She was always the one I ran to as a little girl, when I fell down and grazed my knee, and always the one I took my problems to when I was in my teens. *** It was the middle of Wimbledon fortnight 1955. The world had gone tennis mad and we were all wondering if Jaroslav Drobny would win for the second time, or if one of the Americans or Australians would beat him. I was just leaving school and I had been accepted for a place at Leicester University to read history and literature, starting in September. Mum and Dad had arranged for me to live with my aunt Hilda in Stoneygate, and I was feeling a bit resentful because most of the girls I knew were going into Hall for at least the first year. Much as I love Aunt Hilda and her five cats, I had a sinking feeling that I was going to miss out on all the fun. I was at the club, or to give it its proper name Ashby Lawn Tennis club, playing a singles game with Jill Packe, and had just won, two sets to one. I came into the clubhouse hot,. Dean had saved her. Evie lay in bed, trying to focus on sleep instead of the robber. She too fell into a fitful sleep. When the thunder rattled her bedroom windows, Evie woke up and looked at her clock. 2:34 it blinked. She rubbed her eyes and watched the shadows dart across her room as a tree in the distance blew in the wind. She got out of bed and tip toed across the hard maple floors in the living room to Dean’s room. She always went there when she got scared, or after a break up. He was always there for her, and it dawned on her that she always wanted him there for her, no matter what. She stood in Dean’s open doorway looking in at him sprawled on his back. He had one muscular leg dangling off the bed, the sheet covering up his package, and his head tossed back on the pillow. He was gorgeous. Evie thought of his honey brown eyes and blonde hair and smiled. She caught the smell of him, the familiar sage and mint, with the ever present light smoke smell from his uniform sitting.
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