Chapter 7

“He’s not worth it.”

“There you go.” Amy pushed the application form across the table. “You just need to sign and date it.”

Will took a pen from his pocket and put it on the paper. “Aren’t you going to read it first?” Amy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No need. I already know what it says.”

“What if I changed it?”

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why? Have you changed it?”

Amy shook her head. “Nothing major. One or two small grammar corrections.”

Will picked up the form and scanned it. He spent more time admiring Amy’s neat, precise handwriting than actually reading what she’d written. It was elegant and attractive—just like Amy. He put the form on the table and signed it with a flourish. “Thanks for doing this, Amy. I know I stand more chance of getting in if they can actually read the statement.”

“No problem. Actually, I enjoyed writing such nice things. I don’t get to do it very often. And I think I’ve picked up a few ideas for my application.”

“So you’ve decided where you’re going then?”

“I want to stay local so I’m applying to Westmouth. Failing that I’ll try Walminster as a backup.”

“Well, best of luck.”

Amy smiled. “Thanks. You too. Not that you’ll need it with a statement like this and top grades.”

Will put his application in a large brown envelope and stood up.

“Going so soon?” Amy asked.

“Need to take this up to Thompson. He’s got to write his reference.” He looked at his watch. “Then I’m heading to the dining room before the fifth years get there. You know what a greedy lot they are.”

“Tell me about it. I made the mistake of going to lunch after them once. Never again—there was almost no food left.”

“So are you coming then?”

She stood. “Yeah. May as well.”

They dropped the envelope off at Mr Thompson’s office and then hurried to the dining room even though the school’s lunch hour didn’t start for another five minutes. Early lunch was another of the privileges of the Sixth Form.

Will and Amy were amongst the first to be served and they took their food to a prime table by the window overlooking the school playing fields and sat opposite each other. As Will tucked into his meal, he felt unusually uncomfortable. He looked up. Amy was watching him and didn’t appear to have touched her own food. “Not hungry?”

She shrugged, stabbed one of her chips with her fork and held it up between them. “It’s not exactly Michelin star cuisine, is it?”

“It never has been. And no one ever claimed it was. Or if they did, they were lying.”

“Yeah, I know.” She put the chip into her mouth. Will watched her chew slowly and then swallow. She was even sexy when she was eating.

“You know,” she said as she speared another chip. “I’m half hoping you don’t get go to Oxford.”

“Why?”

“It’s selfish of me, I know, but I noticed you’ve put Westmouth down as your second choice. It’d be nice to still have you around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it’d be great for your career and everything when you do get in, but I’ll miss having you around. Besides, who will I have to protect me from creeps like John Nugent?”

Will smiled. “I’d miss you too.”

The dining hall had started to fill up. Will saw Bobby, Julie and Lizzie in the lunch queue.

“Will?” Amy said.

“Yeah?”

“I ... I was ... I mean...”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“It must have been something.”

“It was nothing. It’s not important.”

“Amy. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing. Forget it.”

Bobby put his plate on the table and sat next to Will. “You could’ve said you was coming down. I’m starved.”

“You’re always starved,” said Julie as she sat opposite him.

Lizzie sat on Amy’s other side. “Has Amy mentioned tomorrow night?”

“What about it?”

“We’re going to see that new Sam Bradwell movie and thought you three might like to come.”

“Fucking A,” said Bobby. “I’m up for that.”

“I think that’s a yes from us,” said Julie.

“What about you, Will?” Lizzie asked.

He stared at Amy, who stared back. This must have been what she was trying to say to him earlier. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

“Great. We’ll meet up at mine at about six. Okay?”

Will and Lizzie were neighbours. They’d lived next door for as long as either of them could remember. It was the reason they were such good friends. And Lizzie’s friendship with Amy was the reason Will was friends with her too. He’d never have been able to approach her otherwise. When Will walked through his front door and up the garden path, Amy, Lizzie and Julie were waiting for him at the gate. Bobby was sitting in his car with the engine running.

“Hi, Amy,” Will said.

“Hi—”

“No time to chat,” Bobby called out of the open window. “We need to get a shift on or we won’t get in. They reckon it’ll be packed tonight.”

“It’s Tuesday,” said Will. “Why would it be packed?”

“It’s two-for-one night, innit?”

Bobby drove a battered old, pale yellow Ford Capri. Julie held the passenger door open and pulled the front seat forward so that the other three could clamber into the back. Lizzie got in first, followed by Amy. Will tried very hard not to stare at her arse as bent over. He got in next and Julie slammed the front seat back into place and sat down.

There was limited space on the back seat. Will’s thigh nudged against Amy’s. She patted his leg tenderly and smiled at him. “I still can’t believe we’re travelling in this pile of junk.”