Second Chance Read Online Free PDF

suppose any of them have done much in the way of farm work, sir.’
    As soon as any of the younger teachers discovered that I was related to ‘the Gorsgoch boys’, they’d repeat those stories and many, many more. They were heroes, it seemed, particularly when they’d left school and were no longer a threat to discipline.
    When the two older brothers had left, with Iestyn still in the Upper Sixth, a fiercely unambitious student, an untidy lounging prefect who avoided his duties and argued with the Head, I was astonished and thrilled to get a note from him.
    Dear baby cousin, I’ve been wondering whether you’d like to come to the pictures with me on Saturday night. I’ll put you on the nine o’clock bus after, so no worries. People may tell you that I’m a terror but don’t believe them. Yours Sincerely, Iestyn Jones. P.S. I think you’re very pretty.
    I wasn’t quite fourteen at the time and though tall for my age and well developed, didn’t have the courage to go. I wanted to very badly and spent a miserable few days, desperately annoyed with myself for being so cowardly. I think it was at that point that I decided to come out of my shell; when I started school the next year I was loud and noisy and up for anything. But Iestyn was at Cardiff University by that time, playing rugby and drinking – and fancying other girls, no doubt. I kept the note he sent me for a long time, two or three years at least. I think you’re very pretty.
    â€˜How are your cousins getting on?’ the Head would ask me from time to time after they’d all left. ‘Still savages, I suppose?’
    I didn’t know. They rarely wrote home; I think Auntie Jane would have been worried if they did. She was suspicious of letters, holding them at arm’s length for a minute or so before daring to open them.
    After Auntie Jane’s death, I didn’t hear much about them and, when they left school, didn’t see them again. Except on one occasion when, by chance, I met my eldest cousin, Rhydian.
    I was in the Sixth, the Lower Sixth I think, when I was invited on one hot Saturday afternoon to Isabel Langford’s house to play tennis, followed by afternoon tea. I was surprised to be asked; she and I weren’t particularly friendly and, besides, I wasn’t a very good player. I agreed to go willingly enough though, because her family had their own tennis court at the back of their large detached house, so there’d be no hanging about waiting for one of the town courts. Also, never having had much to do with middle-class life, I was interested to see how the other half lived: Isabel’s father owned a factory in Liverpool.
    I turned up, I remember, in my school uniform shorts and shirt with a school racquet I’d managed to borrow. The house was even more impressive at close quarters, built of a mellow grey stone, a turret at one corner, French windows, climbing roses and clematis; my carefully nurtured self-assurance plummeted as I walked up the drive. I’d been expecting some sort of party, but to my surprise the only other people there were Isabel’s brother, Edward, who was at Leeds University and my cousin, Rhydian. Isabel introduced us, but neither Rhydian nor I mentioned our relationship; I had the excuse of being gauche and embarrassed, he seemed completely at ease so I assumed he was ashamed of me and glared at him. ‘He’s my brother’s oldest friend,’ Isabel said, making it clear as she looked at him that he was the sole reason for the afternoon. I cast my eyes over him. Yes, I could understand her infatuation.
    â€˜I’m not much good at this game, I’m afraid,’ I said.
    â€˜Don’t worry, I’m going to be your partner and I’m hot stuff,’ Edward said. He was tall and fair and English-looking, smiling a lot.
    Edward was a good player, but Rhydian was even better and far more aggressive. I was