Alison left home ahead of Nesta. She was about to suggest their going together, to ask where and when she had arranged to meet Amy. Then she held back thinking that perhaps they both needed time apart. So she went alone for the early bus knowing that Nesta would be at least half an hour behind her.
The bus ride was a pleasant one, taking her through neat suburbia and past fields where in summer cattle grazed, into the heart of the great walled city. She had sight of the narrow streets of the old town, and the Minster that towered above them. This had been her home for fourteen years, and fourteen years is a long time in anyone’s language.
She got off at Piccadilly and wandered quite aimlessly from shop to shop, bought a new lipstick in Boots; then thought about taking it with her to Ormingat. It was a shiver of a thought, a self-tormenting shiver; such as one feels when an idea slips away and does not know how to put itself into words. The centre of York at noon on Saturday was so divorced from any inkling of space travel. Even in mid-winter, the streets were busy. In fact, they were busier today than on any day since Christmas. The English weather had done one of its brilliant back-flips. The sun was shining and the air was mild and balmy.
She had no need to shop, nothing much to shop for now that she was about to leave this Earth. What should she buy? A book for the journey . . .
The thought seemed ludicrous, as if she were going somewhere by train. The train for Ormingat will be leaving from platform 12 in five minutes.
Alison spent nearly an hour in the bookshop in Davygate, drinking coffee and then browsing over the books in a shop that had become one of her favourite places. She eventually came out with a copy of Dombey and Son, one of the few Dickens novels she had not read so far, and an assortment of paperbacks, on offer at three for the price of two. There would be plenty of time after all – to read, and re-read!
Alison walked round till she came within sight of the Minster. She looked up and down the familiar streets. I don’t want to live worlds away from here. On the three-year journey home, she knew she would cease to feel like this, she would come to cherish the thought of Ormingat, her birthplace and the beloved land of her childhood, but not yet.
Coming out of Marks and Spencer’s, where she had bought some salad, and a cake for Sunday tea, she ran into Mrs Jolly who lived next door at Number 10.
‘Better weather, this,’ said her neighbour, beaming as if she had produced the sunshine by her own efforts. ‘You never know how it’s going to be. Two-faced January, my late husband used to call it, something to do with Janus looking both ways. Well, I am sure it’s very two-faced about the weather, snow, frost and flood, and now look at it! It could be April!’
‘Well, let’s hope it stays this way!’ said Alison, smiling and anxious to move on. Mrs Jolly was always a great one for talking! They parted and Alison walked a little faster for a while to make it look as if she were indeed pressed for time. Mrs Jolly was headed in the direction of Piccadilly. Alison quickly decided to go in the opposite direction, to make for the railway station, and get the bus home from there. It was not that she disliked her neighbour’s company. But today was not the day for it!
In St Sampson’s Square, Nesta and Amy sat in the sunshine, their mission accomplished. Only the leafless trees betrayed the fact that it was still the middle of winter.
The girls had spent an hour or more in Coppergate, mainly window-shopping, and then they had wandered round the town streets deep in conversation, though it was Amy who did most of the talking. Nesta was trying to hide her feelings, and whilst they were on the move she could just about manage it. By the time they came to the square, the morning was over and they were feeling quite hungry. They sat down to consider where to go next.
The new hockey boots were in a green plastic bag on the seat between them. Amy was looking forward to being on the new team, playing at the back and fiercely guarding the goal. Thoughts of it rambled on in her head and what she said when she spoke made sense to her, though not to Nesta.
‘She’s changed, you know. She’s like a different person.’
‘Who?’ said Nesta, roused from her own daydreams. ‘What are you talking about?’
Amy laughed.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘You can’t read my thoughts. My mum says I’m always doing that! Amanda Watkins has changed. Now she’s organizing the junior hockey team she’s turned quite nice.’
Nesta shrugged her shoulders.
‘She’s been thinking of asking you to play mid-field because you’re the best runner. But, I know this sounds odd after what happened, she seems shy of asking you. She wanted me to find out if you were interested. Not that I’d blame you if you weren’t.’
Nesta gave Amy a look of such absolute misery that her friend was immediately alarmed. She wished she had not mentioned Amanda.
‘It’s not important,’ she said hurriedly. ‘If it still hurts, you don’t need have anything to do with her. Only you don’t mind me being on the team, do you?’
Amy looked at Nesta anxiously. Loyalty was her watchword.
‘If you do mind,’ she added, ‘I won’t join in. It’s just a game after all.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Nesta quickly. ‘It’s something else altogether. Nothing to do with school.’
‘Tell me then,’ said Amy. ‘It can’t be all that bad. Surely it can’t.’
‘It can,’ said Nesta miserably. ‘It is. It’s terrible, but I can’t tell you anything about it.’
‘Nesta Gwynn!’ said Amy, bringing both fists down on the bag that held the hockey boots. ‘You can tell me anything. I am your best friend, aren’t I?’
‘You are my best friend, Amy. And you always will be, no matter what. But I can’t tell you. I really can’t.’
‘It’s best to tell, no matter what it is,’ said Amy. ‘Remember the bullying. When I told about that, it was all put right. It even helped Amanda, I think. She’s a much better person now.’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Nesta. ‘I wish it were. It’s just we might be moving away soon. My parents might have to go back to Boston. And I don’t want to go. I’d love to be on the team, only I might not be here long enough.’
Before Amy could ask any questions, Nesta caught sight of her mother coming up Parliament Street towards where they were sitting.
‘Look,’ she said, as brightly as she could, ‘there’s my mom. Let’s ask her to take us to Betty’s for lunch. She offered to this morning. But mind you don’t say anything about us going away. We’re not even sure to be going. It could be called off. And it’s supposed to be a secret.’
They both stood up and waved hard at Alison, who soon saw them, waved back and came to meet them.
‘Come on then, you two,’ she said as she drew near. ‘Time for eats. I said this morning I would take you to Betty’s. I guess you’d be pleased to take up the offer now!’
Afterwards, on the bus home, Alison said anxiously, ‘You didn’t tell Amy anything, did you?’
‘No, Mom, not really,’ said Nesta, looking not at her mother but out of the window at the Museum Gardens. ‘I did say we might be moving away from here, but not where or when, and certainly not how. There’s no need, you know, to warn me not to tell. Most of it is untellable.’