‘I’m very sure.’
‘I’ll take good care of her.’
We kissed for a long time, him leaning against the newel post at the top of the stairs, me pressed tight into his chest, Mouse in my hand. We’d agreed that he wouldn’t see me off at the front door. It seemed too final, too much like a proper separation.
‘I’ll call you later today,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure what time, but I’ll call. I promise.’
I smiled. It was sweet of him to acknowledge that: the old, crabby fear of not being called. But I knew he would. I knew he’d do everything he said he’d do.
‘Bye,’ he said, kissing me one last time. I took the blossom stem and walked down the stairs, turning at the bottom. ‘Don’t watch me go,’ I said. ‘Make it feel like I’ve just popped out for some milk or something.’
He smiled. ‘OK. Goodbye, Sarah Mackey. See you in a few minutes, with some milk or something.’
We both paused, watching each other. I laughed, for no reason other than sheer happiness. Then:Say it, I thought.Say it, even though it’s crazy, even though we’ve only known each other a week. Say it!
And he did. He leaned against the newel post, crossed his arms and said, ‘Sarah, I think I might have fallen in love with you. Is that too much?’
I breathed out. ‘No. It’s perfect.’
We both smiled. A point of no return had been crossed.
After what felt like a long, long time, I blew him a kiss and drifted off into the bright morning.
Chapter Ten
Dear You,
I’ve been missing you so much today, little sister.
I miss your naughty laugh and those milky sweets you always used to buy with your pocket money. I miss that keyboard you had when you were little, the one that played that infuriating tune when you pressed the yellow button. You’d pretend you were playing it yourself and you’d laugh yourself silly, thinking you’d fooled me.
I miss finding evidence of you having had a root around my bedroom when I wasn’t there. I miss the way you used to splodge jam right over the edge of the bread crust so you wouldn’t have any jamless mouthfuls.
I miss the sound of you sleeping. Sometimes I’d pause from my busy schedule of teenage angst and just listen at your door. Soft breaths. Stars on the ceiling. The rustle of your spaceship duvet, which you insisted on, even though the man in the department store said it was for boys.
Oh, my Hedgehog. How I miss you.
Things aren’t all that good for me at the moment. I don’t know what to do with myself – I feel like I’m losing my mind.
Let’s hope not, eh?
Anyway, I love you. Always. Sorry I couldn’t find anything more jolly to say.
Me xxx
Chapter Eleven
If you can’t reach me on my mobile, I may well be in my Gloucestershire workshop, it said on Eddie’s ‘Contact Me’ page.
I keep things pretty simple down there: there’s a wood-burning stove, a temperamental kettle and a desk, and that’s it as far as luxuries go. But I do have a phone, in case I’m attacked by bears or bandits. Try me on 01285. . .
I highlighted the number.Call?my phone asked.
‘Sarah?’ It was Jo, calling from the kitchen. ‘Can you check this soup?’
‘Coming!’ I pressed ‘Call’.
The phone started ringing and adrenaline mushroomed, pressing out at my skin like gas in an overfilled balloon. I leaned against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t answer, hoping he would. Wondering what I would say if we spoke, wondering what I’d do if we didn’t.
