1984

           Thelanewidened,andinaminutehecametothefootpathshehadtoldhimof,amerecattle-trackwhichplungedbetweenthebushes. Hehadnowatch,butitcouldnotbefifteenyet. Thebluebellsweresothickunderfootthatitwasimpossiblenottotreadonthem. Hekneltdownandbeganpickingsomepartlytopassthetimeaway,butalsofromavagueideathathewouldliketohaveabunchofflowerstooffertothegirlwhentheymet. Hehadgottogetherabigbunchandwassmellingtheirfaintsicklyscentwhenasoundathisbackfrozehim,theunmistakablecrackleofafootontwigs. Hewentonpickingbluebells. Itwasthebestthingtodo. Itmightbethegirl,orhemighthavebeenfollowedafterall. Tolookroundwastoshowguilt. Hepickedanotherandanother. Ahandfelllightlyonhisshoulder. 

           Helookedup. Itwasthegirl. Sheshookherhead,evidentlyasawarningthathemustkeepsilent,thenpartedthebushesandquicklyledthewayalongthenarrowtrackintothewood. Obviouslyshehadbeenthatwaybefore,forshedodgedtheboggybitsasthoughbyhabit. Winstonfollowed,stillclaspinghisbunchofflowers. Hisfirstfeelingwasrelief,butashewatchedthestrongslenderbodymovinginfrontofhim,withthescarletsashthatwasjusttightenoughtobringoutthecurveofherhips,thesenseofhisowninferioritywasheavyuponhim. Evennowitseemedquitelikelythatwhensheturnedroundandlookedathimshewoulddrawbackafterall. Thesweetnessoftheairandthegreennessoftheleavesdauntedhim. AlreadyonthewalkfromthestationtheMaysunshinehadmadehimfeeldirtyandetiolated,acreatureofindoors,withthesootydustofLondonintheporesofhisskin. Itoccurredtohimthattillnowshehadprobablyneverseenhiminbroaddaylightintheopen. Theycametothefallentreethatshehadspokenof.