Page 133 of Play On

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Page 133 of Play On

I frown as I pick up the jars and take the crate over to the shelf where the preserves are displayed. Well, technically I close the shop at four, but it takes me forever to balance the till because I’m so bad at maths. Nicholas always teases me about having to come in behind me and correct the figures.

So I should be out of here by five. Plenty of time to prepare my thoughts before dinner at six.

I start stacking the jars on the shelf, and then I hear my phone buzz from its place on the worktop behind the till.

I leave the jars and walk over to it, picking it up. Ooh, it’s Noah!

We’ve been working around a seven-hour time difference the past few days as Noah travelled to Sydney, played another friendly on Saturday, then travelled yesterday to Perth, where they’ll wind up the tour with their final friendly on Tuesday. Meanwhile, I made the marathon journey back to England on Friday, slept for a lot of the day on Saturday, and drove back to Dorset yesterday.

Texting has been the one way we can communicate, so we can send messages no matter what time it is. Needless to say, I’ve become pretty good at time maths since Noah has been in Australia—ha, perhaps there is hope for me after all—and I know it’s ten-thirty at night in Perth. He has one more game to go on the tour, then they fly back to London immediately after the game. I tap on his message:

Call me after you talk to your parents tonight. Don’t worry about waking me up, I want to hear your good news.

I smile happily. I couldn’t ask for a more supportive boyfriend if I tried. I take a moment to message him back:

I will NOT text you back and wake you up when it’s the next day in Australia. You are on tour, preparingfor your season. I’ll text you everything tomorrow as soon as I get up. Love you. X

Saucy Shorts is typing …

Now you’re frustrating me. CALL ME TONIGHT, VIOLET.

I grin and text a reply:

Nope. I love you enough to know you need to sleep AND it’s nothing that won’t wait until the next day. Remember I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUU, SAUCY SHORTS!!! BTW, if you keep this up, I’ll start calling you DADDY DARBY.

I hit send and chuckle as I picture him blushing.

Saucy Shorts is typing …

You’re impossible. I give up. I have to because I refuse to be called Daddy Darby.

I burst out laughing. I message him back:

I love you so much, Noah. I’m excited about tonight. Thanks to you, I can begin living the life I was supposed to live. I can’t wait to tell you the next steps tomorrow. Now get some sleep, you have a friendly tomorrow. AND THEN YOU ARE COMING HOME AND I CANNOT WAIT.

Saucy Shorts is typing …

I can’t wait to hear everything, Violet. You’re going to smash it. Can’t wait to take you out for a posh dinner to celebrate.

I smile. Once Noah is home, we’re going to sort out when we’re going to see each other next. Starting with a celebration of a new future.

Not just for me, but for both of us.

* * *

I’m buzzing.

That’s the best way to describe my feelings as I trot down the stairs in the family wing.

It’s time for dinner. And it’s time for me to make my move.

I’ve gone over what I’m going to say for the past hour in my room. I’ve thought of all their arguments against my ideas and formulated responses for all of them. I know they might say no—but I’m not going to be deterred by that. I will push through that obstacle by asking to present my ideas in an official meeting, as if I were someone outside the family approaching the estate. I’ll make a PowerPoint presentation if I have to.

I’ll do whatever it takes for them to see me not as a flittering butterfly, but as someone who has emerged into something new.

So they see me in the way Noah sees me.

I reach the bottom step and move down the hallway, passing pictures of Banfields of the past. Whether my dad wants to admit it or not, this home has always been a place for change. We’ve changed and grown since Lady Lily’s days here, as well as changed from family to family, as each one has left their imprint on Wintersmith Hall.


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