At the beginning of the new college year we had a couple of nasty storms roll through and it seemed to go from brilliant summer to dreary autumn in just a few days. The mornings were cold and drawing in, and the atmosphere in the flat rather echoed the dismal weather outside.
When our exam results had come through, Libby and Toni had both failed important papers. Libby didn't seem too worried initially but then her father came up to visit, taking her out for lunch and apparently reading her the riot act. She came home later that afternoon, chastened and reserved, and went straight to her room. Holly gave me a querulous look; Libby was an acknowledged Daddy's girl and I think she she was very unused to anything other than his unwavering support. I was a little disappointed to detect a touch of enjoyment behind Holly's supposed sympathy for our friend's plight though. I did understand that Libby did seem to easily glide through life and she had appeared to have everything that Holly so desperately wanted but I really felt for her actually. Libby had been a rock for me over the last few months and I didn't like seeing her so unhappy. I knocked on her door later, to see if she was alright, but she ignored me so, in the end, I let her be. By the next morning she was fine even if, quite out of character, she did get up earlier and was ready to get the bus to our first lecture even before the rest of us.
On the other hand, Toni seemed completely unconcerned about having to repeat two of her papers. I think a summer with Giles, living the high life with him and travelling extensively, had rearranged her priorities. He still seemed smitten with her but she had admitted to us that she was frustrated that he seemed reluctant to move the relationship forward.
"How ridiculous." Libby had said later, with a roll of her eyes, when we were alone. "He's not twenty one yet. Of course he's not going to propose. He's just lazy and unimaginative and gormless, and she is convenient."
I supposed she was right, she usually was when it came to most things. I did feel rather sorry for Giles though; he wasn't the sharpest of minds but to be seen primarily as a meal ticket by his girlfriend seemed really sad actually. I'm sure he would have preferred to find someone who loved him for who he was and I mentioned it to Libby in passing once. She treated me to her best pitying look and informed me that the Fabric of the English Aristocracy had been founded on these principles for thousands of years and that my reading comprehension couldn't be that great if I could read as many Jane Austen novels as I had, and not have figured that out. Of course, I knew that had happened a lot in the past but the fact it still happened and, potentially, to people I knew was just a bit disturbing and made me feel uncomfortable. Maybe I had lower expectations of the world might provide, or maybe just more realistic needs, but my experience of life had left me determined not to ever rely on anyone for anything.
If that was still my goal then I'd also had a bit of a wake-up call to be honest. While I had passed all of my exams, I hadn't quite achieved the stellar results I'd dreamed of. I was actually really cross with myself for allowing myself to be taken in by so many pointless distractions so I'd vowed to be much more focused from now on. It was so tempting to go out most nights because the local venues were expert at attracting students to their premises six nights a week, and separating us from our hard earned. There were great bands playing all the time, happy hours, ladies nights and two for one pizza deals, all targeting the likes of me and my friends. I think it's easy to get dragged into that lifestyle in your first year but now I was old enough to know better and I realised that both education-wise and budget-wise, it was unsustainable. I just had to set myself some rules. And stick to them.
The first rule I planned to implement was an embargo on boys. I was, quite frankly, ready to put them on hold permanently because, in my opinion, there was absolutely nothing to be gained that was worth the emotional toll that they took on you. I was grateful that the awful kerfuffle over Andrew had been in the holidays because, if it had been in term time, I think it could have been disastrous for both me and my future. And, like the late nights, flaming cocktails, and last minute assignments, I hoped I had got boys out of my system, once and for all. I'd wasted hours on them, meanwhile losing touch with people that really cared about me. Remorsefully, I thought about how I hadn't spoken to Caroline in several months, how I hadn't replied to the postcards that Karen had sent me from her Pacific Island, and the last time I'd been in touch with Joan Norton was Christmas. So I made an important vow to myself; that I would prioritise reconnecting with my old Port Wenn life and everyone in it who'd mattered to me. I also made a second vow which would not be so easy to stick to but was equally as important. I was going to spend the whole year on my own and focus on developing better skills and a more mature outlook when it came to relationships. I'd read a short self help book I'd found in the library, and slipped home in secret. While a lot of it seemed to be utter mumbo-jumbo, I did recognise within the pages some of my own neediness, lack of self confidence and emotional immaturity. I decided, for better or worse, if I could give up Tuesday night karaoke, I could hit the pause button on boys as well.
