I haven't posted anything for a long while, so I thought I'd chuck this short story up. Churned it out a few months ago. It's fairly long; about twenty A4 pages typed. Set in the 1950s or so. I felt like writing something with a good ol' fashioned plot, lots of love, friends, carnivals, old cars, flowery skirts, beaches and small towns, simplicity. Again, it's not great, but it was enjoyable :) I'd be delighted if you had a read.

Shine

This is a simple story. It has only a few main characters, the first of which is a girl by the name of Kate Lancaster. Kate lived in a wooden, salt-sprayed bungalow in the bay-side town of Talook. It was that heady, perfume-drenched time of year that can only be called late spring, when the air is thick with pollen and the heat of summer crusts the edge of each breeze. Out here in Talook, perched on the brink of the mainland, on the border between land and sea, there were two kinds of winds: a hot, earthy waft, or the cool, salty ocean gusts.

If you went into the Lancaster’s backyard, and walked across the sparse, prickly grass, you would come to a large brown rock that stuck out over the water. It was on this rock that Kate liked to sit, usually when she was perusing the Personals section of the Talook Bugle, and let the breezes drift over her until goosebumps pocked her skin and the cold chased her indoors. She liked the crisp feel of the sea-breezes best, but sometimes when she went inside she realised that it had been the earthy draughts that had been keeping her warm all along.

-

Christopher thought that they were on the brink of a new age. Times were changing, he would say, and they, being the children of the next generation, were being swept up in this maelstrom of Technology and untraditional ideals and bohemian thought. The war was well and truly over. People wanted life to be easy again. They wrote songs about God and romance and gay love. You could get famous within half a year and be on radio shows across the country. Even in Talook, almost every house had a microwave and a television. Sometimes it was OK to kill your babies if they weren’t born, and to share a home with whomever you pleased, and if you and your wife weren’t doing so well, you could always try again with someone new.

Christopher had a lot of opinions, positive and negative, about the state of things, and he liked to put them to music. He would get Kate to help him with the lyrics, because she had a refreshing way with words, and sometimes he made her strum his guitar while he sang and tried out various tunes.

The other half of the time, though, they couldn’t give a rat’s arse about the state of the world. They were more interested in cycling down the coast to see their Edgewater friends, or driving around in Christopher’s new, very sexy car, or burying themselves in the sand, or music—just music, no politics.

It was, in actual fact, at a concert that Kate and Christopher first met. It had not been so long ago, although it felt like a lifetime and a half. Shine came to play a gig in Talook, and it was the event of the season. Kate had been fourteen or fifteen, at most, and awfully excited about her first time in the mosh pit.

Terrible timing had dictated that the concert be held in the crackling heat of summer, and two hours into the show, the audience was drenched in sweat. Kate, faint and happy, could hardly hear the music any more. She wiped her forehead on the sleeve of her blouse and told her school friends that she would go and fetch drinks for them.

Kate wrestled her way out of the crowd, battling an entourage of overexcited fans and a very sweaty, obese gentleman. It was a relief to escape from the stifling atmosphere of the pit and breathe several glorious gasps of crisp, untainted air. She paused for a minute to catch her breath, and then, straightening her blue cotton skirt and her opalescent earrings, she hurried towards the food vendors.

A couple of drunk men had draped themselves over the plastic tables on the grass, their heads lolling onto their hairy chests, their stomachs lolling over their waistbands. They made audibly lewd comments about the girls that walked past. Kate wrapped her arms around herself and ignored them.

Kate gave the vendor forty cents, and he handed her four bottles of cola. She took a long, thirsty draught from one bottle and smacked her lips. Ah, refreshing.

The band struck up a new song, one of her favourites. She pushed her way back into the audience. Elbows came at her from all directions, and the fans swayed enthusiastically to the ballad. She struggled not to drop her bottles. Good heavens, it was sweltering. Kate could feel the heat pressing into every pore of her skin, oozing into her flesh. Perspiration was already pooling on her forehead.

And then—a sudden commotion. She thought she heard a yelp or two, and then the crowd shuffled, and backed away, and then regrouped around the cause of the disturbance.

Curious, Kate edged forward to see what had happened.

Her first ludicrous thought was that he had fallen out of the sky. A boy, lying flat on his back in the middle of the Shine concert, arms and legs spreadeagled like he had been in the middle of flight.

The onlookers did not know what to do.

“He just—dropped!”

“Gawd. Is he breathing? Where the hell is first aid?”

“Poor lad. He looks really young.”

Kate took a good look at the ‘poor lad’. Someone was shaking him by the shoulders, telling him to wake up, and presently his eyes fluttered open, like a child coming awake. There was youth in his cheeks, the cheeks of a boy just rolled out of bed and still rosy with slumber. His eyes were fixed on the sky. They were bright with dreams. He had hazy blonde curls. He could have fallen out of an Italian painting.

They helped him up, and Kate took a step back to give him some space.

“Are you all right, boy?” asked one.

“Yeah,” he said, slowly. “All right.”

“Do you want us to take you to first aid?”

“No, no.” He hesitated. “I’d like a drink.”

“Lass, can you give the kid one of your colas?”

Kate realised they were talking to her. “Yes, of course.” She fumbled to uncap a bottle for him. He drank three-quarters of it in one shot and dragged the sleeve of his shirt across his mouth. She waited until he finished the entire cola, and then offered him a second.

“Thank you,” he said, gratefully, and continued to drink.

“Do you need anything else?” asked Kate.

He rubbed his brow. “I think I should sit down somewhere.”

“There’s grass just outside the pit. Here, follow me.” Kate led the way out of the crowd, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was keeping close on her heels. He was. He had almost finished the second bottle.

Out of the crowd, they sat on the crumbly ground and the boy drank all four bottles of cola. Kate asked, “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I think I fainted. I must have. It was boiling hot, and I was deathly thirsty, and then my vision sort of tunnelled and the music went all muffled and then I was on the ground.”

“You should’ve come out to get a drink.”

“Music was too good.”

Kate laughed.

The boy looked at the empty glass bottles. “Hey, thanks. I’ll pay you back for these.”

“Nah, ‘s’ok. ‘S’only forty cents.” Nearly half her weekly allowance.

“Nah, I mean it. Where do you live? I’ll pay you back.”

She told him.

“Here in Talook?” He was surprised. “Why haven’t I seen you around before? What’s your name?”

