Page 88 of Sad Girl Hours
As we keep looking through, the well ofsomethingin my chest floods upwards. I don’t know how I’m feeling.
On the one hand, these past few days have been some of the happiest of my entire life. But, on the other, these photos remind me of how lovely it is here and how soon it’s going to come to an end. I can’t exactly come back here every holiday, every summer break. And, after uni, if I don’t get a job or go on to further study straight away – what then?
This has been a lovely interlude, but it is only an interlude. Real life is still waiting.
Nell scrolls past a photo of Owen and Naomi welly-deep in the pond, trying to get the small bucket they’d put feed in back from Jemima the duck. Nell cracking up so hard she’s basically doubled over, Xander and Eric arm in arm by the pond side, looking slightly stressed but mostly amused.
They’re a family. A proper one. And, as much as I wish I could be part of it forever, I know I’m just an interloper. One of the many strays that they’ve brought home.
Oh. I think I’ve realised what it is.
I’m homesick.
Not for my supposed ‘home’ but for a whole childhood that I never got to have.
“I’m sleepy,” Nell says, putting her phone away and snuggling down. “I’m normally much too excited to sleep, but I think I may actually get –” she grabs her phone again and checks the time – “five hours at least before Naomi comes in screaming that Santa’s been. Warning for that, by the way.”
“I consider myself warned.” I’m practically lying down now next to Nell, having gathered close for our slideshow. “Hopefully I’ll be able to sleep before then too.”
“You not feeling tired yet?” Nell asks.
“Not really. I’ve never been able to sleep well before big events. I’m not sure why.”
“Excitement.” Nell nods.
Not quite, I think.
“But all right, if you’re not ready to sleep yet, I have a plan.”
“Always a dangerous sentence coming from your mouth.”
“Oh, there’s nothing dangerous about this apart from the risk of having TOO much fun. Be right back.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, bemused, as she darts out of the room, returning with a pile of about ten blankets.
“What…”
“It’s blanket-fort time, bitch. One of the last few things we have to check off.”
When I’m watching her stand precariously on her desk chair, straining to reach the beam to pin a blanket up there, I have to bite my tongue to comment on her false claim about a lack of danger.
“Come here,” I say. “Let me.”
Fifteen minutes later and the area around Nell’s bed looks like the inside of a very higgledy-piggledy tent.
“And the finishing touches…” Nell turns on the fairy lights and the fort is filled with tiny twinkling stars. “Ta-da! What do you think? Is this a nicer place to fall asleep in or what?”
“It’s lovely. Although technically the fort is only round your bed and not the air bed,” I point out.
“Ah. Good point.” She pauses. “Do you think it would be nice to fall asleep in here, though?”
“It’d be lovely, yes, but there’s no way I’m letting you take the air bed instead of me.”
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse. An ‘only one fort situation’ if you will. But,” she says ponderingly, “you know, we could…”
“We could…”
“We couldbothsleep up here. There’s plenty of room for two.”
