The Flyer

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Authors: Stuart Harrison
man from the school and we’ve become friends. She promised not to say anything until after she’s met you herself. Actually she’s been wonderful about it. My father needn’t ever know that we’ve been meeting like this.’
    They were lying in the grass together in a field near the river. William didn’t say anything.
    ‘What is it William? Don’t you want to meet my father?’ Emmaline asked.
    ‘It isn’t that.’
    ‘Then what is it? Every time I mention it you find some excuse not to. You’re not afraid of him are you? He’s quite alright really, and I know he’ll like you.’
    William sat up. ‘It isn’t that. The thing is, there’s something I have to talk to you about. I should have said something before, but I didn’t know how to. I suppose I wasn’t sure what you’d think.’
    ‘What is it?’ Emmaline said sounding worried.
    ‘It’s just that I’m worried your father won’t approve of me.’
    ‘Of course he will. He’ll love you as much as I do. Well perhaps not that much.’ She kissed him, glad that his concern was nothing serious. He was nervous, that was all.
    ‘I love you too, Emma. More than I can tell you. And I know none of this will matter to you, but I’m not sure about your father. Perhaps if I was still going up to Oxford it wouldn’t matter so much.’
    ‘What do you mean - if you were still going up to Oxford?’
    ‘The fact is I can’t go. I can’t afford it. The only reason I’m at Oundle is because my fees were paid by my benefactor, but he’s dead now and there’s no more money.’
    Emmaline stared uncomprehendingly. ‘But you have a scholarship…’
    ‘It doesn’t cover my living expenses.’
    ‘Surely your family will give you an allowance.’
    ‘My family don’t have any money, Emmaline. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’ He told her how his mother and father had met, and how they had loved one another despite their different backgrounds. It struck William that the similarities between his parent’s situation and his and Emmaline’s was somehow a good portent.
    ‘Your father is a blacksmith?’ Emmaline repeated.
    He saw at once that she was taken aback, but he didn’t blame her for that. It must be difficult for her to absorb it all at once. He should have told her before. He wondered if she was thinking about his parents too, trying to picture herself married to a blacksmith, and William wanted to explain that their own situation was different. His father hadn’t been educated at a public school. He’d never had William’s advantages.
    Emmaline was very quiet when they walked back towards the town. They separated before they came in sight of the first houses. William kissed her, but when she turned her face up to him he was sure she hesitated, and when they parted she seemed less reluctant than usual.
    ‘I’ll look for you in the morning,’ he said.
    ‘Yes. I’d better go or I’ll be late.’
    He kissed her quickly again, though she was less responsive than usual. As she left he wanted to call out that he loved her, but he managed to stop himself. When she was gone he thought his heart would break from the feeling of loneliness that broke over him like a wave.
    In the morning, when he ran to Fotheringhay, he felt anxious the entire time. He didn’t linger at the ruin as he normally did. He couldn’t think of anything but getting back to the town, hoping desperately that Emmaline would be at her window as usual. He even prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in. When he reached the place where he always stopped, he bent down to pretend to tie his lace. He couldn’t look at first. He told himself she would be there, and then everything would be alright. His heart was racing and his hands shook. Finally he looked up at the house, to the rows of symmetrically placed windows, among them Emmaline’s; as empty as he’d known it would be.
    He only ever saw her once again. He lessened the chance of it by rarely going into the

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