‘You’re not afraid of anything?’
‘If you’re afraid, it means you have something to lose. That you have an attachment to something you want to keep. And I haven’t had that for a long time, really.’
We walked on, the beech trees casting dappled shadows across his face. More dark than light, yet I couldn’t look away. ‘You shouldn’t think like that.’
He smiled dully. ‘Because I’m still so young, you mean?’
‘It’s got nothing to do with age. You’re alive. And life is…beautiful. Not always, not every aspect of it. But there are so many things worth giving your heart to–because they make everything easier.’
Blake paused and squatted down. Using two fingers he picked up a gleaming blue beetle in the middle of the path. It was a small gesture, but it stirred something warm in me that I struggled to subdue. Blake put it back down in the grass a little further away, and looked at me. ‘What things?’
I didn’t have to think about it, because I’d asked myself that question so many times before. For a year after Mum died, my aunt had prompted me every single night:Come on, let’s think of something that makes enduring all this worth it. It took a while, but with every passing day, more things had come to mind. ‘The low light at the library, when everything is golden and the dust is settling across the books. The smell of rain on asphalt. The taste of chocolate cake from Bridget’s Bakery.’ I had to smile. ‘Someone you love, laughing. The feel of lipstick on your lips, and when I see myself wearing it and I feel so… real. In such an uncomplicated way, because I can feel how present I am. Those are a few of my things. Things that are worth it, always.’
Blake was still crouching in front of me. His coat was trailing in the dew-damp grass, his eyes on mine. He didn’t move, but I thought I could see the thoughts racing across his face. Or… the emotions.
I touched a hand to my temple, feeling awkward. ‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just… your Instagram bio, you talk about “Mabel’s Mirror”. I get it now.’
I froze. ‘You found my IG?’
The corners of his mouth lifted as he stood up and walked past me.
‘Are you stalking me?’ I followed him, unsure whether it bothered me or if it somehow made me feel good.
‘I’m sorry, who showed up at whose door today?’
Point to Blake.
I reached into my coat pocket until my fingers found the metal case. I hesitated briefly, then took it out. The gold glinted in the hazy sunlight. I ran my fingers over the petals engraved on the round lid, then clicked it open. My eyes looked back at me–darker than usual, as always when a memory of Mum caught me off-guard. Funny how thinking of the brightest person in your life can feel so dark, once they’ve left you for good. Like the loss of them takes all the light with it.
‘This is the real Mabel’s mirror,’ I explained to Blake, holding out the pocket mirror. ‘It belonged to my mother. She always kept it with her. I tell myself she can see what I’m seeing when I look into it. Same reason I have the Instagram, too. It feels like a way of staying in contact with her. With the memory of her. Collecting moments like that for her keeps it strong. Crazy, I know.’ My smile felt sadder and more honest than I liked. ‘People do funny things when they miss someone.’
‘Yeah.’ Blake was looking into the mirror, and a gloomy look crossed his face. ‘The best things and the worst things,’ he added, then snapped it shut before returning it to me. ‘But this is one of the best.’
Our fingers brushed for a few seconds too long as I took the small object from his palm. I felt hot. It wasn’t the astonishing warmth of his skin, it was the sensation of his touch. I was tempted to ask if he was missing someone too, when I realised we’d arrived.At last, I wanted to think, but I couldn’t ignore a pang of disappointment. I knew the conversation would be considerably more tense from this point on. Still, I walked purposefully up to the benches overlooking the water and sat down on one. The dark wood was weathered, the ribs pressing roughly into my back. I waited until Blake had sat down beside me, then I turned to him. ‘Can I askyoua question now?’
‘Sure. As long as you don’t expect me to give you an honest answer. I’m not going to tell you anything personal while you’re recording me.’
His voice was impassive, but it felt like he’d punched me in the face. A surge of heat welled up in my body as I avoided his amused stare. ‘I… you noticed that?’
‘Uh-huh.’ He dipped the pain aux raisins into what remained of his coffee, although it must have long since gone cold. ‘I saw your phone poking out a bit when you took out the feather, and I just had a hunch…’
I groped instinctively for the phone in my coat pocket. ‘But… then why did you come with me?’
His expression grew softer, less wary. As if he were deliberately lowering his guard to get the next words out. ‘As long as you’re here with me, at least I know you’re not getting into trouble elsewhere.’
More heat rushed humiliatingly to my cheeks. Clearing my throat, I took out my phone and ended the recording. ‘Fine. Just you and me, then. Can I ask you something?’
He sighed. ‘I’m starting to realise how difficult it is to talk you out of doing anything.’
‘Amelia Victoria Heaven Wallingford.’
I tried to read the shift in his expression, but there wasn’t one. He didn’t even blink, only gazed at me blankly. ‘That’s a name, not a question.’
‘Does it mean anything to you?’
He raised his thumb to the corner of his mouth and brushed away a few crumbs. ‘Should it?’
