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I… I’m an . I’m sorry. David, if tomorrow night does happen, it’s only ever going to happen once. Why will it only ever happen once? Because the first time can only ever happen once. Oh. So… no baby talk. No Minnie. Just treat me like a grown-up. Okay? I know. Let’s go and sit in our sitting room. All right. We’ll order up some champagne. Room service? Quand doucement tu te penches En murmurant, “C’est dimanche” Si nous allions en banlieue faire un tour Sous le ciel bleu des beaux jours? Mille projets nous attirent Mais dans un même sourire Nous refaisons le trajet simple et doux De nos premiers rendez-vous Sur les quais du vieux Paris Le long de la Seine, le bonheur sourit Sur les quais du vieux Paris L’amour se promène en cherchant un nid Vieux bouquiniste Belle fleuriste Comme on vous aime Vivant poème Sur les quais du vieux Paris… De I’amour bohème C’est le paradis Do you still feel like a schoolgirl? It wasn’t too uncomfortable? Not after the first bit. It’s funny, though, isn’t it? All that poetry and all those songs about something that lasts no time at all. Yeah. All your exercise books on my desk in a pile, please. I bought this for you. That’s very kind of you. But I can’t accept it. Why not? It’s because of people like you that I plough through illiterate essays by Sandra Lovell about her pony. But I know where this came from, Jenny, and if I took it, I feel I would be betraying both of us. Jenny? You can do anything you want. You know that. You’re clever, and you’re pretty. Is your boyfriend interested in clever, Jenny? I’m not quite sure what you’re trying to tell me. I’m telling you to go to Oxford, no matter what. Because if you don’t, you’ll break my heart. Where did you go? Cambridge. Well, you’re clever and you’re pretty, so presumably clever Miss Stubbs won and here you are with your pony essays. I don’t know, these last few months, I’ve eaten in wonderful restaurants and been to jazz clubs and watched wonderful films, heard beautiful music. Jenny, are you taking precautions? It’s nothing to do with that. Isn’t it? Maybe all our lives are going to end up with pony essays, or housework. And, yes, maybe we’ll go to Oxford, but if we’re all going to die the moment we graduate, isn’t it what we do before that counts? I’m sorry you think I’m dead. I don’t think you’re dead, I just don’t… I think you’d better go to your next class. Go, go, go, go! Well done, Jenny! I’ve never won anything before, not even at the Women’s lnstitute raffle. And I always bet on the sweetest looking one and he always comes last. Let’s go. Come on. Can we do it again? I’m feeling lucky. Come on, let’s go, I don’t want to miss him. Pick up your bob on the way out. I won shillings! Who is this man, anyway? Peter Rachman. Complete bastard. Well, why do we have to see him here? Because he’s not the sort of chap with an office. All right. Ladies. A bottle of your finest champagne, please. There he is. Come on, Jenny, tell them your good news. Don’t be bashful. No, be Sneezy! Jenny got two As and a B in her mock A-levels. Like everyone

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