“It’s a big town. I’m Kate Lancaster.”

“Christopher McAvoy. Do you know me? Do you go to Midwest High?”

So many questions. She felt dizzy. “No, I’m at Camden’s. That must be why. Do you go to Midwest?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad, but I heard Camden’s is great, lots of sports and activities. I have a few friends there, actually, and they like it. Do you like it there?”

He was unexpectedly friendly. The boys at her school were too scared to talk like this. She was surprised by his natural openness. “Yeah, it’s decent. They let us swim at the beach Mondays and Thursdays. And they teach us sailing and stuff. Who do you know from Camden’s?”

“Oh, not many people. A few neighbours, a few acquaintances. Joseph Courcy? Faye Williams?”

“You know Faye? She’s a friend of mine. She’s here today, did you know?”

“Here? No, I didn’t know. I didn’t pick her as a Shine fan.” He grinned. “But then, you don’t look much like a Shine fan either, with your flowery skirt and your golden-brown plaits…”

Kate squinted at him. “If you’re trying to compliment me you’re doing a terrible job.”

Christopher laughed. “I’ll try harder when I see you again.”

-

The following week he came to her front door and paid her a dollar (he insisted that he didn’t want any change), and the week after that they went boating in the shallows with Faye and a couple of other friends. Over the months, common interest and a fondness for conversation threw them together more often than not, until their lives began to intersect. He taught her guitar, and she taught him how to sail properly. They swapped English and physics homework. When Christopher’s aunt passed away, he asked Kate to come with him to the funeral in Edgewater. And when Kate was sixteen and was kissed by Joseph Courcy after the school disco, the first person she told was Christopher (he advised her to give it a week’s mulling over before she decided whether or not to go out with Joseph. She did, and said no). She helped him pay for the deposit on his first car—a ghastly percentage of her earnings. He once drove her two hundred kilometres north for a university interview when her parents were too busy arguing about the cost of buying a microwave.

Kate couldn’t remember the exact day that Christopher told her he had asked Faye Williams out, and Faye had said yes. But Kate remembered how intensely worried she had felt: “Will it change anything between us?”

Christopher was appalled. “Heck, no.”

And he was true to his word. Christopher and Faye began to date, but Christopher and Kate remained the same. And Kate felt pleasantly content, and thought that this was probably precisely the way things were meant to unfold.

Only a few weekends ago they had been down at the beach on the first decently sunny afternoon since winter. They had lugged the Lancasters’ old gas grill onto the sand and loaded it with a cylinder of methylated spirits, and Kate and Christopher were tossing greasy pork sausages onto the barbecue whilst belting out Queen lyrics. Faye and Joseph watched them from a picnic blanket, where they were bravely defying the lingering cold and trying to sunbake.

Joseph observed as the two sausage chefs began to do the twist. He said to Faye, “Don’t you ever feel a tad jealous, Faye, especially when they’re almost fornicating in front of you?”

“Heck, Joseph. They’re not even touching. And you know as well as I do; that’s Christopher and Kate. They’ve always been like that. They were close a long time before Tophy and I went out. A girl knows that when you get Christopher, you get a little bit of Kate as well.”

“And I guess it works the other way around, too,” mused Joseph. “If you go out with Kate, you get a little bit of old McAvoy.”

“Joseph, darling,” drawled Faye. “You and Kate never dated.”

“That’s beside the point. Are you telling me, Williams, that you’re not even the slightest bit green with envy?”

Faye took her red-framed sunglasses off and shook out her chestnut hair. She had porcelain skin, but the shapely legs that peeked out beneath her dress were surprisingly tan. “No, of course not,” she answered. “It means that Christopher won’t care if I do something like this.” And she leaned over and pecked Joseph, almost on the corner of his mouth.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Joseph growled into Faye’s mischievous smile. “You know I’m a horny beast.”

“All men are.”

“You can’t talk, you big flirt. Did you see yourself before you were tied down to McAvoy?”

“Gawd, you’re such a brute, Joseph! Don’t exaggerate.” Faye pouted. “I was a demure, well-behaved young lass. Almost as well-behaved as dear Kate. Is it true that she didn’t open her mouth once when you kissed her?”

“And who did you hear that from, oh prudent Faye?”

“David Bonny.”

“Right. Because David was standing there when it happened, was he?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“For your information, Kate was a damn good kisser. And I’m sure Christopher knows that, too.”

Faye throttled him.

-

Christopher called the following day. “Let’s drive to Point Marte.”

Kate said, “I have a paper due tomorrow.”

“So do I. Let’s drive to Point Marte.”

“No.”

“I’ll pick you up outside your house.”

“No.”

“We’ll be back by nine.”

“…no.”

“By sunset?”

“Oh, damn you.”

“Great, I’ll see you in ten minutes!”

-

Christopher’s car had been a real find. A station wagon with the rear seats removed, so he could load bicycles into the back. Only eighty thousand kilometres. The buyer hadn’t even asked for the full payment in one go, only in monthly deposits.

Christopher now stood outside this wonderful car, which they had painted a daring crimson, with his arms folded smugly across his chest. He was a tall fellow, taller than Joseph and most men that Kate knew, and only slowly gaining the fleshiness and meatiness that comes with age. He looked fair and easy in an old white shirt tucked into casual slacks. A leather satchel hung from his right shoulder: his bag of songs.

Kate had put on a purple cotton dress and swept her hair into a bun. She brought a woollen cardigan in case it grew cold later—currently it was more than comfortably tepid.

Christopher drove the car to Point Marte, a familiar route, and they reached the leafy coastal spot within half an hour. Here a narrow dirt track led away from the road, into the trees on the edge of the land. A scrambling path took the visitor down over damp, lichen-covered rocks to a seawater pool warmed by the sun and the surrounding earth.

They stood on an outcrop and kicked off their shoes and jumped into the pool, pin-dropping and bomb-diving and scrambling out to try again.

Christopher perched on the edge of the boulder. He shouted down to Kate: “Did you know Point Marte is a play on words? Marte, martyr. Makes you feel like you’re leaping for a cause.”

Kate frog-kicked and floated in a circle. “Now you’re just making things up, you fool—trying to sound all knowledgeable, as usual.”

Christopher grinned and did a running leap, his arms thrown out in ecstasy. Kate was swallowed in his splash.

