‘What’s wrong with you?’ asks Ember, and I flinch violently.
I was so lost in thought while stirring that I didn’t notice that she had crept behind me and was looking over my shoulder into the pot of jam.
‘Nothing,’ I say a moment too late.
Dad points at me with an unopened package of preserving sugar. ‘Something is wrong, I agree with your sister.’
I roll my eyes. ‘You’re annoying me, that’s what’s going on.’ I stir with a little too much momentum, and the hot apple jelly splashes onto my hand. Hissing, I breathe in.
‘Immediately under cold water,’ says Mum and takes the spoon from me. She presses it into Ember’s hand and then pushes me to the sink, where she turns on the cold water.
‘Just let me vegetate,’ I grumble.
‘As far as I’m concerned,’ says Dad. ‘Only you’ve been like that since your ominous excursion on Saturday, and I’d like to know why.’
I just grumble. I don’t even have my peace at home.
I’ve never understood why everyone always complains about montage. For me, every Monday symbolizes a new start where the course can be set for a great week. I usually love Mondays. Today, however, everything appeals to me. The people at school, the memory of Saturday, Ember’s curious looks. Even the little splash on my hand that burns like hell. Stupid apple jam.
I would love to lock myself in my room and stubbornly memorize the learning material for the next three months, but my family forced me to help with the canning. I’m sure that the jam is just an excuse to finally get me talking.
‘Why don’t you just tell us what happened?’ Ember confirms my suspicion the next moment.
‘Because you don’t really want to know how I’m doing,’ I reply. ‘You’re only asking me because you want to squeeze me out about Beaufort.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘No?’ I ask provocatively. ‘So you don’t care what it was like there?’
Now she is stepping unsteadily from one leg to the other. ‘Yes, yes. But one does not exclude the other. I can be interested in one of the largest men’s outfitters in England, but at the same time I can also be interested in your well-being. There’s room in my heart for both, sister’s heart.’
‘How cute,’ Dad says, driving past the two of us in his wheelchair to the stove. He takes a fresh spoon and dips it into the simmering jam. Watching him taste it is always fascinating. When I try a dish, I see … normal. With Dad, you can immediately tell that he is a professional. His facial expression changes, as if he were taking apart all the ingredients in his mind and thinking about whether one is still missing and if so, which one it could be.
Just like now. He has tilted his head, and we look at him intently. In the next second, his face lights up, and he rolls back a bit to the small metal cart in which all his spices are stored. He reaches for a cinnamon mixture and adds a few pinches to the cast iron pot. The smell reminds me of Christmas – my favorite holiday.
‘There’s nothing to tell, Ember,’ I reply belatedly, and my sister groans in frustration. ‘You know everything there is to know about Beaufort.’
‘I’d like to see the tailor’s shop too,’ she sighs, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.
‘Wouldn’t that be boring for you? You want to specialize in women’s clothing,’ Dad admits.
The doorbell rings, and we look at each other in surprise.
‘Who else can that be?’ asks Mum and leaves the kitchen in the direction of the hallway.
‘It’s all about the atmosphere, Dad. To see how people work there, with what materials and cuts. It would have been totally interesting anyway.’ Seeing Ember so longing gives me a sting. I can understand that she thinks it’s unfair that I was given the opportunity to visit the headquarters of a great designer just like that – something she probably won’t get the opportunity to do anytime soon. On the other hand, I also think about how the trip ended for me. And I definitely don’t want my sister to ever have to feel as humiliated as I did at that moment.
‘I have an idea. Can’t you ask your friend to give me a tour too?’ asks Ember, and the thought that it’s only half a joke worries me.
‘You can ask him yourself, Ember,’ Mum says suddenly.
I turn to her, frowning. ‘What?’
‘The boy is standing in front of our door,’ she explains, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. ‘You didn’t tell me how handsome he is.’
I stare at her, my protective instinct shoots from zero to a hundred. ‘You didn’t let him in, did you?’
‘Of course not. You can do that – or leave it, if you prefer.’ Mum comes up to me and presses a kiss on my head. I can feel the curious looks of my family on my back as I cross the kitchen and step into the hallway. As if stunned, I go to the front door.
James is standing on the stairs that lead to our house. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in casual clothes. The dark jeans and the white shirt make him look like a normal boy. If I had met him like that on the street, I might not have recognized him at all.
Above his arm hangs a large black protective cover with the logo of the Beauforts. I stare at the curved B for a moment and am suddenly seized by unspeakable anger.
He has no business here. I don’t want him to even come near my family. My life here has nothing to do with my life in Maxton Hall, and I can’t accept that he’s standing in front of me now and just blurring the line I drew years ago – especially not after last Saturday.
The moment I open my mouth to confront him, he takes his eyes off our rose bushes and discovers me in the doorway. An emotion flares up in his eyes that I can’t interpret – I never manage to – and then he goes up a step so that we are on an equal footing. He clears his throat and finally holds out the protective cover to me.
‘I wanted to bring you the dress. Tristan changed it. It should fit perfectly now.’
I make no attempt to take the dress off him. ‘And that’s why you’re coming to my house?’
