I popped the tab on a can of Diet Coke. Wyn had put so much thought into our day.
‘Our family is complicated,’ I replied with a scrunched up face. ‘To say the least.’
‘I’ll toast to that.’ He raised a lemon seltzer in my direction and we tapped the two cans together. ‘At least you got to live in some cool places, probably met some cool people.’
‘Meeting people was easy but making friends was moredifficult,’ I explained before flashing back to all my awkward first days in new places. ‘My dad was kind of strict about curfews, hanging out without an adult present, things like that. He didn’t even like me going on the internet if he wasn’t there.’
‘I have seen your cell phone,’ Wyn replied. ‘I believe you.’
‘Exactly. No messaging, no social media. It’s tricky to stay in touch with people when you can’t send them a DM or like their posts. Parents love to hate on phones but they’re the easiest way for people to stay connected.’
With sparkling eyes, he twisted the bottom of his seltzer into the sand and reached back into his bag, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he dug around inside.
‘Well, that’s about to change. This is for you.’
Triumphantly, he pulled out his ice-blue iPhone and presented it to me with both hands.
‘What is this?’ I asked as I took it from him.
‘We full-time Americans call it a cell phone,’ he replied, enunciating carefully. ‘You use it to call people, send them photographs of cool dogs you see on the street, that kind of thing.’
‘Oh, OK,’ I laughed. ‘It’s like that now, is it?’
One tap brought the screen to life. On it was a picture of an oak tree. Our oak tree.
‘The guy at the store said he could put in a pre-pay SIM, so, I did. If you want it, it’s yours.’ He swiped through to the contacts list where there was only one name listed. Wyn Evans. ‘I put my number in already. Like I said, in case you need to send me a photograph of a really cool dog.’
My top teeth cut into my bottom lip as I stared at the phone, not sure what to say.
‘It’s really not that big of a deal,’ he rambled, filling the awkward silence. ‘I was due for an upgrade anyway and I figured this was a good way to recycle the phone and—’
‘It is a big deal,’ I interrupted. ‘It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Thank you so much.’
‘We should take a selfie.’ He took the phone back, leaning in close to me until I could smell his fresh deodorant and under that, the soft, woody warmth of his skin. Suddenly, I was looking back at the two of us side by side on the phone screen. I pulled a face and Wyn laughed.
‘Delete it, please,’ I begged, covering my eyes with my hands. ‘That’s a terrible angle.’
He deleted the picture, then went back to the camera setting, his arm raised a little higher.
‘Let’s try again,’ he said.
I leaned into him, daring to rest my head against his, red-brown hair against dark ash. His chest rose and his shoulders lifted, both of us holding our breath as he took the picture.
‘Now that’s a good one,’ he declared, handing the phone back to me. ‘Can you send me that?’
‘Yes,’ I said happily. ‘I literally can.’
The photo left my new phone with a swoosh and a quiet ping inside his bag confirmed delivery.
‘Seriously, thank you,’ I said. ‘It’s so generous.’
‘Don’t even mention it,’ Wyn replied with a self-effacing grin. ‘I walked by your place last night and I wanted to call in but I get the feeling your grandmother might not love unexpected evening visitors. Now I’ll be able to text first, give you some warning.’
‘Last night would not have been a good time to come calling,’ I confirmed, endlessly grateful he’d kept on walking. Hi, Wyn, how are you? What’s that? Why is the wallpaper alive? Well, that’s a very good question. Perhaps my grandmother, the witch, can answer.
‘Probably best you didn’t see me anyway,’ he added with achuckle. ‘I got caught out in that crazy afternoon storm. I looked like a wet labradoodle.’
A brief flash of him in a sopping wet T-shirt was quickly replaced with the memory of what almost happened in Forsyth Park, followed swiftly by a sharp stab of guilt.
