Annie Christie's To Die For:
Episode Three
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: A night to remember.
_____________________________________________________________________
Saturday April 26th, 2003. I will never forget that date. It was the night my parents won the Lottery. It was just before my Highers started. And it was my first date with Freddie.
In our house the Lottery was the highlight of the week. No one was allowed out until the draw had been made. And we all had to sit through ‘In It to Win It’ to build up suspense. I hated it. And that night I hated it more than usual. I’d agreed to meet Freddie before sunset. Sunset would be around nine o’clock and the Lotto (as it had not that long ago been rebranded) didn’t finish till 8:50. That was cutting it fine.
During dinner I was trying to think of an excuse to get out. My only possible alibi was Christy and that wasn’t likely to be well received. I had to think of something better. The truth, of course, was out of the question.
‘Dad I want to go out on a date with a boy I’ve just met instead of watching the Lottery,’ wasn’t ever going to work.
All evening I sweated it out trying to think what to do. The rest of the family were glued to the television but I was totally distracted. While they were waiting for Galahad to spring the balls, I was hoping for inspiration to strike so that I could escape. Time slowed to a crawl and just like in the shop that afternoon, I found myself wondering what the hell time meant anyway. It never seemed to behave in a rational manner. It was crawling along and yet… all too soon the moment would be past and I’d have missed the opportunity to catch up with Freddie.
The numbers started rolling. We got one. That wasn’t unusual. It’s not that hard to get one number. My parents spent five pounds a week on it. Put on one ticket for each of us and one for luck. This week luck was in. They got two numbers on the ‘lucky’ ticket. And then I took my chance as they hit pay dirt with number three. They were glued to their destiny on the screen, so I drew no attention as I sneaked out the door.
‘Be back by 10,’ I said quietly, covering myself. Even Duggie wasn’t watching what I was up to. They would think I’d just gone to the loo… and… well, I decided I’d put up with the telling off afterwards. Better than there not being an afterwards.
I pulled on my jean jacket and ran down the road. The sun, and luckily it was a nice evening, not clouded over, was on its way down. Would he still be there?
As I turned the corner, I wasn’t sure if I could see him. And then I did. He was standing, back to me, looking out over Kirkcudbright Harbour, fully entranced in the moment. My heart pounded, and not just from the running. I slowed down. I walked as casually as I could up behind him and reaching up, put my hands over his eyes.
He didn’t jump. He just took them off and turned round. And smiled.
‘Heather,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you came.’
‘I said I would,’ I said. I had to get better at this.
‘It is beautiful, yes?’ he said. He meant the sunset, of course.
‘Yeah,’ I said, though maybe I didn’t sound convinced. Seen one glorious sunset, seen them all. But he was beautiful. He was what I was looking at. I didn’t care about the sunset. They, after all, came along every day. He was special, unique. To die for.
We stood there in silence for what seemed the longest time, as the sun dipped down over the horizon. Finally, he sighed, a deep sigh. I didn’t know what it meant. How could I?
‘Shall we walk?’ he said.
I knew I should be getting home. I knew I was going to be in so much trouble. But how could I resist.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘What time must you be home?’ he asked. And I wondered if he could read my mind. I hoped not. How embarrassing would that have been?
‘Not till ten o’clock,’ I said.
‘We have time then,’ he said.
I wondered what we had time for, but didn’t like to ask.
‘Show me the town,’ he said.
I laughed.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘Is my English incorrect?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘Your expectations are incorrect.’
I thought that was possibly the coolest thing I’d ever said. Even Christy would be proud of that one.
‘Sorry?’ he looked confused.
‘It’s just…’ I went on, ‘there’s not a lot to see here.’
‘Apart from beautiful sunsets and pretty girls?’ he smiled at me. I blushed.
‘Heather,’ he went on. ‘It is a colour, no?’
‘Well it’s really a plant,’ I said, ‘they come in a variety of colours.’
‘And what colour heather are you?’ he asked.
I wasn’t sure what to say. So I said nothing. For a moment. But I couldn’t keep on saying nothing, could I, so…
‘Uh, you’re an artist, right?’ I said.
