With No Crying Read Free Page A

was no way in which their loved ones could fail them in this sort of distressing fashion—or indeed in any fashion. Since neither Gordon the cricket captain nor Trevor the chess champion had ever spoken to either of the girls, or were even aware of their existence, there was absolutely no way in which they could let them down. No way in which they could slight them, neglect them, be unfaithful to them or even (God forbid!) bore them.
    *
    There is something in human nature which cannot leave well alone, which is somehow impelled to interfere, to provoke change, in no matter how blissful and ideal a situation. Thus it was with Miranda and Sharon, the precipitating factor in their case being the school dance, billed to take place at the end of May, on the last Friday before half-term.
    Naturally enough, the occasion seemed, in prospect, to present unprecedented opportunities to anyone in the throes of undeclared and unrequited love. For the dance was one of the few occasions in the school year when the normal barriers of hierarchy, age and status could be expected to break down, and it would actually become possible for a fourth-former to walk up to a top prefect and say—Well, say something, anyway …
    What they would say, when and how they would summon up the courage to say it, required quite a bit of advance planning, and in the end they settled for a scheme both simple and ingenious: each girl, at some time during the evening, was towalk boldly up to the other one’s beloved and offer to introduce him to “my friend”. The idea seemed to both of them a brilliant one, and very nearly foolproof, for this way each girl only risked a snub from the boy she wasn’t in love with, and so suicide would be unnecessary.
    Simple enough in conception, the plan proved by no means so easy of execution. The difficulties surged in upon them in a blast of noise and heat and colour the moment they set foot in the big hall where the dance was being held. Somehow they hadn’t quite envisaged all this crush… all this din. Even to find their unsuspecting prey would be a mammoth task; and as for waiting around for an appropriate moment— “Not while he’s talking to someone,” they’d promised each other beforehand, “ and not if he looks busy… or preoccupied… or in a hurry”—such niceties would clearly have to go by the board. They’d be lucky if they even got a glimpse of their respective victims, either of them.
    Still, they weren’t the sort of girls to give up easily. Twice… thrice… they prowled the length and breadth of the dance hall, peering ferociously into the undergrowth of bright dresses and swaying bodies; and it was only when, after a few more turns, they decided to give themselves a breather out in the cool of the corridor, that suddenly it all happened. All at once the swing doors at the far end burst apart at the impact of a fresh band of revellers, and almost without warning Miranda found herself less than a yard from her friend’s beloved as he hurried past with an ice-cream cone in each hand.
    There was no escape. It had happened: and only now did Miranda realise how deeply she’d been counting on the probability that it wouldn’t. She felt her mouth go dry, and her knees shook, even though he wasn’t the one she was in love with.
    “Would you like to meet my friend, Sharon Whittaker?” she blurted out. He stopped at once, looking a bit surprised, but smiling down at her amiably enough.
    “Sorry, love—” he gestured apologetically with the near-side ice-cream, “Later on—d’you mind?” and with another vague gesture of distracted goodwill, he disappeared through the door into the crowded dance hall, and vanished from their sight.
    Well, at least he hadn’t snubbed her. He’d been nice enough, it hadn’t been a disaster; but on the other hand you couldn’t call it a success, either. Disappointing, especially for Sharon.
    Still, he might come back. His words had vaguely implied