Page 31

“You don’t sound too impressed,” he muses.

“Only because I’m out of pocket paying for both tickets, and I don’t have the funds to deal with anything if Duncan is suddenly at the house. Not until I get paid.” I shrug.

Understanding crosses his face. He looks pensive for a moment, and then a little more relaxed, or rather, resolute.

“No sketchpad today?” he asks.

I reach into my bag and pull it out, then push it across the table towards him.

“A few new sketches,” I say.

He doesn’t comment that this is the first time I’ve given him the sketchpad without first sounding reluctant. He flicks open the cover and works his way through the sketches. I peek at his expression when he reaches the drawing I did the night he changed the locks to the house. He pauses and examines it, but he doesn’t say a word. I wait for him to tell me it’s inappropriate or that I’ve made him uncomfortable, but then I see the small smile on his face, the hint of a flush on his cheeks.

He leans across the table and grabs the pencil I was using for my own notes. I watch as he scribbles something onto the next blank piece of paper.

“My number. If you get home after your theatre trip and find that Duncan—or any questionable man—is at your home, walk away and call me,” he urges, sliding the sketchpad back to me.

I huff out a laugh. “For what, exactly?”

“So I can find a way to make you feel safe. Without repercussion, expectation, or comment. I will answer, and I’ll find a way to make you feel safe without having to turn around and go back into town to find some random person to look after you.”

There’s a beat of silence between us as I let this offer settle in my head and deal with the stirring of emotions that it causes through my body.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I whisper.

“What makes you think you’re not deserving of somebody being nice?” he counters.

“Barely anybody is nice to me, not without wanting something in return, so don’t blame me for being cautious and suspicious of those who are.”

“Okay, so you wonder what I’m expecting, but why don’t you consider that I don’t want anything except for a clear conscience? If you ended up in a terrible situation when I could have prevented it, I don’t know if I’d move on from that. I’d rather be inconvenienced by a phone call where you need help than to be haunted for the rest of my life,” he explains.

“So, no strings attached?”

“Zero,” he confirms as I start to put the sketchpad back into my bag. “Wait.”

“What?”

“I do have a string, if you don’t mind.”

“Figures,” I scoff. I look around the deserted block. “Surprised you want to confirm a string here.”

He laughs. “You have a low opinion of people. I hope I can help change that in you, so you don’t go through life thinking everybody is awful. What I want, if it would be okay with you, is that new sketch of yours.”

“Sure.” I flick the pad open and pull out the sketch of him. He smiles as I pass it over to him.

“You’re really good, Dee. You have such amazing talent,” he compliments with ease, but it makes me feel uncomfortable, as I’ve never sketched anybody before, not even Felix.

There’s a slamming of a door from further down the history block. Instead of gathering his things and bolting for the exit like he did that first week, Joseph remains in his seat. All he does is put the sketch into the back of his notepad, out of sight. By the time the footsteps have drawn close to us, Joseph is busy marking a pile of student paperwork, and my homework is on the table as I edit over my coursework.

“Ah, Mr Wakefield. Just the person I’ve been looking for,” Mr Beaumont announces as he draws close.

“What can I do for you?” Joseph asks.

“Just a quick situation in the staffroom that you could help with, if that’s okay,” Mr Beaumont explains. He looks at me. “You don’t mind, Delilah? I’m not depriving you of some help with coursework, am I?”

“No, Mr B. I’m fine.” I give him a big smile and then return to my paperwork.

Joseph gathers his things together, putting his paperwork into his bag along with his lunch. He follows Mr Beaumont out of the history block, their easy-going conversation and laughter echoing down the hallway as they disappear and leave me alone.