Sybil wasn't familiar with the road network in Swansea, it wasn't somewhere in which she had spent much time. However, her sat-nav directed her to a quiet side street close to the university campus and the community hall which was hosting Tom's presentation. An A4 poster advertising the event was prominent in the hall's external notice board, but there was little activity within the foyer and a young man waiting behind a trestle table greeted her with a wide smile as she entered.
"Have you come for the talk?" he asked eagerly, beaming in response to her friendly nod.
"Um…Tom Branson told me to give my name at the desk?" she murmured, watching as the man immediately reached to retrieve his clipboard from the table.
"You must be Sybil Crawley" he concluded, drawing a flamboyant tick on a piece of paper and she felt amused by his blatant enthusiasm for the task.
She was conscious of her anxiety on Tom's behalf that the event might be poorly attended. "Are there many here?"
"We've got about twenty, but it's only ten to eight, so I'm sure we'll have a few more before we start."
"Oh…" Her dismay was transparent and the man shook his head, flashing another confident smile.
"That's about what we were expecting. Tom's quite happy." He paused and offered another satisfied beam. "He's delighted you're coming."
"Is he?" she asked with bemusement, wondering if he was simply being polite, or whether Tom had indeed discussed the matter with him.
"Absolutely. Now please take a seat wherever you like. We'll be serving complimentary refreshments at the end."
Sybil entered the main hall, where an optimistic number of seats were laid out in meticulous rows. Tom was talking to a smartly suited woman standing beside him at the front, but he glanced up at the sound of entering footsteps and raised a hand in greeting.
As she strategically chose a central seat, nodding amiably at an older man who was already settled in an adjacent chair, she noticed two young women - one blonde, another brunette - turn their heads from the front row and stare at her intently, before looking round again and whispering to one another attentively.
Tom began ten minutes later than advertised, greeting last minute attendees with a smile and welcoming acknowledgement. He spoke with only limited notes, using his laptop to display diagrams on a screen from time to time, but also encouraged the audience to participate by asking questions to the floor and encouraging them all to give their own ideas and thoughts. He was a skilled orator and accomplished in directing the discussion - not allowing it to waiver off-topic when someone tried to divert with their personal opinions, nor embarrassing anyone who didn't wish to participate.
Sybil raised her hand at one point in the proceedings, feeling an unexpected sense of satisfaction in being able to answer his query about benefits gained by EU membership within the health industry. It occurred to her later that Tom may have included the question solely for her benefit, as he didn't subsequently dwell on the topic in any substantial detail, but flashed a grin in her direction when he saw her hand in the air.
"Miss Crawley, yes, what do you think?" The two women in the front row turned around to stare at her once again and she met the brunette's glare with a friendly smile, surmising with amusement that Tom had a jealous admirer. She was shocked to discover that it was half-past nine by the time the talk drew to its conclusion. In all honesty, she hadn't expected time to fly with the nature of the topic, but Tom had provided variety of tone and judged his delivery well in order to meet the interest of his spectators. She could appreciate his professional success to date and only wished that his performance could have been received by a wider audience.
As the youth from the foyer began to serve hot drinks and biscuits, Tom was in high demand from a succession of interested or fawning attendees. Sybil wandered to the side of the hall with her cup of tea, gazing at the pictures hanging on the wall and reading leaflets for various local causes which were laid out on a nearby table.
"Were you gripped at the edge of your seat?" Tom's voice appeared behind her and she turned around with a smile. He tipped his head to one side in his familiar pose, appearing momentarily unsure of himself until she gave him her verdict.
"Absolutely." she said solemnly, before offering an encouraging grin. "Seriously, it was very good, Tom. You're an excellent orator."
"Well thank you" He bowed his head in mock deference, then beamed at her. "It went very well actually. Thank you for your contribution, it definitely helps when the audience want to be involved. The Assembly lady seemed happy, so that's good! They won't withdraw my funding for the time being."
"Tom…" a female voice interrupted and Sybil turned to see the brunette from the front row now standing beside them. She was classically pretty, with symmetrical features on an oval face, although the amount of make-up she had applied deflected from her natural good looks. Long, glossy hair fell over her shoulders, which she flicked confidently away with a polished purple fingernail. She didn't look at Sybil, directing all of her attention towards Tom, who exchanged a friendly nod of greeting. "…I was wondering if I could talk to you about my essay for a minute please? I'm struggling with one particular section…"
"Sure. Um… excuse me, Sybil…I won't be long."
