Page 45 of A Sky Painted Gold

“Well, Robert,” Pa calls, jumping lightly from the car, “I told you they’d take care of you. It seems you’ve settled in.”

“Robert is an excellent fielder.” Tom nods, pushing back the too-big rim of a panama hat which I now recognize as one of Robert’s.

“And he says we can go and visit his library, Pa!” Freya, resplendent in a headdress full of carefully stitched snakes, hangs on Pa’s arm and looks up at him with starry eyes.

“That’s very kind of him.” Pa smiles down into Freya’s pink face and then over at Robert.

“It’s my pleasure.” Robert grins, and I realize with a start that with his dark curls dishevelled, his cheeks slightly pink from running around, and his eyes bright, he looks much younger than usual. He is standing differently too; he seems less coiled up, more loose-limbed and relaxed. I am finding it difficult to meet his eye, and I can feel my already overheated face heating up even further. It’s just too strange seeing him here. I never thought of him as fitting into my real life; he was too remote, too neat and tidy, yet now he looks … happy. I thought it would feel like an intrusion, having him here, but it doesn’t. And, I suppose, on the other side of that, I wanted to keep the Cardews to myself. With them I get to be someone new, someone who doesn’t exist only in the context of my family, of where I’m from.

“Will you stay for dinner, Robert?” Midge calls out through the window. And now I do look at him, my eyebrows shooting up. He smiles, and I think his expression is rueful, as though he knows that I’m surprised he’s made himself so at home. He has been busy, I think; in fact, he seems to be on very friendly terms with the whole family.

“Yes, do!” Tom exclaims, rather proving my point. “I can show you that model car I was telling you about.” The whole thing is making my head swirl. Seeing Robert Cardew here, it’s like … I don’t know … like seeing a tiger on the farm.

“I wish I could,” Robert says, and to my surprise his voice seems full of genuine regret, “but we have guests for dinner this evening and my sister will be wondering where I am.” He looks out at the sea. “The tide’s out, so I should head home.”

“Perhaps you could come over for Lou’s birthday next week?” Freya says hopefully, and I shoot her a look that I hope communicates that she should shut up. “What?” she hisses. “He is your friend, isn’t he?”

Robert’s eyes meet mine, and I shift uncomfortably. Is Robert Cardew my friend? The word doesn’t fit right; it’s too polite, too bland. It’s too much and too little all at once. In some ways I feel as though I know almost nothing about him. We bicker and we tease each other, but underneath that there is an understanding, something small and precious that I can’t quite define.

“That would be very nice,” Robert says finally. “But now I had better be going. Thank you so much for a lovely afternoon, and such wonderful food, Mrs Trevelyan.” He lifts his hat from Tom’s head and places it back on his own.

Midge has appeared in the doorway now. “Don’t forget this!” she exclaims, holding out a jar of ginger jam for him to take home. My eyes widen at this, the ultimate gesture of acceptance from Midge.

Robert takes the jar from her and thanks her warmly. “Everyone will be fighting over it at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Come back again soon,” Midge says, squeezing his hand.

I can’t take it all in. Robert, here with my family. I am sure my mouth is hanging open, but I just don’t seem to be able to get my head around this collision of my two very separate worlds. “I’ll walk you down to the causeway.” I hear my own voice before I know what I’m saying. “If you like?” I finish awkwardly, scratching my elbow.

“Yes,” Robert replies. “I would like that.”

He says another goodbye to everyone, and we wander back the way I have just come, along the path towards the village.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m here?” he asks.

“No, of course not,” I say quickly. “It’s just a bit strange. Seeing you, in my world, I mean.”

“Is it so different, this world?” Robert asks, and his face is difficult to read.

“In some ways, no, but in others, yes.” I shrug. There’s another pause. “We have many customs that may seem foreign to outsiders,” I add, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well, for example, here in my world,” I say, gesturing around us, “it is traditional for you to address the women of the house as ‘Your Magnificence’.”

“I see,” he says seriously, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Anything else? I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of your mother.”

“Queen High Magnifico,” I correct him.

“Indeed,” he says, bowing slightly at the waist. “Our most illustrious ruler.”

We are walking side by side, and our arms are so close together that occasionally I feel the light brush of his shirtsleeve against my skin.

“Of course it’s expected that you bring gifts for the second daughter of the house,” I say, looking up at him from underneath my eyelashes. “Nothing too extravagant, you understand … diamonds, rubies, motorcars and suchlike. Trifles, really.”

Robert puts a hand on his chest. “Unfortunately I left my diamond-encrusted motorcar at home this time. Will I be welcome back?”

“Oh, I should think so,” I say. “Although there’s every chance you’ll be fed to hungry triplets,” I add.