Caramel Hearts (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

The Frosty Air Lifts Like Fog in the Rain

When Sarah phones me the next day to tell me that Rocky Road is Jack's favourite, I can't believe my luck. The recipe is waiting for me on page
thirty-three
, and it sounds amazing. Before I can chicken out, I throw myself into baking.

The following morning, as soon as the register's been taken, Mrs Pearl asks her usual question. I'm crapping myself, but I clear my throat and put up my hand. Sarah's encouraging smile helps.

“I have something to share,” I say. My face is hot and clammy, and I'm as jittery as a bag of frogs as everyone turns to look at me. I know what they're thinking – they're thinking, what's she got to share that could possibly interest us?

“Good! Go ahead,” says Mrs Pearl, looking mildly surprised. Leaning back in her chair and folding her arms, she smiles. “I'm sure we'd all love to hear it.”

The class erupts in loud whispers. Purposely avoiding everyone's gaze, I try to stay focused. If I catch Jack's eye, I'll back out. As Mrs Pearl calls order, my heart races and blood thumps in my ears. Almost ready to combust, I wait for the murmuring to stop.

“Go ahead – I think we're all listening now,” says Mrs Pearl, throwing an approving glance towards Jack.

“Well, I've… kind of… been baking.” My voice is so shaky, I sound like I'm on a bumpy bus. Sarah beams at me. I try to concentrate on that, rather than the sniggers. “I've brought some in for everyone to try.”

The class falls silent.

I rifle through my rucksack and slam a giant tin of Rocky Road on the desk. When I remove the lid, several people lean in to take a look, making noises of approval.

“Why don't you hand them out?” suggests Mrs Pearl. “They look delicious.”

She climbs out of her chair and takes a good-sized chunk. No one else moves. Only Sarah takes a piece. I feel sweat beading on my upper lip as I sink lower in my seat and wait. Just as I'm about to replace the lid, I hear chair legs scrape behind me. I guess it's Jack coming to my rescue, so I flash my best smile. But I needn't have bothered. It's Valerie Jeckyll, the tall, gangly girl with lots of freckles from Sarah's running group. Sarah's best friend when I'm not around.

“Looks good,” she says. The class watches as Valerie bites into a chunk and smacks her lips. “Tastes even better. God, this is amazing!” She gobbles it down, licking her fingers afterwards.

“No one else?” asks Mrs Pearl.

“Here, I'll try one,” calls a voice from the back.

Slowly, the tin passes from person to person. They each take a slice and nod approval. The frosty air lifts like fog in the rain, and I feel my shoulders relaxing.

My heart flutters as the tin makes its way to Jack. I made several batches until it was perfect and I only burned one lot – daydreaming about the moment he'd
taste it and instantly realize how sorry I am. My hands tremble as the tin inches closer and closer. I try not to get too carried away, but I visualize his gorgeous smile as he tastes my food – just like he talked about that day in the supermarket.

But once again, I'm proved a complete moron.

When the tin reaches Jack, he shakes his head, refusing to even acknowledge the Rocky Road I made especially for him. What was it the recipe said? Make when you're worried, give with love and enjoy with a happy heart. Where's my promised reward?

My hopes sink to deeper depths of despair. I never knew you could hurt this bad when you wanted to say sorry but no one would listen. I see the recipe book for what it is: a pile of nonsense. Just like Mam's café idea. Chasing a stupid dream – isn't that all I'm doing? As far as I'm concerned, Jack's reaction says it all. There are no dreams in Egerton and no happy hearts.

Ignoring Sarah's attempts to look encouraging, I stare at my desk. The positive reactions from the others are wiped out by Jack's cold response. Why wouldn't he try some – is he really still that angry with me? Unless he's realized I was running from the dinner hall that day. Unless he knows I'm the thief. I sink as low in my chair as I can manage without sliding off.

The rest of that morning's class passes in a cloud of gloom. When Valerie comes up at the end and asks for more, I'm all fake smiles and fake laughs. As I get the tin from my bag again, Sarah dashes past and winks.

