A Gift from The Bard

"Er, no, I don't think so," I reply. She nods and watches Suzie issue 'The Subtle Knife', taking my library ticket to scan it and the book and then stamping the return date inside the book. I can't help feeling a little pleased that it is the first date stamp, meaning that I am the first person to read this copy.

"Enjoy the book," Suzie tells me as she hands me the book and my library card. Of course, she's going to be polite with her new boss standing over her. I nod a thank you and turn away but can hear the older librarian's voice as I go.

"Okay, Suzie, I think you can go home now. Thanks ever so much for being so helpful and stepping into the breach today."

"Did I do okay," I hear Suzie ask.

"Yes, you did well. Are you okay to come again on, let's say Tuesday and then I'll have time to sort out your work rota and a training plan and to speak with Personnel."

"So..." Suzie's voice fades with distance and, tempting as it is to try to eavesdrop, I keep walking towards the doors out onto the street. However, once outside I hesitate, as I begin to worry again. Yes, there is the possibility of Suzie gossiping about the books I borrowed but there is also the anxiety I've had since I saw her at the first rehearsal, sitting across the circle: what if she starts telling people that I sexually assaulted her, as she threatened to tell the police unless I told people I had a little cock?

Fuck this; I can't go on, jumping every time I see her, scared of what she might say. That librarian said she could go home so I'm going to wait and talk to her. At the bottom of the library steps, I turn and stand to the right of the door. She won't see me before she comes out and I can pretend to read the notice board that's there.

I don't know how long she takes, probably only a couple of minutes but it feels much longer. Even so, when she steps out it is still too soon and I'm not ready. If she'd turned and walked the other way I'm not sure I would have called after her. However, she turns towards me and our eyes meet. "Can we talk?" I blurt out nervously. She looks at me uncomfortably for a moment and then nods.

"I suppose... what about?"

"Look, what happened... at the party... I didn't mean..." I see her expression harden; this is clearly not the time for excuses. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done what I did, but listen: I've always kept my promise, I never called you any names..." She relaxes a little.

"Thank you for your apology. Look, there's a bench over there; can we sit down for a minute as I've been on my feet all day." She leads the way and we sit at either end of the bench. "I'm not sure you'll ever understand how much what you did hurt me, to think I'd finally found someone who found me even a little bit attractive, desirable even... and then to find it was all a big joke, that I was just a big, fat, ugly joke..."

I should have realized it back then, but at the time it was all just a joke. After, when she threatened and blackmailed me I'd been too angry at the humiliation to consider her feelings.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think... about you." There doesn't seem to be much else to say.

"Evidently. However, I met someone that night who taught me about myself and that I didn't have to be a victim. She taught me that I was stronger than I thought; that I didn't have to stay the fat outsider. She helped me understand who I am but at the same time she showed me that I could change things too." She looks intently at me. "You hurt and humiliated me that evening, Danny, but I came through it and what I learnt and experienced afterwards, well... I think I came out ahead in the end and what's past is past."

"So... you're not going to tell anyone at Theatre about what happened?" I hate the tone of pleading in my voice but I cannot help it.

"No, why would I? I mean, it's not something I'm going to boast about, even if it worked out okay. To be honest, I've been worried that you might say something."

"Oh god, no! I mean... no, I just wouldn't. Um." I hesitate. She's less angry that I expected but that doesn't mean she won't want to take a chance to get back at me. I look down at my book, wondering what to say.

"Was the first book any good?" she asks and the question confuses me for a moment. "I noticed it says that it's book two of a series, so I wondered if the first volume was any good. In a tutorial at Uni, a girl on my course was arguing that currently it's only teen and young adult books that are exploring the big, fundamental issues of life and morality and I'm sure she mentioned Philip Pullman as an example."

"Um, yeah, it was good and I think I can see what she means... So, you don't think I'm, I don't know, a bit odd reading these books?"

"No, of course not," she says, a little surprised by my question. "And I'm not just saying that because it would be more than my job's worth to criticise any customer's reading choices. Anyway, if the first book's good perhaps I'll have to read it; it'll be nice to read something just for fun." She's actually smiling as she says this.

