Page 16 of Play On

I love that Bella asked me to do something with her. Especially something so important that is part of her work for the royal family. Even if my family thinks I’m a flake, she obviously does not.

And if I’m being truthful, I miss having good girlfriends in my life. The texts and meetups with my old friends from St. Andrews have waned with time. I’m hopeful that Amelia and I will become friends, but I know that is driven because of Nicholas.

Bella is asking me because ofme. We hit it off at Christian and Clementine’s wedding reception in April and chat all the time. I haven’t had any time to tell her about Noah—and before, I planned for that to be a fun conversation about how much I liked him and what I should wear for our date.

I swallow as the hard part comes to the forefront. I need to have another conversation about Noah, and it isn’t going to be gushing about him and asking her what she knows about him.

This one is going to hurt.

I ignore how my insides are knotted up and respond:

I would love to help you out—it sounds like fun! I could be in London on Wednesday, just need to sort out my schedule in the gift shop. I’m sure I could get someone to cover for me. As far as Noah goes—I cancelled our date. I don’t think we suit romantically and thought it would be best to be friends.

I hit send.

I stare down at my phone for a few seconds, wondering if Bella is going to text me back or if she’s off doing something else.

Bella is typing …

My queasiness grows. She loves Noah, I know at least that much. I dread reading what she has to say. Soon, her reply drops in:

Oh, Violet, why? I thought you two really suited each other! Is there anything you want to ask me about him? I can tell you Noah is an AMAZING guy. He’s shy, so the fact that he was talking to you so much means he REALLY likes you. And once you get to know him, he’s not so shy, if that’s something you’re worried about. The fact that Noah opened up to you straightaway tells me what an impression you made on him.

Tears sting my eyes.But he doesn’t know the real me,Bella,I think painfully. Noah likes fun-loving, butterfly-like Violet. He doesn’t understand that will wear off once he knows the truth.

Bella is typing …

But I don’t want to be pushy—if he’s not the guy for you, he’s not. I just observed you two this weekend and I think everyone noticed the spark between you. I’d hate to see you not explore it if you have any doubts at all.

My heart sinks as I read her words.

Bella is typing …

That’s all I’m going to say, I promise, Violet. I’m so excited you’re going to come to London next week. The children are in year one, and I’ll text you the book I’m reading so you can start getting ideas. Let me know the supplies and I can make sure we have them ready to go. Would you like to have dinner next Wednesday night? Then I can go over all the details with you.

I text Bella back that this all sounds wonderful, and I’ll text her as soon as I get into town.

I sit on the edge of my bed, not moving, both her and Nicholas’s words swirling in my head.

Understood.

Noah’s one-word reply to my text ricochets through my heart, and I quickly gather my things, knowing there’s no coming back from what I’ve done. I try to ignore the tears stinging in my eyes and the sharp pain in my chest as I see his text in my head.

It’s for the best,I tell myself.I did the right thing.

I head back downstairs, my mind firmly on the library. I’m not going to butterfly this project. I’m going to see it from start to finish, then categorise my lists of books and provide a complete documentation of what we have at Wintersmith Hall.

I walk back into the library and set everything up, and now this task seems daunting as I study all the volumes—knowing there are books behind these books. I sit down in a chair and carefully create a Google doc on my laptop. Then I grab the rolling ladder, move it down to the far edge of the first bookcase, and climb to the top. I retrieve four classics, handling them carefully, and the first hodgepodge of books are revealed. Oooh, interesting! I carry my load of classics down, setting them on the table next to my laptop, and eagerly climb back up so I can inspect what’s been hidden for who knows how long on this shelf.

First book up?Swingin’ Cocktails.

I burst out laughing and run my fingers over the pink spine with the words written in a sixties-style font. So, were my ancestors swingers? Cocktail lovers? Both? I pull out the book, and flip it open, and to my shock, there’s a name and a date scrawled on the first page:

Emily Banfield, 16 May 1962

This must be the date she got the book. How cool that she recorded it! I wonder if this was an Emily thing or a Banfield thing. My parents haven’t mentioned it, but then again, neither of them are avid readers.

I put the book back and look at the next one. It’s a field guide to English birds. I pull that out, flip it open, and sure enough, there’s another name and a signature:

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