“I'll see you after running,” she says, hurrying by. Valerie thanks me and dashes off to catch up to Sarah. I sigh, wishing Sarah hadn't left me alone, when I hear a noise behind me.

There's someone still here. I cross my fingers – please let it be Jack.

My heartbeat quickens as I hurriedly try to replace the lid. I hear footsteps and swing round.

“Jack!” I say, trying to make my voice sound as normal as possible.

He stays quiet. Shuffles from foot to foot. He looks so incredibly handsome, it freezes my tongue and we both stand there, awkward. Opening his mouth to say something, Jack quickly changes his mind and pushes past me without saying a word.

I spin on my heels, wanting to call him back, but I find myself tongue-tied. What could I say anyway? Shaking, I return to packing my things, listening to Jack's footsteps fade. Then I crumple into my chair, put my head on the desk and hit it once with each fist.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Sharp as a Carving Knife

“Liv, there's someone here to see you.”

Harriet's voice rings out loud and clear over my music. I stop mid dance and pause – the only person that ever comes to see me is Sarah, and she's at her grandma's for the night.

“Liv!”

“I'm coming!”

I check my hair in the mirror before running downstairs to the front door. When I get there, I feel my bones turn to jelly.

It's Jack.

“I hope you don't mind me coming round…” he says.

I glance nervously at Harriet. She winks covertly as she shoves past, gently nudging me in the ribs.

“I'll leave you two to it,” she says, disappearing off into the living room.

“If I've caught you at a bad time, I can go…”

He looks amazing in blue. I'm trying to check him out, without being too obvious, when I notice the package in his hand. I quickly look away. It can't be for me.

“No, stay! It's just… I thought you weren't talking to me…”

I realize I'm rubbing one leg with the other like a stork, and stare at the floor, as if it's covered in the most interesting carpet ever. He even has great taste in shoes – scuffed blue and brown Adidas.

“This is for you,” he says, thrusting the package into my hands, taking me by surprise.

The package tumbles to the ground and I wince as it hits the floor with a loud clunk.

“Are you going to ask him in or what?” shouts Harriet.

I should have known she'd be eavesdropping. Scooping up the gift, I hold the door wide so Jack can come in. He towers over me as I close the door quietly.

“About earlier, I was just… I didn't know what to do or say. I heard Maddy's still on your case and I feel awful. It's all my fault.”

“It's not your fault. Forget about it,” I say. “C'mon up. I was just chilling out.”

Together, we slip up the stairs.

When we step into my room, I realize there's underwear all over the floor and it's not even clean. There's junk on every surface: Harriet's cast-off magazines, nail varnish bottles, spilled makeup and even a pair of rolled-up stripy tights – I usually wear them a few times to save on washing powder. But tidying is a great excuse to put off opening the present from Jack. I hate opening presents in front of people. What if you don't like it and it shows on your face? Shovelling everything into drawers the best I can – I don't chance opening the wardrobe – I motion for Jack to sit on the bed.

“Hey, what are you listening to?” he asks, politely ignoring the mess around him.

“Johnny Cash.”

I expect him to laugh or pull a face. If only he hadn't caught me listening to Mam's music. On vinyl, of all things. Everyone else has iPods.

“It's awesome,” he replies, before jumping up to admire the record player. “Hey, this thing's cool. It's totally vintage. I can't believe it works. I've never seen one in action before.”

“I know – sad, aren't I?”

“No, seriously – this is on my wish list. Mum got me an iPod. She thinks I should stay up to date to get on in life. She's been obsessed with self-improvement since Dad left. But if it's not broke, why fix it? An iPod's not going to get them back together…”

“Do you think they'll get back together?”

“Nah. To be honest, I like them better when they're apart. What about your parents?”

“No chance. My dad ran off with Mam's best friend when I was two,” I say, as though I'm an authority on the subject. “So Mam moved back here. I wish she'd stayed in London.”

“I'm glad she didn't,” says Jack, catching my eye.

