WE  WERE  GLAD.

            We were glad. We had a few days off school and would be able to meet quietly during the day.
            School had started not very long ago. We weren't in the same class because I was a good year older than her. So we could only have met at break-time. Breaks are short and the yard full of people. It's not easy to talk but looks often speak louder than words. We walked together slowly. When I was asked to take part in some game or other I declined, which one day earned me a taunt that should have hurt my masculine pride. It made us laugh and annoyed the taunters.
            It was decided that I would go to her house, just after lunch.
            That evening, when I asked permission, my parents asked me questions I couldn't answer. I knew where she lived but had forgotten to ask her surname, which my parents found odd. Otherwise… I knew nothing. In the end they allowed me to go and see her as long as I followed a whole load of recommendations. It was new territory for me, because until then I had always gone to friends my parents knew. I didn't understand but it didn't bother me either and I soon forgot… their recommendations too, I think.
            The next day I called on her.
            Her parents welcomed me, in the offhand way people usually treat children who haven't done anything wrong. They told me I went to the same school as their daughter. I let them see how interesting I found the news. The question of my size for my age was discussed with care. I was bigger than their daughter, they informed me, though I wasn't sure whether they meant my size or my age. But it might have been something else because there was something hesitant in their attitude that I couldn't fathom. I was asked a few simple questions about my parents, to which I replied simply.
            Her parents finally declared that we could go up to her room. They may have added that we shouldn't make too much noise but I'm not sure - we were on our way out.
            Entering her room, she gestures expansively with her arm, as if to show me the place where she lives and to tell me to come in. I look around; I see her eyes following me. Her room isn't full of people but talking still isn't easy.
            "Look, it's a cherry tree, you can eat the cherries, they're really good; and Mummy makes jam."
            I go over to the window, a high double window that makes the room very light.
            "If you're not cold, we can go out onto the balcony", she says.
            I tell her I'm not cold and she opens the window.
            "There aren't any cherries now, they come in the spring. Last year there were loads!"
            She accompanies her words with a peal of laughter that wings towards the cherry tree. She suddenly adds:
            "It's a good job cats don't eat cherries!"
            "Why?"
            "Because he's always climbing the cherry tree."
            "You've got a cat?"
            "My parents got me a cat. It's just right for children!"
            "Just right for children?"
            "That's what I heard them tell their friends."
            "What about you?"
            "I can't talk to him; he never talks back."
            We fall silent for a moment.
            "I haven't got a cat."
            "Have you got a dog?" she quizzes me.
            "No, my parents haven't got any pets."
            "Would you have liked one?"
            She scrutinises me.
            "Pets don't interest me."
            I get the impression she is relieved by my answer. I go on:
            "Pets annoy me. My aunt has a dog. When I go to see her, she pays more attention to her dog than to me."
            "Nobody here looks after the cat. And…"
            She stops suddenly, then, after a pause:
            "Does that bother you?"
            "What, that nobody looks after your cat?"
            "It's not my cat. It's the cat. No, that your aunt dotes on her dog, not you?"
            She didn't look at me when she asked her question. She's gazing at the garden. I answer hesitantly:
            "I don't know. I don't know if my aunt…"
            "Is she married?"
            "Yes."
            "And your uncle?"
            I ponder. She goes on:
            "Does your uncle dote on the dog as well?"
            "Yes… no…. not as much as my aunt, I think."
            "Does he pay attention to you?"
            "He gives me Christmas and birthday presents."
            "The cat was for my birthday."
            We stand for a long moment on the balcony without speaking. I look at the cherry tree and think about jam.
            "I haven't got a cherry tree."
            "Haven't you got a garden?"
            She seemed worried when she asked me the question. I answer calmly:
            "I have got a garden, but with lots of flowers and… lovely trees - that's what my parents say."
            "And a cherry tree isn't lovely?"
            "If you can get jam from it, it's lovely enough for me!"
            She laughs, we laugh. She adopts a falsely conspiratorial air and says:
            "We'll eat a whole jar of it together!"...