Love Lessons (28 page)

Mum gasped. So did Dad.

‘The thing is, did you know it's ever so valuable?' Toby persisted, taking a big bite of treacle tart. ‘I looked it up on my computer. They've got lots of these special antiquarian dirty books on this website, you wouldn't believe it.'

‘You shouldn't be looking, a young lad like you,' said Mum.

‘Yes, but guess how much the exact same set of books is selling for! I had to check with my sister, just in case I'd got the wrong end of the stick. Go on,
guess
.'

‘A hundred pounds?' said Mum.

‘Fourteen thousand pounds!' said Toby. ‘Yes, truly.'

‘My Lord! Imagine! And I've never even set eyes on the book before!' said Mum. ‘Well, bless you for finding it for us, Toby. By rights you deserve some of the money if we sell it.'

‘Oh no, Mrs King, it's all yours. I haven't done anything,' said Toby.

‘Right!' said Dad. ‘
I
knew. I knew – worth – thousands.'

I was pretty sure Dad had had no idea it was worth a fortune, but he couldn't help crowing. There were feverish pink patches on his cheeks. His hands were shaking so badly he spilled his cup of tea down his waistcoat, but we all pretended not to notice. He ate a slice of treacle tart too, and had the grace to nod at Mum. ‘Not bad,' he said.

‘You're a brilliant baker, Mrs King,' said Toby. ‘Maybe you ought to close down the bookshop altogether and start up a cake shop?'

‘Rubbish!' said Dad. ‘Books. Books
best
.'

I went down to the shop and found the other volumes of the Reverend Knightly. I looked through them carefully, turning the pages at the very edge, checking they were all first editions. I counted every colour plate. All five volumes seemed in near-fine condition.

Dad very laboriously composed a detailed description of the books, dictating it at snail speed. I wrote it out for him and sent letters to several specialist book dealers. Dad asked fifteen thousand for the five volumes but they weren't interested. So I got Toby to help me type it all out on a special antiquarian book site on the Internet. We still didn't get fifteen thousand, but managed to sell the lot for £12,500, which still seemed a huge sum.

‘It's enough to pay off all the debts,' said Mum. ‘It's really all because of you, Prue. You were the one who let Toby borrow the book, though it was a very
odd
thing for you to do. Did you look inside it?'

‘Not properly,' I said.

‘Hmm!' said Mum. ‘Still, I suppose it's a case of all's well that ends well.' She chucked me gently under the chin. ‘Cheer up, chickie. I'm so glad that you and Toby are friends. He's such a lovely boy – and he has such good ideas! He's made such a difference, it's like he's already part of our family.' Mum looked anxious. ‘You will stay friends with him, Prue, when you start at Kingtown High?'

I sighed. ‘I'll stay friends with him, Mum.
Just
friends, though.'

‘Well, whatever you say, dear.' Mum beamed at me. ‘It's good that your dad doesn't mind too much about you going to Kingtown, as he went there himself.'

I was starting there at the beginning of the spring term. Miss Wilmott had pulled strings to get me a place there. My dad's old grammar school. I wasn't at all sure how I was going to get on there. If I was so hopeless at so many subjects at a school like Wentworth then surely I'd be floundering helplessly at a school with high academic standards.

When I went to see the headteacher I found her surprisingly reassuring.

‘I understand your blind spot when it comes to maths, Prudence. I'm not too bright at maths myself. We'll see about some extra tutoring in various subjects, but obviously you're a girl who's going to excel at the arts. Miss Wilmott sent us your entrance papers for Wentworth, saying she thought you'd be an excellent student at our school, if we could possibly find a place for you. Your Shakespeare essay was outstanding.'

Mum was giving me the full Kingtown uniform for Christmas, with leftover Reverend Knightly money. ‘You need to get off to the right start this time,' she said. ‘I'm sure you're going to be really happy at Kingtown, dear. I wonder what the art teacher will be like? I know you thought very highly of that Mr Raxberry at Wentworth.'

I said nothing, bending my head, hiding behind my hair.

‘I think you maybe had a little crush on him,' said Mum.

I swallowed.

‘It's all right, dear. It's all part of growing up. But you'll get over it soon enough.'

I knew Mum meant well, but she simply didn't understand. I knew I'd never be really happy again. I missed Rax so so much. I couldn't bear to be without him. Sometimes it was so overwhelming that I had to shut myself away and cry and cry. I thought about him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I dreamed about him. I painted him over and over again. I wrote very long letters to him, though I tore each one into tiny shreds.

I lived my ordinary life, I coached Dad with his speech, I helped Mum in the shop, I fooled around with Grace, I chatted to Toby – but it was just like a play. I was saying all the right words, going through all the motions, but none of it seemed
real
. I was pretending all the time. I just wanted to see Rax, to talk to him, to throw my arms around his neck, to kiss him, to tell him just how much I loved him, and that I would go on loving him for ever and ever.

I stayed right away from Wentworth – but several times I couldn't stop myself getting the bus and walking along Laurel Grove. I paused outside number 34, but then I walked on. I walked and walked and walked, slowly, dreamily, as if I was strolling along the seashore . . .