Happy Birthday, Ruby! J
That’s all. But it’s enough for an explosion of feelings in my belly to set my entire body tingling. I don’t know how to react, canonly stare at the bag until zeros and pound signs start dancing in front of my eyes. This is undoubtedly the most expensive gift I’ve ever been given. But I don’t want to think about that.
And I don’t want to wonder what it means that James was thinking of me enough to give me this kind of a present. Did he notice that my backpack was about to fall apart at the seams? Did he know that I’ve been saving up for months to buy a new bag for next year? Did he feel sorry for me?
I don’t know, and thinking about it makes my head swim.
“The boy has style, that’s for sure,” sighs Trudy.
“And money,” Max adds helpfully.
“I don’t think it’ll have cost him anything, seeing that his parents own the company that made the bag,” Ember suggests.
“Everyone!” Mum interrupts them, pointing to the lavish breakfast laid out on the table. “Leave Ruby in peace and sit down.” She comes over to me, lifts the bag from my lap, puts it carefully back in the box, and takes my hand to pull me up. She puts an arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “It’s not nice to talk about a present like that. The young man has put a lot of thought into it, and it’s a wonderful gesture that we should be thankful for.” She taps her finger against my nose. “Now go and blow out your candles.”
We head to the table together. Every time I’ve blown out my birthday candles in the last ten years, I’ve made the same wish.Oxford.But this year, another name pops up in my head, and I have to stop for a moment and concentrate.
“You get to wish for two things on your eighteenth,” says Dad gently. I hadn’t noticed him wheeling over to my side, but now he strokes my back softly. Evidently, my inner struggle was visible on my face.
“That’s true,” says Mum. “It’s the birthday law.”
My cheeks flush, and I turn away from them. I refuse to analyze why James’s name was the first thing I thought of. Or why I take my parents at their words as I shut my eyes and blow hard.
It’s the nicest birthday party we’ve ever had. After our brunch, we go out for a walk and take a new family photo in Gormsey Park, although it’s only on the tenth shot that nobody has their eyes shut. Lin comes over in the afternoon, and we play board games and charades, which Lin and I narrowly win over Max and Aunt Trudy. In the evening, Ember and I help Dad to serve up a three-course dinner, a lot of which he made in advance yesterday. We sit around the table until late, and it surprises me how effortlessly Lin fits into our family circle. She doesn’t seem to mind not getting the odd in-joke, she asks Mum loads of questions about her work at the bakery, and has a long conversation with Dad about his injury. It turns out that Lin has an uncle who uses a wheelchair too, which was total news to me. I admire how naturally she talks about the subject and the way she isn’t fazed by Dad’s disability.
By the time everyone leaves, I’m so full and content that I could drop off to sleep right away. But once I’m in my pajamas, I catch sight of the black cardboard box on my desk. I get up and walk over to it. Hesitantly, I lift the lid and pull out the satchel. I open the two catches with a soft click. Carefully, I take the things I need for school on Monday and begin to pack them, one by one, into the pockets. It takes me a few attempts to be satisfied with my arrangement. This is heaven on earth compared to my old bag, where everything had to go in together. There are even little pen loops at the front, which I fill with the colors I use most often in my bullet journal.
I don’t know whether James could guess how thrilled I am with this gift. But now that I look at the bag filled up like this, I realize that there’s no way I could give it back. I bend down and reach into the left-hand front pocket for my phone, which I slipped in there experimentally. I hesitate only a second, then find and dial James’s number. I hold the handset to my ear and wait for it to ring. It rings. And rings. I’m about to hang up when he answers.
“Ruby Bell.” It almost sounds as though he was expecting me to call.
“James Beaufort.” If he’s going to say my full name, well, two can play at that game. Once upon a time, the syllables sounded like swear words as I spat them from my mouth, but now they feel different on my tongue. Better.
“How’s it going?” he asks, although I can hardly hear him. There’s music in the background, getting gradually quieter. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing.
“It’s going great. I’ve just packed up my new bag,” I reply, running my fingers over the seam of the middle pocket. The stitching feels perfectly even.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and I wish I knew what he looks like right now. What he’s wearing. In my head, he’s in uniform because I’ve rarely seen him wear anything else, but I try to conjure up the image of James in black jeans and a white shirt. Standing on our doorstep that day, he looked like a perfectly ordinary guy. Not the heir to a company worth billions. More human. Tangible.
“It’s beautiful. You know you didn’t have to do that, don’t you?” I add after a while. I close the bag and sit on my chair, feet up on the desk, ankles crossed.
“I wanted to give you something. And I thought the James would be a good choice for a person as organized as you.”
“The James?”
“That’s what the bag’s called.”
“You gave me a bag named after you?”
“I didn’t choose the name, that was Mum. There’s a Lydia too. And others named after my parents. But the Lydia would be too small for you, and the Mortimer’s too big. Besides, I thought it would be funny to see you around school with the James.”
I can’t help grinning. “Do you give all your friends Beaufort stuff?” I ask.
He goes quiet for a bit, and all I can hear is the music playing quietly in the background. “No,” he answers in the end.
That’s all he says.
I don’t know what that means. I just don’t know what this is between us, let alone what I want it to be. All I know is that it makes me really happy to hear his voice.