by Em Bailey
Some questions are easy to answer. ‘No.’
Then Zoe looks around, checking for her parents. Her time is nearly up. ‘Do you think I’ll ever get to see Harry again?’ she says quickly. ‘Now that he’s out of there?’
‘I don’t think so. At least, not for a very long time.’
Her face falls, but only a little. She must have known this would be the answer.
Around a bend in the path her parents appear, sharing an umbrella. They won’t be impressed that I let their daughter get so soggy. Maybe it’ll be the last straw and they’ll forbid us from meeting again.
At first I think this is why Zoe flings her arms around me. That she’s worried it will be a while before we see each other. But she presses her mouth to my ear and whispers, ‘Can you say hi to him from me? And tell him that I’m still his friend?’
Then she jumps from the bench, runs to her parents and soon she’s out of sight.
It’s later that same afternoon – after I’ve gone home and changed out of my wet clothes, and checked in with my parents so they don’t worry – that I get a chance to pass on Zoe’s message. Since Harry got out, he’s moved into a flat on the other side of town. It’s on the ground floor, of course. The physio says that one day he’ll be strong enough to manage stairs again, but it won’t be for a while yet. Nearby is an Italian cafe that is always dark and full of old guys playing cards and smoking in the doorways. If they recognise us, they aren’t interested in showing it.
This is where we meet. To sit and hold hands across the table. Often we don’t say very much. Not because we don’t have anything to talk about, because the opposite is true.
The rain is still thrumming outside and I look at Harry, wondering if he too imagines the water tank and dam filling up on the farm. Not that those things even exist now. The place has been bulldozed.
But we’re not here to talk about rain, or water tanks. Or even the farm. Today I have news. I grab my bag and pull out an opened envelope and lay it on the table between us.
Harry glances at it, and then at me. ‘Foreign stamp,’ he comments.
‘Yes.’
‘The letter’s from that university, isn’t it?’
I nod. Slowly.
‘And you were offered a place.’
‘Yes.’ And as I speak I realise I’ve made up my mind about it. ‘I’m going to accept it.’
Harry reaches across and squeezes my arm. He doesn’t say anything and a moment later his chair scratches across the tiles as he stands up.
‘I’m not leaving for another two months!’ I say in a panic, and he laughs. A couple of the old guys look around from their card game and smile at us briefly.
‘I know.’ Harry grins and holds out his hand. ‘But this deserves a celebration.’
I take his hand and stand up. He leads me through the tables towards the front door.
‘You can come and visit,’ I point out.
‘Yes,’ he agrees, even though we both know he probably won’t. He pushes open the front door and then we’re standing on the footpath in the cold.
‘And it’s not like it’s forever,’ I add, even though we both know it might be. I shiver as a droplet falls down the back of my neck. ‘Where are we going, anyway?’
‘Just here,’ says Harry.
I give him a half-smile, not understanding. And then he pulls me in towards him, one arm around my back, the other still holding my hand. ‘You missed out last time,’ he murmurs. ‘This is to make up for it.’
He wants me to dance in the rain with him, I realise. But I’m not sure I can do it. Act silly. Clown around in the rain outside a cafe in the late afternoon.
Yet Harry persists in that slow, patient way of his, which has become slightly slower but no less patient since that night in the park. And, before I know it, I’m part of it too. Part of the dance, part of this moment. Dancing with Harry as the rain falls around us.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to everyone at Hardie Grant Egmont, in particular Hilary Rogers and Marisa ‘the scissors’ Pintado who were both endlessly encouraging and who helped guide this book into the shape it needed to be. Thanks also to Charlotte Bodman for enabling my book to reach international readers and for the kids’ birthday party advice, Penny White for being the project editor and Emma Schwarcz for the scrupulous copyediting. Much gratitude to the HGE book reps, in particular Mandy Wildsmith who has always been such a great promoter of my work. Thanks to Erin Gough for the legal advice on Harry’s behalf and to Astred Hicks for creating the gorgeous cover. And finally a very heartfelt thank you to Matt and Mads for their patience, understanding and encouragement while I was working on this book.
The Special Ones
published 2016 by
Hardie Grant Egmont
Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street
Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia
www.hardiegrantegmont.com.au
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.
eISBN 9781743584040
A CiP record for this title is available from the National Library of Australia
Text copyright © Em Bailey
Design copyright © Hardie Grant Egmont
Cover design by Astred Hicks, Design Cherry
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