Chapter 2
Will
“Will? Oh my word, you're so tall!” Mrs. Featherstone stands in the doorway, pint sized, frizzy graying hair sprouting in all directions, yet dwarfed by my shadow.
I shuffle uncomfortably. “Hi, Mrs. Featherstone. How are you?”
“I’m well, but where are my manners? Come in, come in. Stan, come quickly, you won't believe who's come to visit!”
I wave the flower bouquet. “Is Kat around, Mrs. Featherstone? As much as I'd love to chat, I've come to see her.”
She stops mid-sentence, her mouth forming a perfect o . “She's not back yet. She went to visit a friend in Auckland for a couple of days. She's landing in an hour.”
I exhale. A delay in my plans. I’m disappointed I can’t see Kat straight away. A new and exciting idea forms in my mind. “I can pick her up then.”
Stan appears at the door. “Will, so good to see you again down these parts. Congrats, champ, you're making New Zealand proud.” He pats me on the shoulder.
“Stan, he wants to see Kat.” Mrs Featherstone whispers to her husband.
“Sure, you go pick her up. I will message her to let her know someone else will fetch her. A surprise! I'm sure she'll love it!”
“Thank you. I'll see you later!” I wave with the bouquet.
I make the journey back to the B&B in long strides, nearly running. I need to pick up my car, drive to the airport. I need to see Kat again. It’s like peeking through a curtain into the past, a rush running through my veins.
Kat
Dad's cryptic message opens up Pandora's box. Who exactly is picking me up from the airport?
Sweetheart, someone else will pick you up from the airport. Exciting!!! Dad
Not one, not two, but three exclamation marks! Dad doesn’t use any in his always monotonous messages, so this must be quite an event. Maybe that Doha prince Gem was hinting at has materialised. Or the Pope. Or Taylor Swift.
I slip my phone back into my bag and scan the car park for any familiar faces. To the right hand side I think I spot… no, couldn't be. I take a better look. It is! He's leaning against an expensive looking car, his red hair barely contained by the branded cap. He towers over everyone yet takes up so little space. He hasn't seen me yet, so I shout “WILL!” and sprint towards him with my bag bouncing by my side.
He turns his head towards me, a spark of recognition lighting his eyes. He springs into action and strides towards me, long limbs making short work of the distance.
“Hey, champ, I'm so proud of you.” I wrap my arms around him. He doesn't reciprocate but picks up my bag like it was a feather pillow. “I'm so glad to see you. It's been what, four years?”
His face is tense. “Get in the car. We're being watched.”
My face falls, and I do as he says. He climbs into the driver's seat and drives off. Once we're past the airport, he mutters, “I'm sorry.”
“What happened there?”
“People taking photos and filming with their phones.”
“I'm sorry you have to go through this.” I put a hand on his arm, and he shivers.
“You must be cold. Forgotten the fresh air of Queenstown? Were you in Abu Dhabi last?”
He glances towards me. “Bahrain. Yep, staying here ‘till after New Years. Now tell me about you. I haven't seen you in ages.”
He doesn't want to talk about himself. I file that piece of info for later. He's changed so much over the last five years. He's taller. Quieter. Somehow darker. More mysterious. Nothing like the old, carefree Will.
I stretch. “Not a lot to tell about me. Definitely not as interesting as you. I went to university in York to study fashion and textiles. Just graduated. Now I'm helping out my aunt with her shop. Do you remember Auntie Gem, the one with the passion for vintage and colourful clothes?”
He squints and nods. “I remember your mum or your dad having a falling out with her.”
I shrug. “She's been kind to me. I’m staying with her. She took me in so I didn't have to pay any accommodation fees.”
Another silence stretches ahead of us. I can't help but notice he's driving very slowly, barely doing the speed limit or just on it. I chuckle.
“What?” he asks, brow furrowed.
“Nothing… but you're driving like a grandma down these roads. I thought a racing driver champion would be gliding around all these corners at 100.”
He smiles for the first time since he picked me up. “I've got precious cargo. I promised your dad I'd bring you home safely and I'm sticking to my word.”
He expertly pulls into our street and slides to a halt outside my parents’ house. The car trunk opens and closes by itself, and he removes my travel bag from it.
“Wow, that's flash,” I say. “Useful for when you have lots of hands full of groceries at the supermarket.”
He laughs. “I hadn't thought of it that way.”
I ask cheekily, “Anyway what do I owe you for this ride, driver?”
He slaps his forehead and while still holding my travel bag, he jogs to the other side and picks up something from the back passenger footwell.
“I meant to give you these.” He extends a huge bouquet of colourful flowers wrapped in waxy paper. Peonies and garden roses and other summer flowers form a symphony of colour and scents.
Well, I’ll be damned. I don’t know what I was expecting this Christmas. My childhood friend Will, who I haven’t seen for five years, handing me a flower bouquet wasn’t it.
I open my mouth to thank him, but Will interjects. “And to invite you for dinner tomorrow at my mom and dad's place. Mum was saying they haven’t seen you for a long time and Daryl said something about you helping him out with his wedding to John. And I….” He sighs and his voice trails off. “I'm glad to see you too.”
“Sure,” I squeak and squeeze the bouquet tighter.
“Shall we say seven? I'll come pick you up.”
“Thank you, sure. See you tomorrow.”
He rushes off towards the driver's side.
I jump. “Hey, aren't you forgetting something?”
Confusion narrows his eyes. He turns back at a snail's pace and gives me a hug, his frame dwarfing me.
I laugh. “That too, but I meant you still have my travel bag.”
He turns beet red, his freckles out in force. “I'm so sorry, please forgive me. I didn't mean to.” He sighs again and places my bag on the doorstep beside me. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening if you're still up for it.”
“Definitely see you tomorrow evening.” I reply with a smile and a shake of my head. “Missed you,” I add.
He nods, gets back in his car and drives off.
I turn the key in the door and walk in. “I'm home!”
My mum steps out of the hallway, hugs me and I hand her the bouquet.
“So how was it? We were surprised when Will turned up earlier to see you. Have you been keeping in touch at all?”
“Not at all.” My brow furrows. “He asked me for dinner at his mum and dad's place tomorrow night.”
My dad chimes in. “Maybe something to do with business. The mill?”
I shrug. “Probably just a catch-up between friends. We were part of the same circle for years.”
Mum and Dad throw glances at each other.
I pick up my travel bag and go up to my childhood room with a strange feeling of butterflies in my tummy.