Scarred Roses

Chapter 12 part 1-wrong feels right and right feels wrong

When I woke up, bathed in a warm burst of light that filtered through the thin, cotton-sheet above me, I thought I must’ve still been dreaming. It reminded me of building forts with Gretel; sleeping out in the living room, buried under a sea of cushions and blankets, with a torch to light the way as we told made-up fairy-tales and ghost-stories. Little chocolate bars and a bowl of popcorn between us. Lost games and fantasies I still clung to, even in my subconscious. I almost hadn’t noticed the pair of arms, wrapped around me, and the face, pressed deep into the nape of my neck. Imprinting the warmth of his breath on my skin, and the tickle of his hair. Last night, the attic, Nick…of course. We had built a fort, and it had been fun-for a little while. We must’ve fallen asleep in this comfy cove, and apparently made it through the whole night. It was nice, he was nice, and…I’d told him the truth. The kind of truth I hadn’t told since court.

As he slowly began to awaken, I heard a slight hitch in his breath as he began to realise where he was and who he was with. Yawning lightly, I couldn’t help feeling his arms flex around me. His bodies’ own way of stretching all the tiredness away, I suppose. I wasn’t facing him, so I was glad that he didn’t have to see my inner-conflict. Most of the time it was nice that I didn’t need to explain my feelings to him this way, but it did make me feel a little naked in front of him. Metaphorically, I mean. Honestly, I don’t know why that word popped into my head just now! Just stupid, juvenile, teenager thoughts….

“I thought I must’ve been having the best dream ever,” He said, his voice sort-of gravelly from the sleepiness. “I’m lying here, warmer and comfortable than I’ve been in a long time, holding a beautiful girl in my arms. We’d started by building a blanket fort, and after we got comfortable, we told each other stories until she fell asleep. I went to sleep not long after, but before I did, I felt the undeniable urge to kiss her, right on the lips. She looks so beautiful when she sleeps, even though she’s beautiful every, other minute of the day. But she looked so peaceful when she slept. Like, just for once, something wasn’t trying to hurt her in any way.”

“What a fine dream that must’ve been,” I replied, “Did you know this girl at all?”

“Of course I do; I think she’s one of the best people I know.”

It was still so foreign to me. Two months ago, he wanted to make my life miserable. I represented everything he hated about himself; his family was killed, without warning, and the girl he loathed would be one of the first faces he’d have to wake up to from then on. And I, in turn, had no reason to trust him, or even try to like him. We were natural-born enemies. And now, it was all so complicated. I’d told myself that I’d never act on whatever weird feelings I had for Nick Koster, yet I had allowed myself to sleep in his arms and like it. I had reminded myself that mum and dad regarded us as honorary siblings, yet I had let him flirt with me as if I were just some innocent, high-school crush of his. I’d told myself that I had good parents, a loving sister, and wonderful friends to support me, and yet when we held each other, I allowed myself to admit that he was the only person who really understood. Why I was the way I was, why being good and well-behaved was so important. We started out enemies, but we’d ended up being so much more than friends. How? When did those feelings of hatred suddenly switch?

“You’re thinking deeply, I can tell.” He said, “You’re wondering why this feels so right; why we seem to fit together more than we do with other people.”

“Actually, you couldn’t be more wrong. I was thinking of puppies and that weird, puppy-smell they have.”

“Liar,” He chuckled, “This is weird for me too, you know. Feelings I don’t know the meaning of, thoughts I probably ought to keep at bay. All I know is that whenever I talk to you, or whenever I touch you, I can never imagine myself having that sort of relationship with anyone else. Just that instant feeling that there is somebody else out there in the world who knows just what you’re going through. Who knows everything about you and just accepts it; no questions asked. I think that…if you were around two years ago, when everything was going wrong, it would’ve been a hell of a lot more easier for the both of us. I could have protected you in school, when Shantell and her minions were hurting you. You could’ve helped me prove that I was just as worthy as my brother and sister. We could’ve been each other’s…. person. You know?”