I find myself looking at her differently and realize that she has a confidence now that she never had in school. Of course, she's not the fat, geeky girl she was... actually, she's quite attractive. I have to remind myself that she'll not want anything to do with me, not after what happened. I wonder if I should apologise again but somehow that doesn't feel like the right idea. "Erm... do you want a coffee?" I unexpectedly find myself asking. She looks even more startled than I feel but her recovery is, I'll admit, impressive.

"Thank you, er, Danny, but it's been a long day. I came this morning expecting just an interview for a summer job in the library and I ended up working all day; I'm really tired and also Mum's expecting me home."

"No problem." I hesitate and then decide to correct her. "People usually call me Dan these days, Suzie."

"Oh, okay; I'll try to remember. There's rehearsal tomorrow: how are you getting on learning your lines?"

"Okay, I suppose; I don't have that many. I bet you know all yours. Beth told Joe that you've been helping her with her part because you've studied the play at University."

"I did, yes, but that just means I know the lines in some important scenes; apart from that, well, let's just say I've been finding out how much I don't know."

The silence that falls between us isn't exactly an easy one but much better than the nervous fear and suspicion that existed a few minutes ago. We're not friends but at least we're not enemies either.

"I'd better go," she says. "I'm... well, it's good we talked at last."

"Yeah. Er, bye then. See you tomorrow," I reply.

"Yes, see you tomorrow, Dan." She stands and starts to leave as I take a deep breath, relieved that the meeting is over. She seemed honest enough in what she said and it will make it easier, not only with her but also not having to avoid Beth, or anyone else in the cast, just because Suzie is talking to them.

I watch as she walks away; it is quite a nice bum. She seemed much nicer than I'd expected. She said that she'd come out ahead after what I did; by contrast, maybe I'd lost out more than I realised and she could have been a friend. Maybe I'd be asking her out now.

I've not had much luck on the girlfriend front and perhaps this is the answer: stop looking for a girlfriend and just make friends.

Emily

Waiting on the street for Tom isn't exactly comfortable but a better option than having him call at home for me. Even just mentioning to Mum that I was going out with a man (I daren't use the word 'date') meant that I got the Spanish Inquisition: what was his name? Who was he? Where had we met? What did I know of him? It all skirted around the one question she really wanted to ask: am I having or going to have sex with him? No, I'm being unfair because I know she loves and cares about me. There was no way I was going to subject poor Tom to Mum though, not before our first proper date.

Tom had suggested three alternatives: going bowling, to the cinema, for a meal or to a pub. Okay, four alternatives. Anyway, none of them massively appealed but as I couldn't think of anything better it was down to a process of elimination. I've been bowing a few times and I quite enjoyed it but the nearest alley is in Roundhurst, which is a bit of a trek, and really just two of us bowling rather than a big group felt wrong. The cinema would have been better if there had been anything half decent showing, which there wasn't. A meal seemed a bit extravagant for a first date, especially as I didn't want him paying and my finances are rather meagre at the moment; not that I told Tom that, though he might have guessed, knowing I'm a student. That just left the pub, even though we had been for a quick drink after working on the statues the other day. "I'll find a different pub, a nice one, to go to," he promised.

He arrives just minute or two after I do. He's growing his beard for the play, he told me and, in the slanting light, it looks very red and definitely more ginger than his hair does. "Hello Tom," I smile, glad that I haven't been stood up. He smiles back but then looks down, which is disconcerting; is he really that shy?

"Good, you've shoes you can walk in." He looks up with an awkward little grin. "I mean, you're not wearing high heels or anything like that so, as it's a nice evening, I thought we could walk to the pub rather than catching the bus. What do you think?"

"Is it far?" I ask and wish I hadn't because it makes me sound so feeble. I guess my nervousness is making me talk without thinking.

"Fifteen, twenty minutes, something like that. Is that too far?" The tone of his voice suggests he's worried he's got it wrong so I slip my arm through his.

"No. not at all," I assure him and his relief is so obvious it makes me smile. "Let's get going."