“Hell, we haven’t done this for a long time,” sighed Christopher, when he surfaced, and shook water out of his hair.

Kate tipped her body backwards and floated, a foot or so under the water, only her face above the surface. She looked at her limbs, which were fuzzy and golden-brown in the distorted light. She thought she looked like a golden-furred bear.

“Show me your new song,” said Kate.

They climbed out of the water and sat on a sunny rock to dry off, and Christopher fetched his guitar and satchel, and they wrote and strummed for a while, until they hit a block.

Oh, angel boy, where’ve you gone

Wandering around like Earth is your playground

And the demons are your friends.

Oh, angel girl, don’t slip on your high dreams

And come back to heaven once in a while;

Come back to heaven once in a while.

“I like it,” said Kate, thoughtfully.

“Of course, since you helped to write half of it.”

“I like the half that I wrote.”

“So did Faye.”

“You’ve showed Faye?”

“Of course. She’s quite musical.”

“I know.”

“She’s my girlfriend, Kitty.”

“I know! I didn’t say anything, Christopher! Gosh, you’re an over-analytical, oversensitive devil of a man.”

“And you, my dear Kate Lancaster, are a dreamy-eyed romantic who spends her evenings reading the Personals section of the Bugle and thinks that no man, not even the polite, educated young gentlemen at university, are wonderful enough for her.”

“That’s hardly true! Not the whole evening. Twenty minutes at most.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And how dare you fault me for having high standards! Would you rather me run around with my skirts up like Faye before she went out with you?”

“Tongue wagging, and you haven’t even had a drink! Come on. Let’s get back. I said I’d get you home by sunset.”

Laughing, Kate followed him back to the car. She sang to herself, “Oh, angel girl…”

He chimed in, “Don’t slip on your high dreams, and come back to heaven—oh, ouch! Shit.”

“What happened?”

Kate ran forward. There was a large piece of glass sticking out of the sole of Christopher’s foot. She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, fuck! Ouch! Oh, gawd, ouch!”

“Calm down,” Christopher said, suddenly very pale. He reached for the glass shard.

“Don’t pull it out!” screeched Kate. “It’s stemming the blood flow. Get in the car; I’ll drive you home to your dad and he can stitch it up.”

Christopher obeyed. Kate threw everything into the back of the station wagon and hightailed back to Talook, her mouth set in a determined grimace. Every few minutes she asked, “How is it?”

And Christopher answered variously, “It burns like a whip with a thousand hot metal hooks,” or, “It smarts like the sting of a grotesquely enormous wasp,” and so on.

“It seems to be making you more poetic,” said Kate, dryly. “Next time you hit writer’s block, I know exactly what to do.”

“Shove a piece of glass into my foot?” winced Christopher.

“No,” smiled Kate. “Care about you.”

-

Christopher’s father was a doctor. He sat his son down on the living room couch, yanked the glass out and splashed it with disinfectant. Christopher howled. Dr. McAvoy began to stitch.

Mrs. McAvoy noticed that Kate had grown rather shaky and subdued, and she wisely asked Kate if she could please do them a favour and drive to the deli and buy a couple of steaks. “Christopher normally does it, but I don’t think he’ll be in a fit state to drive tonight. You can take his car. And, of course, it goes unsaid that you’re entirely welcome to stay for dinner with us.”

Kate drove slowly into town, letting the blue-tinted lights of dusk drift over her, soothingly. Her honey-coloured hair was still somewhat damp, and she loosened it from its bun with one hand. She parked in front of the deli and bought the steaks with money that Mrs. McAvoy had given her, and then turned the car back toward Christopher’s house.

The roads were suddenly congested. She edged the car along with the tedious flow, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Oh, angel boy…

She hadn’t considered any eligible young gentleman from university, honestly, because she compared each and every one of them to Christopher. And so far none had matched up. She would be lying if she said that she had never considered going out with Christopher. Of course the idea had crossed her mind—an idea, a thought, an impossibility. She couldn’t truthfully imagine it happening. It was not like that between them, and it wouldn’t change, and she did not want it to change.

That did not stop her from admiring him intensely, in an unspoken way. And she knew that he admired her, too.

“Has he ever kissed you?” Eloise Finley asked Kate, privately, once.

“No, never.”

“You’re lying! You can tell me.”

“No, we’ve never kissed. I promise.” She was proud of that.

Eloise half-squealed in disappointment. “I always thought…you two are so close, and I know you’re just friends, but he’s a hormonal young man, and you’re quite pretty when you dress up…”

“It’s not like that,” said Kate.

An angry horn startled Kate out of her reverie. She released the brakes and let the car roll forward several metres. Now she could see the cause of the jam. An electrical failure had cut out the traffic lights, leaving a main intersection in the lurch. The police had arrived on the scene and were directing traffic by hand. She sighed, impatiently, and ran a hand through her hair. It was tangled and almost completely dry. She was cold, now, in only her thin dress. She twisted in the seat and scrabbled to reach her woollen cardigan.

HONK!

What an angry driver! Kate glared into the rear view mirror, and twisted back to face the steering wheel, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on her bare arms and neck.

She moved the car into the intersection. There was a policeman in dark blue, holding his palm out toward her. She braked and halted in front of him. Unexpectedly, he took of his hat to peer into her car, before returning to directing the traffic.

Kate had an excellent view of him, since he had his hat off, and he was standing immediately in front of her car bonnet. He was young, early twenties at most, with dark hair and very straight eyebrows. His jaw was not exceptionally strong, but his chin sat forward, and he had a firm nose and well-defined, manly mouth. And suddenly Kate found that she was staring for much longer than she should have. And then she wondered how long she had been sitting in the middle of this intersection, and whether she was ever going to get home.

The policeman’s Adam’s apple moved up and down as he shouted something, and a second officer came jogging over, presumably to replace him. And he looked into Kate’s car again, and then walked to her window, and tapped on it.

She wound it down, heart racing. “Have I done something wrong, officer?”

“I need you to pull over at the side of the road, please, ma’am.”

Kate nodded, curtly, and started manoeuvring the car out of traffic. Shit. Did she have her license on her? She couldn’t remember if she had put it into her purse.

She stopped the car at the kerb, and the officer asked to see her license. She dug through her purse, muttering a prayer. Ah, thank heavens. “Here you go, sir. Have I done something wrong, sir?”

