Page 129 of Summer After Summer

“Or …”

“Yes?”

He smiles. “Have you been to Bath?”

“Like the town?”

“Definitely the town.”

“No, never.”

“Will you go with me?”

I look at my plate. “I’d have to ask Matt.”

“Ask Matt?”

“I mean tell. I have a big tournament coming up in a couple of weeks.”

“I heard. But one day? Will it make a difference?”

“It could. Why Bath?”

“Because I think you’d like it.”

I take another few bites, considering. A day. A whole day with nothing but Fred in it. That sounds great. “Didn’t Jane Austen hate Bath?”

“Did she?”

“‘All the white glare of Bath’ … that’s from something.”

He points his fork at me. “I’m going to say something crazy, I know, but maybe she was wrong?”

“Maybe. Hmm. I think her mother died while she was in school there? Or wait, no, that’s one of the characters in Persuasion …”

“So, is that a yes on Bath or …?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

So we go to Bath, and it’s not what I’m expecting. For some reason, based on movies and books, I had the impression that Bath was flat. But instead, it’s built into a mountain, the golden Bath stone that most of the buildings are made of gleaming against the green hills.

It’s not like any place I’ve been in England, and I find it overwhelming in a good way. We visit the Roman baths and walk along the River Avon and climb the hilly streets, passing names I’ve only ever read about. I feel like a kid in literary Disneyland, and Fred laughs at me and holds my hand, and we swing our arms between us, feeling young and free.

When we get hungry, we go for tea at the Pump Room—a beautiful neoclassical room with a domed ceiling with its famous spa water fountain. I get the pink champagne tea, and Fred is more reasonable, with a beef sandwich.

“You sure you can eat all of that?” Fred asks, eyeing the three tiers of sandwiches and scones and cream and desserts.

“I haven’t been allowed to eat this much in years.”

“Allowed?”

“I follow a strict diet. I mean, super strict. These last two days … I’m going to pay for it when I come back down to earth tomorrow.”

Fred’s mouth twists. “Is tomorrow the day you come back down to earth?”

“Probably.” I lift a cream-filled cake off the top tier. “But for now, I’m going to enjoy every minute of this.” I shove it in my mouth, uncouth and uncaring, and oh my god, it’s delicious, so rich and sweet my teeth hurt.

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