How long is long enough to wait?

After the housewarming party I was keen to spend more time with my soldier friend, if I could find a way. This is when a mutual friend stepped in, whether knowingly or unknowingly, by inviting us to watch the Euro 2004 matches with him. Martin had begun teaching in the department at the same time as me (both NQTs), so we helped each other out a lot that first year of teaching. Where my second language was German, his was Spanish, but we shared ideas for French and for planning, making, games etc. We still share ideas to this day!
So we all wanted to watch the Euro matches and the best place at that time was a converted Chapel in Cheltenham, called, ‘The Pulpit’. We would go into town after work, grab something to eat and head to ‘The Pulpit’. Sometimes there were quite a few friends there; sometimes it was Martin, Steve and I. But always I enjoyed those evenings.
The Championship got off to an interesting start, as Germany, Italy and Spain were all knocked out in the first round. Even Portugal lost their first match to Greece, who had qualified for the first time in 24 years. The rising sense of hope was palpable there among the ‘Pulpit congregation’. Could this be England’s year? Once again, we dared to believe that England could go on to win a tournament…

We made it through the group stage and to the quarter finals, where we played Greece. Surely we would make it to the semis? If I’m honest, my main reason for wanting England to win, was less about the football and more about continuing to watch the matches with my new footie friends. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy football, and I did want England to win…it’s just that these matches gave me the perfect opportunity to spend time with Steve, on a ‘no pressure, just getting to know each other’ basis. Conversation wasn’t always necessary either.
Of course I still lived in my village and I still couldn’t drive (I’d failed 3 tests already that year – tests that my Mum does not count, to this day, as they were so soon after James’ crash.) So after each match Steve would make available his spare room and happily drive me back to Bourton the following morning.
But when Greece beat England, I couldn’t be sure that Steve and Martin would continue to watch the final matches so religiously, once England had been eliminated. To my relief, they seemed just as keen to watch the semis and the final in early July.
With the end of the tournament, how could I guarantee time with Steve? I couldn’t tell whether he was just being kind or whether there was a spark there between us.
I don’t need to explain what happened next – next was the night of the Sixth Form Function – the night when James’ parents rang between courses and demanded that I return to them every single thing of his that I had: they “needed to have his estate”, including any gifts he had given me. In shock, I drank a few too many, not aided by the fact that my main course never arrived! I felt I had made a fool of myself. And that was the night that you know already, Steve turned me down.
He turned me down with good reason. He wanted to know I was emotionally OK, emotionally ready to start a new relationship. And he was right when he said we should wait, “It’s not ‘no’; it’s ‘not yet’”. We should be friends first and see what happens.
So a week later (it did feel like much longer), unable to concentrate on lesson planning, I walked down to his lab and asked if he’d like to go to the cinema. Shrek 2 was out, and although I’m not keen on animation, I had really enjoyed Shrek. To my surprise, he said yes. We packed up, left school in his Astra and drove over Cleeve Hill to his little house in Bishops Cleeve. There was something so reassuring about sitting beside Steve in his car. He was very comfortable driving, as my Dad always was, and he was so steady, reliable, unflappable. All that was so different from me, now seemed so attractive.
We went to the Odeon and bought 2 tickets. The film was perfect: light-hearted, funny and a tiny bit romantic. Half way through the film, Steve put his hand in mine. How can such a simple gesture cause such emotion? My hand in his. Happiness.
And that night, on his beige sofa, sitting side by side, he kissed me.