He seemed to be resisting a smile. Instead of answering, he examined her license and said, “This isn’t your car, is it? Can I see the registration?”

Kate opened the glove compartment. “Here it is, sir.”

“Christopher McAvoy,” the officer read aloud. “I highly doubt that you are Christopher. A boyfriend?”

Now, Kate had to raise her eyebrows. “Ah…is this a routine question?”

“I’m not trying to interrogate you,” he smiled. “Answering is voluntary. I haven’t pulled my gun on you.”

“No, he’s a close friend. This is his car. I just came out to buy steak for him and his family, because he got a piece of glass in his foot, and I’ve got to get dinner back to the McAvoys, and get home and finish a thesis that is due tomorrow. Why have you pulled me over, officer?”

“Honestly? The answer is a little embarrassing.” He put his hat on, pulled it off, and scratched his dark head. He smiled. “My name is Nathaniel Whitman. I live in Talook, and I’d like to take you to dinner.”

Kate was incredulous. “You pulled me over to ask me out?”

“I was afraid I’d not be able to find you again.”

“Good heavens!” Kate burst out laughing. “This, I believe, is a moment to remember.”

His smile was wide and genuine. “Well? What do you say? It might not be the best start, finding one another in the middle of the street…”

“Yes, of course,” said Kate, still reeling, and smiled back. Her knees were shaking. She hoped he could not see them under the dashboard. “Yes, I’d like to go to dinner with you.”

“This Friday, then. Do you know where Pescotti’s is?”

-

“He stopped you in the middle of a congested intersection to ask you on a date?” Faye screeched when they went cycling the following weekend. “Gawd, Kate, the boy must have been falling head over heels at the sight of you! That is so lovely! Don’t you think that’s romantic, Tophy?”

Kate and Christopher exchanged a knowing look and a smile.

“What did you say his name was again?” asked Joseph. “Nathan?”

“Nathaniel Whitman,” said Kate, savouring the sound of it. “He’s training to become a police-man.”

“Nathaniel Whitman,” muttered Joseph, and cycled harder, like he was fervently committing the name to memory.

Christopher veered around Faye and drifted up at Kate’s right elbow. “So, tell everyone else how your first date was.”

“Oh, yes, do tell!” cried Faye. “Did you fuck?”

Christopher and Joseph groaned.

“No, Faye, we did not,” said Kate, mischievously. “We’re not like you and Christopher.”

Joseph hooted in appreciation. Christopher and Faye were less delighted.

“Anyway, we have to meet this Nathaniel,” demanded Faye. “You must ask him to spend time with us some day, soon. Invite him to come boating. I’m dying to see the young man who has finally won our dear Kate’s affections.”

“All of us are,” said Christopher. “I’m sure it’s no mean feat. Speaking of feet, mine are killing me. Mind if we stop here for lunch?”

They were close to the Talook swamps. It wasn’t a particularly scenic location, but they made do, leaving their bicycles in a ditch and finding a soft, dry patch of grass amongst a bower of vines. The boys swung back and forth whilst the girls laid out a lunch of apples and meatloaf sandwiches and chocolate muffins. Kate uncorked a bottle of sweet sherry and they sank into the drink.

“Lie down, big fellow.” Faye pushed Christopher onto the blanket and tugged his shoe off. “Let me have a look at that foot. It’s not infected, is it? Pooh!”

“No, but it hurts a mighty deal!” Christopher grinned and wriggled his toes. “Kiss it better?”

“Eurgh, no! I’ll kiss you better.” And she did, running her hands lovingly through his curly hair. It was a sweet image, a girl in a polka-dot dress leaning over an angel-faced boy, with the sunlight swaying between the wind-tossed leaves like running water, to fall in dappled patchwork onto their skin.

-

Kate was surprised at how quickly she and Nathaniel grew close. He was well-spoken, in a quiet, confident way, and he had a way of making women feel beautiful around him. She saw it in the way the waitresses spoke to him when they went out to dinner, and in the way girls glanced away from their boyfriends when they went to the drive-through pictures.

He was tall and dark-eyed. She liked the way his collarbones sat beneath the lapel of his uniform. She liked the way he moved to open doors for her as though he didn’t even need to think about it, as though it was something he simply did, by instinct. He had seemed a gentleman from the first date, and Kate was delighted to find that he really was one, and more. He liked to talk: not in the unrestrained, frank way that Christopher did, but if Kate asked him a question, he would give an eloquent, heartfelt answer—and then request her opinion.

He was, in no mean words, a real catch.

The others took to him quickly enough. They went boating, and Nathaniel fell into easy conversation with Faye and Joseph. He only spoke about himself when asked specifically, and even when he did so he had a casual, self-deprecating manner that was intensely charming.

After they had dragged the boats back onto the sand and tied them up, they kicked off their wet shoes and started a fire with driftwood, and Nathaniel brought out a bottle of port wine. The conversation flowed more thickly and stories were exchanged.

“Well, I believe you deserve a heartfelt congratulation, Whitman,” said Christopher, toasting his glass. “To you and dear Kate. May your relationship be long, loving and heated!”

“Hear, hear!” laughed Faye and Joseph, clinking their glasses.

Kate shook her head, smiling. “Mack, stop it.”

“What did she call you?” grinned Nathaniel. “Mack? I haven’t heard that one before.”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Faye, pretending to roll her eyes. She slapped Nathaniel’s thigh lightly with one hand. “Kate and Christopher and their cutesy endearments, I mean. It’s sickening, but tolerable. It comes with the package, you know?”

“I see,” said Nathaniel, winking at Kate. “What if I don’t want the whole package?” The question was not for Faye.

“What do you want, then?” challenged Kate.

“I want just part of it,” said Nathaniel, surely. It was like there was no one else on the beach. Kate couldn’t even feel the snarling heat of the campfire anymore. “I think I want this part.” He grabbed her ankle. “And, oh, maybe this part too.” He grabbed her wrists. “And yes, I definitely want this part.” He reached for her earlobe, but Kate laughed uproariously and twisted away, and scrambled across the sand like a little imp, kicking up dust.

When the others left he walked her home, two wanderers ambling along the edge of the tide, following its movements up and down the shore, up and down. Nathaniel caught her hands and kissed them, and Kate could smell the salt on his body and the memory of today’s sailing.

“There’s a carnival coming to town,” mumbled Nathaniel, softly. “They’ll be in Talook for a week. It’ll be grand. Will you go with me?”