We skirt the town centre and head out past the hill where I remember going sledging with Suzie one winter several years ago when we actually had snow heavy enough to lay. We went back to her house afterwards, both soaked by melting snow and absolutely freezing. Her Mum made us hot chocolate and then soup while I sat in Suzie's dressing gown -- too big for me, of course -- as we tried to dry my clothes. It's such a happy memory that it brings a lump to my throat.

"Are you okay, Emily?"

"Oh, yes. I was just thinking. Did you ever go sledging on this hill?" I point to the right.

"Yes, I think so, though it was a tea tray, not a sled, and I had to take turns with my brother. I'm guessing that you did too."

"Yes, with Suzie. We must have been eleven or twelve." We were best friends even then... I push the thought away; things are better between us again but I'm being silly to think I could turn the clock back. Anyway, I'm here with Tom who wants to be my boyfriend and she's looking for a girlfriend... "So, how was your day at the... the furniture store isn't it?"

"Well done, you remembered. It was pretty dull, actually: people don't generally buy a new sofa or dining table just before going on their summer holidays," he laughs.

We continue our walk to the pub talking as we go. Out of the town the footpath becomes rather disengaged from the road; it runs in the same direction but sometimes on top of a bank overlooking the side of the road, then dipping down and curving away to pass behind a stand of trees before bending back to re-join the road. For a while, there is a high hedge between us and the road. "I wouldn't want to walk along here on my own in the dark," I tell Tom. He responds by putting an arm around me. It's a little disconcerting, coming right afterthoughts of being attacked here but he's just being protective so I don't pull away.

The walk back is very leisurely and relaxed in the gathering twilight. The alcohol of the four drinks trickles through my veins, making me feel very mellow. Perhaps I should have eaten more than the few chips that I nicked from the portion Tom ordered... nah, this feels nice. I feel Tom's arm slip around me and that feels nice too.

Actually, I'm probably a little drunk: Mum would be most disappointed! The thought makes me giggle and Tom looks at me, smiling. Suddenly, my lips are on his, a hungry, excited lunge. I see his eyes widen in surprise but he responds immediately. The kisses last Saturday were quite long but there was a nervous hesitancy to them as we both tested what we felt. Whether it is the evening together or the alcohol, I don't know, but I part my lips and run my tongue over his lips. He needs no second invitation.

It had been a mad impulse to kiss him and the sudden loud beeping and wolf-whistles from a car as it zips past suggests that a little planning and a more secluded spot would have been a good idea. We both start laughing, and I guess the same thought has occurred to Tom. He grabs my hand and we start walking to where, up ahead, the footpath makes one of its irregular deviations from the side of the road. The trees and bushes offer a pleasant seclusion from passing motorists and as soon as the road disappears from view we are back in each other's arms.

Time slips away and I lose myself in the physicality of the moment. He is thin, skinny really, and his body feels solid and unyielding against mine, though he is gentle. I press my mouth hard against his, the bristles of his beard rubbing against one side of my chin.

I feel a little turned on, though a slightly muddy footpath with roots and stones and nettles is not a place for anything more than passionate kisses. I try to lose myself in the feelings and sensations and, while it's nice to feel arms around me and the intimacy of our sharing, it's not perfect. Maybe Tom senses something, some hesitancy on my part because he lifts his lips from mine.

"Are you okay," he asks, a little concerned.

"Yes, but I think I'm a bit drunk," I reply, trying to work out what I feel and what to say. I manage a smile. "I guess I'm a bit nervous and, you know, I don't want to take things too fast."

"You should have had something to eat," he replies as he looks at me with an expression I can't decipher, not with the alcohol inside me, but I don't think I've upset him. He almost looks pleased. "Come on, let's get you home; maybe the walk will clear your head a bit."

I slip my arm through his in affection... though the support is very useful too. "You won't be offended if I don't invite you in for a coffee, will you? It's just Mum can be a bit... you know, inquisitive, and I don't feel up to dealing with that tonight."

"No problem," he assures me as he leans in to kiss the top of my head.

Suzie

Weekday afternoons, I've discovered, are very quiet in the library, though maybe they'll be busier once the schools finish for the summer holidays. The mornings tend to be a time for mothers and toddlers as they come in after dropping older siblings at school and for the Storytime session that the library runs each morning. Valerie has suggested I read one of the stories tomorrow and I'm quite looking forward to it; I'm going to take the book home tonight to read through it a few times and maybe come up with voices for the different animals in the story.

