Oliver sits up and nods. ‘Our footman, John, is left alone in the garden. He thinks she doesn’t love him.’ He hangs his head, and I feel an ache in my chest.
‘Has he been hurt before?’ I make circles with my finger on the picnic blanket.
His finger starts to follow mine. ‘Yes, he has, but he can’t stop thinking about the maid, her beautiful smile, her sapphire-blue eyes and the way she makes him laugh on the stairs.’ He pauses. ‘Our footman can also feel the heaviness of lonely nights in her heart while the streets below echo with laughter.’
I don’t know how this happened, but we have both inched towards each other. This story he’s made up about the lonely footman and maid has made me throw all common sense over the park’s railings behind us.
‘I want to get to know you, Nelly.’
‘Me?’ My heart starts to thud. There’s not much to tell apart from a lot of books, a leaky ceiling, a cat who should be renamed Houdini… oh, and a curse.
He smiles. ‘Don’t look so scared. This is me. Let’s start with something easy. When was your last holiday?’
‘Umm… I can’t remember the last time I went away.’ I would love to go on holiday and explore distant places, but the thought of enduring a long-haul flight and witnessing a stream of sad, tragic scenes from fellow passengers has put me off.
‘Okay. What’s the last music concert you went to?’
I squirm and fidget on the blanket. ‘I’ve never been to a music concert.’
He stares at me. ‘Really?’
I nod. My face is reddening, and it feels hot. My curse has kept me away from the pain and suffering that love can bring; however, the price it demands is that I relinquish aspects of life like music concerts, theatres and holidays.
‘Ah,’ he says, ‘I bet you’re an avid theatre goer.’
This is too much. ‘I’m not feeling too well.’
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ he says, looking crestfallen. ‘You have gone very pale.’
‘The picnic was lovely,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘I need to go back inside.’
He nods and casts me a worrying look as I act like I’m a secret vampire who’s been out in the sun too long and needs to return to darkness.
36
It’s still light when we climb into bed in our pyjamas.
‘Hello,’ Oliver says from behind the pillows. The sound of his voice makes my heart beat faster. I think he’s facing our makeshift wall. It gives me a rush of tingling sensations.
‘Hello.’ I am pressed close to the pillow wall.
‘Have I said anything wrong?’ he asks.
‘No.’
‘Nelly, you’re like a medieval castle with a moat and a huge drawbridge. Most of the time, I feel as though your drawbridge is up, and you’ve filled your moat with man-eating crocodiles.’
His analogy makes me smile.
‘I sense you’re keeping something from me.’
I flinch and turn my head away. My defences rise. I don’t want to ruin a good evening by talking about my curse. That would kill the mood. It would also mean the end of us, as he’d see me as a freak or a witch.
‘Can we not talk about this?’ I need to focus on something else.
‘Sure.’ His voice sounds upbeat. ‘Ask me anything?’
I think about the photo of the little boy. ‘Is that Alfie in the photo over there?’
