Page 70 of A Sky Painted Gold

We stand staring at each other for a second. His face is difficult to read.

“Well, what do you think?” I ask nervously, and my voice sounds a little high. I twirl around to give him the full effect of my costume.

“I think you look –” he pauses here, and I wait for the punchline – “beautiful,” he says finally. “You look beautiful.” There is none of the usual teasing in his tone. There is also something in his eyes as he takes in the sight of me in my dress that makes my stomach flip over. He looks a little stunned, and I know the feeling. I feel like I’m on fire, as if he must be able to see the glow coming off me. It’s almost unbearable.

“Thank you,” I choke and, unable to hold his gaze any longer, I look down at my bare toes. When I look back up, whatever I thought I had seen in his eyes is gone. “And thank you so much for the dress.” I smile, relaxing now. “I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad. It was all Caitlin’s idea, of course.” He clears his throat.

“Of course.” I nod.

“I do have something else for you, actually,” he says, reaching into his pocket.

“I don’t need anything else,” I say quickly, but then he places an empty envelope in my hand.

I turn it over and frown. On the front is an address written in his elegant handwriting. I look up at him, confused.

“It’s time for you to send Lady Amelia out into the world,” Robert says, and he shifts nervously from one foot to the other. “I know the editor at this magazine. I’m certain he will love it. Just like I do.”

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. The envelope shakes a little in my hand.

“It’s your birthday, Lou.” Robert clears his throat again, looking anxiously for my response. “Time to be brave. Time for something new.”

“Thank you,” I manage. I realize I am blinking back tears. It is a wonderful gift. Not only the opportunity it might bring, but what it represents – his belief in me. Because I can see that written all over his face. He really thinks my writing is good enough, he believes that I can do this, and that helps me to feel brave.

I look up at him, and we still seem to be standing very close together.

He lifts one hand and softly brushes my hair. I freeze. “You cut your hair,” he says quietly.

“Yes.” My voice is almost a whisper. “I mean, no.” I shake my head like someone waking from a dream. “Laurie cut it. Do you like it?”

He smiles down at me. “I do,” he says, and he lets his hand fall, taking a step back.

I let out a long, shaky breath. It is then that I notice a red smudge on his shirt. “Oh, no!” I exclaim, pointing to it. “A casualty of our collision. I’m afraid I’ve ruined your shirt.”

He looks down at the mark. “Never mind,” he says, and unlike me he seems very calm. “I have another. I can change.”

“Oh, good,” I rattle. “I wouldn’t want you to have to explain lipstick on your shirt to Laurie.” I laugh nervously. “That could be awkward. Anyway, I’d better go; your sister asked me to fetch something for her and she’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Of course,” he says. “I should go and change, anyway.”

We both stand as though glued to the spot for another beat.

“Lou,” he says, and my nerves are shredded. Whatever he is going to say, I can’t stand to hear it. I am full of too many things that I know I shouldn’t be feeling,

“Sorry about that,” I interrupt him, darting by and towards Caitlin’s room. “I’ll see you later,” I call over my shoulder. “At the party.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Caitlin’s room looks like it is the site of a recent hurricane. I go over to her dressing table, and find that my knees are trembling so much that I have to sit down. The table in front of me is littered with objects, and I stare blindly at them for a moment before identifying the lipstick that Caitlin wants. There are also, I notice, a cluster of glass jars – some of which are empty – labelled “Veronal”. I pick up one of the empty pots. I have seen this before, I realize. Midge bought some for Aunt Irene after Uncle Art died, to help her sleep. It looks like Caitlin has used quite a lot of it. I place the jar back carefully where I found it. By the time I return to my room, Caitlin is ready. “What took you so long?” she asks. “Couldn’t you find it?”

“Yes,” I say. “I mean, no. But then I did, here it is.” I hand her the lipstick. I am not sure why, but I don’t tell her about running into Robert. I also don’t ask her about the Veronal. If Aunt Irene used it, it can’t be anything too dangerous, can it? I look closely at my friend, searching her face, but she is intent on her own reflection.

“OK,” she says, after carefully painting her lips. “Time for the finishing touches.” And she reaches for my gold mask, standing behind me and wrapping it around my eyes before tying the ribbons carefully at the back of my head. It feels funny, though not uncomfortable, and when I look in the mirror I understand what everyone has been going on about when they say that masks give you permission to behave badly. Looking at the girl I see reflected back at me, with the curving red smile and beautiful dress, I feel a thrill of excitement. It is strange, but liberating … like a pass to the kind of boldness that Elodie encouraged.

I help Caitlin with her mask, which is the same as mine but made of silver lace, and then there is a knock at the door. I open it and find Charlie standing there.