The end of the school year always meant the same thing for our family, as well as for many others too I suppose.
The family holiday by the sea.
We knew we'd be on our way soon when my father performed the annual ritual of fitting the roof rack to the car. With careful alignment, copious amounts of 3-in-1 oil and much grunting he fixed it firmly in place and I'm sure that if a crane had been attached to it, the car could have been lifted off the ground.
Then the car was packed to the roof with all that our family of five could possibly want for our holiday at a camping site in Cornwall and what wouldn't fit into the car was loaded onto the roof rack and covered in a pre-war tarpaulin that had belonged to my grandfather.
Suitcases, bundles of linen and towels, boxes of games, groceries and assorted beach equipment were packed in leaving cleverly designed spaces on the back seat for my brothers and me. Mother had the front passenger seat to herself apart that is from the picnic hamper and anything else that might be needed on the drive or wouldn't fit into the rest of the car. My father of course had the driving seat to himself except for his Haynes manual and tool wrap should the car break down, and his maps. It didn't matter that he had driven the route many times before, so many that he could probably have driven it blindfold, but as he said, "You never know". What we children never knew I didn't bother to ask but I hoped that I wouldn't grow up to be as cautious as he was and made a commitment not to be so.
With what appeared to be the rest of the country's inhabitants on the road we set off just after dawn for the long slow drive south, singing away the boredom or playing I-spy to pass the hours between stops for a wee behind a hedge or a picnic lunch, arriving at tea time to unpack and settle into the chalet home that would be ours for the next two weeks, the same chalet home that we'd stayed in last year and for as many years before that I could remember.
Slowly, as the afternoon ebbed and the long summer evening took its place, our new neighbours would arrive, each at the same chalet as last year and as familiar to us as our neighbours at home, a complete life apart, an alternative existence.
My brothers and I would run to meet each arriving car as it disgorged its occupants, our playmates and friends, eager to share new stories and to continue our friendships as if the intervening year had never happened.
And so it continued, year after year, as we grew older and grew up except that this year would be different from other years and for me in particular.
As the oldest sibling in our family and now eighteen, I'd finished school and would be going to university in the autumn along with most of the other eldest siblings of the other families and somehow it felt that this stage of my life had come to an end, no longer a child of the family spending holidays together, but soon a young adult ready to discover my own wings and fly the nest wherever that might take me.
There were I suppose a dozen of us who wouldn't be here next year and there was a sense of excitement at new possibilities but also a feeling of sadness that we wouldn't meet again in the same way.
Of course we'd all make extravagant promises to keep in touch and to meet as soon and as often as possible but I knew that the new friends and opportunities we'd discover at our different universities would test those promises to the limit
Over the years as we'd grown up together on holiday our play and games together had changed from hide and seek to playing mummies and daddies or pretending to be bossy teachers and naughty students. But the obvious changes to our bodies, deepening voices for the boys and budding breasts for us girls, had added a new dimension to our play; childish hugs had morphed into deep lingering kisses, and the exploration of our own bodies and then of each other's had progressed until both boys and girls were all too well aware of the differences and possibilities.
For some of our group the possibilities were deemed 'not nice' or 'dirty' but for me as well as some of the others in our group the possibilities seemed exciting, wonderful and natural, the way things were meant to be.
I think that I first discovered my body in a meaningful way when I was about ten years old and later explorations with my closest friend had taught me that it was possible to give pleasure as well as to receive it; this wasn't nascent lesbianism though, just the childish inquisitiveness that most children have in abundance.
Our group of teenage girls on holiday had discussed, boasted and some even lied about what we'd done and with whom, some more than others. I knew for certain that at least two of our group had lost their virginity as soon as they could and were known amongst the boys as 'goers', not a nice term but one that accurately described their approach to adolescent sex which was as much and as often as possible with whoever wanted them. Perhaps it was their way of feeling wanted or of dealing with a lack of self esteem; I didn't know although we'd all heard the term during the once weekly lessons on 'social studies' at school which were universally called 'sex, drugs and rock 'n roll' and included amongst other items of sex education being shown and practicing how to put a condom on a cucumber accompanied by howls of laughter from the boys who claimed that a cucumber under-represented their appendages and red faced embarrassment from some of the girls who perhaps had had a more sheltered upbringing.