“You’ll have to explain that to me,”

“Come on, you know what I mean! Like, how before Don met Cathy in Singin’ in the Rain, he had his best friend, Cosmo. The guy who was always there for him, no matter what. If Don went down, Cosmo would jump in right after, with half a dozen ways to cheer him up. We could’ve been each other’s Cosmo.”

“I always did like their friendship,” I admitted as I casually drew little circles onto the skin of his forearm. “And Cosmo was my favourite character. But I’m your Cosmo now-doesn’t that matter?”

“More than you know.” I was touched as he said that. I didn’t mean to seem vain in any way, but his reassurance that I meant a lot to him meant so much to me. “Hazel…do you ever think about guys? Romantically, I mean.”

“I…it’s a bit foreign to me. I was fourteen when that whole incident with Trevor occurred, and nothing had really clicked beforehand. Afterward, I’d sworn to myself that I would never go chasing boys like so many other, teenage girls I knew. I could look at a boy and only really see him in two ways. If he was a nice, genuine sort of person, I’d decide that he would make a good friend, or acquaintance. If he wasn’t, then I wouldn’t have anything to do ‘with him. At least-that was the way it always was. Right now, I’m so confused. And I won’t admit to feeling anything else until I figure out what those feelings are.”

“So, you’ve never liked another boy before? Not even a crush?”

“I think I’d get close to having one, sometimes. But it was never anything more than acknowledging a good friend.”

“So, would that mean that you’ve never…kissed anyone?”

“Nothing more than a peck on the cheek.” I laughed quietly, “I always thought that if there ever came a time that I’d have to kiss a man, it’d have to be pretty special.”

“Spoken like a lot of lovestruck teenagers. I’ve kissed a few times, but it was mostly casual. Kissing at parties, kissing on a holiday, when it was guaranteed to be a one-time thing. Just kissing for the sake of kissing. Sometimes, when I here stories about first kisses being meaningful and great, I can’t decide whether I want to laugh or vomit at their gushiness. Kisses were never particularly mind-blowing; they were nice and all, but in the end, it was just putting your tongue in another persons’ mouth.”

“Spoken like the death of all romance,” I parroted with some sarcasm. “Well, I guess what I’d like to know is, have you ever…fallen for somebody? Not just a crush or kissing for the sake of kissing, but real feelings?”

“If you want an honest answer…no.” I don’t know why, but I was surprised at that revelation. He could kiss girls, find them attractive, but he hadn’t fallen for one? “Don’t get me wrong, I have been friends with girls before; some really decent people, once you get to know them. But I’ve never felt those crazy, romantic things that people go on and on about. I’ve never felt fireworks when I kissed someone, I never once referred to s*x as ‘making love’, and I most certainly haven’t sung a song about it, in the middle of a rainstorm. It’s just never happened for me before.”

Before, he said. And what about now? I felt like asking. He stood up for me on three occasions, he told me I was beautiful, and last night he’d admitted that he cared about me. Really cared. After what he’d just said, I got the impression that despite all his physical experience, I might’ve been the farthest he’s ever gone in terms of deep feelings. I didn’t know what was more mushy to me; the fact that my feelings towards him for were every bit mutual, or that he’d just used a Singin’ in the Rain reference like it was nothing.

“You know we’ve got to leave soon,” I said, breaking the short period of silence. “Mum and dad can’t know that I’ve been up here with you.”

“I know we’ve got to leave,” He tightened his embrace, nuzzling into my shoulder. “But you’re so warm and nice to hold. Can’t we just lock ourselves up here and never leave this fort?”

“We’d starve,” I giggled, “And turn to dusty, old skeletons. Come on, we can always build the fort again if we really need it.”