I turn the music up louder to drown out my embarrassment. Jack jumps up and starts bouncing, pogo-style, in time to “Folsom Prison Blues”.

“What else's on your wish list – a trampoline?” I ask, surprising myself.

It feels good to have another friend – if that's what he is.

“I'm not telling you unless you join me,” he shouts over the guitar riffs. Then he lurches forward, grabs me by the hands and drags me onto his makeshift dance floor. I brave a little bounce. I swear I'll never wash my hands again.

“That's it!” cries Jack, launching into a mosh. I relax and let myself go a bit. Within minutes, we're in full flow, shaking our heads like lunatics.

“What's going on?” says Harriet, appearing in the doorway.

We stop instantly.

“Sorry, Hatty… we were just…”

“I can see what you were just doing. And you're in big trouble.”

I glance at Jack but he doesn't seem bothered. Then I realize: Hatty's joking.

“You're making a mockery of a good song, jumping around like that,” she says, chuckling. “I believe it should be more like this.”

Without warning, she whacks the volume up full blast and leaps into the centre of the room, bashing out an over-hammed air guitar.

“Awesome!” shouts Jack, joining in.

Soon, we're all jumping around the room, flinging ourselves about. All too soon, the neighbours start banging on the wall in protest. Panting, Harriet flops down next to the record player and turns the volume down.

“I guess the party's over,” she says, before disappearing out of the door and closing it quietly behind her.

Jack nods his head towards the wall. “You won't get in trouble, will you?”

Sweat glistens on his forehead. It looks lovely. Otherworldly – like he's an angel or something.

“No – Pauline's on the other side. That's Bob and Jane banging. They're total stoners. They'll forget about it in ten minutes.”

Jack chuckles. I can't believe how easy he is to talk to. I can't believe he's here, in my room.

“Mam says they don't have a brain cell left between them. Anyway, Hatty was here with us. And she's the boss.”

“She sure is. She's really cool.”

“Yeah, she's not bad,” I admit. “But sometimes—”

“Sometimes you miss having a mum or dad around?”

I was going to say “sometimes she's a right cow”, but under the circumstances, I shrug instead.

“There's nothing wrong with that, Liv. I miss Dad sometimes too. Don't miss the two of them arguing but – you know.”

I nod, even though I don't – not really. I know nothing about my dad. Not wanting to sound like a hopeless case, I keep quiet. When Jack points at the present, I wish I'd kept talking.

“Hey, you gonna open that?” he asks.

“Now?”

“Yes, now!”

I pick up the bundle and uncurl the Sellotape from the paper. I want to keep it as perfect as Jack's visit. “I hope it's not broken after I dropped it.”

“Don't worry, it won't be.”

Nestled in the paper are two cake tins, four smaller tins that are heart-shaped, a whisk and some gingerbread-man cookie cutters.

“It's to say sorry for being such a prat earlier. They're Mum's cast-offs, I'm afraid, but I thought you could put them to good use.”

“I dunno what to say…”

Smiling, Jack sits back on the bed as “Ring of Fire” comes on the record player.

“Don't say anything. I'm just pleased you didn't throw them at me.”

I gently place the gift back on the dressing table, letting my fingers linger on the tins for a moment before plopping down next to Jack. I'm careful not to accidentally touch him.

“This is a great tune,” he says, singing quietly under his breath. “I've always liked it, but didn't know who it was by.”

Nodding my head in time, I mouth the lyrics. Then I realize Jack is staring at me, so I stop.

“What?”

“You're lovely,” Jack says suddenly.

I light up like a flare. Jack leans forward and, as I shrink back, he catches me by my chin and tilts it upwards. His lips are red and sticky like jam, and I like jam – especially strawberry. Before I can react, he pulls my face towards his and I think,
Yes, this is finally it! The moment when all those practice snogs on mirrors and pillows can be put to good use
. I'm too scared to close my eyes in case I miss the target, so I dive in quick. There's a loud sucking sound as we connect and it's nothing like jam. It's like tongue-wrestling a slug.

