On Saturday morning, I wake up at six o’clock – and without an alarm clock. That’s how it always is when it’s my birthday. I sleep restlessly with anticipation of what Mum and Dad have come up with for me. Mum works in a bakery and always brings home the most delicious cakes in the world on these days, while Dad cooks a feast for us and decorates the entire downstairs with Ember’s or my help. Already at seven I can hear them pottering downstairs and imagine what they are probably preparing right now. After all, you only turn eighteen once.
I listen to myself to see if I feel different, but that’s not the case. Lin felt the same way last August. At least that’s what she said when we lay next to each other in the grass after her barbecue party and looked at stars.
I turn on my side and reach for my phone. Jessa has already written me a lovely text message, and Lin has left me a voice message shortly after half past two. Then she sings softly and then wishes me all the best. At the end, she emphasizes how sure she is that we will both be accepted in Oxford and that she can hardly wait.
Then I get dressed, sit down at my desk and leaf through my calendar as a distraction. Today in a week is the Halloween party. It seems to me that I have been busy for an eternity with nothing else than preparing this celebration. On Friday morning, the finished posters came out of the print shop, and we used the meeting to distribute them at school. My worries were unjustified. Nobody said anything about James’ and my photo to me or teased me about it. On the contrary, the reactions were consistently positive, and Rector Lexington wrote to me in an email that the invitation was also highly praised by the external guests for its design.
I haven’t gotten used to the fact that everyone in Maxton Hall knows my name by now. It’s strange to be greeted or offered a place to sit in the cafeteria. But I try not to let it show that it makes me feel insecure, and instead behave as usual – as if I don’t care about all the attention. After all, that’s what James does. He acts as if he was not interested in anything. But I now also know that this is not true.
As if by itself, my thoughts wander to the moment last Monday. I’m going to change that. How resolutely he sounded and how insistently he looked at me. As if there had been nothing more important for him in life at that moment than to convince me that he was serious.
I shake myself to get the thoughts of James out of my head. But when my gaze clears again, I flinch.
James
I wrote his name in my calendar. And I didn’t even notice it! My cheeks get hot, and immediately I reach for the extinguishing fluid in my pencil case. I start, but pause above the first letter. Slowly I put the small tube aside again and run my fingers gently over his name instead. My fingertips tingle. Not a good sign. I’ve been wondering for days what it’s all about. After all, he is still … he. But I can’t deny that anything has changed. For a long time now, I have not been filled with anger and mistrust as soon as I see him, but with something else. Something warm and exciting.
And I have to smile. Because I am happy to see him. Because I enjoy his company. Because he is quick-witted and intelligent and I find him interesting. Because it’s like a riddle that I really want to solve.
I never thought this would be possible, but… I no longer detest James Beaufort. Rather the opposite is the case.
Suddenly my room door opens, and Ember comes in. Caught shut, I slam my bullet journal.
Ember looks at me skeptically at first, then she looks at my planner as if she knows exactly that there is something terribly embarrassing in there. The next moment, however, she jumps up to me, grinning, and grabs my hand to pull me up from the chair. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t made an attempt to calm down yet,’ she says. She continues to tug at my arm, even though it’s really not necessary. I come along extremely voluntarily.
We leave my room, and I wrap my arm around her waist to hold her tightly against me. ‘You have to fulfill all my wishes today.’
Although I am happy, I notice that there is also a sad feeling at this moment. It is my last birthday that I will spend here, with my family and Ember. Who knows where I’ll be next year. Really in Oxford? With Lin by my side? Or all alone? And what if I am not taken after all – where will I be then?
Ember prevents me from thinking any further, because the moment we turn right into the living room, she says: ‘Here’s the birthday girl!’
I gasp loudly.
‘Surprise!’ my family shouts.
I slap my hand in front of my mouth and feel my eyes start to burn. I don’t cry often, and if at all, it’s when I’m alone in my room and no one can see me. But at the sight of my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, my cousin and my parents starting to sing Happy Birthday, it’s impossible for me to keep my composure.
The room is beautifully decorated, Dad and Ember have outdone themselves this year. White and mint green pompoms hang from the ceiling, a garland in the same colors is stretched across the dining table, and at the back of the living room table on which my gifts lie, two shimmering metallic mint green balloons float, which together make up my age.