It was hard for me to wriggle out of his arms, where it was so warm and secure. Especially in comparison to the coolness of the floor-boards beneath my bare feet. But it was as I said; we had to leave the attic, and we had to make sure my parents never knew about it. Even if I tried to convince them it was strictly platonic, a boy in bed with their daughter was still a boy in bed with their daughter. It was our own fault too; there was a fine line between platonic friendships and romantic feelings, and we were flirting with it.

Together, we packed up the fort, and restored the attic to the cluttered state we’d found it in. I was the first to sneak down the attic stairs, tiptoeing to my room with the upmost caution. Mum and dad might not have been on the look-out for me, but I had a feeling Audrey might’ve been. After closing and locking the door, I let out a long-withheld sigh before switching on the light to an empty, unmade bed. Well, I wasn’t going back to sleep now; I might as well get dressed and make a decent start to my Saturday while I still could. After a quick rummage through my drawers, I picked out a plain, white blouse, a maroon-coloured skirt, and the rose-coloured cardigan Gretel had posted me for my last birthday. Modest, innocent, and girly. The kind of girl I allowed others to see of me on first impression. It wasn’t a ruse-at least, not entirely. I dressed like this because I liked penny-blouses and knee-length skirts, and cardigans that ‘covered too much arm’. The only falsehood in it was the implied arrogance in such a ‘goody-good’ sort of attire. Well, I’d learnt too much from life-experiences to care about what other people thought of me. Maybe that was the appeal Nick saw in me; it was difficult to image much else.

Dressed, groomed and fresh as the morning, I ventured downstairs; following the enticing smell of sizzling bacon and eggs. A morning fry-up; hot, greasy, and completely satisfying. Eager to have my fair share, I padded quickly to the kitchen where mum stood, as usual, at the stove, tending to the contents of her frying pan. Dad was reading the morning paper; more specifically, the comic strips at the back section. And Audrey wasn’t even there. It was probably easier this way; it gave me a chance to figure out what I’d say to her once I did see her.

“Hungry?” Mum asked me, “We’ve got to use up this bacon before it expires, so tuck in! Oh, and your father and I are going out tonight for our once-a-month dinner so I’ve left you two some takeaway money in the top drawer.”

“Us two?”

“Your sister is spending the night with Thomas,” Dad answered with a sudden frown. “And before you ask, she didn’t tell us why. She just said that it’s her life, she’s an adult, and it’s none of our business. She can condemn fatherly concern then, see if we care…”

“Theo, she was just in a mood.” Mum reasoned, “She’s been under some stress recently, what with Thomas throwing some sort of fit! She must feel like the whole worlds against her.”

Guilt sank into me once more. A secret she made me keep, and a secret of myself that was starting to consume me. Really, wasn’t I to blame for this? Audrey might’ve overreacted, but the anger hadn’t come from nowhere. She must’ve been the first to notice when my feelings for Nick had started to change; and the fact that I didn’t confide in her about it could’ve hurt her feelings. Perhaps I should tell them; if I confess everything now, they’ll go easy on us. Everything can be normal again…

I felt my heartbeat start to even out as Nick’s hand slid over mine beneath the table. I wanted to look right at him, to confirm whether he was feeling the same way I was. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Mum and dad were there, and if they got even the slightest impression that there was more to us than just a platonic bond, we’d be in trouble. That just seemed to be the story of my life, didn’t it? I wanted to do things, say things, but something or somebody was always stopping me. So what do I do? Lie, lie, lie. Lie to my family, lie to my friends, lie to everybody who mattered to me. I told myself it was to protect them from being hurt, but maybe I was really trying to protect myself?

Stop it Hazel! You’ve blamed yourself before, and what good has that done? Taking control of my breathing, I focused on Nick’s hand holding mine. Giving it a light squeeze and feeling a small rush of warmth when he squeezed back. He knew exactly what I was thinking, for he felt the same way. He’d spent nearly ten years, trying to prove himself to his family when he hardly ever respected his own self-worth. I lied to other people for their happiness, and he lied to himself for his family’s happiness. It was a vicious cycle that has grown too big for either of us to stop alone.

