'You're very… pretty.'
You've been sitting in the corner of the pub for a couple of hours, drinking and chatting about the course, when Gill comes out with this. She sounds resigned and looks like she's about to cry until she burps, which takes her by surprise. You laugh and pat her on the thigh.
'Yeah, you too.'
It doesn't go any further than that and she goes back to whining about one of the instructors.
'Don't you think he's so up himself, the bastard pig? He acts like he knows everything.'
'He probably does,' you answer.
'But he could at least try to sound less patronising. I thought they needed more police officers so why do they give us shit instructors?'
'I dunno.' You glance at your watch and notice that you should have gone home about half an hour ago. The same goes for Gill.
'If pigs could fly, do you think they'd need some sort of system so they didn't bump into each other in the sky?' asks Gill, and you know that she's definitely had too much. You ignore her and down the rest of your glass of wine. You know it's strange for two single teenagers to be sitting in a pub, drinking wine – you should be out partying and meeting potential love interests – but you are strange like that, and Gill doesn't seem to be one for going out on the town.
'Julie?' She prods you in the arm and you whip your face round.
'What?' you ask.
'Were you listening to me? Do you think pigs would need a sort of highway in the air?'
'You're mad, you.' A smile appears on your face as you dismiss her, but she looks insistent. 'How do you think birds manage?' you offer. Her eyes widen in realisation.
'Oh, yeah! How do they?' She looks away, pondering the complexities of avian and porcine flight paths, you assume, and you make a decision.
'Right, we'd best be getting back, hadn't we?' you say. She doesn't react for a moment, still in her own little world, then she slowly turns to you.
'What? Oh, right, home. Yes.' She pulls herself out of her little world and, judging by the almost imperceptible smirk on her face, you suspect that her mind had wandered off the topic of birds and pigs onto something altogether different.
You find yourself arm in arm, swaying down a very busy road in Central Manchester, aiming for the station, but not really knowing where you're going. You're both laughing and joking around and trying to stop each other from falling over. It's not quite successful – Gill loses her footing on the kerb in front of the station, but you manage to catch her before she reaches the concrete. She barely notices and carries on.
The train journey back to Padgate is quiet as Gill has fallen asleep on your shoulder. Your privacy is only invaded by one other passenger in the carriage, sat in a corner and staring out of the window. You do the same, checking on Gill every now and then. The scenery is nothing special. Houses, trees, houses, trees.
The train jolts as it goes over the points and you watch as Gill stirs, wanting her to get the rest she so obviously needs, meaning that you can watch her without her knowing, but she opens her eyes and yawns.
'Sorry I fell asleep on you,' she says, her voice deep from fatigue.
'It's not a problem,' you reply, turning to look back out into the darkness.
Once you're off the train, she's much more awake. You're glad because you don't know how you'd have got her back to her room if she'd been a dead weight.
The roads are silent as her hand slips into yours, linking your fingers together. You're not surprised or bashful about this. You just accept it, raising an eyebrow at her as she smiles up at you. This smile makes your brain stop for a moment. You wonder if she's thinking the same thing as you.
