Page 92 of Save Us
Cyril and Graham face each other in silence, both with tense shoulders and clenched teeth. The mood is so tense that I can’t help holding my breath.
In the end, it’s Cyril who clears his throat. “Mr. Sutton, I…”
More silence.
Beside me, I hear Graham exhale softly. “You can call me Graham, Cyril,” he says.
One second passes, then another. Then Cyril nods.
“OK,” he says. “Graham.”
I step forward to hug Cyril just like I did with the others. He seems so taken by surprise that, for a second, he doesn’t react at all. A few heartbeats later, he raises his arm and puts it aroundme, rests his hand on my back—cautious and tentative, like he’s afraid of scaring me if he presses too hard. I notice how familiar he feels. At this moment, he’s just the boy I’ve known all my life, and who was always there for me when I needed him.
“Everything OK?” he asks, moving away slightly. He stares hard at me, and his eyes are filled with the same uncertainty and turmoil that I’m feeling too.
“Not yet,” I say honestly. Something dark flickers in Cyril’s eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, probably that he can leave if I’d prefer, but I speak first. “But it’s getting there. Definitely.”
After that, I shut the door behind him, and Graham and I lead him to join the others in the garden.
24
Ember
We haven’t even been here an hour yet, but I can say with absolute confidence that I bloody love Ophelia Beaufort. And not just because this baby shower is so cheerful and colorful that you can’t possibly be in a bad mood. More than anything, Lydia’s aunt rocks.
She’s the kind of person who makes you automatically feel at home in their house, even if you’ve never been there before. Within the first fifteen minutes, she’s pressed a mocktail into my hand and chatted to Ruby and me about our ambitions. She even talked about my blog and told me that she’s subscribed to it, that she reads everything I post. So how can I help thinking she’s great?
But my euphoria is dampened when Wren walks into the garden. The others greet him boisterously, but I turn away to get into a conversation with Lin about her mum’s gallery. I just can’t look at him.
I knew today wasn’t going to be easy. It hurts to have lost Wren as a friend, and even though I was determined not to let it show, the stabbing pain in my chest when I first saw him was sofierce that for a moment, I didn’t know how to deal with it, and Lin had to repeat herself twice.
Since then, I’ve been trying to ignore the fact that Wren is here, and not to jump every time I hear him laugh.
I’m glad when Ophelia comes back toward me, takes my hand, and leads me over to a large canvas at the back of the garden.
“Oh, how cute,” I say as I see the picture on it: two little tortoises, each with a huge bunch of balloons in its mouth, being carried up into the sky by them. “Did you paint it?”
Ophelia nods with such pride that I have to smile. “I saw something like it on Pinterest.”
I eye the artist’s palette that’s sitting on a little wooden table next to the canvas, and all the different colors of paint. “What do I do?”
“It’s finger paint,” Ophelia explains. “You use your thumbprint to color in the balloons and the tortoises’ shells. Look, like this.”
Following her instructions, I dunk my thumb in the yellow and then the green paint and press it onto the rough canvas. It’s so sunny that the light reflecting off the white surface is making my eyes water, but judging by Ophelia’s enthusiastic squeals, I’ve done a good job.
“Lovely, Ember! You’re clearly a talented painter,” she says, beaming at me. I’m wondering how she can tell that on the basis of a thumbprint, but it’s nice of her either way.
“Have you had a go?” I ask, looking at the few balloons that have already been painted.
“Yes, this is mine,” she replies.
“Yours is glittery,” I say. “Why is yours glittery? I can’t see any glitter here.”
“Even more evidence of your good taste.” Ophelia grins from ear to ear. “Lydia said not to over-egg the pudding, so I took the glitter away. But if you like, I can go and get it back.”
I shake my head. “No, no, that’s fine. I think the painting is a lovely idea.”
“I feel as though I’ve spent the whole of the last four weeks doing nothing but searching online for baby shower inspiration. In the end, I had to just pick my favorites or the garden would have burst at the seams. And as you might be able to tell…” She gestures expansively with her arm. “Hey, Percy!” she calls suddenly. “Come and put your mark on the canvas!”
