Inheritance

Chapter Forty. First Date.

Chapter Forty 

First Date 

John felt very uncomfortable as he stood crumpled and weary before the imposing front door of the Atkinson's posh home. He rang the bell. Rachel opened the door before the chimes could finish the opening bars of "Bluebells of Scotland". 

"What on earth happened to you?" she said, looking astonished. 

"It's a long story," replied John. 

"Are you going to come in and tell us all about it?"  

John glanced at his watch. "I don't think there's time. Are you ready to go?" 

"Go. Go where? How can I possibly be ready to go, when I've no idea where I'm going. What do I need to wear?"  

Dressed in a navy blue business suit, and a blue silk blouse with an antique cameo at the throat, Rachel was perfectly dressed as far as John was concerned." You'll be fine. I guarantee it," he said in what he hoped was an appeasing tone. 

"You'd better be right, John Gregson." 

"We really have to be on our way if we hope to make the show on time."  

"Okay, okay. Just let me grab my duffle, and a pair of shoes. I'll be right with you." 

They left the house and meandered through the upscale neighbourhood, known as Kilner Park, John relating the events of the day as they walked. She listened politely, but John sensed she was anxious to know their destination. Eventually they joined groups of people walking up gas lit Princess Street, towards their old school.  

"Do you remember how the boys and girls had to walk on opposite sides of the road?" John asked. 

"Remember! I was on the student committee that tried to get that rule overturned." 

"Did you succeed?" 

"No." 

"It's really weird, but I still feel guilty walking on the same side as you." 

"Let me make you feel guiltier still," said Rachel, taking his left arm and curling it around her waist. 

Encouraged, John brought their stroll to a halt and turned to face Rachel. "Is there any way you could increase the guilt?"  

"In what way?" Rachel asked. 

"I don't have a note to read this time."  

Rachel beamed, raised her face, lips puckered expectantly. John bent to kiss her. 

"Bloody teenagers. Don't they know there's a proper time and place for everything," blustered a passing pensioner. 

They both collapsed in laughter, and then continued toward the school, almost skipping, arms swinging in unison.  

As John led Rachel through the school gates, the light dawned on her. "Wow! You managed to buy tickets for the school opera. They're so hard to get." 

"Beryl bought them for us a couple of weeks ago. The Gondoliers is my favourite Gilbert and Sullivan. How about you?" 

"I prefer Ruddigore  -  when the night winds howl and all that." 

"So this is okay?" 

"Fine, but do you think I should be going through this door? It's the boys' entrance."  

"I wouldn't worry; you've already broken one rule tonight." 

The nostalgic smell of carbolic cleanser and fish, (the students always had steamed fish for lunch on Fridays), assaulted their nostrils as they made their way down the spotless corridor towards the auditorium. They had to wait at the bottom of the stairs, opposite the school library, while a fifth former checked their tickets.  

"Upstairs, Sir, second row from the front."  

"What a night for firsts," said Rachel as they mounted the stairs. I've never been in the balcony before." 

"Not even when you were in the sixth form." 

"Don't you remember? During assembly, only the senior choir sat there. I have the voice of a banshee." 

"I know. I've heard you on the hockey pitch." 

Rachel laughed and dug a playful elbow in the ribs. 

Mr. Emerson, a French teacher at the school, showed them to their seats. John was glad it wasn't a science teacher acting as usher. The last thing he wanted tonight was a lengthy discussion of how well he had been prepared for university studies. He would have been compelled to tell the truth. He much preferred Rachel's whimsical reminiscences. Seated, they held hands, and John regaled her with stories about university life until the curtain rose on the school production.  

It had been an exhausting day. The auditorium was packed, the heating at full blast. John succumbed half way through the first act. A dig in the midriff brought him back to his senses. "Do you usually fall asleep on a first date?' she whispered." I'm so sorry," he replied. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Despite his best efforts, he must have dozed off again later as he had no recollection of hearing his favourite, "We're called Gondolieri." 

After the show, they walked back to Kilner Park, arm in arm, stopping for an occasional kiss in shaded corners. John didn't want the evening to end. Maybe Rachel would invite him in for coffee. Maybe not. Not on a first date. 

"How are you getting home, John?" asked Rachel, as they entered the Atkinson driveway 

He hadn't thought about it. "I suppose I'll walk." 

"To Newlands at this time of night? It's not safe, and you're fagged out. I'll drive you home." 

"You have a car?" 

"Not yet. Dad lets me drive his," said Rachel, plucking a key ring from her coat pocket.  

"Have you passed your test?" 

"First time. No problem." 

John was impressed. It had taken him three tries. Reverse parallel parking on a hill had done him in twice. 

"You're sure?" 

"It'll be fine. Here get in."  

The Atkinsons owned a gleaming new Rover 80, with silver top and navy blue side paneling. The interior was fitted with black leather seats. 

"Your father lets you drive this?" said John, easing himself into the padded passenger seat. "He must really trust you." 

Rachel gave him a fleeting smile as she slid in behind the wheel.  

After an uneventful ten-minute drive, Rachel brought the Rover to a halt outside the garden gate of the Lakeland cottage. She didn't turn off the engine. Was she keen to be off? John hoped not. Nervously he broke the silence. 

"Are you doing anything tomorrow night?" 

"Afraid so," she said. 

"Sunday?" 

She shook her head.  

John, despite his gnawing doubt, just had to ask. "Are you seeing someone else?" 

Rachel gave a reassuring smile. "It's nothing like that. I'm leaving for Barnard Castle tomorrow. I'm playing in a field hockey tournament this weekend, and won't be back until Monday. It was arranged weeks ago." 

"I was hoping..." John hesitated. 

"Hoping what?" 

"To...to," John stuttered, "to see you over the weekend." 

"As I recall you mentioned the third Friday in December." 

"I know, but I really would like to see you more than once. And after tonight... I don't quite know how to put this." 

"You want to go steady." 

John gulped. "Do you?" 

The subsequent long lasting embrace sealed the deal.