It’s Wednesday, and he still hasn’t talked to his dad. I don’t mind him bunking with me, but I had to find a new home for the notebook. I’d never be able to look him in the eyes if he found the many half-written poems, the thinly veiled allusions to his name. But the house doesn’t feel so depressingly quiet with him in it, and my parents are on their best behaviour. That’s coming to an end, though I haven’t found a good moment to tell him.
‘Why do you think they moved here?’ Louise ponders. ‘Famous people don’t come to Lombard. Nothing ever happens here.’
‘Now, that isn’t true,’ Jacob throws in. ‘If you can believe what that massive noticeboard says, the harvest festival is definitely happening.’
He throws me a nervous glance from behind his ginger curtains, and I’m reminded of our first meeting outside the cafe. I’ve still not made up my mind about him.
‘It’s not that exciting,’ Luca says, speaking up for the first time. He’s been different these past few days, his usual chattiness replaced with something more withdrawn. ‘It means you’ll find hay bales and seasonal flower arrangements all over town. There’ll be a big potluck, and a band playing the same five songs over and over, and some dancing around a firepit if you’ve had one too many.’
‘Sounds nice to me,’ Curtains says, and smiles at Luca.
‘I didn’t say it wasn’t nice,’ Luca replies, returning the smile, ‘just not exciting.’
I’ve not seen him smile since the fight with his dad. Then this guy turns up and suddenly the clouds part.
‘What’s the story there anyway? With the noticeboard, I mean.’
It bothers me, the way Curtains directs his question at Luca like no one else is around.
‘It’s a Celtic tradition,’ I reply gruffly, to stop him eyeing up Luca, ‘a way to mark important holidays.’
‘Huh,’ Mairi says and swallows her food. ‘My mum told me that Pickering put it up for May Day a few years ago and refused to pay for having it removed again.’
‘You’re both wrong,’ Luca says. ‘It was built by the same people who owned the manor. A way to mark the border of their land or something.’
‘So, you’re not going for May Couple, then?’ Louise prompts, changing the topic at breakneck speed. Her expression of gleeful curiosity gets my blood boiling. Mairi stills mid-chew. Everyone’s eyes are on us, awaiting our reaction.
‘Why would we go for May Couple if we’re not a couple, Louise?’ I ask, trying to hide the thunder I feel inside. I don’t know which one of us moved, but now there’s a space between Luca and me that wasn’t there a minute ago.
‘What’s a May Couple?’ Jacob speaks up, confusion drawing lines on to his forehead.
‘People in Lombard go a little crazy for the summer,’ Mairi explains. ‘The harvest festival this week marks the autumn equinox, so the end of summer, as opposed to MayDay which celebrates the summer to come. Part of the festival is the tradition of crowning a couple of lovers, who will then light this huge bonfire to symbolise a season of abundance.’
‘It’s veryMidsommar,’ Louise adds, ‘but, like, actually kind of cute and romantic and completely without violent murder.’
Heat rises from my neck and sets my face alight. The idea of Luca and me standing in front of the entire town as we’re pronounced lovers to the sound of drums and trumpets makes me want to be sick.
‘I get it, Lombard loves a romance. But like Simo said, we’re friends.’ Luca brushes them off with a lightness that I envy him for.
‘You should come, Jacob. Sunday is when they sell all the good food. We should all go, as a group,’ Mairi suggests, but I’m still stuck on that pointed little question.
‘Why would Luca and I go for May Couple, Louise?’ I repeat. Luca sends me a look, telling me to let it go, but if this is another rumour making the rounds, I need to know.
Louise shrugs. ‘We can’t crown Sheila and her fiancé a third year in a row, so your names were thrown in the ring.’
I’m not happy to have my suspicion confirmed. Luca and I pulled ourselves back together after that first week, but I don’t know how our friendship would cope with a second hit when I’m not sure we’re fully recovered from the first one. It shouldn’t be this complicated. When did we go from being Simo and Luca to becoming other people’s property?
‘If you could just not mention our names like that, I’dreally appreciate it,’ Luca says. He addresses the group but avoids looking in my direction.
Something about Luca’s nature inspires trust in others. His presence is comfortable to a degree of being addictive. It’s so reassuring when you have it that you can’t help but miss it when it’s gone. He acts as a welcome buffer between me and the rest of the world. I tend to keep to myself more, not because I dislike people, but it’s easier to exist in my own head. Trying to translate my feelings to someone else doesn’t come easily.
A tap on my shoulder pops the bubble I’ve disappeared into. Luca fills my field of vision. I try not to stare at the birthmarks that dot his long arms or the sliver of chest peeking from beneath his vest. That’s my clothes on his body, borrowed from my wardrobe this morning. My skin begins to tingle in a way I can’t explain.
‘Where did you go?’ Luca asks, almost tenderly. It’s a familiar question and, like always, I shake my head, unable to let him into my thoughts.
Behind him, Mairi is zipping up her boots, and Louise is hiding her hair beneath a cardigan, pouting at the drizzle that separates us from the school grounds. I didn’t realise we were leaving.
‘Ready?’ Louise asks.
