The Pupil by Caro Fraser

twenty-three pounds (which he probably didn’t have in the bank) and being given five pounds eighty in change by Edward.
    At last they trooped out into the night and the sobering cold of the December air. Anthony caught up with Julia.
    ‘Where do you live?’ he asked her. She told him; it was the opposite direction from the way in which his own home lay. But he found himself continuing to walk beside her, and as they got further and further on their way, people began to peel off towards buses and taxis and underground stations, and at last they were walking by themselves.
    They were talking – inconsequential stuff about people and work. Anthony still felt rather drunk.
    ‘I’m very glad I met you tonight,’ he said, after a silence. He wished he knew where the hell they were going.
    ‘Are you? Why?’ asked Julia.
    ‘Because,’ said Anthony foolishly. ‘Because, because.’ He stopped on the pavement. ‘I’m drunk.’
    ‘I know.’ She gave a shiver of anticipation. ‘Will you kiss me?’ she asked him. Anthony looked up and down the empty street.
    ‘Here?’
    She took a step towards him and pushed him gentlyinto a darkened shop doorway and raised her mouth to his. Kissing her was the softest, warmest thing Anthony had ever known. He had kissed numerous girls, mainly Bridget, but never had he felt such extraordinary pleasure as this. He pulled her closer, sliding his hands beneath her coat and caressing the skin of her back; he wanted to go on kissing her for ever. He wanted to stop kissing her just so that he could start it all over again. As he kissed her, he found himself thinking about all the other girls he had kissed and, absurdly, about the first girl he had ever taken out. Her name had been Lorraine. They had been fourteen, and they had gone to the pictures together to see
True Grit.
It had been raining outside the cinema, and when they got into their seats, Anthony remembered, Lorraine had sat there with her anorak hood up, the toggles tied under her chin. Every time he had thought about holding her hand, he had looked sideways at her and the whole thing had seemed impossible. The recollection of this suddenly made Anthony laugh in mid-kiss.
    ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Julia, laughing at him laughing. Anthony told her. Then he kissed her again, and this time it seemed even better than before. He was aware that she had somehow wrapped one of her legs round the back of one of his, as though to bring him even closer, and he slid his thigh between hers and gathered her against him, as though to absorb her, to melt her into him with kissing.
    It stopped eventually, as even drunken kissing must, and Julia tried to look at her watch. She stepped back into the street and squinted at her wrist.
    ‘My God, it’s half past two! The last tube went agesago,’ she moaned. They walked on further, growing chillier and less light-headed with each step. They didn’t talk much this time, and to make the silence comforting, Anthony took her hand; its warmth filled his. At last they found a cruising taxi, and Anthony put Julia into it. She gave him the briefest of kisses before closing the door, but it was enough to remind Anthony of their moments in the doorway of the shop. He wished he could find that doorway; it would be sacred for ever. He watched her cab speed off into the night, leaving him in a deserted street somewhere in the West End. He had a vague idea of the direction in which they had been walking, and he headed off east. He knew it was probably four or five miles to his home, and he had no money for a cab, but in his exhilaration he felt as though he could walk tirelessly for ever.
    I’m in love, thought Anthony. This is what it’s like.

    The next morning, Anthony didn’t so much wake up as regain consciousness. The walk home and two Anadin Extra and four glasses of tap water had helped, but things were still looking bad. He didn’t lift his head from the pillow; it seemed better to leave it