A Trick of the Light by Ali Carter (books for 5 year olds to read themselves TXT) 📗

‘Of course.’ I smiled; it felt nice him opening up to me.

‘Another drink?’

‘No, no, I must go to bed.’

‘Fair enough.’

Louis followed me to the door, and as I stretched for the handle he lightly wrapped his fingers round my right shoulder. Ever so delicately he motioned my chin towards his and as his hands felt for my cheeks he pressed his lips against mine with the most loving, soft, passionate kiss. I adored every moment of it and when he drew away he stretched his hand out and opened the door wishing me, ‘Bonne nuit, mon amie,’ on my way out.

I turned into the corridor with an incredibly happy feeling inside. There’s nothing like a snog to perk one up, and I sauntered into my bedroom with my head in a hazy cloud of romance, until the blasted floorboard tripped me up again. Falling to my knees, full of confusion, I lay thinking, there must be a reason it’s come loose. Then assuming it wasn’t a trick on me – everyone’s too grown up for April Fool behaviour – I began to wonder why.

I reckon it happened today, when Rupert and I were out walking – the timings make sense. Perhaps something was hidden and someone came to get it…Maybe it was Zoe? She could have stashed something in here when she stayed as a child or heard treasure was in the house and searched the locked wing last night and this corridor this morning. Unlikely – surely she’d do it when the house’s empty?

Maybe Mhàiri accidentally sucked the board up with her Hoover and struggled to put it firmly back in place? Or, Fergus could have been looking into the electrics, it might be to do with that? I’ve never sleepwalked before, so it’s highly unlikely but I suppose I might have done something in my sleep.

I stood up and got ready for bed and as I brushed my teeth then put on my nightie, progressively more absurd thoughts flew off the top of my head: Haggis had scratched the board until it came loose; Louis had tried to hide a present for me; a squirrel had sneaked into my room; the ravens somehow caused the problem; the teddy bear had come to life; the two-faced man in the painting had walked out the canvas.

I grasped my mobile and turned on the torch. Then, straddling the void in the floor, I bent right down and peered in the illuminated hole. A tiny speck in one corner sparkled back and I felt all zingy inside as I grabbed my tweezers to pluck it out.

A hard, pale, yellowish lozenge about five millimetres in length is now in the palm of my hand. Considering where I’ve found it, it’s probably a jewel from a doll. But, no matter how insignificant, I’m excited to get to the bottom of who’s been here and what they’ve taken out.

Right now, though, I must sleep. I can’t be a hung over, tired tutor tomorrow. So, I popped the jewel in my jewellery case, replaced the floorboard and jumped into bed.

I’m lying in the dark, imagining Louis in his huge double bed. ‘Mon amie,’ I whispered with a smile. How much fun to have a Highland fling. Nothing long term, I don’t want to be hurt again. I’ve lost my faith in finding true love. Lost it because of Toby. Oh Toby. Why are you tipping up here tomorrow night? How could you have accepted without asking me?

Grrrrrrr. I kicked a leg out from under the duvet. The more I think about it the more I cannot believe he’s gatecrashing my fresh start.

My morning alarm woke me with a fright. Where am I? Home? No. Scotland. It’s morning. Really? Yes, morning. That was far too short a night. I reached for the snooze button and promptly fell fast asleep again.

Ten minutes later it began to beep. Unfortunately, I really had to get up now. I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with freezing water. Then, gently slapping my cheeks trying to get some colour, I whizzed through the hurdles I had to get over today – replacing life drawing with another activity; finding time to take my car to the garage; spending the evening with Toby; mastering the art of Scottish reeling. Oh God, give me strength for the day ahead.

I hurried back to my room and pulled on my clothes. I needed to give myself as much time as I could to put on my face. The late nights were taking their toll and my puffy eyes had terrible bags.

By the time I rushed downstairs I was behind schedule and last into breakfast. There’s nothing like a hangover to heighten hunger. Even Minty was eating salty porridge this morning. I sat down with a bowl of my own and Louis, all the way up the other end of the table, gave me a nod. I smiled back, not too much, just enough to get rid of any awkwardness. The great thing about hitting your thirties is you simply don’t get that self-conscious nausea after a romantic escapade. It plagued my teens and my twenties when I often did things just to have done them and then felt desperately awkward the morning after a fumble. I’m not saying it wasn’t good fun or that every boy who passed my lips was purely for practice. Just that the I-know-what-I’m-doing mature self now makes it so much less embarrassing at moments like this.

The breakfast conversation was buzzing with last night’s show.

‘Fergus told me all about it,’ said Zoe.

‘Did he tell you Cailey got her kit off?’ shouted Shane.

‘Yes, enough of that.’

‘Not sure how I feel about drawing her today,’ said Jane.

‘You took the words straight out my mouth,’ said Rupert.

‘It won’t be a problem,’ said Fergus, staring at his wife.

‘Not at all. As you all