My heart thumps with nerves and the desire to impress her. It’s a silly game, this admirer business, yet I sort of like it. It speaks to me of a possible future, one in which a Cerel boy might pilot airships and fall in love with a Travester girl. If only I had something really special to give her. Then, with a grin, I remember what I found earlier.

“Now that you mention it, I have brought you something.”

She claps her hands. “Oh goody.”

I feel for the tiny shape in my jacket pocket. It’s something I’d planned to give my mother. I hold out my closed fist.

“What is it?” she whispers. Her lips are glossy wet.

“See for yourself,” I tell her, keeping my fist closed. I want her to touch me.

And just like that, Emee puts both hands over my fist. Her fingers are so soft, so warm. I open my fist and the small figurine lies revealed on my grimy palm.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, holding it up to what is left of the light.

It’s a ceramic dancer: a girl in the red and blue national costume of the Fonecians.

On the far side of the park a man is lighting the gas lamps. I’ll have to go soon.

“Wherever did you find it?”

Swallowing, I think of the Travester garden along the towpath and some small thing in the grass catching the light, but I can’t confess to any of that. “Ah, now, that would be telling.”

“You’re right,” she agrees. “A true admirer never reveals his sources.” Despite the flippant tone, her expression is serious and she seems to be trembling. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve given her a ruby or a yellow diamond. “Do you want to know something?” She doesn’t wait for my response. “I don’t really have an admirer. In fact, nobody has ever given me something like this before.”

As quick as breath, Emee leans over and kisses my cheek.

“Thank you, Leho.”

Then she’s gone, leaving only a trace of lavender perfume on the air, her steps punching along the gravel path. With my eyes on the lamp man, I also hurry for the gates, a lightness in my heart.

13

Boss must be pleased to have some company, for he thaws a little more each day. Often now we work side by side, and he shows me things like how to tie up the tomatoes properly, or how to hand-fertilise the zucchini flowers. Apparently they’re sweeter to eat if you pick them little, unlike the big marrows we grow at home.

Each day, a selection of produce is put into a big, flat basket, which Boss takes up to the house when he goes to collect our lunch. He also brings back a bucket of scraps that go on the midden.