‘Do you remember the well?’ I ask.
‘Of course. Hard to forget.’
‘I miss the days when it was somewhere to make wishes. When I still believed in childhood magic.’
‘You were my childhood magic. For years after that summer, I convinced myself that you were fae. A mythical sprite sent to save me.’
‘Must be almost a disappointment to know I’m only human.’
He toys with a strand of my hair, and I trace my fingers over the rough material of his cargo pants.
‘I didn’t realise how magical humans could be, to be fair. I’d only met the bad ones.’
‘I still threw coins in. After… I used to wish for a sign you’d made it out. At eight, I had no way to find out. Not without even a name. My nanny refused to help, and my parents had no interest. The wishes weren’t much use, but they made me feel like I was doing something.’
‘You did more than anyone else did.’
‘We were only kids. Someone should have been looking out for us.’
‘Guess it’s just you and me,’ he says through a yawn.
I long to stay in this perfect little bubble of comfort, where the rest of the world disappears. Despite all the years that have gone by, he feels more like home than anywhere else ever has.
The last thing I’m aware of is his hand stilling in my hair, and his breath evening out.
I’m not far behind him.
TWENTY-ONE
KAT
When I wake up,he’s gone.
I guess to eat or shower. He can do neither here in his mask. But a note pinned to the door promises that he’ll return soon.
A little miffed that he keeps disappearing on me, I grab myself a shower before sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop, intent on locating Martha.
It takes most of the morning to follow up on outdated phone numbers and leads. First port of call is my mother, who keeps me chatting for half an hour before I can get anywhere near asking her about Martha. I tell my mum that I need to get in touch with her for something at university, keeping things incredibly vague when she probes about what Martha can possibly have to do with economics. With a dramatic sigh, she relentsfrom her questioning and goes to fetch the little red book that lives next to the phone in the hallway. I can’t believe she still bothers with a house phone, let alone an analogue phone and address book.
The number she gives me doesn’t work. Hopefully, I’ll have more luck with the address book.
I text Heart Eyes to let him know I’m heading out for a bit, that I’ll be back in the afternoon after I see if I can track down Martha at her last known address, and grab a taxi to the train station.
The village the address is in is just under an hour away. I slot into an empty seat with a coffee and a brownie, only for my phone to light up with a text.
You shouldn’t be going on your own.
Are you going to rock up to her house in a mask beside me? She’s old, you’ll give her a heart attack.
Kat. Give me the address, and I’ll drive to meet you. I’ll stay in the car if I need to.
No. I need to see her on my own. If she’s even still living there.
Kat.
It annoys me that I can’t reply with his name.Because I still don’t know it.
I’ll see you later at my house. You could start working on any names you remember from your dad’s friends.
