The Slow Quickstep
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2016 by Kaffir

The next three years passed unexceptionally. Toby did not apply to do extra maths. He felt he needed to reserve his energy and enthusiasm for his last two years of school, continuing in the meanwhile with his sports and most of all his beloved piano playing. His enjoyment of Allie’s company never faltered, her seeking his help with schoolwork that she found difficult (less than easy Toby would have said), his help and encouragement with her piano playing which was largely when Nessa or her mother disagreed with an interpretation and, more than anything, her exuberance and joy in life. He loved her dearly.

Allie’s love for him never faltered despite what Nessa and Leah had forecast. She never articulated it again but as she grew into puberty as did her friends it remained strong. He was her man for life.

Inevitably she began to hear giggly, furtive reports from her friends about how so-and-so had kissed them or fondled their budding breasts and about masturbation. She relayed it to Toby.

“It’s mostly talk and wishful thinking, I suspect,” he said.

“Do the boys do it too?”

“Yes. It’s mostly to make sure they’re keeping up with the others.”

“What do you mean?”

“Girls or boys?”

“Both.”

“Hmm, I can’t really say about the girls but I imagine it’s much the same as the boys.”

“Go on. Tell me about them.”

“Well, I’m no expert...”

“But you’re a boy!”

“So I am!”

“So you ought to know.”

Toby looked at her, the sweet trusting face and her touching faith in him.

“Well there are three sorts of boys. First the bigger, stronger, games players who reckon they have to show their masculinity, secondly the followers on who try to be as masculine as they are, thirdly what are termed the wimps, nerds, boffins and so on like me.”

“You’re not! You’re not a wimp, nerd or boffin and you play a mean game of squash. You’re a gifted pianist and mathematician.”

Toby smiled fondly at her.

“Yes, poppet, but I’m not out to prove I’m a big, strong, sexy guy.”

“You don’t have to. You’re quite tall. You’re fit and quite strong.”

“You’re quite sexy too,” she added looking down.

“Alison!”

Use of her full name sobered her. “Sorry, Toby,” she said softly and blushed.

“Wicked girl!”

That broke the tension and they both laughed.

“Go on!” She was not going to be sidetracked.

“Well the first group will go for the older girls, sixteen plus. The followers will go for the remainder of those who are reasonably pretty or are known or rumoured to be easy. As for my lot we just bumble along in the hope that a really attractive, intelligent girl, finds one of us attractive”

A thoughtful ‘hmm!’ “So what about the girls?” she went on.

“Well, anything I say is going to be supposition.”

“OK but what do you think?”

“Well, there are the pretty, outgoing girls who are inquisitive and who would also get a thrill out of an older boy, particularly if he’s one of the bigger, stronger, games players, showing an interest particularly as they normally go after the fifteen year-old plusses. The followers though are more likely to try and push it because the older girls have been snaffled up by the genuinely more mature guys.”

“So some of the follower boys may make a play for a twelve or thirteen year-old girl.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Yes. For the prettier ones and particularly the ones more physically developed.”

Allie giggled. “Bigger tits!”

“Yes. And shorter skirts and goo-goo eyes.”

“Like me!” Allie pealed with laughter.

Toby laughed too but then became serious again.

“The very pretty ones who are more reserved and quieter too.”

Allie looked at him questioningly.

“Like you, sweety.”

“Why? I’d never try and pull a boy.”

“Exactly but their idiot, over-sexed minds think, “No one’s ever made a try for her because she’s so shy. I bet she’d be tickled pink if I showed an interest.”

Allie snorted. “Spotty wimps!”

Toby could not help himself. He burst out laughing and pulled Allie into a hug.

“They haven’t got a hope with you, have they?”

“No!” That was said without a hint of laughter and her arms tightened round him. She could not help herself.

She looked up at him. “Thanks, Toby,” she said softly. “That helped a lot.”

“Good! And if someone comes on to you too heavy you let me know.”

“Yes, Toby,” she whispered.

“Right, young lady, show me where you’ve got to with ‘Claire de Lune’.”

That to all intents and purposes was the end of it but Toby was still worried for her. There was no doubt that she was a very pretty girl; intelligent, amusing, lively and full of fun. She was also beginning to develop a very attractive figure. He knew that she would never misbehave but an older boy might appear attractive and she might find herself out of her depth.

Danny Perkins was a good looking fifteen year-old, not a ‘spotty wimp’. He was in the 2nd XIs for both football and cricket and showed every sign of reaching the 1st in both in one or two years’ time. He was also above average academically.

He spotted Allie and was attracted certainly by her looks but also her vivacity and never distant laughter. He decided to get to know her. He was helped when she tripped over a stray shoe and spilt all the books she was carrying. He helped her pick them up.

“Thank you,” she said with a big smile. “I wonder how you can cast a shoe without noticing.”

“It was a gymn shoe and someone dropped it without noticing.”

“I suppose. Thank you all the same. I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

“Danny Perkins and yours is?”

“Alison Pettigrew but everyone except the Head calls me Allie. So thank you, Danny.”

“My pleasure, Allie. See you around.”

Naturally Allie told Toby of the incident.

“I don’t really know him except by face,” was his reply, “but he sounds a nice guy.”

“All right, I suppose.”

Toby left it at that.

Danny did not rush things. He greeted her with a smile when they passed in the corridor. All the same he kept an eye on her, noting her routine. The first thing he registered was her waiting at the entrance after school until Toby emerged. That intrigued him. An eighteen year-old and thirteen year-old?

He decided to investigate.

“Hi, Allie!” he said cheerfully one day as he was leaving for home. “Waiting for someone?”

“Hi, Danny! Yes, Toby Roberts. We’re next door neighbours and always walk home together.”

“Known each other long?”

Allie smiled. “Yes. He used to baby-sit me and now he’s helping me with my piano lessons. His mum’s my teacher.”

“Oh! Where do you both live?”

“Livingstone Gardens.”

“Oh! Opposite ends of the town. I live in Quantock Street.”

“Poor thing!”

“What do you mean?”

“North instead of South. Don’t you feel the cold up there?”

 
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