In the meantime I'm on shelf tidying duty, neatening the books and checking for any out of place, like this one... a Mills and Boone romance, The Highwayman of her Heart in among the Indian cookery books. I pull it out and place it on the little trolley, beside the Haynes car repair manual for the Ford Fiesta that was on the Bakery shelf. I wonder if someone is doing this deliberately, as a joke. If they are then they could be a bit cleverer and place, say The Karma Sutra in the Romance section or, thinking of a couple of the geekier lads at school, The Lord of the Rings under World Religions. I give a little chuckle; Stephen would have agreed with that.

"You obviously enjoy your job," says a voice behind me, "but what's so funny about cookery books?"

"Emmy!" I say in surprise, turning to see her smiling at me. She steps closer and gives me a big hug, which is very nice, both because she's my friend and it's nice to feel her close to me, but at the same time uncomfortable, for pretty much the same reasons. I wonder if I'll ever completely stop fancying her. "So, er, what brings you here? Apart from the chance to tease me, of course."

"Well, that was a big part of it, naturally," she replies with a grin. "Oh, and you have things here; what are they called? Oh yes, books!"

"You know, I think we have a few here somewhere. Can I suggest this one?" I offer her the Haynes Ford Fiesta manual. "Or this one maybe?" I hold out The Highwayman of her Heart.

"Ugh, no! That looks like something my granny would read."

"What, a car repair manual?" I tease and she gives a withering look.

"I thought all librarians were supposed to be serious and helpful... even lesbian librarians!" she adds in a loud whisper, making me laugh.

"Different rules for lesbo librarians dealing with cute and sexy girls!" I retort, keeping my voice down with an effort. The shadow of a slight frown creases little furrows between her eyebrows. "Sorry, but you started it," I say in a joking tone that doesn't seem to help. Perhaps I've really upset her. "Hey, Emmy, I really am sorry."

"It's okay, and you're right: I did start it." She obviously still feels guilty about what happened between us. Or maybe she's not quite as comfortable with my being gay as she usually appears.

"So, apart from my company and my ill-judged repartee, what did you come in for?"

"I like your company but, actually, I'm looking for a book." She gives me a look that stops the 'Well, duh!' comment on my lips. "A book on painting techniques."

"What sort of painting? Like, oil painting?"

"No, it's more like interior decorating; I want to see how easy it is to paint sort of marble effects, you know, to make something look like it's made of marble."

"Ah, for your statues, yes?"

"Yes. Nick says that he has paint that's got, like, sand in it and that will give a stone-like finish. That would be good for the bases but I wanted something different for the statues themselves."

"You're not giving yourself too much to do are you?" I ask in concern, remembering how hard she'd had to work for her exhibition a few weeks ago.

"No, I don't think so. Tom has been really good helping me and I think he's surprised himself with how creative he is." There's something in the way she looks when she talks about him that intrigues me.

"You really like him, don't you?" I suggest and she looks down as she tucks a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.

"Um, yes. He's becoming a good friend."

"As in boyfriend?" The question slips out before I can stop it. I have no right to be jealous and it'll be good for her to find someone who loves and cares about her.

"Well... maybe. I'm sorry, Suzie, I don't... I mean..."

"Emmy, you don't need to be sorry: you're allowed to have a boyfriend. We're friends but not, you know, um... girlfriends or anything."

"I know." She gives a sort-of-smile that doesn't reach her eyes. I guess she's afraid she's being disloyal if she finds someone and I'm still single. However, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss our love lives and what they might do to our friendship.

"Do you want to go for a drink so we can have a good long chat? This evening maybe... or tomorrow if that's better."

"Sounds good to me. I'm going to go and do some more work on the statues after I'm done here so do you want to pop round to the rehearsal hall when you finish work and meet me?"

"Oh, yes, and I'll get to see the statues too. Right, let's see if we can find this book about marbling; um... DIY and Home Decoration is this way, I think," I tell her, leading the way.