‘I study art,’ he replied.
‘Well, Kirkcudbright used to have a load of famous artists here,’ I said. Then stopped. What a dork. He probably knew all this.
‘And…?’
‘I can show you where some of them used to live,’ I said.
And I proceeded to take him on his personal Kirkcudbright’s Light tour of the town. Of course it was dark so there wasn’t much to see. I should explain. For the past several summers there had been a walking tour of Kirkcudbright run by the local arts association where a woman (or a team of women) dressed up as Jessie M. King and did a tour of the town. It was hard to avoid in the summers, like I said, there’s not a lot on in Kirkcudbright and so I was pretty up to speed on who lived where and when.
We started at Broughton House and I pointed out about the Glasgow Boys. Freddie didn’t sound like he’d heard of them, which I thought was a bit weird since he was supposed to be studying art.
‘They came from urban Glasgow to here because of the light?’ he questioned.
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ I replied. It seemed to make sense to him. ‘The same in Germany,’ he said. ‘The desire to leave the city and go into the country. Are you familiar with the German Romantics?’
I shook my head. ‘Sorry, I really don’t know much about art,’ I said.
It didn’t seem to bother him. We left Broughton House behind and carried on walking till we got to outside Jessie M. King’s house and I pointed out to him all about it.
‘I thought you knew nothing of art?’ he said.
‘I just know about art in Kirkcudbright,’ I said. ‘It’s not the same thing.’
‘I can tell you something about art,’ he said. ‘If you would like.’
‘Yes, of course I would,’ I said. Though it wasn’t really the art that interested me, it was Freddie’s interest in art that I wanted to know about and that only because I wanted to know about Freddie.
‘You have heard of Goethe?’ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘Friedrich? Wolf?’ Both times my head shook.
He sighed. ‘What do they teach you in that Academy?’ he asked.
‘That’s a good question,’ I joked. But I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say. He looked so serious.
‘Anyway, they don’t teach me anything any more,’ I said. ‘There’s just the exams to go and then…’
‘Then you can really start to learn about life… and art…’ he said, enigmatically. I didn’t just put in that to make it sound good for you to read. He really was enigmatic. It was just the word I’d use to describe him, even now a decade on.
‘I’d really like to find out more about the German Romantics,’ I said. ‘Can you teach me?’
‘You have exams,’ he said.
‘They don’t start for a week,’ I protested. ‘And they’re not every day. How long are you staying?’
I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt. I didn’t want this to be just another sunset.
He shook his head. ‘I have to find a special place,’ he said.
‘I can help you,’ I said. ‘I know this place well.’
‘In the forest,’ he said. ‘It’s a place of nature. A particular place… the light will be…’
‘Seriously, I know the Galloway forest park pretty well,’ I lied. I had no idea what he was looking for, or how I might help him find it, but I wasn’t going to let him go without a fight. He didn’t know what he was looking for, not till he found it. I could just take him all sorts of places and…’
‘Would you help me?’ he asked. He looked more sad than enigmatic then, but I thought it was just the light. Or lack of it. I thought he’d just had a long day and was tired of talking and thinking in a foreign language to some stupid girl with hair that was not the colour of heather.
‘Of course I will,’ I said.
We were standing outside the Tolbooth. The spell broke. Duggie came breezing up on his push bike, excitement tumbling out of him.
‘Heather,’ he shouted, ‘mum and dad want you…’
I turned from Freddie, wishing Duggie not to make a fuss about this. Not to make a fool of me. ‘What is it?’ I said. ‘I told them I was going out.’ I said that loud enough for Freddie to hear.
‘No,’ Duggie said, ‘they’re not angry… well, they will be when they think about it… but… we’ve… we’ve won the lottery.’
I laughed. But only for a moment. It was the irony. Only my family could try to top trump a first date with a guy to die for by winning the lottery. Though of course, Duggie was probably lying.
‘Five numbers,’ he said.
‘I don’t care,’ I spat at him. Under my voice, ‘Leave me alone, Duggie, or I’ll tell dad about you stalking Christy.’
