“Want some?” I ask. The advantage of sitting next to him is that I don’t have to look at him and his wild, curly poet hair and dark, fascinating eyes.
The trouble with having Forrest Faulkner as a nemesis is that he is distractingly handsome, in very much a romantic lead sort of way, and I do have a soft spot for those types. If I had a penny for every time I have had a lengthy, all-consuming, totally unrequited crush on a devastatingly good-looking romantic lead type, I’d have about eight pence by now. Also, I am no stranger to thewhole enemies-to-lovers fantasy. The very last thing I need right now is to get that trope stuck in my head and start thinking I fancy my mortal foe. Avoiding looking at him is a sensible tactic.
Unfortunately, I can still smell him though, and it turns out that he smells of magical woodland. For some reason that’s the only way my brain can think to describe his fresh, green, and woody scent, which also comes with an image of centaurs and fairies.
“I already had a cup,” he says, without turning towards me either. “Looks like you and me were last to breakfast, so fill your boots.”
I press the magic button and more coffee flows into my tiny cup. Knocking it back in one go, I put the empty cup under the spout and go again. Caffeine helps me think. Sometimes I overdo it and end up needing to do zoomies outside like an overexcited puppy, but I cannot go without my daily operating levels of caffeine.
Forrest reaches under the table and brings out a red-stained paper bag, which he plops on the table and slides along towards me, without a glance or a word.
“Small horse’s head?” I ask.
“My shirt,” he replies. “I’d be grateful if you’d rectify the damage, and if that’s not possible, replace it. Although it was a gift from my... It was a gift.”
No apology for insulting me, no second thoughts about calling me stupid in front of all those people. All he can think about is his stupid shirt. At least I took responsibility for my mistake. Obviously, he doesn’t think belittling me in front of an audience is a mistake. He wouldn’t be the first.
Staring at the bag, I consider pouring my fourth coffee onto itand would except I want to drink it more. Ketchup could work though...
Fortunately for me and Forrest’s shirt, Hal Babbage enters the room and brings with him some serious main character energy. He’s wearing another, slightly different shade of blue suit from yesterday. His golden hair perfectly matches the summer day outside, and his smile seems to lift my heart with optimism. I let my hair fall over my face like a curtain to hide my blushes from Forrest, observing Hal from behind as he chooses from the buffet. He has a very nice behind.
Hal smiles at me as he takes the seat opposite, a smile that goes all the way to his baby-blue eyes, which really do twinkle. For a second, I’m fourteen again lost in The Apocalypse Games, living and breathing every word as if it were my life.
A lot has changed since then. I managed to make a life for myself after a childhood in the system. Now, I’m an eminent scientist respected in my field. But one thing hasn’t changed. And that is I’ve still not done any kissing.
(Any sexual kissing, I should say. I kiss Rani quite often and dogs all the time. Even ones I don’t know. But I do always ask first. The dog, not the owner.)
There have been a couple of moments when I thought about it. But then I always change my mind because, you see, my first imaginary kiss was the most perfect kiss that has been dreamt of in literature or reality and I can’t let my first real kiss be any less magnificent. I would really rather just not kiss anyone.
“How did you sleep?” Hal asks, his voice oddly familiar. “I always find the first night in a new place can be unsettling. Especially here, especially with so much at stake.”
“I was really tired, so I slept well,” I tell him. “Although I might have seen a ghost.”
Forrest snorts derisively.
“The Blue Lady?” Hal asks. “I believe the room you are staying in used to be her bedroom.”
“Yes.” I smile excitedly. “LadyB says she only appears if there is a child in mortal danger or something.”
“Famous for it,” Hal says. “Actually, Alex Beaumont was telling me only last night that Blue Lady saved him from drowning in a disused well he’d stumbled on as a boy.”
Sighing loudly, Forrest closes his notebook with a snap.
“For a couple of scientists, you two seem to put a lot of stock in hokum.”
“And for someone who makes stuff up for a living, you seem to be lacking in imagination,” I tell him. “The idea of what we currently call ghosts is nothing more than a scientific problem that we have yet to solve, much like black holes were in the 1970s.”
“Exactly so,” Hal says. “If, for example, we agree with Einstein that all time happens all at once, then who’s to say that when we encounter an apparition or ghostly cry, that it’s not just a collision of realities and timelines, shaking things up a bit?”
“Ghosts are just man’s attempt to make death less frightening,” Forrest says, shaking his head.
“Forrest?” Lady B opens the dining room door. “The bus has arrived with your summer school students, all ready for their first day. They are quite... enthusiastic.” She gives him a wide-eyed, mildly terrified look. “The weather looks fine, so we’ll go ahead with the plan to work with them outside in the parkland, agreed?” She glances out of the window where several dozen teensare piling off a bus like a horde of fashionably dressed zombies. “The very far side of the parkland, perhaps... We wouldn’t want to give our visitors a fright.”
“You’re teaching poetry to a load of Yorkshire schoolkids?” I ask him, quizzical.
“Not just poetry, and I’ve worked with kids from all backgrounds. I’m sure they are great.” Outside one boy throws a left hook at another, and a group of girls start vaping in earnest. Forrest squares his shoulders, scoops up his notebook, and heads out. Having only just survived the horror that was high school with my life, I almost feel sorry for him. But then I remember the stupid comment, and I guess I think he deserves everything he gets today.
“Ava and Hal,” LadyB says, “once you’ve finished your breakfast, please meet me in the orangery.”