The next half hour passes as if in a frenzy. Everyone congratulates me, hugs me, asks how I feel, and finally gives me their gifts. From Uncle Tom, Aunt Trudy and Max I get the anthology of My Hero Academia, a manga series I’ve had my eye on for months, from Ember new pens and pretty stickers for my planner and from my grandparents two textbooks that are on the Oxford reading list. My parents give me an external hard drive for my laptop, which I have been wanting since my laptop gave up the ghost for no apparent reason at the beginning of the year and pretty much all my files have been lost.
‘Who is that from?’ I ask, pointing to a large package that is still on the table.
‘From a secret admirer,’ Mum replies, shaking her eyebrows. Skeptically, I look back and forth between her and Dad. He just shrugs his shoulders.
‘It came in the mail,’ Ember explains.
‘No sender?’ I ask, eyeing the black box and the blue ribbon skeptically.
‘I don’t think that’s necessary, since we all know who it’s from,’ Ember interjects.
‘Oh my God, don’t say you have a boyfriend,’ my cousin Max shouts, looking at me with wide eyes.
Ember says ‘yes’ at the same moment as I shout ‘no’.
‘Open it,’ Trudy demands, peeking over my shoulder. She reaches forward with one hand and pretends to want to put on the bow. Just like that, I can push the package out of her reach. I lift it up and sit down on the sofa with it.
Slowly I loosen the loop. I feel terribly watched and give my family a look to stop staring at me like that. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help. The room is as quiet as a mouse. Sighing, I lift the lid.
There is a bag in the box. With bated breath, I lift her out and place her on my lap. It is made of dark brown waxed leather, has an adjustable shoulder strap and two small front pockets under a flap with buckles. Carefully I open it. The inner lining of the bag is made of blue-green checkered fabric, and the division of the compartments seems perfect to me at first glance. There is a separate compartment for a laptop, several small ones on the side that can be closed with zippers, and a main compartment with a narrower separated area in the middle.
With this bag I could take over the world, I’m quite sure. Carefully I close it and stroke the expensive leather. I notice something that I didn’t notice at first glance. On the lower right corner of the flap are three letters. R. J. B. – my initials.
My breath is taken away. I feel like I’m in a dream, and the oohs and ahs of my family barely get through to me. I look into the box, and on the floor, which is lined with black tissue paper, I discover a card. It is creamy white and has a narrow golden edge. In black letters it says:
Happy Birthday, Ruby. – J.
Nothing more. Nevertheless, a lot of feelings explode in my stomach area, sending a tingle through my entire body. I don’t know how to react, I can only stare at the bag until suddenly numbers and pound signs dance in front of my eyes. This is for sure the most expensive gift I’ve ever received. But I don’t really want to worry about that.
And I don’t want to think about what it means that James thought of me and gave me such a gift. Did he see that my backpack would fall apart at any moment? Did he know that I had been saving money 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 spin.
‘The boy has style, that’s for sure,’ Trudy sighs.
‘And money,’ Max adds helpfully.
‘I don’t think he paid money for it if his parents own the company that made the bag,’ Ember points out.
‘Guys!’ interrupts Mum and points to the dining table where she has prepared a sumptuous breakfast. ‘Leave Ruby alone and sit down.’ She comes to me, takes the bag from my lap, carefully puts it back in the box and then reaches for my hand to pull me up. She wraps an arm around my shoulder and hugs me. ‘It’s not proper to talk about a gift like that. The young man has thought about it, and that is a wonderful gesture for which we should be grateful.’ She taps her finger against my nose. ‘Now go blow out your candles.’
Together we go to the table. For ten years, there has been only one wish that I mention in my mind when I blow out my birthday candles. Oxford. But this year, another word pushes to the surface, and I have to pause for a moment and concentrate.
‘On your eighteenth birthday, you can wish for two things,’ Dad says gently. I didn’t notice that he rolled next to me, but now he strokes my back briefly. Obviously, my inner struggle played out on my face.
‘That’s right,’ says Mum. ‘That’s birthday law.’
My cheeks warm, and I avert my gaze from them. I refuse to analyze why James’ name was the first thing I thought of. Or why I take my parents at their word when I close my eyes and blow hard.
