‘Thanks.’
‘No, not with you. Our time together was amazing. I… we…’ he turned his head away as his cheeks turned pink. ‘We were supposed to meet up on that last day.’
‘I know. I waited for you for two hours. I missed watching my favourite band, convincing myself you’d be along any moment. Do you have any idea how humiliating it was having to go back to my friends alone, after all I’d said about you?’ Now it was my turn to blush.
‘I’d fully intended to meet you. I was on my way when I got a phone call from home.’
‘What kind of phone call?’
‘The kind you never want to get. My dad had been in a motorbike accident.’
‘Oh my God. Did he… is he?’
‘He survived, but only just. It was touch and go, and he was in a coma for weeks. I could hardly tell my mum I’d be there in a few hours once I’d hooked up with a girl I’d just met. All I could think about was Dad. I dropped everything, left my tent, all my stuff behind. I had to get to the hospital. I had to be with him.’
‘And you couldn’t have messaged?’
‘I’ll be honest. I didn’t think about it until later that day. Then I didn’t know what to say. We didn’t think Dad would make it, and everything was such a mess. Then the longer I left it, the harder it became to contact you. I convinced myself I’d imagined the connection between us, that it was the festival atmosphere that had gone to my head.’
So, he’d felt it too. It hadn’t just been me. But had it just been youthful excitement, too many hormones? That weekend had played out like a romance novel, eyes meeting across a crowded tent, each other’s first kiss, the promise of so much more… I shook the thoughts out of my head. We’d been sixteen. Now we were adults, completely different people.
‘I’m sorry that happened to you, and I totally understand. But I wish you’d got in touch to let me know. I spent months thinking I’d done something wrong.’
Seb reached across the table and took my hand in a gesture that shocked us both. He snatched his hand back, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
‘It was the beginning of a very dark time in my life. The accident left Dad paralysed, and it knocked the whole family for six. Anyway, you don’t want to hear about my depressing past. We’ve got more important matters to discuss.’
Seb smiled at me, a smile that took me back to a muddy field laced with fairy lights, and a night of literally dancing till we dropped. His appearance may have changed drastically since then, but his smile was the same. His eyes met mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I should have looked away, but his eyes were like two magnets, holding me in place, trying to convey a message I couldn’t quite grasp.
Seb coughed and broke the spell. My eyes fell to the notebook in front of me and I fiddled with my pen, clicking the lid on and off.
‘Right, where were we?’ said Seb, clearing his throat. ‘Let’s start with the vision for the lake project and why I’m going to need all the help I can get to make it work. Welcome to the team, Liv.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Good morning!’ Mrs Grange greeted us at the school gate with a flourish of arms and a wide smile. She wore the same suit I’d seen her in the first day we met, but on this occasion had added a bow tie covered in brightly coloured butterflies. ‘How are you feeling about your first day, Alberto?’
‘Good,’ said Bertie. ‘And you can call me Bertie.’
‘Ah, yes, I forgot.’ Mrs Grange turned and yelled out a child’s name. The boy came running over, clearly worried he was in trouble. ‘Bertie, this is Zach. Zach, I’d like you to take Bertie under your wing, as it’s his first day. Do you think you can manage that?’
‘Yes, Mrs Grange.’
‘Zach here is in Bertie’s year and is an all-round superstar. Not to mention a fine trombone player.’
‘Do you like playing football?’ asked Zach.
‘Love it,’ said Bertie. Before I could kiss him goodbye, he’d gone running off with Zach, in hot pursuit of a football.
‘And how is Mum feeling about Bertie’s first day?’ asked Mrs Grange.
‘I’m far more nervous than he is.’
‘It’s always the way. Bertie will be absolutely fine. There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘I don’t doubt it, but isn’t worrying a mother’s job?’
Mrs Grange reached over and tapped my arm. ‘You can worry all you want when Bertie’s in your care, but here, all that worrying is our job.’
