He had always feared that, when the day came, he would not recognise her. The last time Ivor Clarke had seen Eleanor West was when they were both fifteen; now they were thirty, and he could picture how she might have turned out in that sleepy market town of Bramley.
Surely she has three children and a husband who drinks too much, he thought, the anger flaring for no clear reason. After all, it had been Ivor who had left, not her.
When he arrived, people greeted him as if he were a celebrated actor, and he felt a sudden, uncomfortable embarrassment. Eleanor was not among the other schoolleavers, and he told himself that perhaps it was better this wayno foolish nostalgia, no need for that Eleanor.
Then, at last, he saw her.
She had slender hands threaded with faint blue veins, a sharp, foxlike face, and a mop of fluffy, lightcoloured hair that was always cut short, sitting atop her head like a crumpled dandelion. To Ivor she was striking, and one evening he blurted out, What a beautiful Eleanor.
His schoolmate Tommy Gibbons chuckled and replied, Youve got a tonguetwister there! Look at Harriether hair is long, her skin smooth. And Eleanorpimply and pale as a moth.
Eleanor did indeed have a few tiny blemishes, but Ivor thought they did not mar her at all. He reluctantly agreed with Tommy, Yes, perhaps.
How to befriend Eleanor? The girls no longer mixed with the boys as they once had, and if he approached her directly, Harriet would already be teasing about a suitor and a bride.
Tommy suggested a plan: invite all the lads to his birthday. His flat was not as spacious as Ivors, and they were cramped together, but the evening was lively. Toms mother invented riddles for them, and later they played with the Transformers that their classmates had gifted, the biggest of which Ivor pretended to be.
Mother, Ivor said the day before the party, may I invite the whole class?
The whole class? his mother asked, surprised. Where shall we put them all?
Please, Mum, Id be grateful, he pleaded.
Probably none will show up, his father called from the next room. Just set up a buffet table and let them hustle about; they wont sit at the table anyway.
What about relatives?
We’ll invite them another day, his father replied gently. And a tablecloth, napkins and seven dishes will be needed
Thus it was settled. Ivor was terrified that Eleanor would refuse, especially because she had no money for a present. Everyone knew she came from a large family, her mother a librarian, her father a drunkard; sweets were a holiday treat and she borrowed jackets from her older sister. When Ivor approached her with the invitation, his words stumbled out like a tonguetwister:
I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour: could you draw a picture for a recordcover?
Eleanor looked puzzled, so Ivor explained that his dog had torn the original cover of his favourite LP, leaving only a plain white sleeve, which he found intolerable.
Do you not have a record player? she asked, wary. After all, Ivors father owned a chain of restaurants in town, and the Clarke house was equipped with the latest appliances, not antique turntables.
Yes, we have one, Ivor waved it off. But I prefer vinyl. Will you draw for me?
Eleanors art had always earned top marks; her pictures had been displayed at school exhibitions and even at the district art show.
Alright, she said. Ill do it.
At the birthday, while half the boys were glued to the video game console and the other half watched a film on the VCR, Ivor showed Eleanor, Mike, and two other girls the turntable and the stacks of records. He loved the Beatles, just like his father, and it was his dog Buster who had shredded the album sleeve.
At first Eleanor seemed bored; a turntable was no marvel, even a quirky one. But when the music started, she sat upright, leaning in, listening intently as if a march were being played. Mike grew tired of the tunes and went back to his console, while the girls turned the room into a makeshift disco, writhing like theyd been struck by electricity. Eleanor alone remained seated at the edge of the bed, still.
A few days later she approached him. Could I have a listen to a record? I promise Ill be careful, truly!
Its my fathers, Ivor said immediately. He doesnt let anyone borrow them. But youre welcome to come over and listen whenever you like.
It feels a little inconvenient, Eleanor blushed.
Its like trying to wear trousers over your head and sleeping on a shelfawkward, Ivor mimicked his father. Everything else is fine, so dont think twice. Come over, and youll be fine.
Thus their friendship began, forged on a shared love of the legendary band, and later sustained by its own simple affection, free of any pretence.
Clarke, are you really interested in this girl? his mother wondered one evening. Shes mute, just nods at everything you say. I understand men find that charming, but its excessive. How can you have anything in common with a pauper?
Mother, I dont want to transfer to the grammar school at the other end of town, Ivor muttered. My current school is fine, the teachers are decent, and Ive even been told my pronunciation is excellent and my vocabulary richthings not every school can boast.
His mother had mentioned the grammar school before, but Ivor refused, not solely because of Eleanor but because he genuinely liked his school.
Let the girls spin their heads, his father said cheerily. Its just a phase.
Im not spinning anyones head! Ivor snapped, feeling his ears flush with heat, which only angered him further.
That argument bought him nearly a year of freedom; his mother rolled her eyes when he brought Eleanor home, but she stopped pestering about the grammar school. In the ninth form, his mother entered the room while he was studying the nuances of Eleanors figure, and everything changed.
