“I was thinking about it today,” Tilly said softly. “I think about it often. That was the one of the best days of my childhood.”

Kate wet her lips. That day had fallen somewhere in the middle of their final year, between when they’d started kissing and when they’d stopped. Those blissful few months when hope had burned bright, when every touch, every look had mattered. When Tilly had stopped slipping into Kate’s bed at night after checks because suddenly, it had seemed to mean more than it ever had before.

“I can’t remember too much,” Kate said. “But I remember the Ferris wheel.”

Silence.

Christ… She hadn’t meant for the comment to suck all of the oxygen from the room. Her heart pounded treacherously. So possibly not the wisest thing to say after the way Tilly had reacted in the backyard of the St. Kilda terrace…

She went rigid with surprise when Tilly’s soft whisper filled the room. “Yeah,” she said, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “I remember the Ferris wheel, too.”

They’d stayed at the fairgrounds late into the night. She’d been high on the adrenaline of having Tilly clutching at her arm on the pirate ship, their hips brushing inside the barbecue stall as they’d collected donations. That day, they’d been soft with each other in ways they hadn’t dared to be since Kate had first planted a kiss to Tilly’s neck in the belltower. So, high up in the treetops aboard pink gondola number three, when Kate had summoned the courage to reach out and take Tilly’s hand in the cloak of dark, it had felt like something had locked into place for good, forever. Tilly’s fingers had relaxed in hers and Kate had vibrated with a nervous excitement that far exceeded the rush of satisfaction she got from kissing Tilly.

Tilly shifted down the bed and rested her head on the pillow. “There was a boy, working the stall with us…”

“There was?”

“Mhm. He was the son of your mum’s friend.”

Kate thought hard for a moment. “I don’t know who that could have been.” The memory of working the barbecue stall was vague.

“That was how we got the tickets for the Ferris wheel,” Tilly said. “We’d used up all our own tickets on the swinging chairs and the Ghost Train.” She paused. “Anyway, he gave you a pair of tickets he’d been given for free and he expected you to take him. And you took me.”

“I can’t remember any of that.”

“Really? He kept flipping your ponytail all day, tugging on it. He was flirting with you.” She shifted lower, the covers rustling. “Boys liked you,” she murmured, and there was something there that hinted at irritation.

Kate smirked. “You make it sound like you were jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous. You took me on the Ferris wheel, not him.”

Her throat constricted. “I meant jealous that he was flirting with me and not with you.”

The room fell silent. “It’s bright in here,” Tilly said after a long moment. “You should get curtains.”