I nod.
‘Oh, I almost forgot. I got you a birthday present.’ He fumbles in his pockets and hands me a little rectangle of folded blue tissue paper. ‘Sorry it’s late.’
‘Thanks.’ I unravel the layers and lift a silver necklace from the wrapping. Two charms dangle at the end of a delicate chain – a tiny ‘L’ and a miniature set of headphones.
I’m so touched, I don’t know what to say.
‘If you don’t like it, I can change it,’ he says.
‘No, I love it. Thank you.’
‘Well, bye.’ He pumps the door handle.
I turn the lock and open the door for him. ‘Bye.’
He jogs down the drive and gives a wave before disappearing behind the tree. The Beatland chat has fourteen unread messages. The first is from the most popular girl in Year 11.
Ella:Liv! You HAVE to come. You can share my tent. We’ll be roomies!
I feel like pinching myself. Today has been the best day of my entire life.
In bed later, I call Chloe. I tell her about working atAmplifyover the summer, about visiting Will Bailey’s house, and about the letters from the mysterious Milly. I don’t mention Nathan; I don’t know why, but the thought of talking to her about him makes me cringe. At first, it was because I didn’t want to jinx it, but now we’ve been to each other’s houses and kissed, it’s weird not to say anything. I keep going to tell her, then chickening out. I don’t bring up Beatland either – it probably won’t happen.
It’s gone midnight when we hang up and I’m drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzes.
Chloe:There’s one way to find out for sure if your mum is Milly.
Me:How?
Chloe:If there are letters to Will from Milly, then there must be letters to Milly from Will. I bet if you look for them at your mum’s, you’ll find them.
Chapter 23
December 1995
Christmas Day
Things had changed a lot in a year. Will sat in the back seat behind Aidan so he could steal looks at Emily – that was the same. She was singing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ at the top of her voice, looking back at him and laughing as he harmonised in a comically deep voice as he had the year before. But this year, Reu was with them, cracking them up with his mock falsetto.
Will thought back to that first day of busking. As they got to the chorus of ‘Stand by Me’, Reu burst into song. Will looked down wide-eyed at Reu sitting on his mum’s orange bucket, slapping the side of it, and singing his heart out. And what a voice – he sounded like a young Stevie Wonder. Since then, Reu had been singing backing vocals.
Reu was still as skinny as ever, despite his mum’s best efforts, but he looked happier now. And, between himself and Reu, was Izzy. She was wearing a Santa hat, the furry white bobble kept hitting him in the face as she bopped her head around to the music.
She had invited herself. They had been seeing each other on and off for almost a year now. He didn’t get her present until the day before yesterday because they’d been in an ‘off’ period, but they’d got back together a week ago. He’d stayed at her place last night and they’d exchanged gifts in her bedthis morning. She gave him the jumper he was wearing. It felt soft and expensive, and it brought out the colour of his eyes. She gave him a scarf and a wallet too. He felt bad when she opened the discounted bottle of perfume he hadn’t even bothered to smell, but she seemed delighted. She slipped her arms around him, and with her mouth close to his ear, she whispered: ‘I love you’.
He wasn’t expecting that.
He didn’t know what to say.
So, without breaking her embrace, and being sure to avoid eye contact, he lay her back on the bed and distracted her with a line of kisses that began at her throat and inched lower. It did the trick. She didn’t mention what she’d said again, or his lack of response.
And here she was beside him in the car, singing.
He’d dodged a bullet there.
This year, Izzy and Reu were the guests of honour. Reu acted like he’d never had a Christmas dinner before, hoovering everything up, even the Brussels sprouts. After dinner, when Uncle Brian asked for volunteers to take the dog for a walk, Izzy put herself and Will forward. Reu was too full to move from the sofa, and the dark, wet afternoon meant they couldn’t persuade anyone to join them.
They borrowed a huge golf umbrella and stepped out into the drizzle. Izzy linked her arm through his, and the dog steered them up the lane.