It will be one of the most beautiful birthdays we have ever celebrated. After our brunch we go for a walk and take a new family photo in the park in Gormsey, for which we need almost ten attempts, because someone else always has their eyes closed. In the afternoon, Lin arrives, and we play board games and pantomime together with my family, but in the end Lin and I only narrowly win against Max and Aunt Trudy. In the evening, Dad serves up a three-course menu with my and Ember’s help, some of which he has already prepared the day before. We sit together around the dining table for a long time, and I’m surprised at how seamlessly Lin fits into our group. She doesn’t seem to mind that she doesn’t understand some family insiders. Instead, she asks my mum countless questions about her work in the bakery and talks to my dad for a long time about his spinal cord injury. As it turns out, Lin’s uncle is also in a wheelchair – information that is completely new to me. I admire how unbiased she approaches the topic and doesn’t let Dad’s disability unsettle her.
After everyone has left, I’m full of food and so satisfied that I could actually sleep right away. But when I put on my pajamas, my gaze falls on the black cardboard box on my desk. I stand up and stand in front of it. Hesitantly, I lift the lid and take out the bag. I open the two front closures with a soft click. I carefully take my school supplies, which I need for Monday, out of my desk drawer and start to stow them little by little in the compartments of the leather bag. It takes me several attempts until I am satisfied with my order. In contrast to my backpack, in which I always had to fit everything in a single compartment, this is heaven on earth. There are even small pen holders in the front that I put the pens I use most often for my bullet journal.
I don’t know if James knows what a joy he gave me with this gift. But now that I look at the bag that was put away, I realize that there is no way I can return it. I lean forward and reach into my left front pocket to get out my cell phone, which I put there as a test. I hesitate for a second, then I call James’ number and dial her. I lift the receiver to my ear and wait for the dial tone. The doorbell rings. And rings the bell. I’m just about to hang up when he picks up.
‘Ruby Bell.’ He almost sounds as if he was expecting my call.
‘James Beaufort.’ If he pronounces my full name, I can do the same. In contrast to the past, where I spat it out like a swear word, the letters now feel completely different on my tongue.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, although I can hardly understand him. In the background I hear music that gradually becomes quieter. I wonder where he is and what he is doing.
‘I’m doing great. I just packed my new bag,’ I reply, running my finger over the edge of the middle compartment. The seam feels even.
‘Do you like it?’ he asks, and I wish I knew what he looks like at that moment. What he’s wearing. In my head, he’s wearing the school uniform because I’ve rarely seen him in anything else, but I’m straining to conjure up the image of James in black jeans and a white shirt. On this day on our doorstep, he looked like a normal boy. Not like the heir to a billion-dollar company. Human. Tangible.
‘She’s beautiful. You know that wouldn’t have been necessary, right?’ I finally manage to say. I close the bag and then sit down on my desk chair, both feet crossed on the desk.
‘I wanted to give you something. And for someone who loves order as much as you do, the James is a good choice, I thought.’
‘The James?’
‘That’s the name of the model.’
‘You’re giving me a bag that you named after yourself?’
‘It wasn’t me who called her that, it was my mother. There is also a Lydia. And those who have names like my parents. But Lydia is too small for you, and Mortimer is too big. Besides, I found it amusing to see you running around school with James.’
I have to grin. ‘Are you giving Beaufort things to all your friends?’ I ask.
He is silent for a moment, and I only hear the music playing softly in the background. ‘No,’ he finally answers.
He doesn’t say more.
I don’t know what that means. I just don’t know what this is between us, let alone what I would wish for. All I know is that I’m incredibly happy to hear his voice.
‘If you own the company, you’ll have to name a bag after me at some point,’ I say, trying to break the silence.
‘Shall I tell you a secret, Ruby?’ His voice is very hoarse and hoarse. I wonder who he is with at the moment. And whether he left someone standing to talk to me on the phone.
‘You can tell me anything you want,’ I whisper.
There is a small pause in which I can only hear his footsteps. It sounds as if he is walking on gravel. Then the crunching sound disappears, and the music can no longer be heard at all.
‘I… doesn’t want to take over the company at all.’