He looked at me, stunned. He obviously thought I’d lost my mind. I probably had.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I said.
Duggie, uncharacteristically, sped off, presumably to tell his friends of our great fortune.
I turned back to Freddie. He didn’t look as if he’d understood a word. He was sketching something, and I thought it was the top of the Tolbooth, but when I got a closer look I saw it was the sky. It was dark and brooding.
‘Fuseli,’ he said, as if that would explain things.
‘Sorry?’ I so had to get into school and get out a book on art history.
‘You have to go?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘I should be getting back home. But… when can we meet up again?’
I felt incredibly forward asking him, but I really did not want this to be the last I saw of him and I thought that if I didn’t…
‘You have exams,’ he said.
Back to that again.
‘Yeah, but not every day,’ I said. ‘And I’ve done most of my revision.’ That was a downright lie.
‘I don’t want to complicate…’ he started.
I’d heard this sort of line before. If not in reality, from the movies. I knew which path this was going down. I wasn’t going to let go that easily.
‘It’s really okay,’ I said. ‘Look.’ And I handed him a crumpled copy of my exam timetable which had been sitting in my jean jacket pocket for the best part of a month, doing nothing to inspire me to study.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, one day I will meet you from an exam, yes?’
‘What day?’ I asked.
‘A surprise,’ he said. ‘You work hard and I will be the prize.’
He had no idea what he’d just said. I’d rather have had a really specific fixed time and place, but this… well, it would be a prize worth waiting for.
‘Do you really mean it?’ I asked. ‘You won’t go away and forget me?’
He took my face in between his hands and looked deep into my eyes. ‘Heather,’ he said, ‘you are going to help me find my special place, no?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course I will.’
‘Then how will I forget you?’ he said.
I waited for him to kiss me. But he didn’t. He just gazed into my eyes. Then let his hands drop.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘shall I walk you to your home?’
‘Yes,’ I gasped. ‘If you don’t mind.’
While I was worried about rocking up at the front door with a strange boy, I also thought that if he knew where I lived I’d stand more chance of seeing him again. And who knows, he might kiss me on the doorstep.
Dream on. Reality only stretches so far. My family had won the lottery all right. The jackpot was three million that week. Three lucky winners each won around a million pounds. Not my family. No, we matched five numbers and were one of the 341 winners who pocketed just under £2,000. It was enough to stop my parents ripping me to shreds for going out without telling them. Enough to keep the family talking about other things. But I wasn’t going to risk Freddie kissing me on the doorstep. Not this girl. I wanted to see him again after all, and my dad… well, he wasn’t keen on that kind of behaviour, shall we just put it like that.
So I stopped short about three houses down the street.
‘That’s me, number 17,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine from here. Will you be okay back to your bike?’
He laughed. ‘I’ve made it all the way from Germany to here,’ he said, ‘I don’t think I’ll get lost now.’
‘And I will see you again?’ I couldn’t help myself.
‘Study hard, and you will see,’ he said. And he was gone.
I went in to face the jackpot music. Feeling like I’d won a jackpot of my own. As long as I didn’t lose my ticket. Or my nerve. Luckily the joy my parents were experiencing over their lottery win put my sneaking out in the shade. They just kept asking me what I wanted to do with my share of the money. Which came out at nearly £400. They’d agreed that since it was a five way syndicate, we’d split it five ways, with each family member getting equal shares and the final share going ‘on the house’. Dad and mum weren’t used to such windfalls – they were careful with money, but with dad working as an oil delivery driver and mum as a care worker, there was never any to spare.
Duggie had his eyes on the prize already. A new bike.
‘That’s going to be some kind of a bike for £400,’ my dad said, gently persuading him to save half and spend half.
‘And what about you?’ he asked me.
‘Uh… I dunno…’ I said. I had other things on my mind.
‘She wasn’t even here when the draw was made,’ Duggie chipped in, ever the one to try and cause trouble. Did he think he was going to get my share just because I wasn’t there…
‘Shh,’ mum said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Could be the lucky charm,’ said dad.
