‘Bel.’ My dad shook his head his head at her and she dropped her hands and forced a smile.
‘There’s something upstairs for you, in your old bedroom,’ she told me.
‘Daisy’s room,’ Daisy corrected her, her ball tucked under her arm.
‘Yes, up in Daisy’s room on your old desk—’
‘Daisy’s—’
‘Yes, Daisy, she knows,’ Lucy interrupted. ‘Run on up and fetch it, Noelle.’
‘Okay…’ I went upstairs, thoroughly unnerved by the way they all stood down there in the hall watching me. What had they found? Some of my old fan fiction from my hormonal teenager days? That would be fairly worrying for them. I’d had a thing about one of my history teachers and written some pretty lurid scenes involving him in the school library that might’ve caused them concern. If they thought they were based on real life Dad would be wondering if he needed to get his gun out and pay a visit to Mr Swift with a warrant.
Daisy’s room smelt worse than my brother’s. Sweaty sports shoes and dirty team kits lay around on the floor in heaps. I nudged them out of the way with my toes and went to open the window to get some air in.
My old desk didn’t look like it got much use in there, but on top was my massive white sun hat…
But no, that couldn’t be right. My sun hat had ended up in the Hudson when I pushed Stephen in accidentally. No.Worse. It had been in his boss’s cabin when she was trying to take advantage of him. Either way it had been ruined and was not the pristine version sitting on the desk. I picked it up and underneath was a stack of A4 sheets.
My lungs spasmed. My manuscript. What was it doing here? What did this mean? He’d read it but didn’t want to burn it or shred it, so he left it with my parents rather than seeing or speaking to me directly?
But what was the hat about? Just his way of repaying what he felt was owed?
Whatever the answers, my family obviously knew things had been going on and must’ve had some contact with Stephen.
Still holding the hat, I headed back out to the stairs, hurrying down them until I saw who was in the hallway by the front door and the shock stopped me in my tracks.
My family had disappeared and in their place was Stephen.
He stood by the front door in a white shirt, open wide at the collar, the picture of confidence and ease until his dark eyes met mine.
‘Stephen, you’re here,’ my voice came out loud and high-pitched.
‘Way to state the obvi – ooff.’
I guessed my family hadn’t exactly disappeared. Teddy’s voice had come from behind the closed doors to the den, cut off by what sounded like a firmly placed elbow.
‘Shh,’ Lucy hissed.
‘All of you, out the back,’ Mom muttered.
There was lots of shuffling and footsteps and I looked back at Stephen, whose nose was wrinkled in a cute, nervous expression, like he was trying not to laugh.
‘I think we’re alone now,’ he said. I’d missed his voice, so smooth and low.
I walked slowly down the rest of the stairs, stopping two steps from the bottom when he came to meet me, so I could look down on him slightly.
‘You didn’t burn it.’
‘How could I burn it? I know how much of yourself you put into it.’ His words gave me another lift of hope. He was here and he didn’t burn it. But that didn’t mean he wanted us to try again.
‘You understand now, that I never wrote that character profile about you? I don’t see you like that. I never put real people in my books. I mean, you are in it, like I said in the letter, but not really. Does that make sense?’
‘I think I understand.’ He laughed softly and put his hand to the newel post, closer to me but not touching. ‘Even if I am just a heartless banker, not a creative genius.’
‘You’re not heartless.’ I reached out and put my hand over his on the post, squeezing hard.
‘No. I know I’m not.’ He moved up onto the bottom step of the stairs, bringing us closer, moving his hand from the post to my wrist and pressing my hand against his chest where his heart beat strong and fast beneath my palm.