"No problem, I'll just be over there" she replied cheerfully, noting the young woman's sullen glance in her direction as she moved away. A peek at her watch indicated that it was now past ten o'clock and with a start she reflected on her early rise for work in the morning. Her journey home would take forty minutes and their proposed drink elsewhere was beginning to seem unwise.
"Really sorry about that" said Tom as he once again sought her out.
"I think you have an admirer" she joked and he rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I know. She's a nice girl, but I don't think her attention is solely on my fascinating delivery, unfortunately."
"I expect you have half the female undergraduate population falling at your feet, don't you?" Sybil laughed. Her intention was only to tease, but she couldn't help but feel curious about his reply.
"Not quite. It has happened before, but I don't take advantage of the situation, I can assure you."
"You wouldn't be the first lecturer to do so, I'm sure."
"No…" he said slowly, narrowing his eyes and meeting her gaze. "But I don't."
"I remember being a bit giddy about one of my lecturers at uni, to be honest" she laughed, not wanting him to feel that she was grilling him about his private life. "Not that it got me anywhere, more's the pity!"
"I can't imagine you being giddy towards anyone, Sybil" he commented with a slow smile. "You seem far too confident and together for that kind of behaviour."
"Well I'm glad the façade is working!" she laughed. "This was when I was only about nineteen. And anyway, don't forget that I was very giddy about you once!"
"Ah yes, but that was an extremely long time ago. Listen, I'm almost done, I promise. I just need to give Dan a hand stacking these chairs and then we'll go and find a pub."
Sybil pulled an apologetic face. "I think I'm going to have to head home, Tom I'm afraid. I'm on an early in the morning so I need to be up at six and I'm doing an extra couple of hours for a colleague at the end of the day as well. I can't afford to be shattered when I'm on my feet all day – I can't manage that these days! I'm very sorry to cut and run, but I'll help you stack the chairs first and then maybe we can meet up again some other time?"
Tom's dismay was visible. "Oh God, I'm so sorry and you've come all the way over here."
"I wanted to come. You didn't persuade me. And I'm glad I did, but I should have thought about what time I needed to be home and let you know beforehand."
"Let me come over to Cardiff one evening?" he suggested and she smiled brightly, pleased that their friendship appeared to be on-going, whilst simultaneously avoiding any contemplation of her feelings beyond a jovial camaraderie.
"Sure! That would be lovely."
"I'm away this coming weekend, but what about the following one?"
"It's my friend's wedding, so I won't be around, I'm afraid."
"And then I'm away again the weekend after that."
"You're in high demand!" she joked and he made a peculiar grimace. "Something like that, yes. How about a week night?" He paused with a brief glance at the floor before returning her careful scrutiny. "Could I take you out for dinner, Sybil? Would that be OK?"
By the careful way in which the invitation was phrased, Sybil understood that an invisible line had been crossed and that his thoughts had now turned beyond an old friendship and pure nostalgia. She realised that she now found the man as fascinating as she had once found the boy and had no hesitation in giving her answer.
"I'd love that."
ooOoo
Sybil checked her appearance in the mirror once again as she waited for the doorbell to ring. She hadn't been on a first date for more than two and a half years, since she met Damian, and she had no doubt that this evening fitted into that category. However, she found herself in a unique position on this occasion – a comfortable familiarity, combined with the tantalising thrill of potential with somebody new.
Regardless of her initial hesitation in contacting Tom, she had never expected to rekindle their teenage romance. The idea that he would be available, in addition to once again finding him attractive, had never seemed a realistic scenario and it wasn't one which she had seriously contemplated. She was level-headed enough to acknowledge that an element of his allure was tied up with her memories of youthful desire. However, had she been meeting him for the first time, she was fairly certain that his good looks, intellect and natural charm would have aroused her interest regardless.
Opening her front door, she felt her stomach lurch with anticipation, although there was no sign of it in her expression as she offered him a welcoming smile. He was casually dressed, in dark jeans and a light blue shirt with an unbuttoned jacket indicating the cool March temperatures outside.
"You look lovely" he said lightly and she gave him a grin, never wholly comfortable when receiving compliments, but not wanting to shun them nonetheless.
"Thank you. I've booked a table at an Italian down the road, is that OK? It's my local really, but it's as good as anywhere in the city centre."
"Sounds perfect. Lead the way."
