Nicky called her mum the next morning. She was giving herself a few days off from Seb, to see how she felt about him. But she couldn’t put off telling Mum she wouldn’t be home for the Easter weekend. It was not far off now.
Her father answered. ‘Hello, pet. I’ll put your mum on.’
Nicky rolled her eyes. It was the same thing Dad always said if he happened to answer when she called. She got on well with him – better than she did with Mum – but he had never liked talking on the phone.
A moment later she heard her mum’s voice. ‘Nicola! You’ve decided to phone us at last. I don’t mind telling you, I’ve been worried, not hearing from you for so long. But your dad kept saying that no news was good news and if anything terrible had happened we’d have heard. So you’ve him to thank that I didn’t get in the car and drive over to check on you.’
‘Good old Dad,’ Nicky said. She couldn’t help but grin. There was a smile behind Mum’s words. She could hear it. Mum wasn’t really too annoyed.
‘So, you went to Dublin and saw Gráinne last weekend? How was that?’
‘Yeah, great. Got lots of info for my project. Supergran is fabulous. She remembers everything and is happy to talk – well for an hour or two at a time. Then she gets tired, and your aunt Eileen tells me to leave her alone. Your cousin Jimmy was great too – took me out in his car a couple of times.’
‘Glad to hear they’ve all helped. They’re a good crowd, my family. Well, you can tell me all about it when you come home for the Easter weekend.’
‘Ah yeah, about that. Actually, I’m thinking of going back to Dublin. Didn’t have time to get all the story from Supergran as she gets tired quickly. She said I could go back again, and Easter’s a good time.’
‘Oh, Nicola! We were so hoping to spend time with you. I’d booked a nice restaurant for the three of us for lunch on Easter Sunday. I thought you said you’d come home for the weekend even though I knew you couldn’t come for the whole break?’
‘But this is for my project. The one you suggested I do, Mum. So really, you’ve only yourself to blame.’ Nicky rolled her eyes. Seriously, her mother couldn’t have it both ways.
Mum sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose so. I’m just so disappointed. Your dad will be too. Well, how about you come for the May bank holiday instead, to make it up to us?’
Nicky made a non-committal grunt at this.
‘Well,’ Mum continued, ‘once again please give my love to your Supergran and good luck with the project. Let me know when you have flights booked. I’ll help you a little with the cost again. We spoil you, you know. I suppose it’s because you’re an only child. Perhaps I’m partly to blame.’
‘Blame for what?’
‘Oh, nothing. Anyway, I hope the trip to Dublin goes well and you get everything you need for your essay.’
‘Cheers, thanks, Mum.’ She wasn’t so bad, Nicky supposed. She was helpful, when she wanted to be. And she hadn’t made too much of a fuss about Nicky missing Easter at home. Not nearly as much as Nicky had been expecting.
Nicky made a visit to the travel agent’s again later that day, when she had some spare time in the afternoon. She booked her flights, then once more called her great-grandmother and then her mother from the station to tell them the dates and times. Supergran was delighted it was all booked, and promised to pass the news on to Jimmy so he could collect her from the airport.
When she’d finished making her phone calls, Nicky still had time to spare. Perhaps she should go and see Seb again. He’d likely be at his flat – now that he’d been thrown out of the university. She debated calling him, but his flat wasn’t far from the station. It’d be just as easy to go straight there. If he was out, then she could leave a note.
She was lucky; he was there. He smiled to see her, a smile that lit up his whole face and seemed to bathe her in its power, and she was reminded again why she’d fallen for him and why she was giving him a second chance. ‘Hey. Just thought I’d drop by and see how things are going for you.’
‘Good to see you, babe,’ he said, pulling her close for a kiss. She was pleased to find he didn’t taste so strongly of cigarettes.
‘What have you been up to these last couple of days?’ she asked, as he led the way to the kitchen and began rummaging around for food and drink to offer her.
‘Oh, you know. This and that. Beer?’ He opened a can and passed it to her without waiting for an answer.
‘Oh, well … yes, all right. Thanks.’ She accepted it and took a sip. It was warm – it had not been in the fridge. ‘Are you looking for a job yet?’
‘Job? Ah, no. Not yet. There are other things I want to do first. More activism, you know? If I’m working, I can’t do it, can I? I’ve got enough money for now. Parents have paid the rent this month and they’ll keep paying it till the end of the academic year.’
‘Do they know? That you’ve been chucked out?’
