The following Monday, election results were announced in assembly. School Council members were named and applauded and after a call for calm, Eloise Maye and I were introduced as Head Boy and Girl. Amid rapturous applause, we walked the length of the hall, stepping onto the stage to be congratulated by a jubilant, Mr Dodds. Eloise blushed when I kissed her cheek and the ensuing whooping and whistling, left me wishing I hadn’t. Order restored, we laughed it off. Scabby was conspicuous by her absence, then my appointment wouldn’t have met with her approval.

Assembly dismissed, Ellie and l met with Mr Dodds for a few minutes. He was delighted with our election, said he couldn’t have engineered a more favourable result. He asked us to get together, consult with Council members and formulate initiatives to provide a pupil based vision for the school.

Mum and grandpa, no more surprised than I by the election result, were proud of my appointment. I was up early the following day, intent upon a run. The ground was white and brittle with frost, as I made my way to the top of Woodbury Hill. From the summit, Merryfields was clearly visible. The old Georgian house looked quite impressive, standing as it did in about two hundred acres of pasture land and forest. A column of smoke rose up from it’s chimney, and I found myself resting a while, reflecting on my early days on the farm.

When I arrived, some eleven years ago, the house had no electricity, gas or mains water supply. In the winter it was cold but I got used to it. Bath time was always in a tub by the fire and somehow I just loved the fun of it. Oak or flag stone floors, sparse carpet and no mod cons, mattered not to grandpa and me. I had my own room with a double iron post bed, oak furniture and wash basin. In the winter grandpa lit the fire in my room before bedtime and first thing in the morning. When it was just the two of us, I often shared his bed. I’d fall asleep with him telling me a story, and comforted by the knowledge that he was there, kept the bad dreams away. Mum, on the other hand, detested the place. She said it was too remote, too big, too draughty and cold, with no conscience for modern amenities. She came to take me away; we were to live in Oxford, but I wanted to stay with my grandpa. A compromise was struck - she’d stay and grandpa would modernize the house to embrace the 20th century. Job done, mum moved in and the old place now boasts every mod con known to man.

A glance at my watch, had me catch a breath before setting off. Time had moved on more quickly than anticipated and I now risked being late for a meeting with Eloise.

Slice of toast on the hoof, slurping tea, I rushed to get ready. Too late to cycle or catch the bus, mum offered me a lift. Full of apology, I met up with Eloise in the Common Room. She’d been considering the merits of her proposals, and was keen to share them with me. I joined her on the sofa. Eloise explained her idea to set up a reading club in each Year. She wanted to establish quiet reading areas around the school, forums for discussion and the opportunity to swap books. I suggested we publish a school mag and organize an annual fund raising Rag Week.

Mr Dodds responded favourably, said he‘d bounce our ideas’ at the next staff meeting and ‘drum up support’. Preparations for the Shakespeare Festival were high on his agenda and we spent time discussing costumes and rehearsal schedules too.

Eloise and I took our responsibilities seriously. We spent considerable time together, which wouldn’t have been possible had Roxanne been in school. Ellie became a good friend, but there was much salacious speculation about our relationship. As far as I was concerned we shared a platonic friendship, nothing more. It was an unwritten rule, that school business and our personal lives should not overlap. We stuck to it rigidly, never meeting off campus.

I awoke late one Sunday morning, mind alive with Roxanne. She was due back soon, said she’d ring and I relished the prospect of seeing her. Rolling out of bed, I pulled on some jeans, grabbed a shirt and ran a comb through my hair. As I crossed the landing, the door bell rang. Mum answered it and the familiar voice, had me hurry down stairs.
‘Hello, Eloise,’ I said.
“Hi, Ben,” she replied, with a smile that lit up her eyes. “Just thought I’d drop in and see you. If that’s okay?”
It felt awkward, unwise, even. Nervously raking a hand through my hair, “I’m a little busy today. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Not to worry,’ she said disguising her disappointment. “Some other time, perhaps?”
“Yeah,” I replied, regretfully. “ Some other time, maybe.”
She stepped outside, we said our goodbyes and I watched her walk back to the waiting Mercedes. Opening the front passenger door, turning to wave, she lowered herself into the car. Something shifted inside and I couldn’t let her go. “Ellie, wait!’ I yelled, hurrying towards the car. ‘Don’t go. I ummn. I can put it off. Stay if you want?’ She arranged a pick up time and as we walked back to the house, ‘Sorry,” I said. ‘Didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘You weren’t. It’s okay. Honest.’
‘So, what brings you here, then?’
‘I’ve come to see the love of your life.’ I frowned quizzically. ‘The four legged one,’ she chuckled. ‘The one you’re always talking about.’
‘Oh, yeah. Sorry.’ Inviting her back into the house, ‘I’m about to have breakfast. Do you mind if .....’
‘No. You carry on,’ she insisted. Don’t mind me.’
‘Here,” I said, pulling out a chair, “take a seat. Can I fix you something?

She opted for tea, then kept me company whilst I ate a cooked breakfast. Mum and grandpa joined us at the table. We sat chatting and clearly, they were smitten by her grace and beauty.

Later, we went to see the horses. Eloise asked if she could sit on Liberty. Libby didn’t suffer fools gladly, and it took several attempts and much giggling before Eloise successfully clambered aboard. Grabbing a handful of mane, she steadied herself and patted the mare’s neck. I led Libby round her stall, Eloise squealing with nervous delight. Steadied by a hand on her thigh, Ellie was clearly enjoying the experience. She was full of questions, said she’d love to be able to ride, asked if I’d teach her. I said there’d be time during the summer holidays, suggesting she start on Bandit.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘That’s great, but how do I get off? It seems a long way down.’
“Put your right leg over, slide down and I’ll catch you.”
A little apprehensive, she did as instructed, landing to stumble backwards into my arms. Safe on her feet, turning to thank me, compromised, tantalized, our eyes connected. Enchanted, surveying her face, conscience suppressed, she came closer, pressing her body against mine. Moistening my lips, pushing back a strand of her hair from her eyes, I lowered my mouth towards hers. Lips never touched, for outside we heard a voice calling,
'Ben! Ben!'
‘It’s Roxanne,’ I said, as the barn door opened and she ventured in.
‘Roxanne,’ I exclaimed, calmly walking towards her. ‘It’s great to see you.’ Spying Eloise, over my shoulder, her face hardened and without a word, she turned tail and ran. Hot on her heels, ‘Wait. Stop!’ I pleaded, but she was wasn't listening.