“Of course. I love carnivals.”

“Good, I guessed you would. I had a great time today, by the way. I’m glad you let me meet your friends. They’re a hoot to be around.”

“I know,” smiled Kate. “You were great, too. I…” She hesitated, and looked up, and saw that his eyes were earnest. “I think very highly of you, Nathaniel. I’ve very much enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, and I’m so proud of your unaffected humbleness and friendliness.”

“Good Lord! That was unexpected. You do have a nice bone in your body. Thank you, even though most of that was highly undeserved.” And he pulled her towards him.

-

Nathaniel and Joseph ran into each other outside the local cafeteria once. They had a quick coffee and a smoke together, and they talked.

“Have they ever had anything between them?” asked Nathaniel. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just, you know, a guy’s got to be a little wary.”

“Kate and Christopher, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Have they ever kissed, you’re asking?’

“Well, yeah. Anything.”

Joseph took a long drag of his cigarette. “Kate thinks that they haven’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Another drag. “Shit, I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this. But then, you’re her boyfriend. Oh, fuck it. OK. You listening? It’s got something to do with a carnival…”

-

Kate Lancaster was sitting on her backyard rock with a grey-and-red checked blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The whipping wind turned her skin pink where it was exposed to the elements: the crests of her cheekbones, the knuckles of her fists. Her flyaway hair was a candy-spun cloud around her head. She noticed that it was very cold today, and she huddled deeper into her nest of flannel.

From here Kate had a decent view into Talook: she could see the glittering lights of the Ferris wheel, glowing brighter and brighter in the descending sunlight, and the patchwork roofs of the carnival tents, and a sea of colourful flags fluttering in the breeze. If she let the wind fill her ears, she thought she could almost hear children on the merry-go-rounds screaming in delight.

Someone grabbed her shoulders and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. Kate squealed and fell backwards.

“You’re not dressed,” accused Nathaniel, pulling the blanket away from her body to reveal that she was wearing only a cotton nightie and a woollen cardigan. “Have you been in these clothes all day?”

Kate sprawled on the prickly grass and gazed at his countenance, upside down, everything reversed and enlarged in her confused vision. She smiled dazedly up at him. “So what if I have? Are you going to arrest me for it, officer?”

“I will if you don’t do something about it. Have you forgotten that I’m taking you to the carnival tonight?”

“Of course not. I love carnivals.”

“I know you do; you’ve said that twice now. So why are you not dressed?”

“What if I want to wear this to the carnival? Will you refuse to be seen with me in such a state?”

Instead of replying, Nathaniel grabbed her, slinging one arm under her shoulders, the other in the crook of her knees, and tried to lift her off the ground.

Kate shrieked, and dissolved into laughter.

“Let’s go, then!” urged Nathaniel, grinning, puffing. “The others are waiting! Quick, Kate, quick!”

“Put me down, you imbecile! I’m going to get dressed.”

She ran inside the house.

-

By the time they got to the carnival, it was deep dusk and the sky was a rich, hedonistic shade of purple. There were no stars, only a big moon like a leering yellow eye. The air was thick and warm, carrying to them the scents of fairy floss and popcorn, and animals and sweat and hay. Crowds of people milled through the half-dark, tramping excitedly between various stalls of entertainment. A jaunty tune played over a haphazardly-wired speaker system; it clashed with the loud music of the live band on the flood-lit stage.

Christopher, Faye, Joseph and another girl named Lucy, with whom they were faintly acquainted and was, presumably, Joseph’s lucky date, were waiting in front of the hot dog vendor’s booth. Joseph had put on a nice pair of slacks, a pressed shirt and a bow tie. Lucy wore a flouncing red dress, and had her hair in curls. Faye had brushed out her gleaming chestnut locks, and chosen a dark-blue rayon dress that reflected light off all her curves. Christopher was not as dressed up as Joseph, but had gone to a mild degree of effort: he wore navy trousers, and a checked shirt, and had tried to tame his hair somewhat—it looked less curly than usual. They all looked lovely, and Kate told them so.

“You’re in a dreamy mood tonight,” laughed Faye, hugging her warmly in greeting.

“Yes, you’re usually never so nice,” put in Christopher, mischievously.

Lucy kissed Kate on the cheek, and Joseph ruffled her hair. They each shook hands with Nathaniel, in turn. Lucy seemed daunted by the darkly handsome policeman.

They spent the first hour or so buying food—hot dogs, of course, with mustard, and warm corn-on-the-cob basted in butter, and freshly popped popcorn, and sticky caramel popsicles, and bags of fairy floss. They ran around the carnival until they found a patch of grassy sand, closer to the waterfront, and, laughing, sank down to eat.

Once they grew bored of the sugar-and-salt delights, they raced back to the carnival and tried their luck at pin-the-tail and darts. All the boys won prizes. Christopher won a badge and pinned it on Faye’s dress. Nathaniel won a ribbon and tied it in Kate’s hair.

And then they bought tickets for the merry-go-round and strapped themselves into harnesses attached to long ropes, flew in wild circles for a good ten minutes, laughing and shrieking and flailing around, trying to catch one another but never quite managing to keep another in one’s grasp.

They went on the bumper cars—two to a car, which turned into a violent competition between the three boys, with the girls cowering in the passenger seats and shouting at them to calm down. But they were having too much fun.

Much later in the night, they stood in front of the rollercoaster and gazed up at its dips and turns. Kate slipped her hand into Nathaniel’s, and felt that it was clammy.

She laughed, and said teasingly, “Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

“A policeman, afraid of the rollercoaster?”

“I’m not nervous about the rollercoaster,” said Nathaniel, cryptically, and glanced away over his shoulder, but Kate could not fathom what he was looking at.

Lucy and Joseph didn’t want to go on it. Christopher did. He begged Faye.

“No!” She was stubborn. “I hate things that go upside down. Take Kate; you guys went on it last time, and you loved it.”

Christopher said, “Kate?”

Kate smiled, and tugged her hand out of Nathaniel’s.

The booth sold tickets for thirty cents each. Christopher paid for her share. They threw their caramel popsicles into a rubbish bin and climbed into a little orange carriage with a single metal seat, and two safety belts. The conductor fastened them in, and lowered the roof over the carriage.

“Hang on tight,” the conductor smiled, and disappeared to help another couple into the next carriage.

