Page 22 of Coming Home to Crumbleton

Ruby braced herself as he flipped the switch and hit the big “on” button on the ancient machine.

Water instantly started to rattle through the pipes and pour into the drum - and her dad executed a triumphant fist pump. ‘One down!’

‘And about twenty million to go!’ said Ruby, glancing at the list again.

‘Right!’ said her dad, bending down and grabbing a large hammer from his toolbox. ‘I’m on a roll.’

With that, he disappeared off towards the living room at the back of the house without another word.

Ruby raised her eyebrows. ‘Welcome home, Ruby,’ she muttered. ‘We know this must be weird for you. Let me make you a cup of tea and let’s talk about why you’ve avoided your childhood home for more than half a decade!’

She sighed. Why should they dance around her just because she’d been an idiot about something that had happened so long ago?!

‘What was that?’ said her dad, his head reappearing at the doorway, making her jump.

‘Nothing, dad!’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘I was just mumbling to myself about having to get my bag… I erm left it at-’

‘The bookshop! I knew there was something I was meant to tell you!’ he said, slapping his leg. ‘It’s upstairs on your bed. Arrived about five minutes before you did.’

Ruby was just wondering how Caroline had managed to dash to the bookshop, subject Oli to the third degree and deliver her bag in such a short time when her dad wandered off again.

‘Always did like that boy.’

The words drifted back to her, and Ruby felt her spine stiffen.

‘What boy?’ she called after him. ‘WHAT BOY?’

It was no use. Her dad was already getting to work on something with his hammer, and the only answer she got was a series of several loud bangs. Still, it wasn’t like she really needed an answer, was it? Ruby knew precisely what boy!

CHAPTER 11

RUBY

Ruby darted out of the kitchen and took the narrow, slightly crooked stairs two at a time as she made for her childhood bedroom.

She might have been dreading this moment, but she didn’t even pause before flinging the door open. She barely even registered the coating of bookish stickers still present on its once-glossy surface. Right now, the question as to whether Oliver Evans had been up here just minutes ago trumped everything else.

Her eyes flew to the bed. Sure enough, sitting on top of the soft quilt her grandma had sewn for her sixth birthday, was her rucksack.

‘Oh noooo!’ she groaned. Ruby’s insides felt like they’d somehow just melted.

It was a kind, thoughtful thing to do… but she didn’t want Oli to be kind and thoughtful. She didn’t want him to be anything. She definitely didn’t want him to be here in Crumbleton.

Keeping a respectful distance between herself and the bag, Ruby slumped down onto the bed. Then she stiffened as she imagined Oli himself sitting right where she was. Had he been here in her room? Had he brought the bag up himself - or just left it downstairs with her dad?

Ruby sniffed the air as though the answer might be lingering in a waft of manly scent - that mix of old books combined with something deep and woody she’d caught earlier in the bookshop.

‘Pull yourself together!’ she muttered, shooting a glance at her bag out of the corner of her eye, as though not making proper eye contact with it might mean it wasn’t really there.

‘Wait… what?!’

Something white caught her eye. A piece of folded printer paper lay on the quilt just behind her bag. Ruby reached out for it with tentative fingers, half expecting it to bite. Of course - it didn’t, it was just a piece of paper.

Unfolding it slowly, Ruby instantly recognised the tight, loopy scrawl from years ago. Memories flooded back – of nervous knots twisting in her stomach as she prepared to help the most popular boy in the whole school - the star of the sports field - to study for his English literature exams.

Ruby stared at the note, not reading the words but letting her eyes drift down to the signature at the bottom. Oli E. There it was, along with a great big kiss.

‘Oh shit,’ she sighed, folding the paper up again – over and over until it was in a tight little wad. She was more than a little bit tempted to bung it straight in the bin. Instead, she thrust it into her jeans pocket.

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