Neither of them ever actually asked me where I’d gone. Which was a bit more worrying than getting the ‘we’re not angry, just disappointed’ speech I had been expecting. It just shows what a windfall can do to people, eh? Or maybe they were cutting me a bit of slack because the exams were imminent. I never asked, and I’ll never know.
It was a week till the first exam and there was a huge part of me that was certain Freddie would be long gone by then. What if he found his special place without me? How hard could it be to find the right kind of light in the Galloway Forest? What kind of light was he looking for?
I spent the next week, when I should have been revising for my exams, in the school library poring over anything I could find about the German Romantics. And hoping each and every time I came out of the school building that I’d catch a glimpse of Freddie, or his motorbike. But there was no sign of him.
Christy called me for all kinds of a fool. I hadn’t even kissed him. I certainly hadn’t nailed him down to a firm date. I was hopeless. I knew it.
‘It wasn’t like that’ and ‘I couldn’t’ just didn’t cut the mustard with Christy. She began suggesting that I was just making it all up anyway, the product of some over-active mind due to too much revising. She started calling him the imaginary Freddie. I began to wonder if she might be right. If my chances had gone down with that one sunset. By the time the exams started I was pretty convinced I’d never see him again. Things like that didn’t happen to me, after all. Sure, my family won the lottery, but not until I left the house, and not a life-changing amount of money. Just enough to get you dreaming of something… better… something more. Which was what I was doing. Freddie wasn’t real, was he? Could he be? And even if he was, he’d travelled all the way from Germany; he wasn’t going to get stuck on a girl like me, or a place like Kirkcudbright, however great the light was. I knew that. And since I’d been given time off from Rupert’s in order to revise, even if he ran out of art supplies, I’d never know. I was lost. I had blown my big chance. And I knew it without Christy rubbing it in every ten minutes. It had been a moment. And moments don’t last. Do they?
Swearwords: None.
Description: A night to remember.
_____________________________________________________________________
Saturday April 26th, 2003. I will never forget that date. It was the night my parents won the Lottery. It was just before my Highers started. And it was my first date with Freddie.
In our house the Lottery was the highlight of the week. No one was allowed out until the draw had been made. And we all had to sit through ‘In It to Win It’ to build up suspense. I hated it. And that night I hated it more than usual. I’d agreed to meet Freddie before sunset. Sunset would be around nine o’clock and the Lotto (as it had not that long ago been rebranded) didn’t finish till 8:50. That was cutting it fine.
During dinner I was trying to think of an excuse to get out. My only possible alibi was Christy and that wasn’t likely to be well received. I had to think of something better. The truth, of course, was out of the question.
‘Dad I want to go out on a date with a boy I’ve just met instead of watching the Lottery,’ wasn’t ever going to work.
All evening I sweated it out trying to think what to do. The rest of the family were glued to the television but I was totally distracted. While they were waiting for Galahad to spring the balls, I was hoping for inspiration to strike so that I could escape. Time slowed to a crawl and just like in the shop that afternoon, I found myself wondering what the hell time meant anyway. It never seemed to behave in a rational manner. It was crawling along and yet… all too soon the moment would be past and I’d have missed the opportunity to catch up with Freddie.
The numbers started rolling. We got one. That wasn’t unusual. It’s not that hard to get one number. My parents spent five pounds a week on it. Put on one ticket for each of us and one for luck. This week luck was in. They got two numbers on the ‘lucky’ ticket. And then I took my chance as they hit pay dirt with number three. They were glued to their destiny on the screen, so I drew no attention as I sneaked out the door.
‘Be back by 10,’ I said quietly, covering myself. Even Duggie wasn’t watching what I was up to. They would think I’d just gone to the loo… and… well, I decided I’d put up with the telling off afterwards. Better than there not being an afterwards.
I pulled on my jean jacket and ran down the road. The sun, and luckily it was a nice evening, not clouded over, was on its way down. Would he still be there?
As I turned the corner, I wasn’t sure if I could see him. And then I did. He was standing, back to me, looking out over Kirkcudbright Harbour, fully entranced in the moment. My heart pounded, and not just from the running. I slowed down. I walked as casually as I could up behind him and reaching up, put my hands over his eyes.
