The Quality of Love (3 page)

Read The Quality of Love Online

Authors: Rosie Harris

BOOK: The Quality of Love
2.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

She could still remember how they'd all huddled together in the playground on that first day. They'd felt small and insignificant because all the others seemed to be so much bigger and far more self-confident than they were and they had wondered if they would ever fit in.

They had soon done so, of course. Once they knew their way around the building, met their teachers and got used to their new routine, all their worries and feelings of shyness had disappeared.

Sarah tried to talk to Rita about all the worries and doubts she was having over what lay ahead but Rita was surprisingly uncooperative.

‘It's your own fault; you've only yourself to blame. I've already said that if you don't want to go to university, why did you let your dad think that you did? You should have said that you didn't want to do so,' she stated bluntly.

‘I couldn't do that, it would break his heart. He is forever saying how important it is to him; all his plans for the future are built around me going to university.'

‘Yes, maybe, but what about your plans? I always thought that, like me, all you've been thinking about for the last year is how soon you can start work and have some money to spend. I know I wouldn't go back to school for anything.'

‘It's all right for you,' Sarah argued, ‘you talk
about absolutely anything with your parents and say whatever you like to them.'

‘You could do the same.'

‘No. It's speak when you're spoken to in our house.'

‘When you were younger perhaps,' Rita said with raised eyebrows, ‘not now when you are almost grown-up.'

‘Yes, even now,' Sarah assured her emphatically.

Rita frowned as she concentrated on brushing her long corn-coloured hair. ‘If you didn't want to go to university, why did you study so hard and pass all your exams?'

‘To please my dad, of course. I wanted him to take notice of me.'

‘Perhaps if you hadn't studied so hard and got such good marks he'd have taken even more notice of you,' Rita giggled.

‘I couldn't possibly have done anything like that!' Sarah exclaimed aghast. ‘I wanted to please him and my mother.'

‘And do you think you have?' Rita asked, looking at her curiously.

Sarah shrugged and looked crestfallen. ‘I'm not too sure, although I have tried to do what they expected of me.'

‘Why on earth bother? I know I wouldn't have done so. You might just as well be out enjoying yourself.'

‘You really don't understand, do you?' Sarah sighed. ‘It's the way I've been brought up.'

‘It's always been the same with your parents,' Rita observed critically. ‘When we were little you were never allowed to play out in the street. You were never allowed to join in when we all played hopscotch or skipping or tag. You used to spend hours standing by your front-room window watching us and sucking your thumb.'

‘Good heavens, fancy you remembering about that,' Sarah said in astonishment. ‘Anyway,' she went on quickly, ‘I played out with you all later on.'

‘Yes, after your dad went into the army you and your mam used to mix with everyone in the street like normal people and even stand on the doorstep gossiping for hours. Yes, you're right, you played out then and joined in all our games,' she agreed.

‘The war years were fun, weren't they?' Sarah smiled.

‘Yes, but afterwards, once your dad was demobbed and back home again you were never allowed to come out with any of our crowd, no matter what we were planning to do. Last Christmas when you had a part in the school play, he even objected to that because it meant you staying later at school.'

‘No, he didn't,' Sarah defended. ‘It was only when we had rehearsals in the evening.'

‘Yes, and then he always came to meet you and insisted that you went straight home while we all went off to the milk bar and enjoyed ourselves.'

‘It was just his way, it was past my bedtime,' Sarah mumbled, the hot colour rushing to her cheeks.

‘Sarah, you were fifteen! You were old enough to decide for yourself what time you went to bed. Does he still expect you to go to bed when he says?'

Sarah bit her lip. ‘Does it matter?'

‘Not to me it doesn't, but I would have thought it would to you. You'll have to stand up for yourself when you get to university or you'll have no life at all. Perhaps it is just as well that you are not going out to work, you wouldn't do very well; staying on at school is about all you're fit for.'

Sarah looked at her friend open-mouthed. In the past they'd always shared all their problems, especially when they'd felt they were being unfairly treated, whether it was by their teachers or their family. Even so, they'd never been as frank or outspoken as Rita was being now and it left Sarah feeling shocked. She didn't know what to say because she felt that to join in criticising her father like Rita was doing would be disloyal.

Far from persuading her that going to university was wrong for her, Rita's comments were making her all the more determined to go and do her very best. She'd make her father proud of her even if Rita did despise her for doing so.

From now on she wouldn't talk about it.
There would be no more exchanging confidences or soul-searching heart-to-hearts with Rita, she told herself. She took Rita's comments very much to heart. She'd always regarded Rita as being her very best friend and in the past they'd agreed about most things. She'd had no idea that Rita had such strong feelings about what her parents said she could and could not do and she felt quite upset about it.

She'd hoped they would stay friends even though she realised that their interests were no longer the same, but she suspected that they'd never again be as close as they had been while they were growing up. She would be lonely without her company because she was the only really close friend she'd ever had.

There was only one thing she could do and that was to look ahead, make the most of her time at university and hope that at the end of all her studying she would achieve the goal she was setting herself and also be completely independent.

Sarah had been looking forward to spending a great deal of the three months' vacation between the end of the school year and starting at university as a time of relaxation and enjoying herself. There would be days out shopping with her mother and going out with Rita at the weekends. However, it was nothing of the sort. Her father insisted that she should spend at least a portion of each day studying and when he came home at night he questioned
her in great detail about what he'd told her to do, so there was no chance to shirk.

It kept her from worrying about the deep chasm growing between herself and Rita and from dwelling on the fact that things would never be the same between them ever again. She tried to console herself that perhaps it was all for the best since from now on they would be leading completely different lives.