He looked sheepish for a moment then smiled. ‘Nah. Haven’t told them yet. I’ll wait till I’ve got something else lined up. Soften the blow, like.’
Nicky wasn’t sure she liked the idea of him pretending to them he was still a student. It seemed dishonest, especially if they were financing him. But it was his call and nothing to do with her. ‘So anyway, what other things are you going to do?’
‘Another protest. There’s one on Saturday. Going to be big. There’s a developer wants to build houses on greenbelt land. Protected woodland, it is. We’re going to march through the streets and stop them. There’ll be thousands. Want to join us?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yeah, afternoon. You’re not off to Dublin again yet?’
‘Not quite yet …’
He grinned. ‘That’s sorted, then. Be here by eleven and we’ll set off then. I’ll get some placards made up. It’ll be fun. We’ll end up with a party on the beach, I reckon. Do some good, then have a piss-up under the stars. A perfect day, eh, babe?’
Nicky smiled back happily. This was more like it. This was the kind of protest she could get on board with. Environmental protection, marching through the streets with placards, stopping a greedy developer who was only trying to line his own pockets.
They went into Seb’s bedroom, to drink their beers. There was a letter lying opened on the bedside table. Nicky glanced at it without meaning to. It had the university’s crest at the top. Seb saw her looking at it and handed it to her. ‘Have a read of that. Bloody vice-chancellor.’
‘What is it?’ She scanned the letter quickly. It seemed as though the university was charging Seb for all the beers and all the damage during the sit-in, as he’d been the ringleader. The letter was signed by the vice-chancellor, and named an eye-watering amount that Seb was liable for. If he did not pay up within a month there would be criminal charges. ‘Oh. That’s a lot.’
‘More than I can wrangle out of my parents. They’d have coughed up a couple hundred, no problem, but not that amount.’
‘Will the other protesters pay some?’
‘No. They say not, and the VC says it’s down to me. Bastard.’
The second page of the letter was an itemised bill for the damage. Some furniture had been broken, carpet tiles needed replacing, and apparently someone had tried to force open the bar’s till. ‘Doesn’t seem right that you should pay it all,’ Nicky said. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her for any money. She really didn’t want to be put in the position of having to say no.
Seb shrugged. ‘No. And I ain’t gonna pay it. I’ll go to the papers, tell them how a valid protest gets treated by that crappy uni. They’re victimising me. But they’ll be sorry. Especially that bastard.’ He stabbed a finger at the VC’s signature at the bottom of the letter.
Nicky was torn – although a part of her thought it was certainly unfair that Seb had been singled out and charged with all the damage, a larger part thought that he’d brought it on himself. The protest had been a bit pointless, if she was honest, and he’d allowed it to get out of hand. If he’d insisted the protesters had stuck to his original rules of no damage and no theft, there would have been no charges and maybe he wouldn’t even have been thrown out of university.
‘Anyway. Let’s not think about it now, eh, babe? Come here.’ Seb smiled at her and patted the bed on which he was sitting. ‘Been ages since you and I got close. Fancy a bit?’
She’d promised herself she’d give him another chance, Nicky told herself as she crossed the room to sit beside him, and began kissing him. Today could be the start of a reset of their relationship, in her mind at least.
On Saturday, Nicky turned up at Seb’s flat as they’d arranged, ready to pick up placards and join the march. Seb had used a pizza box to make a couple of placards. One read, ‘Save Our Woodland’ and the other, ‘Stop Illegal Developement’. Nicky refrained from pointing out the spelling mistake. Dull slogans but they said it all, and she happily picked up the woodland one. This was what it was all about!
‘What time does the march begin?’ she asked.
‘Midday. A few speeches first I expect, then we’ll set off. You’ve done this sort of thing before? You must have!’
She grinned. ‘No, it’s my first time.’
‘Bloody hell. You’re what, twenty and only now going on a protest march? You’ve led a sheltered life. Good job you met me! I’ve been on loads. Best ones end with a paarrrty! Whoop whoop!’ He punched the air.
Nicky laughed, then checked the clock on his kitchen wall. ‘We’d best get going.’
‘Yeah. Come on then, protest virgin!’ They left the flat and walked through the streets to the starting point, on the seafront. Nicky was pleased to see handfuls of other people making their way there too, also armed with signs. Some were chanting slogans. When they reached the rallying point, she estimated there were several hundred protesters. It was a sunny but windy day, and the mood was upbeat. There were some police around, ready to stop traffic as the march set off, but they looked friendly and almost happy to be there. This was what she wanted to be a part of!