He didn’t jump. He just took them off and turned round. And smiled.
‘Heather,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you came.’
‘I said I would,’ I said. I had to get better at this.
‘It is beautiful, yes?’ he said. He meant the sunset, of course.
‘Yeah,’ I said, though maybe I didn’t sound convinced. Seen one glorious sunset, seen them all. But he was beautiful. He was what I was looking at. I didn’t care about the sunset. They, after all, came along every day. He was special, unique. To die for.
We stood there in silence for what seemed the longest time, as the sun dipped down over the horizon. Finally, he sighed, a deep sigh. I didn’t know what it meant. How could I?
‘Shall we walk?’ he said.
I knew I should be getting home. I knew I was going to be in so much trouble. But how could I resist.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘What time must you be home?’ he asked. And I wondered if he could read my mind. I hoped not. How embarrassing would that have been?
‘Not till ten o’clock,’ I said.
‘We have time then,’ he said.
I wondered what we had time for, but didn’t like to ask.
‘Show me the town,’ he said.
I laughed.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘Is my English incorrect?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘Your expectations are incorrect.’
I thought that was possibly the coolest thing I’d ever said. Even Christy would be proud of that one.
‘Sorry?’ he looked confused.
‘It’s just…’ I went on, ‘there’s not a lot to see here.’
‘Apart from beautiful sunsets and pretty girls?’ he smiled at me. I blushed.
‘Heather,’ he went on. ‘It is a colour, no?’
‘Well it’s really a plant,’ I said, ‘they come in a variety of colours.’
‘And what colour heather are you?’ he asked.
I wasn’t sure what to say. So I said nothing. For a moment. But I couldn’t keep on saying nothing, could I, so…
‘Uh, you’re an artist, right?’ I said.
‘I study art,’ he replied.
‘Well, Kirkcudbright used to have a load of famous artists here,’ I said. Then stopped. What a dork. He probably knew all this.
‘And…?’
‘I can show you where some of them used to live,’ I said.
And I proceeded to take him on his personal Kirkcudbright’s Light tour of the town. Of course it was dark so there wasn’t much to see. I should explain. For the past several summers there had been a walking tour of Kirkcudbright run by the local arts association where a woman (or a team of women) dressed up as Jessie M. King and did a tour of the town. It was hard to avoid in the summers, like I said, there’s not a lot on in Kirkcudbright and so I was pretty up to speed on who lived where and when.
We started at Broughton House and I pointed out about the Glasgow Boys. Freddie didn’t sound like he’d heard of them, which I thought was a bit weird since he was supposed to be studying art.
‘They came from urban Glasgow to here because of the light?’ he questioned.
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ I replied. It seemed to make sense to him. ‘The same in Germany,’ he said. ‘The desire to leave the city and go into the country. Are you familiar with the German Romantics?’
I shook my head. ‘Sorry, I really don’t know much about art,’ I said.
It didn’t seem to bother him. We left Broughton House behind and carried on walking till we got to outside Jessie M. King’s house and I pointed out to him all about it.
‘I thought you knew nothing of art?’ he said.
‘I just know about art in Kirkcudbright,’ I said. ‘It’s not the same thing.’
‘I can tell you something about art,’ he said. ‘If you would like.’
‘Yes, of course I would,’ I said. Though it wasn’t really the art that interested me, it was Freddie’s interest in art that I wanted to know about and that only because I wanted to know about Freddie.
‘You have heard of Goethe?’ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘Friedrich? Wolf?’ Both times my head shook.
He sighed. ‘What do they teach you in that Academy?’ he asked.
‘That’s a good question,’ I joked. But I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say. He looked so serious.
‘Anyway, they don’t teach me anything any more,’ I said. ‘There’s just the exams to go and then…’
‘Then you can really start to learn about life… and art…’ he said, enigmatically. I didn’t just put in that to make it sound good for you to read. He really was enigmatic. It was just the word I’d use to describe him, even now a decade on.
