local schools. Why don’t you tag along?’ He turned to someone, and nodded before turning back. ‘I’m going to do the skyline.’ He looked down as the little girl abandoned lavishing attention on Buttons, and signed something at him. Nodding, he signed something back. ‘I agree,’ Leo said out loud. ‘She says you’re pretty,’ he explained.
George shook her head automatically and drew her hair around her face. ‘No,’ she denied, gulping. ‘I need to go.’ Bending over to hide her anger and confusion, she clipped Buttons’ lead onto his collar and started walking away. ‘Bye,’ she called over one shoulder.
‘I’m sorry. We weren’t trying to offend you,’ Leo hollered. ‘Stay for the skyline talk. You might enjoy it.’
‘Not today,’ she yelled, picking up the pace, breaking into a jog as she went down the hill. It was things like this that made her reluctant to go out.
She’d come too far to slide back into a black hole again, so she and Buttons carried on with their daily excursions. And the next time she saw Leo, on a walk she’d deliberately changed to late afternoon in order to try and avoid him (epic fail), the first thing he did was apologise.
‘Hi, Georgiana,’ he walked right up to her, touching her elbow as she stood halfway up the hill watching Buttons swoop across the grass in diagonal streaks chasing a bird, ears flapping.
She jerked her arm away from him.
‘I’m sorry if I upset you the other day,’ Leo said, dropping his hand and stepping back to give her space. ‘I was just translating. I wasn’t trying to hit on you. It’s genuinely what Emily said.’
Well, that was clear. He hadn’t been flirting with her. He was just being his pupil’s mouthpiece.
‘I thought it was Lark who was blind, not Emily,’ she flung back, hurt. ‘Didn’t she see the state of this?’ She pointed at her scar. Sucking in a shaky breath, she immediately felt awful for what she’d said about the children. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it. You are pretty though,’ he frowned.
‘I don’t need pity,’ George blinked, thinking furiously of the way she was going to get out of this conversation.
‘No pity. I’m just being honest. It’s the way I’m built. I’m also used to dealing with parents of children with special educational needs, where we have open conversations about their child’s challenges and the support they require to maximise their opportunities. So I say what I think. I’m sorry if that upsets you.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded, pulling her hair forward.
He grinned, ‘Careful, I may have to get ear protectors or ear muffs to block out your constant chatter. I’m not sure I can stand it.’
Despite herself, George smiled.
‘No, don’t smile. The straight-faced look goes much better with the cool eye patch. Like a brooding, sexy, girl pirate.’
‘Are you for real?’ she blurted, looking around for Buttons. It might be a good idea to leave. Leo was either mocking her or flirting with her and she wasn’t sure how to handle either.
‘Buttons. Buttons!’ Darkness was falling and she couldn’t see him. She rattled the biscuit bag in her pocket and called the puppy again.
‘Last time I checked, I was real,’ Leo said, falling into step with her as she started up the hill, hoping for a better view from the top ‘And don’t get defensive. We’re just chatting. I come here for a walk most evenings to unwind after work. So, you’re here and I’m here. Hey, why don’t we do the skyline this time?’
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’
George expelled a long sigh. Might as well get it over with, she got the feeling he would just keep asking every time he saw her otherwise. When she got to the top of the hill, Buttons was waiting for her expectantly; the expression on his face seeming to say what took you so long? Shaking her head at him, she gave him a chew and hooked him back onto the lead. Leo moved up beside her when she was done, turning her to face the City and slowly describing the different buildings from left to right. She did nothing but nod along as he spoke, conscious of the warmth of his arm against hers as he pointed things out, and the fresh scent of his aftershave. When he finished, she took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the view as twilight descended. ‘Thanks.’
‘My pleasure.’
After a few minutes of companionable silence, he spun around to study her profile. ‘So, what’s your story?’
She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about horrible things. She wanted to enjoy the beauty of the night, the lights of the city twinkling as the light of day faded.
‘Do you ever say more than five words in one go?’ he asked.
She shrugged again.
This time he laughed. ‘Ok-ay. Well that’s fine, I can do enough talking for both of us. I was born in Holborn to Cathy and Chris Miller on 10th March 1988.’ The dry crisp tone was in the style of an old fashioned BBC presenter. ‘A rather small baby, I shot up at the age of seven, when I discovered a hereto unknown brand of sweetcorn known as Green Giant, eating it every day with my greens, convinced I could make it to six foot five at least.’ He glanced down wryly, ‘And believe me, I was very disappointed when I stopped growing at seventeen and had only reached six foot one. I started walking and talking very early.’ He grinned, getting into the swing of it. ‘At my three year health visitor check, my Mum –’
‘All right!’ she shook her head. ‘Stop, please. I’ll tell you just to shut you up. I don’t know why you want to know anyway.’
‘Maybe I enjoy your company.’
She snorted.
‘Or maybe it’s because I’ve always had a weakness for surly, impatient brunettes with eye-patch complexes.’
She gaped and burst into giggles. She wasn’t offended. In fact, he was really the only person who didn’t ignore the scars and patch, or look away, or fumble conversations. He had the gall to joke about it. It made her slightly uncomfortable, but it was also honest and real.
‘I was on my way back to uni on a Sunday evening in late September. My car got hit by a lorry. The driver had a heart attack at the wheel.’ She stared out at the distant skyline, describing the events of that horrific night in short, sharp sentences. She did not want to cry in public. ‘He didn’t make it, because of his heart…’ she gulped. ‘It wasn’t his fault.’
‘Wow,’ Leo stated. ‘That really sucks.’
George let out a disbelieving laugh. ‘Are you serious?’
‘It’s tragic and awful and unfair,’ he said gently. ‘But the only way I can think of to summarise it is, it sucks. I bet you’ve used some much stronger words.’
‘In the beginning,’ she shared, ‘the f-word featured a lot, but lately I’ve been going with, it blows.’
‘We’ve both been watching too many American TV shows,’ he decided, shifting closer. ‘Do you remember it? The accident?’
She took in a long, shaky breath, squaring her shoulders. ‘I have flashbacks sometimes,’ she whispered. She hadn’t admitted that to anyone but her therapist, and hadn’t wanted to burden her parents, but there was something about Leo, his easy manner and non-judgemental ways that made it easier. Perhaps it was the fact they barely knew each other, so had no emotional investment in one another that made it possible for her to share. ‘I remember the dark motorway lit only by my headlights. The rain thrashing down against my windscreen so that I had my wipers on the highest speed.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No.’ She winced. Time to go home.
‘Nothing about the crash itself?’