It would rain on commencement day. She checks her hair in the mirror one last time. She’s fixed it twice since arriving. Thankfully they’ve moved the ceremony indoors. She smooths her collar, rolls her shoulders. Practises her smile as the words of her speech run through her head. She mouths them, pacing, the click-click-click of her high heels echoing off the walls, setting a cadence for her to follow.
She is nervous. It isn’t that she lacks confidence in her ability to deliver the speech, exactly, it’s …
Her musings are interrupted by a knock at the door. “There she is … the woman of the hour!”
She turns to see Reginald Crawley stood in the doorway in coat and tie.
“Reggie! Oh wow, hi! I hadn’t expected you to turn up today. I didn’t know as Daddy could spare you.”
“We only had two patients on for this afternoon and both of them rang to cancel. And even if they hadn’t, your mum would have persuaded him to close early. It’s not every day his only daughter delivers the Head Girl’s speech at Lady Barn House.”
“About that …” she mutters, studying the floorboards.
“What is it? Not nervous, are you? You’ve performed a thousand times.”
She responds with a withering look. Meets his eyes. Sees him grinning, and grins back. Shrugging her shoulders, she tells him, “Yes, but speaking is rather a different animal from playing piano. That, and I still feel like a bit of an interloper, I suppose.”
“Because you’re leaving a year early and these aren’t the lot you started with.”
She opens her mouth to reply, then closes it promptly. He’s done it again, she realises. He’s said precisely what she’s thinking. Again, because it’s been happening rather frequently of late. It’s true that they spend a lot of time with each other, she managing the clerical things at her father’s surgery and he assisting with as many procedures as his training permits. She works the maximum hours allotted a secondary student, determined to put by as much money as she can for her university tuition fees. But her brother works just as much as the both of them, and if he’s got any inkling as to her mental state he seems completely oblivious.
Of course, there could be an explanation for Ed’s aloof manner of late. He’s recently been spending the little free time he’s got in the company of a young lady called Alice Tamworth. Alley. She was two years ahead of Isobel at Lady Barn House. She’s taking a degree in literature at U of M. Isobel likes Alley. Rather a lot, in fact. But she’s turned Eddie’s brains to mush. Which is why Isobel has resolved that love is not for her. The path she’s chosen demands excellence, and the pressure on her will always be greater by virtue of her having been born female. She can’t afford to give her studies — or her work — less than her absolute best.
Why, then, is it suddenly so difficult to ignore the piercing blue of Reginald’s eyes? And why does it feel as though his ability to discern tiny details about her is rooted in something deeper than just friendship?
“Earth calling Isobel,” Reginald teases.
“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I was miles away.”
He grins. Was he always so handsome?
“Penny for them.” He pulls out a chair for her and indicates she should sit before taking a seat of his own.
She smiles softly, feeling her cheeks pink. “I doubt they’re worth that much.”
“Ha’penny, then.” He smiles again. Her heart pounds in her chest. He’s gorgeous. How had she missed it all this time?
“Have you noticed a change in Ed lately?” she manages. If he’s so skilled at reading her, she shouldn’t have to elaborate.
“You mean the way his brains leave the building whenever Alley’s around?” He shakes his head. “Wanker.”
“Exactly, and I hope you tell him that! Lad’s twenty; he can do what he wants, but—”
Reginald scowls. “No, he bloody well can’t! Not as much as your dad relies on him; never mind the fair fortune he and your mum are spending on his education. Oh I’m bally well brassed off with him; don’t you worry … missing clinic hours, failing to submit assessments. He’s had the world handed to him on a silver platter and he’s blowing it spectacularly. But haven’t you got bigger fish to fry?”
She grins. “Well then … tell us how you really feel!” He studies his shoes and she notices the way his ears redden. She likes that about him. Come to that she can’t think of anything she doesn’t like about him. Shaking off that realisation, she continues, “It’s everything you said … and I suppose it also makes me think that if love does that to a person, it’s an experience I’ll have to forgo.” He scoffs and she rebuffs him. “You can’t sit here and tell me I’m wrong, Reggie! Both you and my brother got onto the premed course by virtue of your marks alone. I, on the other hand, was made to provide twice the number of character references and go ten rounds with the department chair over whether my science A-levels will count seeing as I finished them a year ago. And all of that despite having higher UKCAT scores than the both of you!” She pauses for breath, her expression moving through agitation to resignation. Ruefully she adds, “It’s a risk I can’t afford.”
