Page 60 of The Way We Are Now

There was no one in at Theo’s place – two had gone home to study for end-of-year exams and one was, apparently, out on the town – and the house felt peaceful, waiting. Theo went into the kitchen, opening a cupboard and returning with two tumblers which he filled with the remainder of the wine.

‘Not very cold now I’m afraid,’ he apologised, handing one to me and, standing, just looked down at me, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘Jesus, Anna…’ He placed his glass on a small table before taking mine and doing the same. ‘I’ve never… never felt like this before…’ He broke off and I rested my body against his, feeling his breath in my hair, on my face. Time stood still, I drew back, looked into his eyes before reaching forwards to undo his blue denim shirt one button at a time, pressing my mouth to kiss his chest as tanned smooth skin was revealed. He unbuttoned my jumpsuit, pulled the flimsy silky vest over my head in one slow movement and then slowly turned me round, unclasping my bra at the back before turning me back to face him once more and, taking my hand, led me to the bedroom.

19

We saw each other as much as we possibly could in the weeks that followed. Theo would drive over to me, or I’d take the train to Leeds, sitting with him, either in the library or in his room, where I found it very difficult to keep my hands off him while he studied. He spent a lot of time, when he should have been revising, down at the squash courts, practising and practising shots over and over again, angry and swearing at himself when he missed, coming off the court gloriously glowing and still full of energy, clearly fuelled for more exercise, but of a totally different kind. One evening, we were the last ones to leave and as I watched him from the viewing rails above, he glanced up, holding my eye as he wiped slowly and almost seductively at his neck with a white towel.

‘Come with me,’ he mouthed.

‘Where?’

‘Just come down.’

The changing room was quiet and cool – no clothes hanging up on pegs except those I saw to be Theo’s and, as well as the slightly pungent odour of sweat and rubber, there was a tension in the air; an exciting illicit frisson as Theo took my hand, moving his fingers to my face, to my neck. ‘Anna…’ he breathed, bending to lick my collarbone – something he knew I couldn’t resist.

‘Here?’ I said nervously, looking round.

‘Everyone’s gone. It’s OK. Stan – the caretaker’s – left me to lock up.’ He held up a bunch of keys. ‘I’ll drop the keys in on the way out.’

Emboldened by the changing-room door Theo now locked behind us, I reached up to him, kissing him so fiercely and without restraint I surprised myself as well as him. Taking his cue from me, he pulled off his Adidas top and I watched, marvelling at his sweat-soaked torso, at his hardness in the white shorts.

‘Hell, Theo,’ I whispered as he kicked off his shorts and moved me against the cool white wall. He lifted my cotton skirt, removed my knickers and, lifting me up, wrapped my legs around him, entering me slowly and oh so expertly, his eyes never once moving from mine.

I think it was probably the most erotic evening of my life.

We were into June, the weather still glorious, and Theo finished his exams and consequently his second year at Leeds University. He was still uncertain about taking a year out – as with my course it was an option that not everyone took – but having had three gap years before he actually started, in effect becoming something of a mature student, he was debating whether he should just crack on with his final year. Secretly, that’s what I was hoping for too: a whole year in Leeds with Theo! We’d finish our degrees together and then – well, who knew? He was playing more and more squash, still with the dream of turning professional, and I began to realise that perhaps academic life wasn’t really for him.

To my amusement, Theo became more than friendly with Mum and Dad when, if I didn’t manage to beat Mum to the phone, she’d answer and ask him how his day had been. How his exams were going. Had he played much squash recently? I sometimes had to almost wrestle her off the little phone table we had in the narrow hallway as she settled herself to more questioning of my boyfriend.

Because that’s what he was: my boyfriend. I had a boyfriend: a gorgeous, intelligent, funny, lovely, bloody sexy boyfriend and every minute that I wasn’t in contact with him was a wasted minute. We’d chat for hours, me telling him about work in the office, how I was getting a bit fed up with the routine of it all; how I just had to mouth ‘my dad and my two brothers’ in the general direction of John Dyson to know he’d think twice about trying anything on with me ever again. Dyson now ignored me completely, which suited me, never demanding I make him coffee and giving any photocopying and filing to Linda or Debs, rather than to me who was actually supposed to do it.

Theo was moving out of his student accommodation at the end of the week, packing up his things and taking them back home to North Yorkshire for the summer. He wasn’t, he said, particularly looking forward to spending the next couple of months back at Mandeville Hall, but needs must, and he was expected to work on the estate, either in the gift shop or on one of the many farms as well as helping Graham with the horses up at the stables.

‘You could come and stay,’ he said, at the end of one evening when neither of us refused to be the one to put down the phone on the other. It often went like this:

‘OK, I’d better go.’

‘OK.’

‘Go on then…’

‘I’m not putting the phone down first…’

‘Well, I did last time…’

‘I don’t think you did…’

‘Tell me what you’re wearing…’

‘Does it matter…?’

‘I just want to picture you…’

And so it would go on, but this time, with the invitation to spend another weekend back at Mandeville Hall floating in the air between us, I knew I had to make some concrete answer.

‘Would your parents be all right with that?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Theo replied. ‘There’s always someone staying in the guest wing.’