At first Ivor thought the panic was overblown; when Eleanor ran home, his mother said nothing. That evening his father was unusually quiet. Three days later his father announced, Pack your things, lad, were moving to London.
London? Ivor was baffled.
Yes. Im expanding the restaurant business there. And youll need to finish your studies in the capital; the competition is fierce. Ive already arranged a grammar school place and found tutors.
I wont go, Ivor replied.
And where will you go then?
There was nowhere else to go. When Eleanor heard the news she wept; Ivor promised he would finish school and fetch her, take her away with him. She sighed, grownup, and said, Youll never come back
As a parting gift he handed her the very record for which she had drawn the cover, the one that had sparked their first kiss.
It was clear the whole London scheme had been his mothers idea. Ivor felt deeply hurt, both by her and by his father. When, in the tenth form, a classmate announced he was heading to Cambridge, he told his father, I want to go to Cambridge too.
His mother burst into tears, wailing that she could not let him go alone. Ivor recalled his older brother, who had been born with a heart defect and died a year later, and how his mother had struggled to become pregnant again. He understood her fear of losing another child, though a bitter edge of satisfaction tinged his thoughts.
London suited him. He toured every landmark linked to his idols, took up smoking, changed his haircut, and dated a new girl each week, hoping to forget Eleanor. Each new romance tired him quickly.
When he finally returned to England, he helped his father run the restaurants. By then he had two more serious relationships: one with a Greek woman who clung to him like a leech, and another with a fellow student named Jane, a pale British girl with fluffy light hair.
His mother, as soon as he was back, began matchmaking for him. Ivor stopped coming home, moving into the flat his father had gifted him for his eighteenth birthday. His mother called, he never answered. His father urged him to be gentler; Ivor retorted, She wanted me to be successful? I am. I wont marry her, let her carve that into her own nose.
When a message arrived from Mike, Ivor didnt instantly recognise the senderthe profile picture didnt match his memory. Once they sorted it out, Ivor was delighted and accepted an invitation to the school reunion, even though he hadnt been a classmate any longer.
She looked at him with a smile, no trace of irritation, unlike Ivor himself.
Hello, he said, forcing a grin. You havent changed a bit.
It was true; Eleanor was still the same slender, pale girl with blueveined hands. Only her hair had grown longer.
From that moment Ivor stopped noticing anyone else. They talked and talked. Eleanor was, indeed, married now, but divorced, with a tenyearold son named Oliver. Hearing his own name made Ivor blush, yet he could not deny the warmth it gave him.
Come with me, he said suddenly, aware of how foolish it sounded. Take your son and lets goLondon is far better than here.
Youve stayed a dreamer all your life, she replied sadly.
Does that mean no?
Eleanor gave no answer, turned, and walked away. He could not stop her; he had no words to persuade her to stay.
Then Ill go with you, Harrietnow a different girlcalled out, Which hotel are you staying at?
The Central, of course.
Ill see you there, she replied playfully.
Ivor didnt ask any more. He hailed a cab and they left.
When the door to the hotel room opened, he expected housekeeping, but the late hour made him think perhaps there had been a mistake. On the threshold stood Eleanor, still in the same dress, hair pulled into a bun, her nostrils flaring with anger.
And where is she?
Who?
Harriet! First she whisked her husband away, now shes after you?
Ivor laughed. Theres no Harriet here. Go on, check for yourself if you like.
He stepped back; Eleanor entered the room, looked around, settled onto a chair.
My brother Yul called and said you two left together, she said.
I drove him to his house in a taxi, just like a proper gentleman, and thats that.
And you didnt even kiss?
He threw his hands up, halfjoking, Im innocent!
Whats that about? Her lips are plumped, and theres more to it.
I didnt come here for that, Ivor answered.
Then why are you here? To see me after fifteen years, to keep a promise?
So you were waiting?
Painful! You forgot me the next day!
Fine, I barely remembered you either.
Shall I leave then?
Go on. But perhaps we should listen to that record first?
The record?
Yes, I brought a turntable.
Eleanor squinted, smiled wryly, and asked, So youve forgotten me, yet youve hauled a turntable here?
It appears so.
She retrieved a bag she had left by the door, fished out something, and handed it to Ivor.
It was the very record whose cover she had redrawn, the one he had given her when they said goodbye.
You left me the day after, yet you kept the record all these years? Ivor teased.
She shrugged. He slipped the record from the envelope, ran his fingertips over itno scratch at alland set it on the turntable. The needle dropped, and music filled the room.
Without a word, they moved toward each other: his hands slipped around her waist, hers rested on his shoulders. They swirled in a slow dance as if at a prom that never happened. A blush flushed Eleanors cheeks, Ivors heart hammered like after a sprint. Time dissolved; it mattered no longer why he had broken his promise or why she claimed she would not go with him. All You Need Is Love crackled from the old speaker, and they both realised, at last, that it truly was all they ever needed.
