Clouds loomed ever darker as the afternoon wore on, eventually driving us back indoors. Raindrops spattered against the day nursery windows, and Edwin and I rummaged to find jumpers to pull on.
“Summer’s over,” Ruth muttered as she padded into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Each time I caught sight of Alex’s sunglasses on the kitchen windowsill, I remembered the warmth of his skin against mine,and the intensity of his gaze, and the way his smile lingered when he stopped speaking. How close he must have been to me, to have caught me when I stumbled on the cliff steps. I wondered whether he had thought about me at all since the picnic, and then I grew certain that he must see me as a naive, awkward schoolgirl. I had felt so grown-up last year, dating a man six years older than me, but I didn’t want to think about that now, and I knew I should stop thinking about Alex too.
I longed to talk to my friends—to giggle with them about ridiculous crushes, and be reminded of our promise that we’d always be there for one another. They’d been there for me when my boyfriend kicked me out of his flat at midnight, and my mum’s partner, Beaky, refused to pick me up. They’d been there for me when I was in hospital, when I missed my exams, when I felt like I’d ruined my entire life. But I was living in a different world now, and my friends had moved on too. Even if I’d known their new phone numbers at their new addresses, the prospect of a telephone conversation in the Summerbourne hall within earshot of Ruth and Dominic was unappealing.
By the time I got up on Monday morning, Dominic had left for London and Ruth’s headache had disappeared.
“Let’s walk into the village,” she said. “I need stamps. We could get ice creams from the shop—if it doesn’t rain.”
Edwin hopped up and down. “Even if it does rain, Mummy.”
“I suppose we could sit under the bus shelter to eat them,” she said, smiling.
Our luck held, and we savored our ice cream cones on a bench on the village green in the watery sunshine, sprinkling chocolate crumbs down ourselves and competing to poke the ice cream all the way down to the end of our cornets with our tongues. Two elderly ladies stopped to greet Ruth, and made reference to Theo. Edwin remained unruffled while Ruththanked them for their concern. I wanted to ask her whether Theo was buried in the churchyard beyond the green, but bit my tongue. Ruth’s praise of my discretion lingered in my memory.
The threat of autumn receded as the week wore on. I swam in the pool with Edwin and Joel, and Michael taught us the Norfolk words for creepy crawlies.
“Charleypig, erriwiggle, bishy barney bee,” the boys chanted. Edwin had a particular throaty chuckle that I only ever heard when he was around Joel.
When they grew tired of playing outside, we made dragons out of Play-Doh or drew pirate maps, which Edwin stashed in his treasure box. Ruth took Edwin to gymnastics on the Wednesday, and I made a respectable start on my chemistry studying.
The calendar in the kitchen showedR—reflexology 10 a.m.for Friday—particularly intriguing since most of the boxes for the month were blank. When I flipped back through the year, there was a similar note once or twice each month. Ruth didn’t refer to it at breakfast, but when Edwin and I were gathering containers to go foraging for blackberries, she told us she was popping out.
“I’ll be back for lunch. Do you want me to pick you anything up in town?” she asked.
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” I said.
The phone in the hall rang just after she’d left. I peered through the window: she was in her car, pulling the sun visor down and rummaging through her bag on the passenger seat. I picked up the receiver.
“Hello, Summerbourne?”
“Hi, Laura, it’s Alex. How are you?”
The receiver slipped in my hand, and I fumbled to bring it back to my ear.
“Hi. I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Glad to hear it. Is Ruth there?”
I checked: the car was gliding out of the drive.
“She’s just gone out,” I said.
“Ah. Do you know when she’ll be back? I wanted to drop something round—I’m at the cottage, but I’ve got to stay in this afternoon for the electrician.”
“She won’t be long. But I’m here if you want to come now. If you want to leave it here for her, I mean.”
“Um, okay, I might do that actually. Thanks, Laura. I’ll see you in a bit.”
He hung up. Edwin stood in front of me, one sandal on, a bucket in his hand.
“Who’s coming?”
“That was Uncle Alex. He wants to bring something round for your mummy.”
Edwin beamed. “I’ll show him my crocodile pictures.” He lolloped away to the day nursery to find them.