“So darling, any plans for today?” mum asked me, sliding a plateful of bacon, egg and toast, still sizzling hot, in my direction.

“Well, since I start green-thumb next week, I thought I ought to brush up on my improvising.”

“Where were you thinking of going?” Dad asked.

“The town, the O’Malley’s orchid, maybe even the oaks at Lilac Park.”

“What about Yellowish creek, over by Viola’s parents’ house?” He suggested, “I hear they’ve had some more goldfish put in.”

Moving fish was hard to capture, more so to find. Perhaps a trip to Viola’s estate would be a good idea.

“Thanks dad-I’ll just send her a message before I go, asking if it’s okay with her parents.”

“Good idea-although I’m sure they won’t be at home today. They have a relative holidaying in Brighton and I’m sure Phil said they’d be away for the night.” He said, forking another mouthful of runny egg and cut-up bits of toast. “It’ll be a fine stop on your expedition route.”

“Expedition route?” Nick’s curiosity had been piqued. Of course, out of all the things I’ve told him, I haven’t mentioned the expeditions yet.

“Sometimes, Hazel likes to walk around Derby, doing free-style photography.” Mum explained to him “It helps to clear her mind.”

“Sometimes when I’m tired of thinking about everything, photography helps me get away from it all.” I added.

“I get what you mean,”

It meant more than either of my parents could decipher, but we said nothing more as we devoured our hot breakfasts with an unusually hearty appetite. I think it was just so we could get out of the dining room, and away from their scrutiny. Whatever the reason, I felt the pressure of their company lifting from my shoulders as I buckled the thin straps to my old-fashioned sandals-a treasure I’d picked up once in a second-hand store. Being out in the fresh, autumn air would be a good distraction for me, I decided. Maybe for a little while, I could forget that I was lying to my parents, my sister being furious with me, and all these stupid, confusing feeling that made my head spin around like a merry-go-round.

“Hey,” Nick caught me, just as I was passing through the doorway. “Could you use some company on the expedition?”

I should’ve told him no-yet again. But honestly, I could never turn down his company now-and it wasn’t his fault that I was feeling the way I did.

“If you can keep up,” I replied, smiling at him as I made room for him to pass through onto the porch. “Have you ever been on a photography expedition before?”

“Nope-you’re my very first.” He answered, grinning back at me. “Just as long as there’s no juggling involved, I’m useless at that.”

“No juggling-but I may have you pose every now and again.”

“What-you think I’m going to be in the photos?” He scoffed.

“Well, I do need a muse, and you did want to come with me today.”

“I guess this is the price to pay for having the pleasure of your company.” He sighed, painting on a goofy grin. “So, where to first?”

“The corner of the road, I think. I’d like to get a nice, centre-shot.”

We walked. Me, finding my way to the very centre of the dirt-road, leading to the property next door, and Nick, watching me with amusement as I tried to find the perfect position. Let’s see…I wanted it to look like I myself, was walking down the centre of this road, looking for an end. An end of endless challenges and trifles the human-being had to face. Emotion, depth-that’s what I wanted people to see in my photographs. That I cared more about how a picture can relate to a person, rather than how pretty it looked.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“I want it to look believable.” I said, “When people look at this photograph, I want them to feel as if they were seeing it through their eyes. Like the journey down this dirt-road is theirs and theirs alone.”

As I went into focus, I forgot, momentarily, that he was there. Standing in the middle of the dirt-road, I envisioned myself walking, barefoot, at the break of dawn. I was looking for something beyond that dirt-road; a glorious glimpse into a future where I was everything I wanted to be, and more. I allowed my inner-desires to lead me where I wanted to go. The exact spot, the exact feeling, the exact amount of depth I wanted to reflect upon. Hearing nothing but the click of the shutter, I found my lips tugging into a satisfied grin. The people in my life wondered why I wanted to be a photographer so much-this was why. The rush, the thrill, the feeling of accomplishment. Being a master of vision and feeling, combined into one.

