First Meetings
Disclaimer: These characters all belong to Margaret Biggs. Only playing with them cos I like them both, & there was never enough written about Roddy for my liking.
For what felt like the hundredth time this evening, Roddy Blake winced as her toes were trodden on heavily by the boy she was dancing with, and wished that she had stayed at home with Susan. She envied Helen at times like this, whirling lightly around the dance floor with Matthew Lacey, or chatting easily with Johnny Searle. She did not have the easy self-confidence that so characterised her siblings; usually this did not concern her in the slightest, but a night like this brought it to the fore.
The boy apologised profusely, and then, with an obvious effort, remarked, "I seem to know your face. Do you live in Bramberley too?"
"Yes. I'm Roddy Blake," she answered.
"Oh, of course! I'm Robert Robins," he replied nervously, obviously anticipating her laughing at his name.
At his obvious nervousness, hers suddenly fled, and she was able to chat about how horrible both their names were, and how awful their parents were when it came to naming them.
Robert stood heavily on her foot again, again apologising for being such a rotten dancer.
"I'm not much good either," Roddy confessed. "I say, isn't it hot?" she added, hoping Robert would take the hint to stop dancing and therefore squashing her feet flat.
Robert leapt at the chance to stop dancing, and offered to find her a lemonade as the refreshments had been laid out in the other room. By this time, she had decided that Robert was of the same mind about dancing as she was, and quite happily followed him to the refreshment table. They were the only ones in the room at that moment, so could take their pick of the sandwiches and cakes.
They discovered that they both loathed wafer-thin sandwiches – "You need four to make a good mouthful," Robert declared – and that their favourite flavour of jelly was lime.
There was enough time for them to get seconds before the rest of the party descended on the food like a plague of locusts. Roddy was amused to see that Helen had taken pity on Matthew – who had been looking completely lost whenever she was out of his sight – and had politely refused an offer from Johnny Searle to have supper with him.
Sometimes she thought that it would be nice to have someone who was devoted to her like Matthew was to Helen, who sometimes seemed to reciprocate this devotion. But mostly she thought it would be rather annoying to have someone following you around all the time, and scowling at anyone who paid you too much attention.
Her musings were interrupted by Robert asking about her father's writing.
"Daddy's books? Oh yes, I've read them, as a manuscript. We have copies of them at home, but I really can't be bothered re-reading them. Once you know who the murderer is, it spoils the book to read it again. But they're easier to read than Mum's books, of course."
"I haven't read any of hers. Does she write mysteries like your father?" Robert asked, pleased that he was able to make conversation with Roddy without looking like a complete fool.
Roddy laughed. "I would be surprised if you had. She writes biographies of terribly important but very obscure people. And unless you're interested in the person's life, they're terribly boring."
"Alright then, if you don't like either of the types of books that your parents write, what do you like then?"
Roddy considered Robert, her head tilted a little to the side. He seemed to be genuinely interested in what she had to say, and she found herself telling him about the library at school and how she was cataloguing all the books so people could find them more easily. And from that it was a natural progression to what they wanted to do when they left school – Roddy a famous authoress, and Robert a vicar like his father.
Quite before either of them realized, it was eleven o'clock and the party was over. They said their polite goodbyes to Sarah's parents, and left with their respective parents.
Roddy curled up in the corner of the car seat, listening with half-an-ear to Helen reliving the party with her parents, and thought of a nice dark-haired boy who liked to read, and didn't like large groups of people – just like her. She would definitely make sure she saw him again.