Our teacher, Mrs Young, stoically completed the lessons but I always had the feeling that she had personal experience of a much wider syllabus than was allowed for in the curriculum and I occasionally caught her smiling wistfully at our ignorance of the pleasures that awaited us.
For me though the experiment with the cucumber and all the other discussions on the mechanics of sex, pregnancy, STDs and of course love were interesting morsels of knowledge that I filed away along with all the other bits and pieces gleaned from the lessons as well as the sex and relationship advice columns of my mother's magazines, occasional glances at the centre folds of Playboy and the conversations with my girlfriends at school.
This was my time of transition from child to adult and there was one final step to take that would signal that I really had made the transition, and that was to lose my virginity.
Whatever it all meant, I knew now that at eighteen I was ready to take that final step, leaving my adolescence behind and moreover I knew how I wanted it to happen and what I wanted from it. I hadn't been saving myself as some people would have it; it was just that the proper opportunity had never presented itself.
I'd arrived on holiday still just a child, but wanting to leave as a woman and this last family holiday was when I was going to take that step.
On that first evening of the holiday we all gathered as we always did at the communal tables around the bbq area. I looked at them all, watched them recounting what they'd done or achieved since we last met, listened to the boasts of some and the quietness of others, watched the flirting between the 'goers' and the boys who were flaunting their new-found maleness and the excited exchanges of chatter between the younger girls and boys.
The boys in our crowd on the campsite that summer ranged from the boastfully aggressive to the quietly studious (they'd be called nerds now) with every other type in between.
One of them that first evening, Tom, stood out from the rest for me; he wasn't as loud as some of the other boys, more considerate I thought and although we hadn't been close friends over the years we'd always got along well. His parents rented a chalet just like ours a few doors along and he and his younger sister always joined in and like me were given the same amount of freedom as my brothers and I were: that was, not to go off site without telling our parents and to be back for meals or not get fed. Remembering now the trust that my parents showed me at an early age I'm sure that it shaped me and my life more than anything else and even the simple lesson of being there in time for meals or not eating taught me that all choices have consequences and that the rights that my parents allowed me had their associated responsibilities.
Watching the others around the bbq area I caught Tom looking at me and as I met his gaze he blushed visibly and smiled. I smiled back and then continued my watching but now it was punctuated with glances at Tom and almost every time I looked at him I saw that he was looking at me and as our eyes met the final time that evening I laughed silently and shook my head, not in rejection but with genuine amusement and pleasure and Tom wasn't blushing any more, he was looking increasingly confident and I realised, more and more attractive.
It was getting late and I gathered my brothers and set off towards our chalet, glancing over my shoulder as we did.
Sure enough Tom was watching us go and gave the merest wave with his fingers, not wanting to be seen by the others.
I think that was one of the happiest moments of my life. I knew that the opportunity I'd been waiting for had arrived, that it would be Tom that I'd give my virginity to and I had no doubt at all that he'd be a willing participant in my transition from girl to woman.
I didn't see Tom the next day. His parents had arranged something for their family and he'd had to go along so I helped mum with the food and tidying up after my brothers. When my mother sat on one of the beds and patted the space besides her, wanting me to sit, I knew that this was going to be one of those mother to daughter conversations.
"This might be our last holiday like this, all together you know. It'll be strange without you."
I looked at her. She seemed weary as if the years of running the family while dad worked had taken its toll.
"I suppose you'll be meeting lots of new people at university and perhaps you'll want to spend the holidays with your new friends."
I didn't reply, sensing she had more to say.
"It's just that ... well, you must be careful you know, lots of new young men ... I mean it would spoil your life if something happened to you, you know what I'm trying to say?"
I put my hand on her arm and smiled reassuringly.
"It's OK mum, I know, we learned all about that at school you know, how babies are made, getting pregnant or at least, how not to get pregnant, STDs, all of that stuff, I'll be alright."
My mother looked a little startled as if she'd never thought that I might know anything.
"STDs?"
"Diseases Mum, sexually transmitted diseases like the clap or AIDS or getting a dose."
Mum looked shocked at my frankness and language, blushing bright red but I didn't pause, just carried on.