There was some respite from studying, however, because her mother insisted that she must have new clothes before she started at university. They spent a good many afternoons looking around the shops in the city centre. The sales were on and Lorna felt that it might be better to wait until the stores had new stock, but it didn't stop them window shopping and browsing before committing themselves as to what they both considered to be suitable.

When the first day of the new term eventually arrived Sarah felt desperately nervous. She and her mother had walked up to Cathays Park on numerous occasions and had sat on one of the benches there, looking across to the other side of Museum Avenue and admiring the university building which was built from the same gleaming Portland stone as the nearby City Hall.

The building was so impressive that Sarah found even the thought of walking through its doors daunting and it made her feel insignificant.

When the actual day arrived, however, she
was so excited that her fears were momentarily quenched. She discovered that on the first day there would be no formal lectures. Instead, they were told where to find the various lecture rooms and were helped to familiarise themselves with the interior of the building so that they could find their way around.

A third-year student was allocated to each small group of three or four newcomers. In charge of the group that Sarah was attached to was Gwyn Roberts. He was about twenty and fairly tall with very broad shoulders and dark brown hair and dark eyes. He seemed to be very sure of himself and slightly supercilious, but when he smiled, his friendly expression compensated for this. Nevertheless, Sarah felt shy of him because he seemed to be so purposeful.

He appeared to be focussing his attention on her and walked alongside her most of the time as if he was anxious to make sure that she personally knew where everything was. He made a point of answering her questions in full while dismissing some of the queries from the others with a few brief words.

By the end of the day she no longer felt a stranger in the vast complex and she also suspected that when Gwyn said he would watch out for her the following day, and that if there was anything she was uncertain about she had only to ask him, she had at least made one friend.

When she'd been at school she'd been used to sitting in class along with thirty others and working to a strict timetable devised by the teacher in charge. Now she found that having selected the subjects she was taking she had to make her own decisions about which lectures she attended.

She often found that the lecture hall was crowded and that boys far outnumbered the girls. It also came as a shock to find that it was left to her own discretion what she did in the way of making notes and preparing for the next lecture.

One-to-one sessions with her tutor were at first terrifying because she was afraid he was going to criticise her for not doing as much preparation as he expected her to, or because she didn't understand something and needed to ask him for a more detailed explanation.

There was so much to learn, so much studying to be done in her own time, that Sarah found she barely noticed the fact that she saw little or nothing of Rita.

‘I see you are starting to put your back into things,' her father commented one Sunday when, instead of going to call for Rita and going for a walk as she usually did in the afternoon, she spread out her books on the dining table and sat there busily writing and checking things in her text books.

‘She's working far too hard, if you want my opinion.' Lorna sighed as she handed him a cup
of tea. ‘Every evening and every weekend she's poring over those books. You're only young once and she should be out enjoying herself.'

‘There will be plenty of time for her to be doing that sort of thing when she's finished her studies,' Lloyd stated firmly as he took the cup from her and put it down on the little table she'd placed alongside his chair. ‘This is a wonderful opportunity for her; a chance to make something of herself.'

‘Even so, all work and no play . . .' Lorna interceded, then stopped and sighed and said no more.

Sarah knew that in many ways her mother was right. She really was studying far too much; she had no time to try and make any friends. It was almost Christmas and all sorts of extracurricular activities were coming up at the university and, even though she knew her father wouldn't approve, she fully intended to join in some of them if she was invited to do so.

Most of the other students had far more freedom than she did because very few of them actually lived in Cardiff and so they were either living in one of the halls of residence attached to the university campus or else they were in private lodgings. There were times when she envied them their independence and wished she had been able to choose a university in some other place, perhaps at Lampeter or even further afield.

When she had suggested this to her father
he had been adamant that it must be Cardiff University or nothing and that he wanted her to study law.

‘The only way we can afford for you to go to university is if you are living at home,' he'd pointed out. ‘Remember, very few girls have such a tremendous opportunity in the first place and most girls of your age have been out to work for a year or more, and are not still being kept by their family.'

He'd been most affronted when she'd told him, ‘I know that, Dad, and I'm grateful, but if you are worried about what it is going to cost then I will happily forget all about it and find a job.'

‘There's nonsense you talk, girl,' he'd said quickly. ‘This is what I've struggled to achieve; what I've scrimped and saved for since the day you were born.'

Knowing how much store he set by her achievements sometimes made her feel rebellious. Was she doing this for herself or simply to please him? Was she the only one there who was trying to fulfil their parents' ambition?

Her friendship with Gwyn had remained fleeting until one afternoon when they both had no lectures; instead of settling down and studying she'd accepted his invitation to go for a coffee at one of the nearby milk bars.

She felt rather nervous about doing so and wished she was dressed in something smarter than the plain grey skirt and white blouse she was wearing that day.

Once away from the confines of the university she felt a wonderful sense of liberation and in no time they were chatting away like old friends. Out of curiosity she even plucked up the courage to ask him if he was there studying because it was what his parents wanted him to do.

‘I wouldn't be slogging away like I am just to please them,' he laughed. ‘No, I'm doing this for myself. I want to work in journalism and the better my degree, the more opportunity I'll have to get a worthwhile job. What about you?'

‘I'm not sure.' Sarah shrugged. ‘I sometimes ask myself that question. My dad is very keen for me to do well, to get a good degree in law; one that will enable me to get a top job. I'm finding, though, that there's so much studying involved that sometimes it seems as if my life is slipping by and by the time I've qualified I'll be too old to have fun.'

Other books

An Accidental Hero by Loree Lough
Effigies by Mary Anna Evans
Storm: Book 3 by Evelyn Rosado
Orchestrated Death by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles
Breakaway by Kelly Jamieson
The Trial by James Patterson