We wandered along the pathway beside the cliffs, while the castle loomed over us from the side.

When we reached the tree line and the muddy footpath which snaked through the trees, Bradley let me walk ahead of him. He asked from behind me, “How have you been, Amber?”

“I’m okay. Still the same.”

“It feels as if I haven’t spoken to you in a long time.”

Sarcastically I replied silently: Not because of me. Out loud I said, “It’s been a while. How’s school?”

He chuckled. The sound bounced back from the dense forest surrounding us. “School is great. Going to Uni after summer.”

I glanced at him across my shoulder. “Already?”

“Yeah. Time flies.”

I disagreed, because time did not actually fly, it crawled. “What are you planning on studying?”

“Engineering.”

We reached the fork in the pathway. If a person did not know there was a pathway branching off the main pathway, they could walk past it without ever knowing of its existence.

I pushed through the thick undergrowth on the ground to the pathway on the other side. The dampness from the plants clung to the hem of my pants, wetting me up to my knees.

Bradley stumbled. He had not been here since he was fourteen when we last came here together, and now it seemed he had forgotten about the thick tree roots hidden under the green ferns and shrubbery.

Automatically I brought my arms up to catch him, bracing myself for the impact. My hands planted themselves onto his chest and I felt a jolt of something shoot through me.

His hand came up reflectively and folded over my hand on his chest. His hand was larger and broader than mine. I felt the pressure of his fingers as they tensed against my skin.

A sense of danger filled me, and it pulled at me as nothing else ever had. I looked up at him and met his eyes. For a fleeting moment we stood there as if we were stuck in time.

His hand tightened around mine and I dropped my eyes to his chest. My eyes were glued to my hand and my fingers splayed against his chest. I could feel his silent gaze on me.

I cleared my throat as I moved away from him and pushed my hands into my pants pockets. “What field of Engineering are you interested in?”

He fell in step next to me. It was as if nothing happened, as if the feeling I felt between him and me was only a figment of my imagination.

“Polymer.”

I glance up at him unsure. “Polymer?”

“Yeah. Plastics and stuff.” He looked away from me. “There it is and it’s just like I remember,” he said, as we stepped from the concealing shrubbery.

It was a small meadow. A sun-gilded amphitheatre within the darker confines of the forest. When we were children, we played here for hours. We created a little clubhouse by laboriously dragging old tree stumps and logs into a small circle. In all the years that followed, I never changed a thing.

He sat down on the biggest tree stump with his hands resting on either side of him.

I moved to sit down on an upended log.

As I started to sit down, he asked seriously, “Don’t you ever get lonely living here?”

A sudden sadness filled me and before I could embarrass myself, I turned around and ran as fast as I could back to the safety of my bedroom.

His voice calling my name followed me until I slammed my bedroom door shut and fell onto my bed.

Only then did I allow my tears to escape.

Hours later, there was a knock at my door, and stepping closer to the door, without opening it, I asked, “Yes?”

“It’s me,” his voice said from the other side of the door.

“What do you want?” I asked rudely.

“Let’s try taking a walk again. We’ll walk in a different direction.”

“It’s raining.”

“You always used to love the rain.”

He remembered. “Not anymore.”

“My mother stoked the fire in the library. Let’s go there. We can play a board game or something.”

Even though I wanted to, I said, “I am busy.”

There was a cynical tone in his voice. “With what?”

“You might think I am lonely or bored here, but I am not. I have lots to do.”

“Like what?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Lots,” I replied stubbornly.

“Stop being like that. Come with me.”

I could not open the door. I could not let him see I had been crying. He would ask, “Why are you crying?”

I would have to reply, “Because when you asked me if I ever get lonely, it felt as if you only felt sorry for me, when all I wanted was for you to like me.” I would want to tell him, “I have dreams about you, not only when I am asleep, but when I am awake.” I could not tell him any of those things.

Leaning against the door, I heard his footsteps recede down the corridor and it made me feel even sadder than I already did.

The next morning, when I walked into the kitchen, I heard the housekeeper, Matilda, tell Cook, “He said he had lots to do at school.”

Cook nodded her head and laughed softly. “I am sure it’s that girl he was running back to. Young love always feel separation so much deeper.”

Losing my appetite, I turned around and left the kitchen. I ventured into the draughty halls of my home, and I wandered around like a ghost until the day I had to leave.

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