‘But I was being silly,’ Jimmy suddenly shouted. ‘And it was my fault Kit got hurt.’

‘Aha,’ the dragon said. ‘I see what the problem is. Everyone else has forgiven you, but you haven’t managed to forgive yourself. That’s the hardest part.’

Jimmy looked confused.

‘No long-lasting harm was done, was it?’ she asked.

He shook his head.

‘And your father hasn’t mentioned it since?’

He shook it again.

‘And what have you learned?’

‘Not to climb on walls,’ Jimmy muttered, at last.

‘So, now you can forgive yourself. We all do silly things from time to time. You’re a lovely, kind boy, Jimmy, and don’t you forget it. Now cheer up and pass me another one of those delicious rock buns.’

9

After that I couldn’t stop thinking about Kit, the dark hair flopping in his eyes, his laughter, his sense of mischief. When you were with him everything felt tinged with excitement, always on the brink of danger. He made me realise, perhaps for the first time, how tame and dull my own life was, how filled with anxiety about what people, especially the grown-ups – Pa, Mrs D and the others – would think of me.

Being with Kit was intoxicating. Was this what love felt like?

I read the romance novels over and over again. They were mildly risqué and Pa would definitely have disapproved, but while I knew they were silly and unrealistic, it was fun to fantasise, for once. They suited my mood perfectly: filled with passion and longing and heartache, with women who seemed destined always to fall for the wrong kind of men, whose hearts ‘beat like fluttering wings’, whose ‘glorious golden locks tossed in the breeze’ and whose breasts ‘heaved like billowing waves’.

In my version Kit was always in the starring role, as I felt the warmth of his chest against my back, the way he held his hands over mine as he taught me to row, and I yearned to feel that again, to have more of him, more and more.

But the Easter holidays were over, so I was unlikely to see him again for at least six weeks, possibly longer. If only I’d suggested that we should write, but of course our parting had been too hurried. I decided to take the initiative:

Dear Kit,

Just a note to thank you for such a lovely day on the lake. I really enjoyed seeing all the islands, and Jimmy won’t stop talking about how he’s now an expert at rowing – although I try to explain that he mustn’t tell Pa or Mrs D, in case you get into trouble.

I expect you are off back to school again now, but it would be lovely to hear from you if you ever feel like writing.

Yours,

Molly