‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘You guys are going through so much already, I didn’t want to be another burden.’
‘Theo, you’re our friend. You’ll never be a burden.’
He tightens his grip on my hand.
‘What’s this about Italy?’ I’m almost too scared to ask.
‘My aunt – my mother’s sister – lives in Milan. My father has got me into St Louis. It’s a private school.’
‘But…’ I’m shocked. ‘You don’t even speak Italian!’
He lifts a shoulder. ‘I do, a bit. My mother was Italian. She wanted me to be brought up bilingual, so she spoke to me in Italian when I was young. I learnt it at boarding school too.’
‘I never knew that.’ How am I so ignorant about him? About his family? ‘So you’re going to go and live with your aunt?’
He nods. ‘For the rest of the summer, then I’ll be at the school. My father says he’ll allow me to study Art only under these conditions.’
My throat closes up. He’s really leaving us?
I grab his other hand. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’ My voice chokes out the words.
‘I’ll be back at Christmas,’ he replies. ‘Hopefully.’
Why is this happening? ‘Does your dad know you’ve been coming here?’
He nods. ‘He knew all along.’
‘So he’s trying to take you away from us?’
He nods again, his eyes filling with tears.
‘Oh God. No!’ I pull my hands away from him and get to my feet.
‘Leah,’ he calls as I walk out past Mini Druid’s Writing Desk. I come to a stop at the hole in the rock. There’s no water in it today, but I can still make out a vague heart shape.
‘Leah,’ Theo says quietly from behind me.
I turn around and pull him into a hug. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ I say against his neck. It’s all too much, too hard. George seems to be on a crazy path that is pulling him further and further away from me, I’m missing Ashlee and Nia and can’t bear to see my mum’s pain, and I feel alienated from my best friend. Theo was the only one making me smile… And now he’s leaving too.
He holds me tightly as I cry. He’s so warm and solid. Comforting. I feel safe in his arms. The thought quiets me in a strange way, but I have no desire to step away from him. When he loosens his grip on me, I feel a stab of disappointment, but he cups my face between his hands and gently makes me look up at him.
He stares into my eyes steadily. Even when rimmed with red, his are so blue. They’re mesmerising. I don’t want to look away.
And then he slowly brings his mouth down to mine.
I inhale jaggedly a split second before our lips connect, taken by surprise. But then something happens: a warmth bursts from my heart and my whole body tingles as his lips begin to move.
I kiss him back. And it feels good… until my mind begins to race.
I’m kissing Theo. But I love George.
I break away, confused. Theo’s brow knits together and he goes to step away, but I don’t want that either. I pull him back in for another hug, burying my face against his shoulder. His body is tense, but soon he relaxes and holds me in turn.
‘Write to me,’ he whispers.
I nod against him, tears spilling from my eyes. I can’t believe he’s leaving.
* * *
I hold Theo’s hand as we walk back down to the farm. It feels surreal, but I want to keep him close for as long as possible.
Theo wants to say goodbye to George, but George is nowhere to be found. He’s not in any of his usual places and after we’ve been searching for half an hour, I start to worry. Surely we would have seen him if he’d come up to Brimham?
Theo doesn’t have long before Bart comes to collect him, so Jamie takes the quad bike to search further afield. He returns none the wiser.
I’m a mess as Theo writes a note to George while Bart waits in his car. I can’t believe this is happening. George is going to be so sad when he realises that Theo is another person he can’t say goodbye to. Where is he?
I break down again as Theo and I hug goodbye. Anxiety is gnawing away at me and I’m so worried about George that I’m not fully in the moment. I know I’ll beat myself up about it later.
Another two hours pass and I’m out of my mind. Is George already on his way to Sophie?
When he doesn’t come back for dinner, I crack, telling my parents what he had planned. I feel like I could throw up as Dad, horrified, hurries out to the car.
It’s after midnight before he returns – alone. He drove to the home of Sophie’s foster parents and spoke to them, but there was no sign of George.
Mum calls the police. They come at three o’clock in the morning and wake up the whole household, asking us to get out of our beds so they can search our rooms to make sure he’s not hiding anywhere.
We stand in the corridor, Jamie and I, while Joanne sits on the floor, half asleep.
‘Has he taken anything?’ I ask Jamie.
He shakes his head. ‘Not that I know of. I’m sure he’ll come back in the morning.’
But he doesn’t.
As the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, I begin to think that I’ll never see George Thompson again.
Chapter 27 Now
I wake up with a parched throat and a stonking headache. Memories of last night come back to me and I place my palm on my forehead and stare up at the ceiling.
Clearly George is unfinished business for me too.
I really need to write another letter to Theo.
How would he feel, if he could have seen us last night? I still remember the look on his face when he saw me holding George’s card the night of my parents’ party. He wasn’t here to witness the full extent of my devastation after George left, but he knew how broken I was, and I definitely don’t think he welcomed the idea of George coming back into our lives.
I sit up and grab my notepad from the bedside table, along with a glass of water. Downing half of the latter’s contents, I return it to the tabletop and put my pen to paper.
Dear Theo, I write. I have to tell you about George.
No, I can’t. Not yet. I cast the pen and pad aside and climb out of bed.
George did stay over in the end – not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t get a taxi. He rang for one while I made coffee. We drank our drinks in near silence and then I told him I needed to call it a night and suggested he did the same. He didn’t argue, but it was awkward as we went into our separate rooms.
I can hear Mum downstairs with Emilie. She told me yesterday that she’d get up with her. I hope she didn’t regret offering after having a few drinks herself. It’s only seven thirty, in any case. Sadly, my body clock is not wired for sleep-ins anymore.
I have a shower and get dressed very gingerly, wondering how George’s head will feel this morning. He’s bigger than I am, though, I bet he can handle his alcohol.
Then again, he seemed pretty drunk last night. I inadvertently smile at the memory of his reserve tumbling away, how sweet and open he became when he’d had a few. Then I remember his thumbs on the bare skin of my waist and his dark eyes fixing on my lips, and uncontrollable jitters explode in my stomach.