‘I’d really like to find out more about the German Romantics,’ I said. ‘Can you teach me?’
‘You have exams,’ he said.
‘They don’t start for a week,’ I protested. ‘And they’re not every day. How long are you staying?’
I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt. I didn’t want this to be just another sunset.
He shook his head. ‘I have to find a special place,’ he said.
‘I can help you,’ I said. ‘I know this place well.’
‘In the forest,’ he said. ‘It’s a place of nature. A particular place… the light will be…’
‘Seriously, I know the Galloway forest park pretty well,’ I lied. I had no idea what he was looking for, or how I might help him find it, but I wasn’t going to let him go without a fight. He didn’t know what he was looking for, not till he found it. I could just take him all sorts of places and…’
‘Would you help me?’ he asked. He looked more sad than enigmatic then, but I thought it was just the light. Or lack of it. I thought he’d just had a long day and was tired of talking and thinking in a foreign language to some stupid girl with hair that was not the colour of heather.
‘Of course I will,’ I said.
We were standing outside the Tolbooth. The spell broke. Duggie came breezing up on his push bike, excitement tumbling out of him.
‘Heather,’ he shouted, ‘mum and dad want you…’
I turned from Freddie, wishing Duggie not to make a fuss about this. Not to make a fool of me. ‘What is it?’ I said. ‘I told them I was going out.’ I said that loud enough for Freddie to hear.
‘No,’ Duggie said, ‘they’re not angry… well, they will be when they think about it… but… we’ve… we’ve won the lottery.’
I laughed. But only for a moment. It was the irony. Only my family could try to top trump a first date with a guy to die for by winning the lottery. Though of course, Duggie was probably lying.
‘Five numbers,’ he said.
‘I don’t care,’ I spat at him. Under my voice, ‘Leave me alone, Duggie, or I’ll tell dad about you stalking Christy.’
He looked at me, stunned. He obviously thought I’d lost my mind. I probably had.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I said.
Duggie, uncharacteristically, sped off, presumably to tell his friends of our great fortune.
I turned back to Freddie. He didn’t look as if he’d understood a word. He was sketching something, and I thought it was the top of the Tolbooth, but when I got a closer look I saw it was the sky. It was dark and brooding.
‘Fuseli,’ he said, as if that would explain things.
‘Sorry?’ I so had to get into school and get out a book on art history.
‘You have to go?’ he asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘I should be getting back home. But… when can we meet up again?’
I felt incredibly forward asking him, but I really did not want this to be the last I saw of him and I thought that if I didn’t…
‘You have exams,’ he said.
Back to that again.
‘Yeah, but not every day,’ I said. ‘And I’ve done most of my revision.’ That was a downright lie.
‘I don’t want to complicate…’ he started.
I’d heard this sort of line before. If not in reality, from the movies. I knew which path this was going down. I wasn’t going to let go that easily.
‘It’s really okay,’ I said. ‘Look.’ And I handed him a crumpled copy of my exam timetable which had been sitting in my jean jacket pocket for the best part of a month, doing nothing to inspire me to study.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, one day I will meet you from an exam, yes?’
‘What day?’ I asked.
‘A surprise,’ he said. ‘You work hard and I will be the prize.’
He had no idea what he’d just said. I’d rather have had a really specific fixed time and place, but this… well, it would be a prize worth waiting for.
‘Do you really mean it?’ I asked. ‘You won’t go away and forget me?’
He took my face in between his hands and looked deep into my eyes. ‘Heather,’ he said, ‘you are going to help me find my special place, no?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course I will.’
‘Then how will I forget you?’ he said.
I waited for him to kiss me. But he didn’t. He just gazed into my eyes. Then let his hands drop.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘shall I walk you to your home?’
‘Yes,’ I gasped. ‘If you don’t mind.’
While I was worried about rocking up at the front door with a strange boy, I also thought that if he knew where I lived I’d stand more chance of seeing him again. And who knows, he might kiss me on the doorstep.