“I think he meant I should hang on to you,” smiled Christopher, gripping Kate’s arm.

“You big sleaze-pot,” said Kate, and tiredly she touched the side of her head to his shoulder. The carriage was tiny, and Christopher was suddenly so present. She had spent so much time with him over the years, but rarely were they this close, physically. She had an irrational impulse to move herself against him and bury her face in the crook of his neck—she imagined that it would be startlingly, beautifully warm. But she didn’t, because it was a stupid urge and honestly, Nathaniel, whom she adored, was standing fifteen feet away.

The rollercoaster moved.

They trundled, haltingly at first, along the rails, and then began to gain height.

“Oh, my,” gasped Kate, gazing out as the carnival began to shrink below them.

“This is my favourite ride,” said Christopher, laughing and breathless.

“You’ve only ever taken it once before,” said Kate. “Last time the carnival came to town.”

“With you, unfortunately,” teased Christopher.

Kate turned her head to glare at him, but she couldn’t muster enough vehemence. She swallowed. He was so simply there. He took up so much space. He sat all along the right side of her body. Christopher. She had a sudden, uneasy remembrance; a feeling of déjà vu.

The ground disappeared beneath them.

They dropped; both Kate and Christopher screamed; their stomachs rose into their throats, and their bones rattled and the carriage rattled and everything threatened to come apart as the world tumbled around them. The bottom seemed to be coming up far too soon, and then, suddenly, it was there, and everything was calm again.

Laughter; relieved laughter from the carriages around.

They went up again, and plunged down again, and then they did the loop-de-loop, and Kate screamed blue murder, and Christopher was yelling his last will and testament to the winds, and when they came down they were bumping against one another, with tears and laughter awash. Kate thought she had a bruise on her head.

“The carriage roof came down and knocked me, right here,” she said, mournfully, rubbing the sore spot.

Christopher looked at her and lowered his head and put his mouth and nose against the spot she had touched. He stayed there, smelling her hair, as the carriage trundled slowly towards the end of the ride.

Kate did not move.

She had shivers running down her spine; hot threads of electricity sparking from the spot where his lips pressed her scalp, down through the back of her skull, down along her neck and back until her whole body felt pricked with bright lights.

What was he doing?

And then the rollercoaster rolled jerkily to the end of the track, and Christopher pulled away sharply, and without a word the two of them scrambled out of the carriage, breathlessly.

Faye squealed, with her usual complete lack of inhibition, “Gawd, you two look like you’ve just had wild sex!” as she took Christopher into her arms and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

Kate ran to Nathaniel and let him sling an arm around her. “How was the ride?” he asked.

“I feel sick,” she said.

“Are you going to throw up?”

“No. Maybe.”

“Come on, let me take you somewhere quiet.”

-

Nathaniel led her through the fairgrounds, to an isolated spot on the sand, behind the big stage. There was no one in sight, and the only light came from the yellow moon, reflected off the dark waves of the ocean. It was cold, and the sounds of the carnival were muffled by the back wall of the stage, and overpowered by the noise of the night-time tide crashing on the shore.

They sank down onto the sand and Kate rested her forehead on her knees. Nathaniel slipped a gentle hand under her chin and tugged her head up. “Kate, Kate…”

She looked at him.

“Do you remember this place?” asked Nathaniel, softly.

Kate felt confused. “No,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve been here before. Have we?”

Nathaniel said nothing, only touched the curve of her ear, and stroked the line of her jaw. She sensed that he was fidgety, but trying to hide the fact. She felt more confused, and tired.

“Why do you like me, Nathaniel?”

“What?”

She repeated the question.

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Yes, very much so.”

He smiled. “That’s not hard. I like you because you are effortlessly beautiful. You have standards and ideas as to how life should be, and you strive towards them, honestly, undauntedly, without caring for how you are seen by others. You don’t feel the need to impress. You are thoughtful and intelligent. You are funny, and you draw people towards you without realising your own allure.”

Kate sank into this plenitude of praises, musingly. At last she said, “Maybe that’s true, but maybe it’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

“You liked me because you saw me at a traffic light and thought I was pretty. That is all, isn’t it?”

“I liked the way you glared at the driver behind you.”

Despite herself, Kate laughed and hit him. And then she sobered. “Why have you brought me here?” She gestured at the sand and the sea.

He kissed her. He filled her with salt and aftershave. She felt bemused by an overindulging of her senses.

Nathaniel pulled away, studied her and asked, “You sincerely tell me you remember nothing of this place?”

What was going on? She sat up, and returned her forehead to her knees, and thought hard. She pictured this place in her mind’s eye: the coarse sand, the muffled noises, the scattered pinecones and ra-ta-tat-tat of night-time noises. And then other impressions intruded into her imagination: the haziness of dreams; whirling bright lights; and laughter, echoing. Not only her laughter, but Christopher’s. And a hundred more impressions, images, sensations, blurred into a single miasma of half-formed thoughts.

Kate scrambled to her feet. “Let’s find the others.”

“Kate—”

“I’d like to go back to the others,” she said.

Nathaniel obediently got to his feet. He bore an expression of worry.

“I feel as troubled as you look,” murmured Kate, as they ambled hand-in-hand back to the carnival.

-

Their friends were in the back of Joseph’s pick-up truck, drinking beer, sleepy with exhaustion. It was early morning, and the carnival was fading to a slow close.

When Kate and Nathaniel walked up, Christopher jumped out of the tray and said, “I’ve got to be heading home.”

“So soon,” moaned Faye, trying to follow him, but unable to navigate the sides of the truck. She gave up and flopped back against a toolbox.

Kate released Nathaniel’s hand and ran after Christopher.

His eyes were dark. “Why are you here?”

“Our houses are in the same direction. You’re supposed to walk me home.”

“Can’t Nathaniel do it?”

“I’d like to walk with you.”

Christopher looked pained, but nodded OK.

They said goodbye to the others, Kate avoiding Nathaniel’s anxious eyes, and wandered slowly out of the fairgrounds. They strolled for a while, stiffly silent, but comfortable in each other’s familiar presence. At last Christopher asked, “Why did you want to walk home with me?”

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

His expression changed, to one that was almost fearful.

“Why do you look so scared?” demanded Kate. Their conversations were rarely this devoid of laughter. It made their sentences reverberate, as though every word were hollow.

“I don’t want to answer you,” said Christopher, stiffly.

