Page 43 of One Last Gift

“Come on then,” Hazel said. “Weren’t you worried about us missing it? We’re going to have to fight our way through that lot if we want to see it live.” She gestured toward the crowd pressed up against the stone wall, looking down on the Thames. Cassie nodded, her heart doing a nervous tumble. She had no clue what she was looking for. There had been no extra hint, no name of the person she was supposed to find. What, was she supposed to look down the entire length of the Thames hoping to find something? Tom would have known she’d be feeling like this. But he’d also planned on being here, hadn’t he, according to his last letter? A fist tightened briefly around her heart at the fact that he wasn’t here when he should be.

“And they’re off!” the tannoy announced, and Cassie yelped, nearly dropping her Pimm’s.

“Come on!” Hazel said. The three of them linked hands—Hazel at the front because her height gave her the advantage when weaving through crowds. After much elbow-jabbing, “sorry”s, and “excuse me”s, the three of them managed to make it to the front, right by the little stone wall, Hammersmith Bridge on their left. Below them, the Thames spanned out, water lapping gently at its edges, glistening in the sun, hiding the murky darkness underneath.

“I can’t see them!” Cassie’s voice was a little too high-pitched.

Hazel crouched down, presumably so she didn’t block the view of people behind her. “I don’t think we’re supposed to see them yet.”

Then they came into view, two long yellow rowing boats, oars moving in synchrony. One boat was just pulling ahead of the other, and Cassie found herself holding her breath.

She had a memory, then, of another time she’d watched the Boat Race, the one and only time, as far as she could remember, and even then, she’d almost forgotten it had happened. She’d been sitting on the floor in Claire’s little living room behind Hazel, both of them on cushions. Tom and Sam were sitting on cushions next to them, all four of them facing the TV, where the Boat Race was being shown live, pretending to be in boats of their own.

Tom had gotten out the oars that Claire kept in the spare room, up high. He’d had to stand on a chair to get them and he and Sam had made it a mission, Sam standing guard to make sure Claire didn’t notice what they were doing. So now each team—she and Hazel versus Tom and Sam—had one oar each.

“We’re winning!” Tom was shouting.

“You’re not!” Hazel protested. “We can’t even tell who’s winning, we’re not moving!”

“We’re rowing faster, though,” Tom said with a grin.

Cassie frowned, still moving her arms to row with Hazel. “I didn’t know it was a race.”

“It’s always a race,” Sam told her.

“Cassie, concentrate!” Hazel snapped. “We need to win.” None of them were paying attention to the real-life Boat Race now.

“Nevarrrrr!” Tom declared. “We are the champions—the finish line is just there!”

The living-room door swung open, and all four of them stopped rowing as Claire came in. Her face went slightly pale, so that her dyed-red hair looked too bright against her skin. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse. She brought her hand to her throat, staring at the oars in their hands, then at the TV. Cassie felt herself shrink—she wasn’t totally sure why, but Claire was not happy about this.

Claire reached down, snatching the oars off them. “These are not toys,” she snapped. “Do you hear? You’re not to play with them again.” All of them just looked at her. She grabbed the remote, switched the TV off. “It’s a nice day—go and play outside.” She took the remote control with her, so they couldn’t switch the TV back on, and shut the door behind her.

The four of them stared at each other. Claire never exactly got their games, but this seemed a bit extreme, even for her. Then Tom got to his feet. “Come on then. We can play outside.”

“Play what?” Hazel asked suspiciously.

“This! We can use something else as oars.”

“You’ll just cheat again.”

“It’s not cheating, Hazel.”

Hazel folded her arms.

“Fine, well, you can be on my team then—that way I can’t be cheating.”

That seemed to placate Hazel, but Cassie frowned as she followed them out. She didn’t want to be the moody one, but Hazel was supposed to want to play with her, not Tom. It wasn’t fair that she’d been so easily ditched by her best friend, and maybe then she didn’t want to play at all—the three of them could play, and she’d just watch.

Sam was hanging back for her when she reached the back door. “It’s OK, Cass, you can be on my team.” He held out a hand and, relenting, she took it, and let him drag her out to the garden.

“Who is that in front?” an adult Hazel was saying in the present. Cassie jolted. What was she doing, reminiscing? She was supposed to be focusing!

“The light blue one,” Josh said.

“Yes, I know that, thanks—which team is light blue?”

“Cambridge, I think.”