He takes a deep breath, exhales jerkily and rubs his hand over the back of his head. ‘I also wanted to talk to you about Saturday. I acted like an asshole, and I’m sorry.’
For a moment I can only stare at him.
It’s the first time I’ve heard him say something like that, and I can’t help but wonder how many times he’s apologized in his life. When I think about what he has allowed himself in the last few years alone at school, his moral boundary must usually be much lower than mine.
Now, on the other hand, he really looks like he’s sorry.
‘I don’t understand why you did that,’ I say quietly.
Especially not after he held my hand and we clearly had a moment together. I saw exactly how warm his gaze had become and clearly felt the crackle between us. I didn’t imagine that.
He swallows hard. For a minute he says nothing at all and only looks at me with unfathomable eyes. Then he murmurs so softly that I almost can’t hear his words: ‘I don’t understand myself sometimes, Ruby Bell.’
I open my mouth to reply, but close it again. I feel like he’s being honest with me for the first time, and I don’t want to ruin that by rejecting his apology. So I remain silent. I’ve been silent for so long that it would have been uncomfortable with any other person, but James and I—I think we could look at each other in silence for hours just to try to catch a glimpse behind each other’s walls.
‘Why did you really come here?’ I finally ask.
‘What you said at noon today—’ He hesitates. ‘What if I don’t want to go back to the way I was before?’
I let out a soundless laugh. ‘You threw me out. And before that, you embarrassed me in front of your parents. You pretended that I wasn’t good enough to get to know her.’
He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t mean it that way.’
I see that he is barely noticeably bobbing back and forth on his feet. It almost seems as if he is nervous. ‘I had fun on Saturday. Until… my parents have come.’ He clears his throat. ‘I think it would be a shame if we suddenly pretended not to know each other. You are no longer invisible to me. And I don’t want to pretend either.’
Although the bitter aftertaste of Saturday is still there, his words make something in me contract in tingling excitement. ‘I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do now, James,’ I say quietly.
‘I don’t expect anything. I just don’t want it to be like before. Can’t we just … ?’
Speechless, I look at him.
He doesn’t mean it seriously, it shoots through my head. He can’t be serious. I’m not stupid. I know James can’t stand me – even though we really had a good time together last Saturday. I’m the reason he was banned from lacrosse, and I know one of his sister’s biggest secrets, so I’m a risk to him and his family. Guaranteed he just wants to keep an eye on me.
‘If that’s any of your tricks again …’, I start skeptically, but James interrupts me.
‘No,’ he says and steps up the last step of the stairs.
I must not attach any importance to his words, I know that very well. I can’t assess it – I doubt anyone can. And yet, at that moment, there is something in his gaze, something honest and regretful, that takes my breath away for a second.
How did that happen? How did we go from not knowing and bribing and hating to this point in just one month?
The door opens behind me. ‘Ruby? Are you okay?’
I stiffen. In front of me stands James Beaufort with a hundred and fifty year old dress over his arm and a look that makes my knees weaken. Behind me is my sister, with whom I fought over Dad’s jam just a few minutes ago. My two worlds collide with full force, and I feel cold and hot at the same time. I don’t know how to react, so I just nod at Ember with a forced smile and try to tell her to disappear without words. She looks back and forth between me and James, curious and skeptical at the same time, but then she actually pulls back and leans against the door.
Only then can I turn back to James. I need two breaths to collect myself. Then I remember that I still owe him an answer. ‘I don’t know,’ I say honestly.
James nods slowly. ‘Okay. I actually only came here to apologize for Saturday.’
‘Only for Saturday?’
Now he smiles boldly. ‘I’m certainly not going to apologize for giving you a lap dance.’
I don’t know if I can accept his apology when he says something like that.
I don’t know if he’s serious or if he just wants to smooth the waters so that I don’t tell anyone about Lydia. Still, it would make my life easier if I didn’t have to get upset about him all the time. Or maybe even talk to him about school stuff from time to time. I noticed on Saturday that he is not only quick-witted, but also intelligent. It was fun to talk to him. And then there was this something that triggered a tingling sensation in me and made me curious for more.
I know it’s unreasonable and I shouldn’t trust him an inch. But the longer I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t really want to go back to the before.
I look him straight in the eye so that he understands how serious I am when I say, ‘I won’t put up with you like that a second time.’
‘Understood,’ he replies quietly and finally holds out the dress to me.
At that moment it starts to rain. Not strong, but still in such a way that I get scared for the dress despite the protective cover. I quickly take it from James and bring it to safety in our cloakroom.
When I come back, countless drops of water have already collected in James’ hair, which are now making their way down his face. He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand and then runs his hand through his hair without taking his eyes off me. My manners say that I should invite him in before he gets soaked in the rain, but I just can’t. It doesn’t feel right. I can’t introduce him to my parents and my sister. Maybe I will never be able to do that.
‘I accept your apology,’ I say finally.
His eyes light up. It’s the first time I’ve seen such an expression on his face.
So we stand in the rain, he on the stairs of my family house, I in the doorway, not ready to invite him in.
But it is a start.
