Development of the mini golf scene

I have just finished writing some more of the mini golf scene and it now looks like this:

‘We didn’t let the thought of Rosie spoil our fun. Mr Grant let us out and drove off on shop business, promising he’d be back in a couple of hours. He said he would park up and then come to get us. We didn’t mind when or where we met him, we just wanted to be together.

I offered to pay for my own entrance ticket but Danny wouldn’t let me. This was a date. He even picked out a putter for me. There were eighteen holes to get through, including complicated caves, various footbridges and waterfalls. The hole at the start of the course looked easy enough and Danny let me go first. I struggled with the putter as it slipped through my clammy hands. I could feel the heat rising from my neck to my face and fumbled with the buttons of my jacket. I had to stay cool. Trying to copy the way I had seen golfers stand on TV (by accident – I hate sports channels), I kept my back straight and my eyes on the ball.  I swung my putter just a bit too hard and the ball shot into a cave. I watched Danny prepare for his shot, his feet apart and holding the putter with one hand above the other, his strong hands gripping the handle. I wanted to reach out and hold his hands in mine.  He turned and smiled at me, took his aim and I watched as the ball rolled towards the hole and stopped less than a foot away from it.

“You’ve played this before,” I said.

“Dad used to bring us all the time before Isaac got bored with losing. We still have the odd game or two when he’s not busy. Sometimes we go to the one at Wroxham Barns but it’s not as much fun as this. There are no pirates, for a start.”

“How do you manage to keep the ball in a straight line?”

Danny retrieved my ball from the cave and placed it on the ground. The throbbing in my chest turned into thrash metal drumming as he moved behind me and guided my hands into position on the putter. His skin was cool and dry, his body warm against mine. I could feel his breath on my cheek as he talked me through my shot. This time the ball didn’t crash or disappear into an obstacle. I turned to smile at Danny and found myself face to face with him, our lips almost touching. I froze.

There was nobody else on the mini golf course and we took our time, with Danny showing me how to get over, under or round the obstacles. Before I knew it, we had reached the last hole. Danny beat me hands down and I didn’t care. We headed for the sweet shop and gorged ourselves on jelly beans, fizzy cola bottles and sherbet pips, not forgetting to buy Mum’s cola cubes. Before long we were back in the car, only this time we cuddled up together on the back seat.

It didn’t bother me that I had to go to school again on Monday morning because he would be there, sitting right next to me in nearly all of the lessons. I went up to my room before my usual bed time so that I could get up early and walk to the bus stop with him.

I lay in bed, amazed that Danny liked me. I flicked through the personal album in my head: Danny smiling, laughing at my bad shots, swinging his putt, getting a hole in one…’

I hope I have conveyed the emotions effectively – it’s how I seem to remember feeling about going out with a boy all those years ago. Any comments and suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

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