Author's Notes:
All characters are at least 18 years old, except where stated otherwise.
It's now mid-August. Jake, Amy and their schoolmates will be starting at university in September or October.
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Jake's POV
I enjoyed being back at work; the Campsite provided a good distraction. I forced myself to be as active as possible, although I still couldn't carry anything with my left arm. I'd been conscious that for the first few weeks of my recovery, I'd eaten very little and had lost a fair bit of weight. I wasn't skeletal by any means, but my chest was certainly less well defined, and I'd lost any trace of a six pack.
Amy was still finding things tough. I was aware that she was attending counselling sessions a couple of times a week, but I never felt confident to ask about them. She wasn't miserable by any means, but her mischievous sense of excitement was gone and her eyes no longer sparkled as they had. We did laugh and joke, but the atmosphere between us seemed stilted and even at times, forced.
I feared that Amy felt trapped in our relationship, staying with me out of a misplaced sense of loyalty or guilt, when splitting up might have helped in banishing the bad memories. I felt I was making progress, but my girlfriend was still a long way from being herself.
It was the second week of August when the bombshell dropped. Ritchie had celebrated the removal of the cast from his wrist, by attacking a student in a club in the neighbouring town. He'd broken her nose and she'd been badly bruised, but she'd screamed the place down and had managed to fend him off until help arrived. He'd been arrested again, this time without the possibility of bail.
Ritchie's was a life that had spiralled out of control, doomed by his own hubris.
Amy and I had, with the exception of our families, our work colleagues and maybe half a dozen very close friends, blocked all contacts on social media. But news of that magnitude was always going to find its way through.
Although the circumstances were harrowing, news of Ritchie's second arrest brought, to my shame, a feeling of modest relief. He would now be behind bars until his trial and, if convicted of the two attacks, would be unable to come face to face with either Amy or me for at least three years, quite possibly longer. I hoped she felt the same way too.
Working at the Stables was Amy's escape. When we were together, it was virtually the only thing she talked about. Jackie, her boss, had been understanding and accommodating beyond the call of duty, and it was clear that the two of them got along very well. Amy was taking on more responsibility as the summer season boomed, giving riding lessons and leading hacks out cross-country. I'd been concerned that she'd find the daily commute from home a drag, but she'd arrive early and stay late. At times it seemed to be the only thing in her life that could make her happy.
Our work schedules meant that we saw less and less of each other as the holiday season became busier. Our shift patterns allowed us to eat lunch together two or three times a week and enjoy half a day at the weekends, but we were always keeping an eye on the clock and, if we were alone, it was never in a place where we could be intimate.
As August progressed, the spectre of exam results day loomed ever larger. Amy and I avoided talking about it, but I was certainly growing more nervous and I was sure that it was adding to the pressure on her too. Our places at university were dependent on getting the right grades. I'd been raised a good Christian boy at the village church, but in my late teens my faith had all but disappeared. Nevertheless, I prayed every night through August that Amy would get the results she wanted. Our relationship was hanging by a thread and I dreaded the prospect of another blow to her confidence.
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Exam results day dawned, a bright Thursday morning. I'd arranged to meet James, Danny and the rest of the gang at school. Amy had been a little non-committal about joining us and, to be honest, I was bracing myself for her to break up with me within a week. I texted her first thing to ask about her plans, but no reply came.
I still wasn't allowed to drive, so Lauren took us to school. The plan was to collect our envelopes, hopefully celebrate and pose for a few photos and then go off to a nearby cafรฉ for a full English breakfast. Across the country, many thousands of students our age would be doing the same thing.
We met Danny at the school gates and we climbed the steps up to the main entrance.
"Fuck man, I'm nervous," he said. "I haven't been this nervous since GCSEs."
Lauren held his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry," she said. "It'll be fine."
Inside I was a torrent of emotions. I hadn't really slept the previous night, but it wasn't the results that had kept me awake.
Danny had forced me into a pact - the person who received their envelope first, would wait for the other to get theirs, so that we could open them together. As 'Hardwick' came after 'Curran' in the alphabet, I'd expected him to have to wait for me, but in fact I was the one left clutching my fate in my hands as he stood in the queue.
'Schrรถdinger's cat all over again,' I mused.
"Ready?" shouted two voices behind me.
I spun round.
"1... 2... 3..." Danny, Lauren and I ripped open our envelopes.
I unfolded the thin sheet of paper inside, my fingers shaking a little.
'Biology - A*,' it read, 'Chemistry - A*, Mathematics - A, Physics - A*.'
I gasped. I read it again to make sure it was true. A wave of relief swept through me: I'd done it. I was going to Cambridge!
A shriek of delight sounded next to me. Lauren had thrown her arms around Danny and was jumping up and down in excitement.
"Wow," she said. "Three Bs!"
"And two As and a B for me," Danny replied.
"Congratulations," I said, throwing my arm round them both, "that's excellent news!"
It was. Danny had been predicted three Bs and Lauren far worse. The two of them had done it, despite my cynicism they'd done it!
"Hey, what about you?" Danny asked breathlessly.
"Three A*s and an A," I replied, still feeling a little light-headed. "I'm going to Cambridge, I can hardly believe it!"
We milled around for a quarter of an hour or so, congratulating the other students, posing for pictures. A photographer from the local paper was there ready to capture the celebrations and, needless to say, he made a beeline for me; I knew what story would be on the front page the following week. I gave him an anodyne quote, thanking all my teachers, my parents and everyone who'd supported me and said I was really excited about my university course.
But my mind wasn't really in the moment; I was looking nervously around for Amy, but she hadn't shown or answered my texts. The crowd of jubilant students was beginning to thin out. I tried to call her, but her phone was switched off. The envelope bearing her name remained unopened on the desk in front of the exams coordinator.
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