How I Grew Up To Be Robin Hood

I first met Emily when I was eight years old and she was about 2 years older than I. It was during the summer holidays when I was visiting my grandparents, a summer I would never forget.
My grandparents lived in a quiet village in rural England, there was just one shop which sold the bare essentials such as food, cleaning products and magazines and a public house which catered for pretty much everything else that the local residents needed.
Their house was opposite the village green where the local cricket team would play. Just beside the cricket oval was a small play area with a couple of swings, a climbing frame and roundabout. All the equipment had been there as long as I could remember and was in much need of renovation, but as the average age of the local resident was pushing 70 years, there was probably little demand for spending public funds on new equipment.
I spent a lot of my summers sat in this park, usually sat on the swings reading a book. My grandmother had a clear view of me from her kitchen window and so I was allowed to remain in the park for most of the day with very little hands on supervision required.
My parents were both very busy, public servants and couldn't afford full time childcare during the summer holidays so I would spend three to four weeks with my grandparents whilst my parents would visit at the weekends. I can't say I minded too much, I quite enjoyed the solitude that came with my stays in the countryside – and when I did see my parents they were always on top form and spoilt me live and affection.
It was on one particular sunny Sunday afternoon when I first saw Emily. I remember it well, my grandfather was watching football on the television whilst my grandmother prepared Sunday dinner in preparation for my parents’ arrival. I was in the park reading, a past time I regularly engaged in at that age.
When I first saw Emily she was passing across the field in a bright yellow summer dress, her golden red hair shining in the sun. She appeared to be lost in a combination of acrobats and dancing, swaying to music that was clearly playing inside her head one minute and then performing cartwheels and summersaults the next.
I don't know what it was that caught my eye; perhaps it was the fact she was the only other person in the village not checking through the obituaries for friend updates. But I suspect, it was more likely the care free attitude she had, not worrying who was around.
At first I simply looked up from my book to see what was happening across the field from where I was. When I saw it was just a girl dancing by herself I returned to my book; only, it wasn't just a girl, and try as I might, I couldn't return to the adventures of Robin Hood.
I found myself continuously glancing up from the pages of my book to see Emily's progress, before returning to the pages that were rested in my hands – now nothing more than vague scribbles on paper. I couldn't quite understand what it was about her that had captured my attention, but for some reason I felt embarrassed of the fascination that was growing within me.
I continued to look up for brief periods, before returning my gaze to my book before she would notice. I was convinced that I had been subtle enough to keep my observations a secret, but I was young and inexperienced.
I recall Emily making the first contact, catching me completely by surprise.
“What you looking at?” Emily joked, appearing over my shoulder.
I jumped and dropped my book on the floor.
“Oops, that was clumsy.” She giggled as she danced around me. “You’re not going to make a very good spy with behaviour like that.”
“A spy? What spy?” I asked. I had no idea what she was talking about. I bent down onto my knees to pick my book up.
“You know; all the shifty behaviours. Pretending to read, then hiding behind your book – just as a spy would. I thought you must be spying on someone. Maybe a Russian invasion?” with that she dropped down to the floor beside me, her head frantically turning from side to side.
“No. I'm just reading.” To be honest I was a little scared, Emily was much taller than I and was much more energetic company than I had been accustomed  to whilst staying with my grandparents.
For the rest of the evening we played at pretend spies in which Emily controlled much of the narrative, whilst I simply went along with the game trying to figure out how I'd become entangled in such a situation as this. Even to this day, I have been unable to fully understand how I became so immersed in Emily's world of make believe.
We parted company when my grandmother called me in for tea, my parents had been late to arrive. Despite my initial reservations, I had quite enjoyed Emily's company and felt sad to be saying goodbye that evening, unaware that we would be speaking again the next day and every day for the remaining three weeks of the summer holidays.
On the next day, Emily's greeting was a lot less dramatic. I was once again reading my book, this time sat on a swing. Emily joined me on the swing adjacent to mine and immediately opened the conversation as if we'd been age old friends.
“What you reading?” she asked.
“The Adventures of Robin Hood.” I replied.
“Oh. And who are you?” she asked.
Puzzled, I responded. “I'm no one, I'm just reading it. The main character is Robin Hood. He steals from the rich so he can help the poor.”
“Ooh.” Enjoy replied excitedly, “sounds fun. I think I'll be him. Who do you want to be?”
I remember the argument that ensured when I tried to explain that she was a girl and therefore had to be Maid Marion. I prefer not divulge the full details of what ensured, but needless to say I ended up as Little John and then Will Scarlet and ended up going back to my grandparents with a whole lot of explaining as to how my clothes had ended in such a state.
It was the beginning of a truly memorable summer. At the end we didn't exchange contact details or make any arrangements for future get togethers, in those days children didn't have phones or social media accounts. We parted company that final day of the summer holiday in the same nonchalant way we had said goodbye that first day. And I never imagined I would ever see her again.
At the time I hadn't realised how much of an impact that summer had made on me, but as I returned to school I found my mind inadvertently returning to those days on the village green. I couldn't explain why, but I frequently found myself being transported back to the village green, reading my book.
Life went on, until exactly fifteen years later when I met Emily in the most unexpected of situations – the custody suite at Cambridge Police Station.
As a newly graduated junior solicitor I had been asked to attend to provide legal advice to a young lady who had been arrested for theft following a protest in the city centre. When I arrived I was provided with a copy of her custody record.
Truly an interesting character, her response to caution had been, “Je vole less riches et donne aux pauvres.”
Knowing a little French, that remark accused me. Perhaps then I should have had an idea as to who my client was, but in truth the name meant very little to me, I had met plenty of Emily's since that summer and had no other reason to suspect this person would be her.
I looked through the papers, and as I did I heard a familiar voice, slightly older, but the same air of mischievousness appeared from over my shoulder. “What you looking at?” she joked.
In surprise I dropped the papers all over the floor and then as I looked up I saw a had of red hair and I found myself kneeling on the grassy floor of the village green.
“Oops, that was clumsy.” Emily giggled.