If he were here, I would stare at him in disbelief. So I have no choice but to press my mobile phone tighter to my ear.
‘If I’m to be honest, I don’t want to go to Oxford either,’ he continues.
My heart is beating so hard that I can hear it pounding in my ears. ‘Then what do you want?’
He breathes in with a laugh. ‘It’s the first time in a while that anyone has asked me that.’
‘But it’s such an important question.’
‘And I don’t know what to answer to that.’ He is silent for a moment. ‘It was always predestined for me, you know? No matter that Lydia Beaufort would much rather take over and could do it much better. She lives for our company, but it will still be me who my father will bring into the management next year. I’ve known that all my life, and I accept it. But it’s not what I want.’ Another pause, then: ‘Unfortunately, I will never get the opportunity to even find out what it is. I don’t plan my life myself, it’s been planned for a long time: Maxton Hall, Oxford and the company. That’s all there is for me.’
I grip my phone tighter, press it to my ear, hold James as close to me as possible. What he just said is probably the most honest thing I’ve ever heard from him. I can’t believe he confided this to me. That he lets me keep this secret for him.
‘My parents always told me that the world was open to me. That it doesn’t matter where I come from and where I want to go. Mum and Dad always said that I can do whatever I want and there is no idea that is too big. I think every person deserves a world full of possibilities.’
He makes a low, desperate sound. ‘Some days …’ he begins, then pauses, as if he doesn’t know if he’s already revealed too much. But then he continues to speak, summons up the courage for even more honesty. ‘Some days I feel like I can’t breathe properly because everything is crushing me so much.’
‘Oh, James,’ I whisper. My heart aches for him. I would never have thought that the pressure is so great for him and the obligations to his family weigh so heavily on him. It has always seemed to me that he enjoys the power that his last name gives him. But little by little, the pieces of the puzzle are now coming together in my head: his tension every time it comes to Oxford, his stoic expression when his parents showed up in London, how his eyes darken every time the company is mentioned.
Suddenly I understand it. I understand why he behaved like this at the beginning of the school year. What it’s all about his childish pranks and the ‘I don’t care about anything’ attitude.
‘This school year … is the last thing you don’t have to take responsibility for,’ I murmur.
‘It’s my last chance to be free,’ he agrees quietly.
I would love to contradict him, but I can’t. Nor can I suggest a solution to his problem – there simply isn’t one. If you have to accept such an inheritance, it is not enough to sit down at a table with your parents and discuss the whole thing again. Also, I’m sure he’s already considered all possible options. And if I judge James correctly, he will do what his parents ask him to do anyway. He would never abandon his family.
‘I wish I were with you now.’ The words leave my mouth before I can think about their meaning.
‘What would you do if you were with me?’ he replies. All of a sudden, his voice has taken on a different undertone. Now he no longer sounds desperate, but rather … badinaging. As if he was hoping for an indecent answer from me.
‘I would take you in my arms.’ Not very indecent, but at least from the heart.
‘I think I’d like that.’
We’ve never really hugged each other, and if he were standing in front of me, I wouldn’t have dared to say something like that to him. But like this, with his dark voice in my ear and without having to look into his eyes, nothing suddenly seems impossible to me anymore. I feel brave and sad and nervous and happy – all at once.
‘Did you have a nice birthday?’ asks James after a while.
‘Yes,’ I answer and start telling him about my day, what gifts I got and that I won with Lin at pantomime in the evening. James laughs in all the right places, obviously relieved at the change of subject. Then we talk about all sorts of things: his weekend so far (lame), the upcoming work in English (challenging but doable), our favorite singers and bands (mine: Iron & Wine, his: Death Cab for Cutie) and favorite movies (mine: The Guardians of Light, his: The Amazing Life of Walter Mitty). I learn so many new things about him. For example, that he has a weakness for blogs, just like Ember. He tells me about a travel blog he recently discovered on which he actually only wanted to read an article – in the end, he missed a session in his parents’ office because he was immersed in the entries about the author’s trip around the world for several hours and didn’t notice how time passed. And I feel exactly like him now. Before I know it, it’s three o’clock in the morning, and I’m lying wide awake in my bed, James’s voice still in my ear. I stare at the folded lacrosse sweater lying on my bedside table.
And I only think of James.
