A Quiet Kind of Thunder(58)

The bell rings and I close my notepad, already standing up and reaching for my bag. Across the room, Anthony leans on to the corner of Cassidy’s desk and starts talking in a low voice while she makes a show of ignoring him.

I leave the classroom and head down the hall, pulling out my phone as I go. There’s a message from Rhys telling me to meet him by the school gates, and so I pick up my step. I see him first and take a second to appreciate his figure, leaning against the gatepost, looking at his phone.

I slide my hand through the crook of his elbow and smile when he turns to look at me. Hey, I mouth.

Rhys kisses me and then holds out a small paper bag, a pleased smile on his face. Hi, he says. Happy Friday.

I take the bag and look inside it, already thrilled even if it contains nothing but cotton wool or pencil shavings or thin air. It’s a chocolate cupcake adorned with an obscene amount of green icing. Thank you, I sign, raising myself on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

‘Get a room!’ a boy yells.

I blush, but Rhys is oblivious, signing something to me about girls and cupcakes. I nod as if I’ve understood him, then take a bite.

Do you need to be anywhere? Rhys asks me. Want to go for a walk or something?

I have to go to Mum’s to babysit Bell, I say. But that’s not until five. A walk sounds good. How was your day? We begin walking away from the school.

He shrugs. OK. You?

I mimic the shrug. OK. I was thinking, we should do something together.

Crinkles appear around his eyes as he smiles. Something? Like what?

Something like . . . I think about it. An adventure. We should have an adventure.

He nods. Definitely. I’d love to have an adventure with you. A big one or a small one?

Both! My mind is already alive with impossible ideas. I’m imagining the two of us in a hot air balloon, scaling Everest (note to self: what’s the British Everest?), kayaking down a river.

I could drive us somewhere? he offers. How about somewhere on the coast? Or we could go to Brighton? There’s can get a train direct from Bedford.

Maybe, I hedge. Is that an adventure, though?

It would be if I was with you, he says, and I immediately crack up. His face falls. I mean it!

I know! I try to control myself. I’m sorry. That was just too cheesy to be real.

He gives me a little shove. I was being romantic. Fine, no Brighton.

Think bigger, I say, exaggerating an excited expression. Think a road trip around America. The Northern Lights. The beach in Goa!

He laughs. Skydiving in New Zealand?

Yes! A safari in South Africa. Hitchhiking across Europe! We both come to a stop at the edge of the road, waiting for the traffic lights.

I didn’t know you had these kinds of dreams, Rhys says.

I know he hasn’t meant it in a bad way, but the words make me sad. Do I really seem that small? To Rhys, who by now knows me so much better than most? How must I look to everyone else, if even he thinks this?

Of course I have dreams, I reply. Don’t you? I want the world, I think. Even if it scares me. Doesn’t everyone?

Rhys smiles instead of answering, taking my hand again as we cross the road. I can’t promise lions and tigers and bears, he says when we’ve reached the other side. But I’ll think about it. I’ll find an adventure for us.

‘Rhys and I are thinking of going on holiday,’ I say.

Mum blinks. ‘Really?’

I nod. ‘Any suggestions? Somewhere close, obviously, because we don’t have that much money for travel and stuff. You can get cheap flights to basically anywhere in Europe now, right?’

‘You’re thinking of going abroad?’ she says, her eyes widening. ‘Oh, Stefanie, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ I ask, surprised. I honestly thought she’d be pleased that I was even considering such a big step.

‘The two of you are very young, for a start.’

‘Rhys is eighteen. He’s an adult.’

‘And with your . . . difficulties . . .’

‘Oh, thanks.’

‘It’s probably not a good idea for you to go away without some kind of support.’

‘Support?’ I repeat. Even though this is my mother, and we’re standing in her kitchen with no one else around, I feel embarrassed. Almost ashamed that this is how she sees me.

‘Why don’t you go away with Tem?’ she suggests, brightening.

‘Because I want to go away with Rhys,’ I say, frowning.

‘Tem could go with you,’ she says promptly. ‘And maybe some of Rhys’s friends too.’

‘I don’t need you to organize my social life for me.’

‘You asked me for suggestions.’

‘For locations.’ I try – unsuccessfully – to hide how irritated I am. ‘I meant, like, “Paris or Amsterdam?” kind of thing.’

‘Amsterdam?’ For a second, Mum looks almost panicked. ‘Oh no, Steffi. No, this isn’t a good idea at all. Look, why don’t you wait until the summer holidays? We’re all going to Cornwall for a week. Rhys is welcome to come. If he doesn’t mind staying in a separate room, of course.’

‘Mum,’ I groan. I can’t believe she’s trying to turn my first ever couple holiday into a separate-rooms family trip to a Cornish cottage. Except I can believe it, because it’s Mum.