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‘Want to walk? I have some time.’
‘Sure,’ Belle said, and they set off around the edge of the park. When they reached the wooded area beyond the kids’ playground, he stopped and turned to face her.
‘You’re very beautiful,’ he said. ‘Have you ever thought of modelling?’
‘Thanks,’ Belle said, feeling herself flush. ‘And no, I haven’t. Do you think I should?’
‘Be a shame to waste what you’ve got. There’s good money in it.’
Belle wondered if he was a scout for a big London agency, sent to Bristol to find fresh talent.
‘I’m in languages,’ she told him. ‘A student, actually.’ She figured if they kept in touch after this, she could let it slip that it was at school rather than university. Prime him a bit first.
‘Say something to me in another language, then.’
Belle thought for a moment. ‘J’aime rencontrer des étrangers au parc,’ she rattled off with a giggle.
‘Moi aussi,’ Jack replied, and Belle couldn’t help the wide-eyed look she gave him, wasn’t conscious of how attractive he found the way her lips parted in shock just a little, exposing her straight white teeth that her mother had paid a fortune to make perfect with braces when she was fourteen.
‘You speak French too?’
‘No. It was just a good guess,’ Jack admitted with a laugh. He swept his floppy fringe from his brow and Belle noticed the glint of gold in it as the spring sunshine caught his hair. ‘What did you actually say?’
‘I said, “I like to meet strangers at the park”.’
‘Lucky for me again,’ he said. ‘But didn’t your mother warn you about things like that?’
‘Nah,’ Belle found herself replying. ‘My mum’s totally cool.’ She cleared her throat, almost believing it herself for a moment.
‘Well, they say daughters turn into their mothers. I can only assume that Mummy Belle is also stunning, with a sparkling soul.’
Wow, Belle thought. No one had ever called her soul ‘sparkling’ before. And they’d only known each other ten minutes.
‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ she joked. Then suddenly, she felt a hand firm around her waist as they walked. Her initial reaction was to stiffen and withdraw. Gut instinct flashed a signal to her that it was a little soon for physical contact. And they were entering a wooded area away from the playground. He could be anyone.
But, as it happened, gut instinct didn’t win out. For some reason, Belle pushed the feeling deep down inside her where, subconsciously, she told it to get lost. She was enjoying herself and that was what mattered.
‘Ilikestrangers,’ she said in a voice that rarely got used. ‘It’s exciting.’ The boys at school would never have recognised the load that her words carried, the intent behind them, the way her eyes stared up at him. The air was warm, the sun shining, and with the promise of a long, luxurious summer ahead, it felt as if her school-bound, restricted and ordered existence was finally thawing, and she was blossoming into the person she’d always dreamt of becoming. Just like that.
‘It reallyismy lucky day, then, isn’t it, Belle-on-the-swing?’
They barely knew a single thing about each other, apart from their names and that Belle spoke French and wore denim shorts and her toenails were painted pretty pink, and he had sinewy good looks and eyes that showed her that he was a man, not a boy, and he liked reading Stephen King and didn’t speak French. But she could teach him, if he wanted.
‘I love these trees,’ Belle said as they passed through an avenue of chestnuts, the hand-shaped leaves waving above them, grasping flushes of white and pink flowers. The small area of woodland beyond the play area joined the back of an industrial estate and the railway line, where goods trains trundled through the night. From her bedroom window a couple of streets away, Belle was able to hear their nightly rumblings when she couldn’t sleep or was scrolling Instagram, catching up with the glamorous lives of the people she followed. It made her feel annoyed that they were all doing exciting things, and recently it had been grating more and more that her life was boring, that she was so ready for something different to sweep her off her feet that she wondered if she might burst out of herself one day. Perhaps, she wondered, Jack was her sweeper.
‘Me too,’ Jack replied. ‘They’re so…serene and majestic. Imagine everything they can see from up there.’
‘All sorts, I’d say.’ Belle liked that he was a thinker. Something they had in common. She felt his grip around her waist tighten.
‘But do you think they’ve seen this?’ he said, and before Belle had a chance to reply, he turned towards her and brought his mouth down onto hers. It all happened so slowly, yet quick as a flash too. The kiss was just right – taking her by surprise, knocking the breath from her, yet it was also so wanted. Soverywanted.
Afterwards, she stared up at him.
‘I don’t think they’ll have seen a kiss quite likethat,’ she said in a voice she reckoned made her sound about twenty-five. She prayed that’s how old he thought she was. She liked him. She wanted to keep knowing him. Now he’d kissed her, she couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing him. Who kisses a stranger in the park just a few minutes after meeting them? Someone exciting, she told herself. That’s who.
Three hours later, Jack walked Belle home. They’d walked and they’d talked and they’d bought mint tea and sat outside a café that sold vegan cakes, and Belle ate one of those too, telling Jack that she wasn’t actually vegan. She thought he looked like the kind of man who enjoyed a steak and bought real leather shoes. He paid and, by the end of it, Belle felt as if all the words in conversational repertoire had been used up. But she also knew that they were already replenishing for next time.
‘When can I see you again?’ Jack said, putting her number in his phone. Then he sent her a text so she had his. ‘I’d love to get some photographs of you. See how they turn out. Professional ones, I mean. A beauty like you deserves that.’
