seen him glower at his father. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked him.
‘As if you didn’t know,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t believe you went with him. After everything I told you, you took that risk so you could see some stupid band play.’
They were hardly just ‘some stupid band’ but I let that comment pass. ‘But I knew I’d have my friend with me,’ I said. ‘And your uncle.’
‘So he didn’t try anything on, then?’ Robin asked, looking a little less angry.
‘Well, actually, he did – he tried – he touched my knee. But I said I felt sick and David stopped the car and then when I got back in, I sat in the front.’
Robin reverted to scowling again. ‘I knew it! I told you!’
‘I won’t see him again, I promise!’ I told him. For some reason, it felt essential to have Robin on my side.
‘Do what you want,’ he said to me, then he strode off towards Hartley Street and I plodded on towards the farm, wishing that I’d never gone to the performance, amazing though it had been until Mr Jenners had ruined it all on the journey home. I didn’t even enjoy listening to my Beatles records anymore: they just reminded me of that creeping hand, squeezing my thigh.
***
It was a week later when I bumped into Robin again – this time at the library. Rather surprisingly, he was in the fiction section.
‘Hello,’ I whispered, finding him engrossed in a novel.
‘Oh,’ he said too loudly, shocked. ‘It’s you!’ he hissed.
‘Please don’t be so horrible,’ I begged him. ‘I don’t want you to hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you. I feel nothing for you,’ he whispered, the hand that wasn’t holding the novel balled up into a fist.
‘I don’t think that’s true. I think you must care about me,’ I tried, rather boldly.
‘And what on earth makes you think that?’
‘Because you warned me,’ I said, and I felt dangerously emotional. ‘You warned me against him. I thought you cared, anyway. It’s pathetic but I thought of you as my knight in shining armour or some silly fairy-tale prince…’ I looked at the floor, embarrassed that tears were running down my cheeks.
I expected him to sneer at this and stomp off, but instead I felt the softness of his lips on my face – kissing my tears.
‘Didn’t Rapunzel’s tears cure the prince’s blindness?’ he murmured, and I looked up at him to find him smiling tenderly – all trace of his anger gone. I’d never felt more confused.
‘You’re right,’ he whispered. ‘I do care.’ And then he went, just like that, leaving me in need of that little stool again. I sat down, my heart racing, and realised quite how much it mattered to me that he did care.
After that, I took every opportunity I could to visit the library – even if it was only for ten minutes on my way home from work. I told Penny about it and she didn’t mind me cancelling our Saturday plans. I didn’t even say anything to Robin: I just studied him from afar. Then, on my fourth visit in the same week of the kisses, on the Saturday afternoon, I spotted a tiny little folded-up piece of paper resting on the stool in the fiction section. I picked it up and opened it.
I think about you all the time. If I fail my exams it’ll be because you’re taking up all the space in my brain – there’s no room left for anything else.
I went to ask the librarian for a pencil and then scribbled on the back of the note.
I think about you all the time, too. If I give someone a Bloomer instead of a Cottage loaf, it will all be your fault.
I folded the paper back up and then passed the table he was sitting at, dropping it nonchalantly at his feet. I turned and watched him pick the note up, then read it. He laughed, then looked at me and smiled while my stomach did a loop-de-loop. He got up and walked over to me.
‘Fancy a hot chocolate at The Cherry Pie?’ he asked.
‘I’d love that!’ I told him.
We chatted away together all afternoon until I realised I’d be late home.
‘Father will have my guts for garters!’ I said as I scraped back my chair, all flustered.
‘You can blame me,’ Robin said, but we both knew he was joking. There was absolutely no way my father could find out about Robin – not in a month of