Dream on. Reality only stretches so far. My family had won the lottery all right. The jackpot was three million that week. Three lucky winners each won around a million pounds. Not my family. No, we matched five numbers and were one of the 341 winners who pocketed just under £2,000. It was enough to stop my parents ripping me to shreds for going out without telling them. Enough to keep the family talking about other things. But I wasn’t going to risk Freddie kissing me on the doorstep. Not this girl. I wanted to see him again after all, and my dad… well, he wasn’t keen on that kind of behaviour, shall we just put it like that.
So I stopped short about three houses down the street.
‘That’s me, number 17,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine from here. Will you be okay back to your bike?’
He laughed. ‘I’ve made it all the way from Germany to here,’ he said, ‘I don’t think I’ll get lost now.’
‘And I will see you again?’ I couldn’t help myself.
‘Study hard, and you will see,’ he said. And he was gone.
I went in to face the jackpot music. Feeling like I’d won a jackpot of my own. As long as I didn’t lose my ticket. Or my nerve. Luckily the joy my parents were experiencing over their lottery win put my sneaking out in the shade. They just kept asking me what I wanted to do with my share of the money. Which came out at nearly £400. They’d agreed that since it was a five way syndicate, we’d split it five ways, with each family member getting equal shares and the final share going ‘on the house’. Dad and mum weren’t used to such windfalls – they were careful with money, but with dad working as an oil delivery driver and mum as a care worker, there was never any to spare.
Duggie had his eyes on the prize already. A new bike.
‘That’s going to be some kind of a bike for £400,’ my dad said, gently persuading him to save half and spend half.
‘And what about you?’ he asked me.
‘Uh… I dunno…’ I said. I had other things on my mind.
‘She wasn’t even here when the draw was made,’ Duggie chipped in, ever the one to try and cause trouble. Did he think he was going to get my share just because I wasn’t there…
‘Shh,’ mum said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Could be the lucky charm,’ said dad.
Neither of them ever actually asked me where I’d gone. Which was a bit more worrying than getting the ‘we’re not angry, just disappointed’ speech I had been expecting. It just shows what a windfall can do to people, eh? Or maybe they were cutting me a bit of slack because the exams were imminent. I never asked, and I’ll never know.
It was a week till the first exam and there was a huge part of me that was certain Freddie would be long gone by then. What if he found his special place without me? How hard could it be to find the right kind of light in the Galloway Forest? What kind of light was he looking for?
I spent the next week, when I should have been revising for my exams, in the school library poring over anything I could find about the German Romantics. And hoping each and every time I came out of the school building that I’d catch a glimpse of Freddie, or his motorbike. But there was no sign of him.
Christy called me for all kinds of a fool. I hadn’t even kissed him. I certainly hadn’t nailed him down to a firm date. I was hopeless. I knew it.
‘It wasn’t like that’ and ‘I couldn’t’ just didn’t cut the mustard with Christy. She began suggesting that I was just making it all up anyway, the product of some over-active mind due to too much revising. She started calling him the imaginary Freddie. I began to wonder if she might be right. If my chances had gone down with that one sunset. By the time the exams started I was pretty convinced I’d never see him again. Things like that didn’t happen to me, after all. Sure, my family won the lottery, but not until I left the house, and not a life-changing amount of money. Just enough to get you dreaming of something… better… something more. Which was what I was doing. Freddie wasn’t real, was he? Could he be? And even if he was, he’d travelled all the way from Germany; he wasn’t going to get stuck on a girl like me, or a place like Kirkcudbright, however great the light was. I knew that. And since I’d been given time off from Rupert’s in order to revise, even if he ran out of art supplies, I’d never know. I was lost. I had blown my big chance. And I knew it without Christy rubbing it in every ten minutes. It had been a moment. And moments don’t last. Do they?
About the Author
Annie Christie is a pretty ordinary person, except that she was born Annie Christie and then married a man called Christie and so is still called Christie despite having taken on her husband’s name. She sometimes wonders if she should have called herself Christie-Christie: but who would believe that?
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
To Die For is Annie's second McSerial written for McStorytellers.
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
To Die For is Annie's second McSerial written for McStorytellers.