lit cigarette and inhaling deeply. ‘Filthy habit but, just occasionally, it hits the spot.’

We sat on two upturned milk crates, sharing the cigarette, and I wondered if the absent Susannah had been brought down to this, Theo’s secret, favourite place.

‘So, what are your plans?’ Theo asked as he flicked the cigarette butt into the fire, now showing some life of its own.

‘Plans?’

‘You know? What do you intend doing with your life?’ He stroked my arm.

To be honest, I couldn’t quite get my head round anything I might be up to that didn’t involve Theo Mandeville. I wanted to stay here, in this moment, forever. ‘So,’ I said, leaning into him slightly, ‘my internship with the union finishes at the end of July, although I guess, if I wanted, I could stay on right until I’m back in Leeds at the end of September.’

‘And do you want that?’