“What have you possibly got to hide!” cried Kate, throwing her arms out.

Christopher looked at her, with her hair all loose from its braid, in her rose-pink dress, the hem stained with dirt. She had worn the same dress a hundred times before; she wore it last time, to the carnival, also. He turned his head sharply away and walked faster.

Kate ran after him. “What is going on, Mack? Why is Nathaniel acting so strangely? Why have you both been nervous all night?” She paused, closed her eyes briefly, and tried to recollect her memories, which were like scattered leaves. “What happened at the carnival last year?”

Christopher closed his eyes, too. “Kate…that’s not a question you want to ask me.”

“On the contrary,” she said defiantly.

He opened his eyes. Suddenly, he snapped: “Fine! You ask me what happened? You really want to know? Even if what I tell you will make you shudder in disgust, and will leave you and me—us—changed, for good?”

Kate trembled, both at his tone of voice and at what he said. What could possibly tarnish their relationship? She didn’t know, and she knew, all at once.

“Tell me, Christopher,” she said, quietly.

“You got drunk, remember?” he said harshly. “You’d never been completely pissed before, and we all said we’d look after you if you drank at the carnival, and we all did, except for me, because I’m a stupid bastard and I lied, I didn’t look after you.”

Kate stopped walking.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did?”

“No,” she said. “I already know what you did. You took me behind the stage and you kissed me.”

Christopher took it like a splash of icy water in his face. He shook himself off and said acidly, “It wasn’t like you didn’t want it, either.” And then, abruptly, he checked himself. His face changed, a mild sort of crumpling effect. He said: “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound so immature.”

Kate struggled to hold back a wail. “Why did you do it?”

“Damn it, Kate! How am I supposed to know? I don’t know why I did it, OK? There’s no profound reason, no romantic declaration of love. I’m not an article from the Personals section of your beloved Bugle.”

Something snapped inside Kate. She barrelled on, unthinkingly, her voice pricked with tears. “And why,” she demanded, “did you, only two weeks later, ask Faye Williams to go out with you?”

“Because I liked her.”

Kate stared mutely at him, eyes shining with emotion.

Christopher was unsympathetic. “What’s that to you? You like Nathaniel, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said in a small voice.

“Then that’s that!” He threw his hands up into the air and let them fall heavily to his sides. “You with Nathaniel, me with Faye. That’s the end of it. It was only a kiss, Kate.”

She stared at him, not wanting to understand his words. When he was angry, colour rose into his cheeks, filling them with youth and vigour, like that very first day at the Shine concert when he had fallen out of the sky and into Kate’s life. His face was full of colour and lines and shapes, and she wondered, fleetingly, whimsically, what it would feel like on her lips.

But she was Kate. Kate always turned around, always walked away and went home and let the words die unspoken on her tongue. And Christopher knew this—he saw it, and he shook his head and turned to go.

She would never have this moment again.

Courage.

She steeled herself. “Christopher McAvoy.”

He came to a halt at the sound of his name, unexpectedly thrown into the air.

“Christopher McAvoy, please turn around.”

He obeyed, very slowly.

Before he had completed the full circle of his turn, he glimpsed, out of the corner of his eye, a blur of rose-pink and honey-gold, and with a movement that was altogether most unexpected, Kate ran at him. She ran blindly, with fear in her face, with only her eyes fixed on his to ground her. And suddenly her arms went around his long waist, and she was stretching up on her toes to kiss him, unrestrainedly.

-

Almost a month later, they took a day trip down the coast to visit their friends in Edgewater. Joseph drove, with Lucy in the passenger seat and the other four in the rear tray of his pick-up truck. On one side sat Christopher with his arm around Faye; on the other side, Nathaniel, with his arm around Kate.

By all appearances, Kate was dozing in the warm sun, her head collapsed against Nathaniel’s sturdy shoulder. But now and then her eyes fluttered open, unseen by the others, to skim over the smooth lines of Christopher’s face, following the sweet curve of the side of his neck as it fell into the scoop of his collarbone. She smiled to herself, sleepily.

And Christopher had his mouth pressed guiltily into Faye’s fairy floss hair, but his gaze was directed furtively sideways, to soak in the warm glow of Kate’s luminous hair, and the way her tan legs peeked out beneath the hem of her favourite skirt.

The weather was tepid and foreboding. The brooding orange sky hung low with the promise of a storm, and the air clung damply to every patch of bare skin. The four riding in the open tray savoured the feeling of the rushing wind, but the one-hour trip was over far too quickly and they dismounted at their destination in the heat of the morning.

Their Edgewater friends, the Fitzgeralds, lived on a pleasant farm a hundred metres back from the beach: a good acre-and-a-half of land with cows, chicken and a pretty Shetland horse. William and Sylvia Fitzgerald had been married just two years, and they lived in their large wooden house with their first child, Valerie, and Sylvia’s mother, Patsy. William and Christopher had been firm friends since childhood.

Sylvia and Patsy had prepared three enormous hampers of delights, and they treated their guests to a picnic on the grass with French bread and spicy cheeses and a smoked chicken. Kate had brought potato salad, and Faye had brought fruit, and William brought up several bottles of wine from the cellar.

Once the main part of the eating was done, they stretched out in the mild sunshine and talked. A little later, Lucy jumped up and said, “Joseph, take me for a ride on the Shetland, won’t you?”

Joseph obliged. He helped Lucy into the saddle and walked the horse around the field. The others watched.

“She has rather good posture,” Sylvia remarked at length.

“Singularly good posture,” agreed Patsy, with Valerie nestled in her arms.

Nathaniel and William struck up a conversation about the state of crime in Talook and the wider area. Kate stood and stretched the cricks out of her knees, just as Lucy came trotting back in.

“Kate! Come, have a ride,” called Lucy, as though this farm belonged to her friend rather than Kate’s friend. “It’s a most enjoyable experience, I say!” She took Joseph’s hand and leapt daintily down from the saddle, stumbling gracefully against his chest. “Oh!” She giggled. “Careful with the dismount, though.” She clutched Kate’s wrist affectionately and pecked her on the cheek as she passed. She was a fan of kissing, this Lucy.

“I’ll be cautious,” said Kate, and jumped into the saddle. She turned the Shetland around with practised ease and set off across the field at a moderate walk.