Five minutes later, they were greeted enthusiastically by the proprietor, Vincenzo and shown to their table. The restaurant was rudimentary but unpretentious, with a mural of Mount Vesuvius painted on one wall and photographs of rural Italian life tastefully placed elsewhere. The white tablecloths had seen better days, but a small vase of orange gerberas arranged on each table provided an impression of care and attention.
"He seems to know you quite well?" Tom said with a smile.
"Yes, I'm a bit of a regular. I bring most of my friends and family here at some point. The food's so good and it's very reasonable. I have to admit to picking up the odd carbonara take-away after a long and tiring shift as well from time to time. All I have to do is ring as I leave the hospital and there's my dinner…" she switched to an adept Italian accent. "Five pounds fifty bella, buon appetito!"
"I'm still sussing my local area out really. I haven't spent enough time there to really get to know it." Tom confessed, as he glanced the menu.
"Do you go away a lot then at weekends?" Sybil watched him as she spoke, but he didn't look up - continuing his menu perusal while giving an absent-minded nod of the head.
"Mmm…yes, quite a bit."
"Back home, or have you been exploring Wales?"
"Um…no, I haven't really made the most of being here, to be honest. I hope to, over time."
"And how was your rugby match in Dublin last weekend?"
He sat back and his chair and made eye contact once again. "Good, thanks! It was a bit of a non-match in the end because your lot won the overall trophy, but consequently it was a pretty good game."
"Did you go out on the town afterwards?"
"No…no I didn't." He picked up the menu again and studied it with intent concentration.
"I thought that was part of the ritual?"
"Usually yes, but…" He cleared his throat and looked up with a smile. "I just went back to Mam and Dad's for the evening. Anyway, weren't you on your friend's hen night? I'm sure you had a much wilder time!"
Sybil smiled at the memory of an entertaining weekend in Bath. "It was lovely. We went to the spa, did some shopping, had a meal out, a bit of a boogie in a club – great fun, thanks."
"Not too messy?"
Sybil pulled a face as she recalled helping a drunk and emotional Gwen into her hotel bed at 2am. "A bit. I was relatively sensible though, no raging hangover. I deposited the bride-to-be home and unscathed the next morning, so that's the main thing."
"Tell me…" she asked as they gave the waiter their order and handed over their menus. "Why did your parents move back to Ireland so suddenly?"
Tom leant back in his chair, giving a light sigh. "A multitude of reasons really. My Dad had the opportunity to work on a new shopping development in Dublin – it was the start of the great Celtic Tiger and there was a lot of work within the construction industry. And then my Mam wasn't very settled in her job in York and wanted to go back."
"What did she do?" Sybil interrupted
"She's a pharmacist, she's still working actually. A job came up back at the hospital in Dublin where she used to work and she was told that it was pretty much hers if she wanted it. And then I think they just wanted me and Kieran to reacquaint ourselves with Ireland. He'd just done his GCSEs and if we'd stayed another two years, the chances were that he'd have wanted to go to a British university, then I might have done the same. They foresaw neither of us coming back, I think."
"Do you think you would have done?"
"I don't know. I loved Yorkshire, I really didn't want to go back to Dublin at the time. It was a huge shock to be told during tea that tomorrow will be your last day at that school and oh, by the way, we're moving back to Ireland next week. I'd got a nice bunch of mates, I was doing well at school, got in the rugby team, found myself surprisingly good at cricket…" he flashed a smile "…had just discovered that the lovely girl I fancied might actually like me too! I remember shouting at my parents 'It's not fair!' and stamping my feet like a toddler. But in the end, it all worked out alright. I slipped back into the school I'd been to before we moved and you know, I love it there. I mean, I love the UK too and I'm happy to be back here again, but my heart will always be in Ireland."
"So is that why you chose Swansea? To have easy access home?"
Tom glanced down at the table. "Yes…sort of. The thing is…"
"And how come you chose the EU as a speciality?" Sybil had a mental list of questions she wanted to pose and was anxious not to omit one as the evening progressed. "I would have thought you might have chosen a more extreme area of International Relations –erasing poverty or helping people to fight for freedom or something?"
Tom gave a wry smile. "Well there are plenty of worthy causes out there and you can only specialise in one. I was interested in the huge disparity of wealth within Europe and the idea that we can bring very different nations together and share it out a little. It appealed to my socialist heart. Added to that, I can speak French."
"Can you?" she asked in surprise.