It didn't hurt that I was really starting to be really interested in the psychology papers we were studying and I'd tweaked my course this year so that my minor electives were mostly child pysch-based. Initially I saw them as important to my hoped-for teaching career but, as I sat reading a textbook one afternoon, I had the disturbing realisation that I was reading a case study about a damaged child who, for all intents and purposes, could have been me. Reluctantly at first, because no one really likes to admit that they have emotional deficiencies, I began to seek out more information about children with abandonment issues and, the more I read, the more I realised that I did in fact display at least some of the signs and symptoms though, I'm relieved to say, definitely not all of them. I wasn't sure what to do with this new self knowledge to be honest. It didn't really suit my personal narrative to believe that I was anything else but unscathed and untroubled by the desertion and neglect of my useless parents. In fact I wore my triumph over my circumstances as a bit of a badge of honour really. Looking back, I suppose I wasn't ready to deal with it all then, I had enough challenges in my life at that point and I honestly just didn't have the energy. It was enough for me to acknowledge that it might be so, and to close the book firmly and decisively on those thoughts until I was ready to revisit them, whenever that might be.
Throughout the drudgery of the winter term and the grim reality of a flat which was usually freezing, unless Giles visited and thoughtfully fed coins into the gas meter for us, the days passed mostly peacefully and uneventfully. The only thing of note that happened was that Holly hit a bit of a rough patch, having bitten off more than she could chew in terms of course work and extra curricular activities. It all came to a head when she had a bit of a meltdown at music practice and she apparently snapped her bow in half and threw the pieces at her teacher. I answered the phone call from a stranger with a thick accent and it did take me a while to figure out what exactly was going on but, once I realised what was happening, Libby and I bundled ourselves into our coats and set off in search of the music rooms in the bowels of some ancient theatre, to retrieve her.
Holly can be ungrateful at the best of times and let me just say that that night was no exception. Libby was exasperated with her, especially considering she'd got out of her warm bed to come and help me, and I have to admit that, even for Holly, her behaviour was rude and churlish but I suppose all those years of dealing with Caroline had honed my skills, or numbed my sensitivity, or both, and I just ignored the fact she was a prize misery guts, and got on with it. It was definitely another nail in the coffin of the strange, competitive relationship between the two of them though. The days of the four of us socialising as group seemed over though as more and more divisions began to appear and we each began to live distinctly individual lives.
I had stuck to my promise of contacting my old friends. I was now in semi-regular correspondence with Karen and I felt so much better about myself for making the effort because it was clear that she and Lester were still interested in how I was getting on. I couldn't quite picture either of them on a tropical island but Karen's letters gave me an interesting glimpse into the strange new life they'd made for themselves. They'd had no hesitation in extending their contract for another year but, when that was up, they had no idea where they would head to next and I was amazed to hear that they both found that an exciting prospect rather than a daunting one.
I'd phoned Caroline's mum and left my details with her and she seemed really pleased to hear from me too. She promised to pass my details on to Caroline when next they spoke but she admitted that they rarely, if ever, heard from her either. I was surprised to hear that she and Tommy were still a couple but then Mrs Curnow told me that he'd followed her to college and was studying surveying. I have to admit that that information came as quite a shock to me and didn't really fit with the Tommy I knew but I suppose everyone can change, can't they? Especially if they really love someone, and I knew he must love Caroline because you'd really have to, to put up with the way she carried on most of the time.
The most important call I made though was probably the most difficult. I can't really sort out all the reasons I hadn't stayed in touch with Mrs Norton because she had consistently stepped in to take care of me since before I can remember but the longer I'd left it, the more reticent I'd become. I suppose I was worried that she now thought I was ungrateful and selfish, and I didn't like that idea, even if all my actions sort of pointed to the fact that that was exactly what I'd become. I put off that call so many times that I began to feel uncomfortable and guilty every time I looked at the blimmin' phone. I finally got to the point where I felt I'd let it get out of hand so I forced myself to call that night and, of course, all my imagined fears were ridiculous and Mrs. Norton was, as always, delighted to hear from me. It was actually really great to catch up on all the village news and I was interested to hear that there'd been one new policeman already come and go after Lester had departed. Apparently life in a sleepy seaside town was not for him and he'd asked to be transferred back to Bristol pretty much straight away. So, for now, the police station was unmanned and no one had any idea if or when the position would ever be filled. Teachers had come and gone at the school too and I could detect a note of fear in Mrs. Norton's voice when she spoke of the economic struggles of the village and whether the school could carry on if it couldn't attract permanent staff.