“Next stop, the O’Malley’s orchid.” I said to him, still wearing the grin.

“Then lead the way,” He replied, a smile mirroring mine.

We met Robbie O’Malley at the gate, as he was leaving to catch a bus. He smiled at us, tipping his hat as he told me to use the orchid at my leisure. Being in Nick’s year, I almost expected them to be on friendly terms, or at least know each other. But upon seeing him, Nick took a step closer to me, putting his hand on the small of my back. That was, well…odd. Brushing it aside, I led Nick through the front gate, in the direction of the five, neat rows of apple-trees that stood, unnaturally bare without their leaves, taking up a good acre of their ten-acre farm. The O’Malley’s worked for an organic fruit-juice company whose factory was situated in Cornwall, and so with Summer over, and the harvest half-way done, business was busy for them. But they were always kind enough to let me roam through the orchids when they weren’t working. And I was lucky for it too, since they had one of the loveliest orchids Derby could possess. It looked best in the spring-time; when the trees began to blossom, and the sun set a vibrant hue over everything it touched. Of course, Autumn was a good season for it too. Leaves of gold, brown, red and yellow to blanket the fresh, grassy earth.

“I think this calls for a black-and-white filter.” I said, more to myself as I made the required adjustments on my camera. “Go and find a tree while I figure out the lighting.”

“Sorry?” He looked at me, puzzled.

“I said you were going to be my on-call model. You didn’t think you were going to get away with bailing on me, did you?” I peered up at him, gracing him with smile that held enough cunning in it to be so blatantly obvious. “Find somewhere to stand and strike a pose.”

He obeyed, strolling over to one of the trees, resting his back against the thick, uneven bark.

“What should I do?”

“Anything,” I replied, “Show me the real you. Talk to me about yourself.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be photography?”

“It is! It’s an important part if it. Photography is like a window into another world. One where a person can be themselves, without having to answer probing questions or act like something they’re supposed to be.”

“So where do I start?” He turned to look at me. Laughter, dancing in his irises, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He radiated happiness, inside and out. Focus, shutter and ‘snap’!

“That’s where we start. It really is more natural than you’d think.”

“Alright, so talk about myself….in primary school, I was voted ‘most likely to be popular’.”

“Well, you certainly did make a solid impression at Derby High.” I commented, snapping another photograph.

“You mean with Anton?” He chuckled, slipping his foot up to rest against the trunk behind him. “I’ll admit, I found him a little…strange, at first, but he’s actually a pretty good guy. And I still don’t know how you guys met, by the way.”

“Well, when my friends and I first started at Derby High, back in year seven, us year-sevens were given tour-guides to show us around, and believe me, Anton was every bit the environmentalist back then as he is now. But after we spent the first half of the day with him, he showed us where we could eat our lunch and showed us the ropes, regarding high-school survival. I think the thing we liked most about him though was that he never gave a damn what other people thought. He would be him and be happy for it. I think that’s why I stopped caring so much; people will always judge you, even when they don’t have the right, but it shouldn’t affect the way you see yourself.”

“Wise words, miss Kazia.” He smirked, “I suppose what I really needed back in London was some good, old wisdom from Anton the great.”

“Who needs counselling when you’ve got advice from Anton?” I joked, “Now, just one more…great! I think just a few more pictures here, then we can check out Yellowish Creek.”

“Yellowish Creek?”

“I haven’t been there before; Viola’s parents wanted their house to appear more like a castle, so they had a tiny mote dug around the property; a hand-cranked draw-bridge and everything.”

“This, I have to see.” He said, leaving his shady spot beneath the tree. “But not before I see those pictures you weaselled out of me.”

“I prefer the term, drawn. Come on then, have a look. Have I disgraced you terribly?”