‘If we get separated,’ Seb said as the march set off along Marine Parade in the direction of the pier, ‘meet up back at my flat this evening, yeah? You can stay the night.’
‘All right. Here we go!’ Nicky held her placard aloft and began joining in with the chants. ‘Save Our Woodland! Save Our Woodland!’
Seb gave her what appeared to be an indulgent grin, but he joined in the chanting. Together, with the several hundred others, they made their way slowly along the road, with the police stopping traffic from side roads as they passed. Several drivers tooted their horns in support. The crowd was made up of young and old, men and women, families and teenagers. A real cross-section of society, all united in one aim to save a piece of woodland from money-grabbing developers. A worthwhile cause.
As she marched, Nicky thought back to a freezing cold day over a year ago, when she and Conor had sat huddled together on a park bench, sipping coffee in takeaway cups. Across the park, there had been a small demonstration going on – she could no longer recall what it was about. Approximately fifty people had gathered, a few held placards aloft, and some had children in tow. A man with a loud speaker was urging them to never give in, to hold on to what was theirs, whatever it was.
‘Look at them,’ Nicky had said. ‘They’ve come out on a cold day, with their kids and homemade banners. Must feel good to believe in something strongly like that.’
Conor looked at her. ‘You’d do it, I reckon, if it was something you cared about.’
‘Like what? I don’t really know what I care that strongly about, that I’d give up a Saturday afternoon on a day like this.’ Nicky thought for a moment. ‘I kind of wish there was something I care about that much. It’d give meaning to my life. I like the idea of peaceful protest, the solidarity and camaraderie with other protesters. Don’t you?’
Conor smiled. ‘Well, yes, but does it work? Or is it better to do something practical?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Write to your MP, donate to a relevant charity. Better still, work for a charity that aims to right whatever wrongs you are protesting about.’ He gazed across the park at the little demonstration. ‘I have nothing against peaceful protests like that, but sometimes I think there are better ways of channelling energy to make the world a better place. Been thinking about this a lot, lately. After I’ve got my degree in medicine and qualified as a doctor, I’m thinking I’d like to work overseas, maybe in a war zone. For a charity like Médecins Sans Frontières.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Doctors Without Borders. They’re an international charity providing medical and humanitarian help in conflict zones. I like the idea of working for them for a few years. I’d be doing some real good in the world, using my skills to help people who need it most.’
Nicky gazed at him in awe. He really meant it. He was so clear about his life, about what he believed in and how he could help the world. If only she was the same. But she was not good at the sciences, so medicine was not an option for her to study. She wanted, in a vague, undefined kind of way, to change the world. She just didn’t know how to go about it or where to start.
She looked back over at the protesters. There were fewer of them now – those with small children were beginning to pack up and go home. Were they changing the world, even just a little? If their protest was listened to and taken note of by those in power, would that make it worthwhile? The average person could do so little in practical terms, but they could start small and escalate. Letters to MPs or to national newspapers, protests, marches, rebellions.
‘It’s great that you’ll be able to do something real. But that’s so many years away. And it won’t be you changing the world – you’ll just be repairing the damage done by others who are changing things, whether or not for the best. Don’t you sometimes think you’d like to do something now to get your voice heard?’
‘Get my voice heard about what?’
She shrugged, feeling a little exasperated with him. ‘I don’t know. Something, anything. We’re young, we’re supposed to be rebellious. We’re supposed to kick against the status quo, to stir things up and work for change. I know I want to. What about you?’
‘Hmm. Well, when I feel strongly about an issue, I’ll do something about it. Something practical, that’ll make a real difference. Not just standing in a park with a slogan on a piece of cardboard. Not just rebelling for the sake of it. Has to mean something.’
She’d turned away from him then, cross with him. She wanted to make her mark too, and protest marches were about as much as she’d be able to manage. Yet here was Conor being so dismissive of them. It was all right for him with his plans to study medicine and then work in conflict zones. But what about ordinary people like her?
Now, as she marched through Brighton on this fine spring day, with like-minded souls and Seb at her side, she felt fulfilled, as though she could taste revolution in the air. She’d been right to drop Conor and free herself up for experiences like this. Supergran had marched and fought for what she believed in, alongside the man she loved. And now Nicky was doing the same, albeit on a smaller, less dangerous scale.