A shout rose from the others, and Kate looked over her shoulder to see that Christopher had scrambled up and was sprinting, full speed, after her. “You’re not so fast!” he yelled, a wicked grin plastered over his boyish features.

Kate smiled, too, and kicked the horse into a loping canter. Christopher was fast, but he was no match for a four-legged beast. Kate thought she might tease him, and so she tugged on the horse’s reins, guiding the Shetland to and fro in winding loops. Just as Christopher thought he might lay his hands on her, she turned the horse out of his reach with a delighted laugh. They darted in this manner back and forth across the field, until Christopher was breathless with the chase, and Kate was breathless with laughter. The picnickers cheered from a distance.

“Stop, I beg you!” gasped Christopher, yet finding the energy to make one final lunge for the reins.

“Not until you pick up your act, young fellow!” cried Kate, and urged the Shetland in a tight circle. The horse, which had rather enjoyed the fun of the pursuit thus far, now became somewhat too excited by the chase, and skittered sideways, appearing to lose its balance. Its flank collided hard with Christopher, and he fell back with the impact. He sprawled onto the grass, arms and legs askew.

“Christopher!” In a panic, Kate dragged the horse to a clumsy halt and jumped off. She ran to Christopher and rolled him over.

He was clutching his sides in amusement.

“Gosh!” Kate smacked him. “You frightened me.”

He grasped her gently by the back of her neck, and pulled her close until they were nose to nose. “I’m honoured that you displayed such heartfelt concern for my wellbeing. More than honoured, in fact—touched.”

“Careful,” whispered Kate, wriggling away. She darted a glance back towards the picnickers.

“They’re too far away to see anything.”

He was partially correct. The others were too far away, but not far enough to be oblivious to the fact that something intimate was passing between Kate and Christopher. Sylvia Fitzgerald curiously raised her lorgnette to get a closer look; she inconspicuously lowered it almost as quickly, and shot a discreet glance at Nathaniel.

Lucy was less prudent. “What are the two of them doing?” she exclaimed, raising her voice so that the entire party could hear her. “Faye, really—if I were you I’d waste no time in calling Christopher back. It’s really quite embarrassing for you.”

Faye said dryly, “Lucy, if you’d been friends with us long enough you would know that you can’t do anything about Tophy and Kate.” Normally she went on in this vein for a little longer but today she seemed more apathetic than usual, and merely stretched out in the sun, chewing morosely on a piece of tobacco.

Undeterred, Lucy turned to Nathaniel. “Nathaniel. Surely you have the propriety to call your Kate back. It’s disgraceful the way she carries on with Christopher like they’re still eight years old. And I even thought that my influence within your circle over the past month would have done some good, but no—they’re worse than ever! I don’t understand why you all consider Kate to be the model of upright and decency when—”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Nathaniel, in a low voice. “Could you please tell your girl to be quiet? She’s being rather rude.”

“What?” said Lucy.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Nathaniel’s expression was tight and drawn. “I was talking to Joseph.”

-

Needless to say, the drive back to Talook was fraught with tension. Again, Joseph and Lucy rode within the vehicle, whilst the other four sat in the open tray. Nathaniel held himself stiffly for most of the ride, and was the first to break the uneasy silence.

His words were directed at Kate, alone. He said, quietly, “I’m not a man without dignity, Kate Lancaster.”

Though she did not understand exactly what he meant, she understood in his tone an exquisite sense of dread. The blood drained from her face. “I know that,” she said, in almost a whisper, darting a look at Faye and Christopher. “You have a strong sense of honour.”

He replied, “Yes.” After a long pause, during which he too glanced at the other two, he went on, “I don’t want to wait around for you to pluck up the courage to confront me, Kate.” When she said nothing, he continued, “I’m not the sort of man to continue in pursuit of something that is clearly fruitless.”

Kate whispered, “I’m not sure I understand what you are talking about,” but she was lying, and he knew it.

“Please don’t prolong this unnecessarily. I’ve decided I don’t have the patience or the selflessness to wait for rejection. For my own sake, I’m going to take a step forward and put an end to this.”

Why was he doing this now, in the bloody back of a truck, in front of Christopher and Faye? “Can’t this wait—”

“It has been long enough,” Nathaniel said shortly. “Since the carnival. Why drag it on, Kate?”

She said nothing.

“Well?” He was curt and acidic.

“You’re right,” she said, her voice cracking. “Why drag it on?”

“Good. At least we are in agreement, then.”

“Nathaniel.” She wanted to cry. “I didn’t want things to unfold like this—”

“Spare me the theatrics, Kate. I’m a policeman, not a heartbroken, sobbing spinster.”

They spent the rest of the trip in silence.

-

Kate stood on the rock behind her house and let the wind whip her hair. It was a blue, blue day; the sky was a frigid slate-grey, and even the air seemed tinged with a turquoise melancholy. She stood in a yellow dress and a long rugged coat, and a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She did not feel cold.

She heard a rustling of grass and turned. Christopher was there, with his hazy blonde curls and his hard cheeks, red-tinged by the wind. He was long-legged in the long grass. He held nothing in his hands.

“I did it,” he said frankly.

“How was she?”

“She was all right. She expected it was coming, I think.”

“Everyone did,” said Kate with a wry smile, walking toward him.

“You have a question for me. I can tell.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Is that the question?”

“No,” said Kate. “Why do you like me, Mack?”

“Is that the question?”

“Yes. It is.” She hid a grin.

“Well, that’s much easier to answer.” He stepped ahead of her, to the rock, and stared out at the sea, letting the wind flatten his shaggy hair against his scalp. “I like you because—well, because you’re Kate Lancaster, and…I have a distinct feeling that this is what I was supposed to do in life. Be with you.” He stopped abruptly, turned, and examined her expression. “Oh, you’re not at all happy with my answer, are you? I’m sorry, I can expand on that. I like you, Kate, and I know I’m not some darkly handsome officer in uniform, nor am I one of your smarmy college friends, but—”

She hugged him from behind and slapped a hand over his mouth. “You’re definitely not, Mr. McAvoy” said Kate, smiling. “No one I’ve ever met has matched up to you, not since the very first day you dropped into my life. I thought you should know that, angel boy.”

“Another nickname?” asked Christopher, surrounding her completely with his warm presence.

“No.” Kate smiled. “That’s who you are.” She curled into him, and despite the whipping wind, she didn’t feel cold, not in the least.

/Fin/

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