He came closer, leaning over my shoulder to get a glimpse at the tiny screen. His chest touching my back, the scent of his breath, mint and marmalade…stop it! God, couldn’t I go for one day without getting butterflies from mere proximity?

“These are really good,” He said, as I slowly flicked through the three of them. “I’ve seen myself in photographs before, but they’ve never been so…real. Do I always look like that when I’m happy?”

“To me, you do.” Whether it was flirting, or a genuine compliment, even I couldn’t tell anymore. But I meant it, nonetheless. “If it makes more sense to you, I don’t want to be a photographer because I’m good. I want to be one because I love it. On good days, days like these, I feel like an artist who’s just finished their biggest masterpiece. There’s hardly any energy left, but after it’s finished I feel the relief, the satisfaction…”

“That’s what she said.”

Damnit, he had to make me laugh! Just when I was really beginning to explain why my passion was so important to me, he went and broke me from my train of thought so fast, with something as simple as a dirty joke.

“I knew it; I knew you just had to say something! I was being so open with you, and you had to just make it silly.”

“Oh, come on, I had to! I see an opportunity for a good joke, I take it.”

“Well, if you’re so confident in your jokes, then we’re not getting waffles.”

“No waffles?!”

“No waffles,”

“Come on! I need some waffles. Those delicious, white-chocolate waffles with the strawberries and the maple syrup. Please Hazel, you cannot deny me my right to lunch!”

“It’s only ten in the morning! Surely you can wait an hour or two for waffles, that is, if I change my mind.”

“Well, then I see I’ve got to convince you,” He said, a smirk once again, playing upon his lips. “So, pictures then Yellowish Creek?”

Those few photos were taken around the apple trees. Still in my black-and-white filter, I took a still of a perfectly shined, perfectly shaped apple, a brilliant sight of the rare, autumn sunshine, streaming light through the branches and onto the dewy grass, and an upwards shot of the nearly naked branches against a cloudy, white sky. Like streams of spilt, black ink against a piece of paper. Nick watched me, and while he didn’t say a word, he displayed a mixture of amusement, curiosity and a hint of admiration in those wondrous eyes of his. If only Audrey knew about this, rather than the unfortunate implications of us, coming back from Lilac Park. If she could’ve known that this was how we bonded, how we’d become so close, then maybe she wouldn’t have been so angry. Audrey knew me, and she should’ve known that when I become close to a person, it’s always because I trust and respect them as people. Not for pretty faces, charming smiles, or stupid, stupid abs.

After I was done with O’Malley’s orchids, I took Nick to Yellowish creek. The thin moat that stretched right around the property like a ring. Getting down onto my stomach, I took some well-timed snaps of the goldfish they kept here; like shiny coins that ran and blended through the water like paint. Aiming the camera at a different angle, I managed to get one that made the moat look gigantic, and the house behind it dwarfed by comparison. Satisfied here, we walked a little further until I found what I wanted to show him. The miniature, hand-cranked moat.

“Where did they buy this thing?” He asked in amazement.

“Nowhere-Viola’s father and dad built it. He had the vision in mind, but dad’s an inventor at heart. He made the design possible; every little bolt and pulley you can think of. Now, all we have to do is crank this handle-“I gestured to the lever beside me, watching as Nick pulled it, then witnessed in awe as the thick, flat plank that was blocking our entry slowly lowered itself to rest between the two supports on either side. Allowing us an extraordinary view of the estate. A villa, like ours, but larger by an entire story and painted the colour of bluebells. On the porch, to our surprise, was Viola, along with Laura, who appeared sharing a pitcher of ice-tea. Lipton, if I’m not mistaken.

“Hazel, darling!” Laura cried, waving. “Come here, we haven’t seen you in ages.”

