Page 11 of Searching for Mr Tilney

I was now the proud possessor of the gorgeous book, and knew I would treasure it always. Taking it out of its wrapping I kept turning it over in my hands, unable to believe that it was actually mine.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ I said, fumbling in my purse for the note Ellen had given me, ‘I’d never have plucked up the courage to do that on my own.’

‘I don’t want your money,’ Harry said, curling his strong fingers over mine in a fist, which made my heart start thumping. ‘I’d really like to make a gift of it so you’ll take away a happy memory of a young man, eager to please in Bath.’

When I looked back at him he winked and smirked, as if he was very amused by me. I didn’t know what to say in reply to him or decide exactly what he meant.

‘And besides, I rather like the idea of you being beholden to me,’ he added in a serious voice, then looked as if he was about to laugh, as a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

I thought he was teasing me, though I wasn’t quite sure because he looked so serious again in the next minute, as he looked at his wristwatch and said that he had to be getting back because of a tutorial that he mustn’t be late for.

‘Take no notice of my brother, Caroline,’ said Elsa. ‘He thinks he’s a bit of a joker. Never mind being beholden to him, he can well afford it … what with his job and his grant. Anyway, I keep meaning to ask you to come round. I share a house with a group of other girls so there’ll be no fear of bumping into any comical brothers.’

‘Comical brothers, whatever do you mean?’ Harry raised an eyebrow, and stroked his chin thoughtfully, and he looked so silly we both laughed at him.

‘I should love to come and visit … just let me know when, and I’ll be there.’

‘Are you free on Friday? I’ll be finished with lectures by four o’clock, and I won’t have too many notes to write up. Come any time after six.’ Elsa scribbled her address down on a piece of paper. ‘I’m in a house on Daniel Street, just round the corner from you so it’s not far to come.’

I felt so pleased to be making a new friend, but then all too soon they were saying they had to dash and before I knew it, they’d both gone, disappearing through the doors with a wave of their hands. I could have said I was going too, but suddenly I didn’t want to look totally needy or over enthusiastic. Harry had said nothing about meeting up before our arranged date, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed, even if I knew I’d be seeing his sister. It had been so lovely to bump into them, and I knew then how much I was missing the company of people my own age. I wondered if I should have stopped Harry from buying the book and scolded myself for not being brave enough to buy it myself in the first place. Yet, I was so pleased with his present to me, and put it carefully back into the paper bag.

Ellen was very impressed with the book though I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that Harry had bought it with his own money. I didn’t think she’d approve of that, even if she did seem to like him. I told her I’d seen Elsa and Harry, and she clucked with pleasure.

‘Such lovely young people, and just the type I’m sure your mother would like too. Did you go for a milk shake?’

I tried not to laugh at Ellen’s antiquated ideas, and had a sudden snapshot in my mind of Ellen as a 50s poster girl complete with a beehive hair-do.

‘No, they had to get back. I only saw them for a few minutes, but I’m visiting Elsa at her house on Friday so I’m looking forward to that.’

Ellen smiled. ‘I am pleased you’re making friends with Elsa, and you’ll be seeing Harry the next day, won’t you? There’s nothing like young love … I almost envy you, though I’m not sure I could stand the excitement of all that painful longing, never ending uncertainty and constant butterflies in the tummy.’

Needless to say, she didn’t get an answer.

Chapter Seven

I went to see Elsa yesterday and spent a lovely evening with her. She shares a house with three other girls - they all have a floor each, but tend to meet on the first floor in Elsa’s sitting room that looks over the park and the back of Great Pulteney Street. It felt very special discussing everything from guys to politics over a few cocktails. One of the girls had received a shaker and a set of paper umbrellas for her birthday, and another had “borrowed” a bottle of tequila and the leftovers from a bottle of grenadine from her parents’ house. A Tequila Sunrise, mixed with lots of fresh orange juice was like drinking sunshine in a long glass, and I tried a delicious olive or two, which I’d never been brave enough to do before. Elsa had a new fondue set, and it was a lot of fun dipping chunks of bread on long forks into the melted cheese, and playing forfeits if anyone dropped theirs. She’s so lovely, and I think we’ll always be friends whatever happens with Harry, which brings me on to the most exciting entry yet.

I saw him last night. I’ll start at the very beginning so I can savour every last detail and thought - and then read it through so I can re-live it all over again.

I wore a black velvet dress with a high collar, suitably gothic for a horror film though my very ordinary coat spoiled the effect I was trying to achieve, as a sort of cross between a romantic heroine and a sultry vamp - though, to be perfectly honest I’m not sure I could have pulled either off, even if I’d had a floor-length velvet cape. Anyway, we’d arranged to meet outside the cinema, and for once, I wasn’t three hours too early. I was so caught up in the sense of occasion that I will admit to feeling happiness of a “quiet, deep, heart-swelling sort”, as Jane Austen might say, on seeing Harry. He was standing in the freezing cold, little puffs of his warm breath like mist on the air, with the collar turned up on that wonderful swash-buckling coat, and looking every inch like a romantic hero … or villain. I couldn’t quite decide which, because there was more than an echo of a highwayman in the way his coat fell almost to the floor. For a moment I longed for him to sweep me up into his arms and carry me off somewhere to ravish me, but fortunately he just smiled and put his hands in his pockets.

The cinema was almost full when we took our seats, and while I’d suspected he probably wouldn’t want to sit on the back row, nuzzle my ear or try to kiss me, I wasn’t quite prepared for sitting on the front row and suffering the inevitable crick in the neck as a result.

The film was pretty dreadful - an old black and white version with a Dracula man-bat biting girls’ necks before suffering a stake through the heart. We suppressed our laughter as much as we could, and when it was all over, Harry suggested we go and find somewhere for a coffee. We found a café down one of Bath’s tiny cobbled back streets, looking as if it had been forgotten from the last decade with grimy Formica tops, but with a reassuring smell of ground coffee and the hiss of steaming urns. We were the only people in there, which should have told us something, but I sat down while Harry ordered our coffee at the counter. The coffee was delicious, though the Nice biscuits, presented on a chipped eau de nil saucer, were a bit grey looking and soft.

‘I’m sorry the film wasn’t very good,’ Harry began, but then we both started laughing.

‘It was spectacularly bad,’ I agreed, ‘especially when Dracula turned into a bat and you could see the string being jerked as it flew out of the window. I suppose we must be thankful for small mercies … at least it wasn’t in colour.’

‘Yes, I’m not sure the cardboard castle walls would have stood up to Technicolor scrutiny.’

‘At one point when Dracula rushed from the room, I swear the stone walls shook.’

Harry laughed. ‘I think they must have spent all their money on the location shots … the ones of those amazing Transylvanian castles which bore no resemblance to the interiors.’

‘Wonderfully gothic, but I can’t imagine living in a place like that … it would be very draughty, I think. I’m not sure I’d be able to roam the corridors in gauzy nighties like the vampiresses in the film.’

‘I have an uncle who lives in a castle on a cliff top by the sea, and you’re right, the wind whistles down the corridors like a banshee shrieking from hell itself.’