Page 83 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

‘So am I. Though it won’t be a particularly challenging target, his head is enormous.’

Gwen pulled away from her hand to sit upright. ‘Bridget. When summer is over, and the tournament is over, and everybody leaves …’

Bridget looked up at her, impassive. ‘What are you asking me?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What do you want me to say?’

Gwen threw up her hands. ‘I don’t know!’

‘Yes you do,’ Bridget said, calm and infuriatingly correct.

‘Fine,’ said Gwen. ‘Fine. I want you to stay. Stay at court with me.’

Bridget closed her eyes for a moment; when she opened them, Gwen found it difficult to look at her. ‘Stay with you and do what?’

Gwen shrugged hopelessly.

‘Be your … lady-in-waiting?’ Bridget said evenly. ‘Wear nice dresses and go to dances and watch you from across the hall every night at supper?’

‘No! I mean – yes, you might have to do some of that. All right, all of that. But would it really be so bad?’

‘We don’t even know each other that well, Gwen,’ Bridget said, in such a kind and understanding tone that Gwen wanted to punch something inanimate.

‘But I like what Idoknow about you. I want to know more. If you leave … we won’t even get the chance. Tournaments will always be there, you can put them off for a year or so, you can—’

‘Let’s not talk about this now,’ Bridget said softly; to Gwen, it sounded like a death knell. She had assumed that Bridget felt exactly the same way as she did, but suddenly she had no idea why. All they had been doing was kissing – alotof kissing, whenever they could, precious minutes snatched in quiet corners where Gwen lost herself entirely in Bridget’s gentle mouth and firm grip – but that didn’t mean Bridget reallylikedher. The thought of this – that she had misjudged everything, right from the start – felt like being plunged into ice water and left there to burn.

‘I want to talk about it now,’ Gwen said, trying to keep her voice as calm as Bridget’s was, and failing. ‘Would it really be so bad? To stop competing for a while? To see if we might … be something?’

Bridget sighed up at the canopy, scrubbing a hand across her face. ‘Yes. Yes, it would. I want … more than that, frommy life. I’ve been fighting for that for a very long time, I’ve had to bruise and break myself and bleed for it, so what you’re offering … I’m sorry. I care about you. But it’s not enough for me.’

Gwen lay back down, feeling leaden. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and felt fresh tears break free to slide slowly down her face.

‘But I know what I want now,’ she said, her voice cracking.

‘Gwen,’ Bridget said, reaching for her hand. ‘Summer isn’t over. I’m still here, and I’ll be back next year. I could come at Christmas.’

‘Christmas?’ Gwen whispered, horrified. ‘I can’t wait until Christmas.’

‘Please don’t cry. Just – come here.’

Gwen allowed herself to be pulled into Bridget’s arms, but she felt completely unmoored, even when Bridget pressed a kiss to the top of her head and told her again to get some sleep. She wanted to respond properly, to try to argue her case, but she was exhausted and heartbroken and really … what else was there to say? Bridget wasn’t going to stay. Bridget didn’t feel the same way about her, and never had. It hurt and hurt and hurt, each second suddenly steeped with melancholy, as if they were already saying goodbye.

It seemed like Gwen had only just drifted off when she was woken by a frantic knocking at the door – she experienced a moment of confusion, followed by her stomach dropping through the floor. It felt as if it could only be bad news, and she was light-headed with panic as she scrambled out ofbed, Bridget close behind – but when she reached the outer chamber, she saw that Sidney had already been admitted, and was currently enthusiastically kissing Agnes by the fire.

‘What?’ Gwen said, and they broke apart. ‘Don’t tell me you knocked like that because you were just so desperate for—’

‘Fever broke,’ Sidney said, grinning at her; she found herself smiling back, her eyes just as misty as his were. ‘They think he’s going to be okay.’

‘Fever broke,’ Gwen repeated, sitting down heavily in a chair, Bridget letting out a long whistle of relief behind her.

He was going to be okay.

If nothing else in her life was going to go right, perhaps it was worth it, just for Arthur to live.

Agnes and Sidney were already kissing again.