Not much else seemed to have changed. Dorothy Sillock had retired to her sister's in Lyme Regis and her daughter, Sally, had taken over completely at the village pharmacy. I was surprised to hear that, despite being a reasonably new bride, her husband had already left the village to search for work and hadn't been sighted for several months. I could hear the sly tone in Mrs. Norton's voice when she told me that Sally didn't seem troubled by this fact in the slightest. We'd laughed as she'd told me about Bert Large's latest money-making scheme and I had rolled my yes and muttered non-committally when she'd mentioned Muriel Steele's glowing reports on her son's brilliant university results.
I briefly mentioned that I'd passed everything, without wanting to blow my own trumpet, and I told her about my summer job and how much I'd enjoyed it but there really wasn't much else about my London experiences that I either wanted to share or thought she'd be interested in. And so I tailed off into silence and, once again, we were both aware of the enormous elephant in the room, it was just a matter of who would crack first. Sometimes now, when I think back to those conversations, it was almost as if she knew.
"Ummm, so, have you, ummm, have you seen Martin at all?" I heard myself ask in a strange, faltering voice.
"Hmmph." She replied slightly tersely. "Far too busy apparently, Louisa. No time at all for his aunt."
"Oh." I said, and it was the best I could come up with.
"Probably more chance of you setting eyes on him than me ever seeing him back down here." She said with a sniff.
I immediately felt that familiar pang of guilt, that it was probably my fault that he'd never visited his aunt again after what I'd put them all through that difficult weekend, and my heart began to race.
"Me?" I blurted out, my nerves getting the better of me.
"Yes, you dear. You do at least live in the same city."
Of course, it was impossible to tell her I had seen him; really embarrassing to admit that I'd hidden behind a newspaper to avoid him, and altogether far too personal and revealing to admit that I'd been in bits for weeks afterwards as a result. The only thing I could do was to laugh and leave it at that, before quickly finding an excuse to ring off and heading straight to the fridge to pour myself a large glass of wine. Later though, I was actually relieved to discover I felt quite calm about the conversation. Thank god for that. Perhaps I was finally actually growing up and I'd recovered from my ridiculous childhood crush. The idea actually made me feel quite liberated.
As the Christmas holidays approached, I toyed with the idea of visiting Port Wenn and I got as far as enquiring about train tickets, but the cost to my dwindling coffers was a bit horrifying to be honest. I'm not sure why I felt guilty about not having been back since I left but I did. But then I thought about how cold it was bound to be, and how wet it could be, and I found myself rapidly going off the idea. Instead, I sent out a few Christmas cards and, for Karen and Mrs. Norton, I included a snapshot that Libby had taken of me in Oxford St just after the Christmas decorations had gone up. And then I packed up my bag and clambered into the back of Libby's dad's car, excited to spend Christmas with them in Esher.
After basking in relative luxury for a week, where we were waited on hand and foot, ate like horses, slept a lot and gleefully watched lots of rubbish tv. I was fascinated to see what it was like to be a middle class girl with a solicitor dad who doted on you and a glamorous mum who worried about your teeth and whether that was the first sign of a wrinkle on your brow. When the weather cleared we took a couple of wonderful, if freezing, walks in the beautiful surroundings, but mostly we just lazed around before, reluctantly on my part anyway, we caught the train back to the flat. While it hadn't been as invigorating as a bracing winter excursion on the Cornish Coast, I'd enjoyed visiting Richmond Park and Hampton Court Palace even if it was bitterly cold. It just felt like I was experiencing a little bit more of the world. Even if it wasn't as exotic as Vanuatu, or even Barcelona, it was new and interesting for me and I made a mental note to try one day to return in summer.
Libby and I arrived home in time to get ready for a long anticipated night out and then we headed out on the town to celebrate the New Year, and to welcome in the new decade. There was so much hype about the arrival of the nineties but, as hard as I tried, I just couldn't get into it. After the fireworks, we roamed around a bit but I had lost whatever little enthusiasm I'd had especially after we bumped into some old friends of Libby's in Trafalgar Square that I didn't know, and didn't immediately take to actually. I watched their enthusiastic and giddy reunion and, taking in their expensive outfits and noticing their complete indifference to me, I realised it might turn out to be a very long night. Even longer if you weren't feeling in the mood, and I definitely wasn't, so I took my opportunity, and left her to it. I was really fortunate to hail a taxi and I was home in and in bed within half an hour; laughing at myself for making a cup of cocoa and, resplendent in my flannelette nightie, content to be alone on the biggest party night of the year. That alone felt like a tiny triumph and I went to sleep looking forward to the new year and what it might bring. After years of feeling like negotiating my life and all it's dramas was like knocking over beehives and wrestling with bears, suddenly things seemed inexplicably calmer and, honestly, it was just a huge relief.