Even though it's horrible, I keep going. I've dreamt of this moment so many times, but I never imagined it would be with someone like Jack Whitman. I expected it to be some spotty geek that I'd experiment on and then quickly try to erase the memory. Wanting nothing more than to melt into my first kiss, I try to relax, but I can't switch my brain off. What if I'm doing it all wrong? I try to focus on the movement of my lips and tongue so I don't embarrass myself. Boys at school are always mocking
girls after they kiss for the first time. I try to remember all the things I've heard so that I can avoid them. Why is it that, in the throes of passion, all those “101 Kissing Tips” from
Cosmo
and
19
disappear? As for the hours of practising – they don't help one bit. And I'm sure my tongue has got thicker. I tuck it into my cheek, out of the way. It makes things a little better and the kiss improves. Once you get over the wetness, it's actually quite nice.

As Jack rests his hand on the back of my neck, his thumb tracing my jaw-line, shivers run up my spine. The kiss doesn't last anywhere near long enough – and I worry that I messed it up. But as Jack pulls away, he smiles at me. His lips are glistening with the remains of our kiss.

“That was lovely, too,” he says, stroking my hair.

Lost for words, I nod. Jack leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. It's so romantic – like something out of a film.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks.

Smiling, I keep as still and silent as possible, wishing that time would freeze so I could stay in this moment for ever.

“Thanks, Jack.”

“For what? I've never been thanked for a kiss before.”

“You know – not taking that other business into consideration.”

“Your mum? You can't help that. They say you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family.”

“Not that. I mean the bag.”

“Bag?”

“You know… when I bumped into you outside school…”

“You couldn't help that either. That sports bag's nearly as big as me. It can take a beating from a runt like you.” Jack ruffles my hair and I lean in towards his hand. “I should be the one apologizing – I sent you sprawling!”

“No, I mean…” My brain throbs as I try to find the words I need to say. “I didn't mean to take it, you know. I was just getting some baking stuff and…”

“Baking stuff? Liv, what are you talking about?”

As my words click into place, Jack's smile fades. His brown eyes harden and his brow crumples into a deep frown.

“Mrs Snelling's bag… the accident. That was you? You're joking, right?”

He jumps up, his face contorting as he realizes he's just snogged a cretin.

“I thought you knew! I thought that was why you were avoiding my biscuits in class…”

Jack recoils. “I was avoiding you because I fancied you. And I felt guilty about what Maddy had done. But this… You're just as bad as she is!”

“I'm not! It was an accident.”

“You can't accidentally steal a bag.”

My vision blurring, I glare at the floor, trying to keep control. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did I have to open my big gob and ruin things?

“I can't believe it,” Jack says, pacing the room. “I never in my wildest dreams thought… how could you?” He spits the words out, sharp as a carving knife.

I can't think of anything to say to defend myself. Even if I could, it would be pointless. Without another word, Jack storms out of the room. Unable to move my legs to follow, I listen helplessly to his retreat. When the front door slams, tears spill from my eyes as I touch my finger to my lips, tormented by the memory of his mouth pressed against them.

Fruity Custard Pasties

A fun, fruity take on the old Cornish pasty, these taste great, both served warm – with ice cream – or cold, on their own. And what's more, they're portable! Perfect for summery picnics with the ones you love. Chase away the cobwebs with a taste of summer.

INGREDIENTS

200 g/7 oz plain flour, plus some extra dabs for dusting your rolling pin

100 g/3½ oz yummy butter

8 tsp cold water

Pinch of salt

FOR THE FILLING

Pinch of cinnamon

Four cooking apples, cored and chopped (Tip: if you're preparing them early, a squeeze of lemon juice will stop them going brown)

250 ml/8½ fl oz water

200 g/7 oz brown sugar

Ready-made custard (we can't be perfect all the time)

HOW TO MAKE THE MAGIC HAPPEN

1. Preheat the oven to 220 °C/425 °F/Gas mark 7.