Dad’s stuck in the dark ages. He didn’t believe Kelly would be able to ‘give up girls’ as though being monogamous and bi-sexual was as mythical as unicorns or fat-free donuts, rather than a perfectly normal way of life.
It all came to a head last month after a blazing row where Dad forbade Luke to spend any more time with Kelly, and since then they’ve been seeing each other in secret. My parents don’t have a clue that they’re still together. No one does, except me and their closest friends. Even Maggie believes they parted ways. She’s mentioned her fear of Kelly and miserable Mischa getting back in touch numerous times, and although I’ve wanted to reassure her there’s no chance of that happening I haven’t been able to. It’s not my place.
Kelly’s shoulders sink, as though she’s physically deflating. I can tell how much she wants to be able to support Luke, how now more than ever she longs to be able to tell the world that she’s his girlfriend.
“I wish I could see him. I wish I could give him a hug and tell him how much he means to me.”
I fix my eyes on hers.
“You don’t have to tell him anything. You’ve been together for months now, he knows how much you love him.”
Kelly shakes her head. “He doesn’t. He thinks I hate him.”
I can see she’s welling up and for one awful moment I think she might cry. I’ve seen enough tears in the past twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime, I don’t think I can take many more.
“He doesn’t think you hate him. He asked me to let you know what was going on. He wouldn’t have done that if he thought you wouldn’t care. You two have been through so much together already, and for what it’s worth I think you’re the perfect couple.”
“The perfect couple no one knows about,” Kelly replies sadly. “How am I supposed to support him when I’m not even allowed to be near him?”
“Bide your time. For now, I’ll be the messenger for you and I’m taking Luke’s phone to the hospital later too – we were in such a rush yesterday to get him checked out that we didn’t even think to take it. And I’m sure that one day Mum and Dad will get over it. If they saw how much love you two have for each other I know they’d give you both their blessing. They might be old-fashioned but they’re not monsters.”
Kelly looks away, shamefaced, but her words catch me unawares.
“You don’t understand. The last time I saw Luke we had this dreadful argument. He said he couldn’t cope with the secrecy any more and that we should either tell everyone about our relationship or else call it a day. And I got so angry. Not angry at him, more angry at the situation. Angry that my sexuality has caused so many problems for us. Something inside me just snapped, and I took it all out on Luke. Do you know what the last thing I said to him was?”
I shake my head.
“The last words I said to Luke were ‘drop dead’.”
And then the tears do start to fall, both mine and hers.
“Oh Fern, what if he does die? What have I done?”
The sun’s shining for Fern’s 21st birthday, the bright morning at odds with the current mood around The Lake House Café. Things have been strained recently for everyone, with Luke in hospital. Emotions are running high. There have been times lately where I’ve felt like I’m treading on eggshells, but even so I couldn’t forget Fern’s birthday.
May 15th.
It’s Clint’s birthday too, although I push that thought to the back of my mind. I don’t want Fern’s celebration to be sullied, and certainly not by thoughts of him.
I had come in early especially to decorate the café in Fern’s honour, keen that our customers knew it was a special day. I’d pinned pretty bunting proclaiming ‘Happy Birthday Fern’ so the pastel triangles hung beneath the counter and wrestled with a canister of helium to fill dozens of shimmering lilac balloons. They were the centrepieces on each table, tied with silver florist ribbon that I’d painstakingly curled with a pair of scissors. It’s a good job I’m an early bird because the whole process had taken longer than I’d anticipated, but the effort was worth it. If anyone deserves a fuss it’s Fern.
I’d also, naturally, baked a cake – a gloriously rich red velvet cake topped with thick cream-cheese frosting. I’d known as I placed one spindly white candle at its centre what Fern’s wish would be. Luke had been deemed well enough to have the operation yesterday – a gruelling ten-hour ordeal that had obviously been a worry for everyone. I knew unequivocally what Fern’s wish would be for the operation to have been a success and for life to return to normal for the Hart family as quickly as possible. Thankfully early indications were that it had gone well, with the surgeon happy that the whole tumour had been successfully removed, but he’d been quick to remind Fern’s parents that there were no guarantees. Luke would be carefully monitored, both during his immediate recovery at the hospital and as an outpatient when he was well enough to return home.
The bell above the door jangles as Fern enters the café and I grin from ear to ear at her reaction. Her jaw physically drops in surprise. Individually the changes I made might only be small, but together they make quite an impact, transforming the café into a room worthy of a party. We might not have a knees-up planned, but I’m going to make sure every person who passes through that door wishes Fern a wonderful birthday full of happiness. She needs to know exactly how important she is to everyone, and especially to me.
“Happy birthday!” I exclaim, a ripple of pleasure rushing through me at Fern’s stunned response. She’s giggling in embarrassment at the realisation this is all for her. “Twenty-one today!”
“I know,” Fern groans. “Does this mean I’m officially a grown-up? Am I meant to suddenly have the answer to the meaning of life?”
I laugh. If only.
“I don’t think so, but if you find it, let me know. I’m still searching for that one myself. Now come here, you. Let me give you a birthday squeeze.”
Fern humours me, letting me wrap her up in a ginormous bear hug. Her body’s warm and soft, a joy to cuddle.
“I’ve got a present for you, too,” I say excitedly.
The younger girl’s eyes light up.
“You didn’t have to get me anything. I wasn’t expecting a present.”
“I know you weren’t, but I wanted to,” I insist. “Plus, I thought you might not have much to open. Your family have a lot on right now.”
There’s no point skirting around the issue. This has been a matter of life and death for Luke and as special as a big birthday is, I didn’t blame Fern’s parents for being distracted. Naturally Luke is at the forefront of their mind at the moment, being as poorly as he’s been.
Reaching beneath the counter, I pull out a neatly wrapped box. It’s not quite square (but near enough) and wrapped in tastefully ruched white tissue paper tied with a silky, pale purple ribbon that matches the balloons. What can I say? My eye for detail is impeccable. Handing it over with a grin, I watch as Fern carefully peels back the layers, waiting for the reaction.
As the birthday girl takes in the robin’s-egg-blue box, I know it was the perfect choice. Her eyes widen, she giggles nervously, and her hand reaches for her mouth, shocked.
“No way,” she stutters finally, her voice a trembly, squeaky mess. “This is too much. You got me a present from Tiffany’s?”
“Open it up and see for yourself,” I tease.
Fern carefully prises the lid off the box, gasping as she sees its contents. Nestled inside is a delicate silver chain with a small