He rises from his chair and walks towards the door. It’s only moments until she’s due at the podium. “Look, I’ll go. I came to say good on you and break a leg and walk out there with your head held high because you’ve earned this …”
Getting to her feet, she moves to the doorway. “Reg, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so ratty. Thank you for coming to see me.” She squeezes his bicep, smiling softly.
“I’m not going to argue with you. We haven’t any of us chosen an easy path: you, me, or Ed. And there’s no doubt you’ve had a harder go than us. You’ll always have an uphill climb. I just think it’s a mistake to write off love because of it.” The earnestness in his eyes catches her on the back foot.
“That’s as may be,” she demurs, eyes cast towards the floor. “All the same I can’t see why you should trouble yourself with what I think. I mean I know I’m like a little sister to you, but—”
“No, Isobel. That’s not how I see you at all.” Their eyes meet. He takes a small step closer to her. The world stops turning as she watches his eyes flit from her own eyes to her lips. He touches her shoulder, his hand moving up to cradle her cheek.
Surely he isn’t … He can’t … He is! He’s going to kiss me! “Reggie,” she whispers, almost too faintly to hear, “I don’t know how … I’ve never—”
“I know,” he murmurs. “It’s alright.” He leans in. She can feel his breath on her face.
I should close my eyes, she thinks. Aren’t you supposed to close your eyes? He stops just short of her mouth. Giving her time to pull away. Oh! he’s warm. And he’s handsome. And I don’t want to close my eyes. I should touch him. Shouldn’t I touch him? She’s never been in such close proximity to a man before. To be sure, she’s danced with Daddy and Ed at weddings and hospital functions, but they don’t count. She reaches up with uncertainty and fumbles, her hands finding purchase in the lapels of his jacket.
In the next moment his lips touch hers and apprehension vanishes. He is so gentle, brushing the backs of his fingers across her face. She has no idea what she’s doing, how to make this enjoyable for him, but as the first kiss melds into the second she opens her mouth under his, and then so does he. She makes a sound that surprises her, moaning into his mouth when he deepens the kiss and she doesn’t want this shouldn’t want this oh sod it all this is incredible but what the hell does it mean? Oh shut up, for the love of God would you just shut up and enjoy something like a normal person for once you fool?
“Oh!” she gasps loudly when the tip of his tongue slips just past her teeth. Alright, I was wrong; this isn’t unpleasant at all and his mouth is so sweet and I don’t want to stop and—
He pulls back. She gasps again, missing the softness of his lips. “Are you alright?” he pants. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She frowns, inching closer to him again, aiming to put her hands on his shoulders. He stops her, taking her hands in his own.
She has never thought of herself as small. In fact, she has scarcely ever given any thought whatsoever to her stature. Wit is the standard by which she has measured herself against others. Intellect. But now she notices two things: firstly, that her hands are tiny, held inside of Reginald’s. And secondly, she doesn’t want him to let go. Ever.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, looking down at their hands. Her left thumb has begun tracing tiny circles over the blue veins on the underside of his wrist. He should stop her. He doesn’t.
“Why not?” she counters. “It was … nice. Wonderful, actually. I suppose the first time was going to happen sooner or later, and there’s no one I’d—” She stops herself suddenly, realising what she’d been about to say. There’s no one I’d rather have done this with. She scolds herself. But you just finished saying that love is for fools, not for women fighting like hell against men for the right to practise medicine. Not for you. Her cheeks flush bright red and she presses a hand to her mouth.
Yet he still holds the other. He waits for her eyes to meet his.
“There’s a longer conversation to be had,” he says gently, astutely. “But now you’ve got to go. Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything, Isobel, if you don’t want it to—”
“Yeah, but you do! You never do anything unless you mean it.” She pauses briefly, pacing back and forth. “Right, I can’t talk now. But we need to do …”
“So ring me up when you’re ready. Best of luck out there, you’ll smash it. I’m going to go find your dad and mum.” He drops her hand and starts to walk away.
She catches his wrist. “Wait,” she implores him, sounding less steady than she means to do. “Reggie, I …” She leans in and presses her lips to his, deepening the kiss when a soundless ‘Oh!’ escapes his lips. “I don’t know, alright?” she whispers when they break apart. He nods. “But I’ll ring you.”
He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “You’ve done it, Izzy,” he says, giving her fingers a squeeze before leaving go of her hand. “Congratulations.” As he walks away she touches her lips. They still tingle from his kisses.
