I'll never forget the first time I set eyes on Connie Beauchamp, or Connie Wilson as she was then. It was in the dining room on the first day of the Autumn Term, at The Ridings, the coed boarding school I'd attended since I was 11, and that I'd decided to return to as a 6th former. Being out of uniform for the first time, along with the pretty impressive set of O level results I'd received that summer meant that I was really feeling ever inch the big man on campus, but even that couldn't stop me going silly in the face of a mere fourth former. Not one that made the impression on me that Connie did anyway.
She was a strange fish back then. Still just a kid really, lacking in those curves that in later life would serve her so well, and modeling our school uniform which wasn't overly flattering at the best of times, but especially not when topped off with a dodgy pair of granny glasses. But yet she had something – a kind of elegance or grace that set her head and shoulders above the rest of the girls in her year, none of whom I'd ever look twice at.
I watched as she weaved her way through the tables, tray in one hand, with a hefty text book set under the other arm. She glanced briefly at a group of girls who I'd later discover were in her form, before heading in the opposite direction, to a secluded table where she sat alone, head bowed over her book as she ate, attracting the curious glances of those nearby.
My best mate, Adam, who had followed my gaze to her, gave a snort of derision as we watched her juggling her book and food. "What's she playing at? Studying? At lunch? We don't need new squirts turning up making the rest of look bad." I saw his point to an extent, but at the same time was unconvinced how impressed the staff would be; our Headmistress was a real dragon with a complete fetish about good table manners – I wasn't sure reading at the table fell into that category no matter what the nature of the reading material.
I got to my feet, picking up my own lunch, ignoring the sound of my friends calling after me, and headed over to her table where I was rewarded with a frosty glare, a frosty glare that I've seen many times in the years since. She uses it so often, and to such good effect, that I swear she should have patented it by now. Mind you, I was a thick skinned cocky little shit back then so I completely ignored it. I'd like to see someone try that now, and live to tell the tale.
So yes, ignoring the glare I sat down opposite her, which perplexed her and captured her attention for all of about 10 seconds before she returned her attention to her book. I gave her a few moments and then cleared my throat,
"I'm Paul. I'm in the 6th form."
She looked up, nonplussed and gave me a sarcastic smile, "Congratulations."
I sighed, starting to wish I hadn't bothered and then tried again, coming straight to the point this time, "I just thought I'd point out that reading in the dining room isn't exactly going to ingratiate you with anyone. Staff or pupils. Just so you know."
As confusion clouded her face, I couldn't help thinking that behind the glasses she was an exceptionally pretty girl, with beautiful high cheekbones and eyes I could have drowned in. Could still drown in if I'm honest. She didn't give me time to think about it though.
"Why not? I always used to read at lunch at my old school. It was completely acceptable there."
Usually such an attitude would have grated on me. You know what it's like when you're a kid. You think your school is the worst place on earth until the 'new kid' comes along and goes on and on about how its not as good as their old school and then suddenly, its like your school is a chocolate factory or something equally as cool, and they're just a pathetic little tosser for not appreciating that. In the past I'd smacked kids for less, but yet, it was different with her – it didn't come across as irritating just as naivety, and besides which, she had those eyes…
I smiled at her, "Ah yeah, but your old school didn't have Dragon Davies." I nodded in the direction of the door where our esteemed Head was making her entrance, "She thinks 'Thou shalt have good table manners is the 11th commandment'."
"Oh." Finally taking the point she pushed her book to one side, and it was only then that I saw what it was.
A very old and battered copy of Gray's Anatomy.
I grinned inwardly. I don't think fate should really have approved me chatting up a girl two years my junior, but apparently it was prepared to give me a decent hand anyway. I turned to look at her, "You're interested in medicine? I'm going to med school when I leave here."
At my words, her frostiness disappeared, a smile that I would later fall in love with broke out on her face, and I knew in that instant, that the beautiful girl in front of me was going to be my friend for life…