"Mais oui mademoiselle! I kept it up at school, then I spent a summer when I was nineteen working as a waiter in Cannes, got myself a French girlfriend and was kind of adopted by her family for a few months. I was practically fluent by the time I went back to uni."
"And what happened to the girlfriend?"
"She came over to visit a couple of months later, but strangely we didn't seem to appeal to one another as much in a grey, bitterly cold Dublin winter, so we went our separate ways after that! And then I spent another summer interning at the EU in Brussels, although everyone speaks English there, despite French being the official office language, so I didn't so much improve my language skills, as my in-depth knowledge of Belgian beers."
"I can speak Swedish." Sybil declared in an effort to match his linguistic abilities and laughed at Tom's expression of surprise. "A bit anyway. I'm not fluent."
"Swedish boyfriend?"
"No, I worked as an au-pair for the friend of one of my mother's American cousins one summer. She'd married a Swede and wanted some help with her children over the summer holidays. It was wonderful, they had a summer house up north and we went there for a month. It was like a postcard - crystal clear lake, wooden house, conifer forest. The children were bilingual but they taught me quite a few phrases and I made friends with a girl my age nearby. I rather fancied the idea of a Swedish boyfriend at the time, but sadly no opportunities presented themselves. I still keep in touch with the family and attempt the odd email to them in Swedish, but it's increasingly rusty now."
Tom's eyes seemed to sparkle at her revelation. "So you didn't see me as an EU enthusiast and I have to say that I wouldn't have put you down as a Scandi-lover."
"That's because neither of us really knows one another at all."
"No…" he admitted slowly, holding her gaze. "But I'm looking forward to the possibility of that changing."
Sybil gave an involuntary shiver - that unique sensation of feeling simultaneously cold and aroused in anticipation of the potential insinuated by his words. It was difficult to contain the teenager within her, whose instinctive reaction was to blush and giggle. However, she prided herself on having a presented a more mature impression up until this point and instead leant towards him with a look of unequivocal promise reflected in her eyes.
"Me too"
The evening passed swiftly and easily. Now that the formalities had passed and mutual interest had been laid equally bare, they could relax in one another's company and enjoy the opportunity for re-acquaintance. Memories were shared of classmates and teachers – "Do you remember when…?" and Sybil found herself wiping tears of amusement from her eyes as they recalled the antics of others and their shared experiences.
They ordered a bottle of red wine, but with Tom later driving home, Sybil consumed the majority and became gradually aware of her increased volume and readiness to laugh out loud. Emboldened by the alcohol, she leant firmly against him as they stepped out of the restaurant and was rewarded by a gentle squeeze around her waist. Filled with heady excitement, she chattered happily as they walked, telling him about Gwen's forthcoming wedding and confessing that it had been her friend's provocation which had led to their renewed contact.
Suddenly Tom stopped and Sybil swung around to face him, her eyes quizzical.
"This is my car" he said with a smile, nodding his head towards the nearby vehicle, parked alongside the pavement.
"Oh! Right!" She was taken by surprise, so engrossed in her enjoyment of his company that she had failed to notice that they were already in her street.
"Do you want me to walk you to your gate?"
She shook her head with a half-giggle, her mind racing all of a sudden at how best to proceed. "No, I'm only a few doors down, you can watch me get safely in from here."
"If you're sure…"
She wasn't certain whether or not he was angling for an invitation, nor if it would be a good idea to even consider it. 'Nice girls don't…' she thought and her mouth twitched with mirth and fleeting recollections from yesteryear. She wasn't always a nice girl, but for some reason she wanted to be tonight.
"Would you like to go out again sometime, Tom?"
"Yes" There was no hesitation and his mouth curled slowly into a smile. Whether it was with amusement or anticipation she wasn't certain, but she took advantage of the signal and took a confident step towards him. Silent magnetism seemed to draw them closer and their lips met – cautiously at first, with slow exploration, but mutual confidence grew and Sybil felt familiar stirrings of desire. Her teenage self, contained within, wanted to giggle and issue a proud declaration – 'Guess what, Anna - tongues!', but she kept it at bay as she curled her arms around his neck and felt the gentle trace of his fingertips along her spine.
They parted and exchanged smiles - each shy, but also filled with wonder – their noses only inches apart.
"Well, that was worth a nineteen year wait" he said with a grin.
"Let's not wait that long to do it again" she whispered and her hand reached out to hold his in a reprise of her action on that memorable evening, so long ago.
Tom nodded. "Agreed" he replied firmly and placed his mouth determinedly back on hers.