You know how some people are just born with ballerina legs? Well, Cece had ballerina legs and a dog with the same knees. We’re talking precision-engineered limbs, like someone had ordered them from the Harrods catalogue.
She was Dart One. First throw. Straight in. Kizzy read the name out like a bingo caller — “Cece Noble!” — and gave me a look that meant don’t ruin this like you ruined Fenella and the indoor badminton.
Now, Cece’s family were posh-posh. The sort of posh where the dog gets its own stocking at Christmas and the milk is served in a jug called Sebastian. Her older brother Anthony was in the Army. The only other time I’d met him he’d put my head down a toilet. It was a bonding moment, in a very literal sense — I couldn’t get my ears out of the U-bend for a week.
Anyway, Cece invited me round “to draw the dog.” Which is code, in my world, for “bring your sketchbook and hope for a biscuit.” The dog, by the way, was called Sir Magnus Barkington III and looked like it had been ironed flat.
We sat there, me sketching, her talking about ballet and how she was moving to London. I didn’t say much — Kizzy had given me strict rules about letting the girl speak seven words for every one of mine. I counted. Got up to about 1,600 words before I lost track and started wondering if I could get away with drawing the dog wearing a cravat.
At the rugby club disco, I tried for the kiss. She ducked it. Gracefully, of course — like a swan avoiding a bread roll. She just… vanished into the crowd, leaving me with nothing but the smell of Yardley Lavender and a vague sense that I’d been politely dismissed from my own romance.
The last time I saw her that Easter, she gave me her scarf. Green and gold, school colours, still warm from her neck. I wore it on the bus back to Sedbergh like I’d just been knighted. The other lads said I looked like a druid on work experience.
And that was Cece. Out of reach. Like one of those biscuits in a tin you can just see through the Quality Street plastic, but someone’s wedged a sewing kit on top so you can’t get to it.
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