I approached, Nick lingering behind just a little. Laura had on a skimpy, black polka-dotted romper that showed off the long, shapely legs she was so proud of. Her dark-brown hair all soft and shiny as it fell down her back. Viola as well, was looking lovely in lilac-a lilac mini-dress to be specific. The colour that went so well with her honey-gold curls and her peaches-and-cream complexion. It was no wonder they were Audrey’s best friends; a girl as beautiful as my sister was only expected to have beautiful friends.

“Viola and I were just talking about Audrey,” Laura informed me as we stood, a little timidly, before the porch. “We were looking through some pamphlets for some short courses in London, and we came across this! Just read it, and tell me it wouldn’t suit her perfectly?”

It was a nearly-new brochure from a polytechnic school in London. Advertising for applicants to a bachelor’s degree in design-fashion design to be specific. And as I skimmed through the thick, glossy pages, I began to see the appeal. There were mentions of big, end-of-year shows, displays of magnificent, wearable arts, and special guests being very important representatives of clothing design companies. They were right; this was Audrey, no question to it. And it might not have been the university she dreamed of prior to graduation, but it was a big opportunity for her. One I hoped she’d at least consider before passing it up.

“I can’t lie, this is perfect for her,” I finally replied, “Have you shown it to her?”

“Haven’t had the chance yet,” Viola said, “And besides, there’s not much good in convincing her yet; not when she’s determined to wait until this whole gap-year is over. And really, I don’t see why she shouldn’t consider! What, with Thomas going off- “

“Going off where?”

“Didn’t Audrey tell you yet? Well, you were bound to find out eventually. Thomas sent out an application for Oxford University about a month ago; he’s just gotten his acceptance letter yesterday! We’re all happy for him, and of course, his family are overjoyed, but Audrey…honestly Hazel, I thought you would’ve known! Audrey tells you everything.”

Until yesterday, I thought. With what’s just happened to Thomas, and all the time I’ve been spending with Nick, no wonder she was so angry at me! This was just like what happened with Ingrid. I’d been so caught up in my own interests, I couldn’t even see how quiet she’d been lately, how she’d mostly gone to spend time in her room in the evenings, how she barely even came to sleep in my bed anymore. No matter how much her words had hurt me last night, I owed her an apology too-and I would give her one. That is if she’ll let me speak to her.

“Hazel, care to introduce us to your little friend there?” Laura enquired, giving Nick an appraising once-over. Well, no doubt Audrey has told them all about Nick, but they’ve never seen him face-to-face yet…

“Christopher,” I fibbed, surprised at how easily I did it too. “He’s an old friend from the arts competition back in 2013.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” He greeted them with a shy wave and a smile. “Hazel and I go way back.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at school before Christopher-are you new here?” Viola asked him.

“I came here from Dudley, just to see my pen-pal.” He replied, wrapping an arm around my shoulder to emphasize the lie. “Hazel’s been such a good friend to me for all that time, I decided that I had to come and visit her properly. Needless to say, I’m far from disappointed.”

“She’s a real gem, isn’t she?” Laura said, “And a real beauty too.”

“Yes,” I didn’t need to turn my head, to know he was looking right at me. “Very beautiful.”

“I was just showing Christopher Yellowish Creek!” I said, feeling too hot under the attention they were giving me. “When I told him about the draw-bridge, he was keen to get a look.”

“I’ve never heard of a miniature draw-bridge being built from scratch before,” He added, “George Clarke would be all over that sort of stuff.”

“You ought to meet Hazel’s father, Mr. Kazia,” Viola suggested, completely oblivious. “He’s the best tinker in Derby-my father vouches for him, every time that draw-bridge is mentioned.”

“I’ll be sure to get acquainted,” He said with a hint of a smirk. “Well, where to next on this expedition of yours?”

“I’ll show you around town,” I decided, “Then if you’re good, we can go for waffles.”

“We won’t keep you then,” Laura said, “Say hello to Audrey for us.”

As we made a move to leave, Laura caught my arm. Wearing a strange sort-of smile that I think she only wanted me to see.

“Oh, and Hazel? Don’t let that boy go, whatever you do.”