the threshold, so I hear!”
“Yes. Well.” I pulled a face. “It was all done for show. He didn’t have to.”
“Still, good for him,” said Mum. “It’s nice to know the days of chivalry are not completely over.”
“But, Mum,” I cried, “it was so embarrassing! She got all silly and swoony and burst into tears. She wouldn’t have done it if Jake hadn’t been there.”
“Don’t be too hard on her,” urged Mum. “She’s going through a really tough time right now. So’s your Auntie Megs. They’re both missing Uncle Kev and you can’t blame them for being worried about him.”
I sighed. “I know. I do try …”
Maya’s dad, my Uncle Kev, is what my dad calls selfish and unreliable. Dad doesn’t have much patience with him. Mum, more kindly, says he’s just a bit eccentric. Actually, if you ask me he is very eccentric. I do love him, cos he’s also funny and warm-hearted and generous, but I can see why Dad accuses him of being selfish. He is one of those people that can’t ever seem to settle to anything. He was a milkman for a little while, but that didn’t work out, so then he worked in Tesco for a few months, until he got bored and decided he needed something more stimulating and became a postman, only he couldn’t manage to get up early enough in the morning and I think he probably got the sack, though Maya, who is very loyal, always said it wasn’t that at all. It was because his feet hurt.
In between working at proper jobs Uncle Kev has these brilliant ideas for inventing things. He then has to try and find people who will give him some money to start actually making the things he has invented so that he can become immensely rich and Auntie Megs will be able to stop cleaning houses for people that are already immensely rich, such as Jake’s mum and dad.
At the moment Uncle Kev was off on a world tour. It was his latest brilliant idea. He was going to see how far he could get by just walking and hitchhiking, starting with Europe, and then he was going to write a book about his adventures and sell it on Amazon so that Auntie Megs could stop cleaning houses, etc.
He had set off at the end of August and we were now halfway through September and Auntie Megs and Maya were still waiting to hear from him. He had warned them he wouldn’t be using his mobile phone except in emergencies cos he wanted to prove that life without “all this modern technology” was still possible. Typical Uncle Kev!
At least, as Mum said, no news was good news, but I did feel a bit sorry for Maya. I could understand why she was so anxious. I would be anxious if my dad suddenly took off and we didn’t know where he was or when he was coming back. Maybe I had been too hard on her.
“P’raps after tea,” I said, “I might go round and check she’s OK?”
“That would be a nice thing to do,” said Mum. “Auntie Megs would appreciate that.”
I said, “Yes, and we can decide what time we’re leaving in the morning … We’ve got to go by bus from now on. Auntie Megs says her nerves won’t stand us cycling any more.”
Mum laughed. “Well, that’s all right. Going by bus won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t suggest that I could still cycle. It was kind of taken for granted that I’d always be there to watch over Maya. I suppose on the whole I didn’t really mind. Except just sometimes I could get a bit impatient, like when I went round after tea and found her still all frail and suffering on the sofa with a great chunk of cake in her hand. Obviously nothing wrong with her appetite!
“Talk about playing it up,” I said.
She looked at me reproachfully with these enormous blue eyes that she has. Big wide-apart eyes in a tiny heart-shaped face.
“It really hurt,” she said. The tears were already welling up. I am convinced that Maya can actually make herself cry just by thinking about it. “If Jake hadn’t been there I don’t know what I’d have done.”
I was about to say she’d have got up and got back on her bike, but at that moment Auntie Megs came through from the kitchen. She must have heard Jake’s name cos she said, “That is such a lovely young man! Most of them wouldn’t have bothered.”
I thought, that was because there wasn’t anything to bother about. But it wouldn’t have been polite to say so.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. “Eight o’clock at the bus stop?”
Maya nodded, dreamily. “Unless Jake comes by and gives us a lift.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Well … you know! If he happened to be passing,” said Maya.
I looked at her, suspiciously. She had this slightly glazed and goofy expression on her face. I knew exactly what it meant.
“You’ve gone and done it again,” I hissed, “haven’t you?”
She gazed up at me, all innocence. “What?”
“Got one of your things.” I mouthed it at her. I couldn’t say it out loud, cos of Auntie Megs being there, though sometimes I think Auntie Megs only hears what she wants to hear.
“If Jake did offer you a lift,” she said, “it would be extremely kind of him, but I don’t think you ought to expect it. Only if he offers.”
“That’s all I meant,” said Maya. “If he offers.” And she gave me this impish smile, like we were in some kind of conspiracy.
I shook my head. If Maya was about to embark on yet another of her all-consuming crushes life was going to be extremely tiresome.
Eight o’clock next morning found us at the bus stop, glumly waiting for a bus to appear. Well, I was glum. I hate waiting for buses! I suppose I am quite an impatient sort of person.
“This is all because of you,” I grumbled to Maya. “If you hadn’t made all that fuss …”
Maya gazed at me, sorrowfully. “I couldn’t help it! You heard what Jake said … it was a really bad fall.”
“Not that bad,” I said. “You didn’t have to be such a drama queen.”
“I wasn’t! It hurt. It still does. Look!” She held out her hand, palm up, to show me. “I might have needed stitches. It could have got infected.”
I said, “Oh, please! And why do you keep peering at cars like that?”
She started, guiltily. “I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. You’re hoping Jake’ll come by, aren’t you?”
Except she obviously couldn’t remember what sort of car he drove. I could remember. It was a Fiat! I’m quite good at recognising different makes of car. Dad and I sometimes look at car sites together on the internet, picking out ones Dad would like to drive. Dad usually goes for the big posh ones like BMW and Mercedes. I prefer the little ones cos I think they look more cosy. Like little Easter eggs on wheels. Maya’s mum and dad don’t actually have a car so she doesn’t really know anything about them. I bet all she could remember about Jake’s Fiat was that it was small and blue.
I’d obviously embarrassed her, but it didn’t stop her peering.
“Know what?” I said.
“What?”
“You’re being really obvious!”
She frowned, nibbling at a thumbnail. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”
“You’re