Page 79 of Save Us
She grins. “Maybe.”
I open my mouth, but before I can speak, she points the knife at me. “Forget it. I’m not saying a word. Not a single word.”
“That’s not fair. You never manage to keep a secret from Dad.”
“That’s down to my skill in asking the right questions and worming things out of her,” Dad says, throwing a handful of red pepper into the pan.
“You realize how gross that sounds?” I ask, pulling a face.
A thoughtful crease forms between his brows. “You’re right,” he says. “Very funny.” Then, like nothing ever happened, he stirs the peppers around with a spoon.
I feel James come up behind me and stroke my back, ever so gently. It’s always like that when my parents are around—little, secret gestures and touches. Nothing more.
“Can I have even the teeniest-weeniest hint?” I ask with a smile.
James leans down until his mouth is level with my ear. “I’d like to make one of your wishes come true, Ruby Bell.”
A tingle spreads from my stomach through my entire body.
“Then I’d better go and pack,” I croak.
20
Ruby
For the first half hour, I have no idea where we’re going. But after a while, we pass a sign with the distances to various big towns, and something clicks.
“No!” I exclaim.
“No, what?” James replies.
“Are we…are we going to Oxford?”
The question is superfluous, really—his smile is answer enough.
I don’t quite know what to do with myself, but I’m so thrilled that I thump him hard on the shoulder. “Oh wow, that’s amazing! So, where exactly are we headed?” I ask. “Are we visiting the college? St. Hilda’s? There’s no upcoming event, because I’d have seen it on their newsletter or their Insta. Unless I missed something. Is there an open day or something?”
James grins. “You’ll have to wait a bit before you can see the schedule.” Then he rubs his shoulder. “And that hurt.”
“I couldn’t help it. That was my excitement making itself felt.”
He smiles and shakes his head.
After another hour’s drive, I realize that we’re no longer heading directly to Oxford, but James only shrugs when I make an inquiring sound. We drive around a roundabout, and then two more, and after a while, he turns off somewhere I don’t recognize. As we head down the country lanes, I give up trying to guess where he’s taking me.
Not any of the colleges, that much is certain.
We stay on the B-road for another half hour, then James turns right into a smaller one, and then an even narrower lane. If a car comes toward us now, we’ll have to back up or climb the bank into the field of rapeseed to our left. I glance sidelong at him, but he seems totally chill.
And he’s smiling happily too, I notice.
“You love tormenting me like this,” I say.
“Maybe a bit,” he admits, that slight smile still on his lips. “But if it makes you feel any better, we should be there in about ten minutes.”
The lane leads us to Brightwell-cum-Sotwell, a picturesque Oxfordshire village. We pass postcard-worthy thatched cottages and farms with sheep and donkeys in the fields. Then James turns onto a dirt road, and a few minutes later, a tiny cottage appears in the distance. There’s a conservatory with mint-green window frames, and the driveway is lined with small trees and shrubs, all in full blossom, making the place appear as much like something out of a fairy tale as the rest of the village.
“Are we staying in the cottage?” I ask, my eyes fixed on the lovely view.
