In the hot sun of early September The Rocks seemed very far from anything to do with Christmas even though the end of term would be taken up with the usual celebrations including the Carol Service in St Ives and the annual school plays. Over the four years since Pip started at The Rocks, he had grown from the small timid creature he had been on arrival into a more confident, but sometimes private boy, the sort of boy who tended to hide his work in the classroom behind a façade of studied indifference. Pip had also developed the typical Rocks look, long-legged and suntanned by years of days in the Cornish sun, the envy of his few friends back at home. From the lower forms Pip had now reached the school’s pinnacle, the Sixth Form, accompanied by Clancy, Owen, Peter Morgan and the Johnson twins. Owing to the vagaries of the academic year Jonathan was now a year behind, the oldest boy in the Fifth Form. However, because the dormitories did not necessarily match the form structure, Pip and Jonathan were still in the same dormitory as had been the case all through the school.
Having unpacked his trunk and with no one else around, Pip came out of his dormitory, 5W, and went upstairs to the favoured Sixth Form dormitory 6W, which had much the best view of the open sea. Already 6W was alive with gossip centred on Peter who was sporting a broken wrist. The twins tried to find out more from Peter himself.
“What happened to your wrist?”
“Nothing much. I fell out of a tree.” But there was a more pressing matter for the twins. “So what was that comment about a girl called Emma in your post card from France, Peter?”
In his eyes Peter had had a very successful summer holiday in France, something he was keen to share with his friends back at school.
“Oh, she’s my girlfriend. My cousin.”
“Girlfriend? Do tell us more. What did you get up to? Did she break your wrist?” Girls were beginning to be a subject of discussion amongst some of the older boys. Sometimes magazines were pulled out of from hiding places. The pictures from these magazines were studied intently. The more adventurous began to read the letters pages in the search for information. Pip followed these discussions with keen interest.
As the September sun started to wane on the first evening back, Peter began to give some more information of his family’s holiday in France.
“No, that was some accident back in Hong Kong. I met up with Emma on holiday in Europe. We stayed with our cousins in the South of France this summer. Sam was off chatting to the local boys. She’s good at French, but my cousins Emma and Natalie were there. They are fourteen and twelve.”
“Oh, good looking?”
“Natalie is just a girl, but Emma, she’s a natural model. She looked good in a bikini. She’s quite mature on top, if you know what I mean.” Peter gestured with two cupped hands. Yes, everyone knew what he meant.
The Johnson twins, now the school’s star athletes, took an instant interest in the hook dangled by Peter. Kit, the younger, dominant twin, led the inevitable questioning.
“And apart from the looks, was Emma interested?”
“Interested?”
“You know. Did she want to go out with you?”
“And stuff?”
Peter considered his response to the questions from both twins. “Well, at first she only wanted to stay with Natalie and Sam, but by the end of the holiday Natalie had found her own interests. So Emma was much more amenable to me then.” Peter looked very pleased with himself.
“Well?”
“Go on then.”
He refused to say more. “Not now.”
“Any photographs of this cousin of yours?”
“Perhaps later, when I have unpacked. I have one or two which I might show you.” Peter was keeping his cards close to his chest. Kit and his brother Robbie looked at each other, then as one turned back to Peter, who now wearing an undisguised look of glee on his face as he had told the world of his conquest.
“But can’t we see the pictures now?”
“You’ll just have to wait.”
The twins would never keep it to themselves for long.