Page 28 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

Then I realized it was my Padcock pictures. They were propped up near the window — directly opposite the open door, with only me and my bed between Damien and the pictures. I really hoped he wasn’t intending striding through the room to get a closer look.

‘Oh,’ I said, my voice muffled and my heart thumping. I blinked. ‘Yes.’

It would have been an ideal time to tell him about my failed sojourn to Julio’s and the real reason behind it — especially when I couldn’t really see his face or his reaction. Because I didn’t want him to laugh at me or look supercilious.

But then, he was in my room, in the middle of the night. In his boxer shorts. Ugh.

I wanted him out of there, really. Gone were the days when I’d been happy to have family camps in tents in the back garden with Sophia, Michael and a random selection of Damien’s brothers.

‘Padcock,’ I said. ‘The town trail sites. A bit of an experiment.’

‘Cool,’ said Damien. ‘Looks like a nice place.’

‘It is. Now please leave me alone,’ I said. ‘No need for you to linger.’ In your boxer shorts, I wanted to add.

‘Oh — yeah. Sure. Okay. Goodnight, then, see you at breakfast.’

I groaned, just as I heard the door shut, and the light snap off. None of it was done quietly, because Damien is not a quiet person.

‘See you at breakfast,’ I muttered and turned over onto my back.

It was only as I was drifting off that I realized what had been odd about Rosie. I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness, thinking about it. She was the queen of pyjamas — she loved her pyjamas and had a different pair for every day of the week.

But when she had come to my door to growl at us, she had been naked beneath that duvet — her shoulders bare, and I’d definitely seen a bit of leg as she had swept away.

I shook my head and closed my eyes again.

It was up to her what she slept in. It was just as well, I thought, just as I drifted back to sleep, that Damien hadn’t wandered into her room by mistake and seen her starkers. The consequences would have been unholier than a vampire’s buffet lunch.

* * *

I did indeed see Damien over breakfast.

‘At least you are fully clothed,’ I said, nodding at him. ‘I never want to see you in just your boxer shorts again. Ever.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he replied through a mouthful of granola (granola? When did he become a granola person?) ‘I never want you to see me in them ever again as well.’

‘Excellent. Then we’re in agreement. Rosie. Did you sleep okay after Damien woke us up?’ I asked my friend. She too was munching granola, working very carefully around a smiley face made of berries, which was placed on a layer of yogurt on top.

‘I did, thank you.’ She continued munching, then gulped a huge swig of coffee. ‘Just as well, as we have a busy day today.’ She smiled at me, and there was no trace of Carmilla the Vampire from last night. ‘A huge, huge photo shoot. They’ve got the new season’s styles from Milan in, so the place is going to be swarming with people. Very exciting.’

I shuddered a little. Rosie loved anything like that. I hated any description containing the word “swarming”, and would have felt very uncool and probably quite short and fat if I’d been there. I would probably then have comfort-ate cake and wondered why they were all top models and I wasn’t. Nope. Best stay away from that one.

‘What about you, Damien? What have you got on today?’ I asked, turning my attention to our friend.

Damien opened his mouth to respond, but Rosie suddenly butted in. ‘Oh! Sorry to interrupt.’ She leaned across Damien and tapped my hand. ‘Jay. He texted last night. Said something about you and the Padcock Summer Fayre? How are you getting on with your pictures? And are we going to go to the Fayre?’

‘Oh!’ I blinked. ‘Why didn’t he text me?’ Then I realized how whiney that sounded. Why should he text me? He was more likely to be in touch with his sister and get her to ask the question. ‘Sorry — no reason for him to.’

Rosie shrugged. ‘Just passing messages on. Come on Damien. Time to get a wiggle on if you’re leaving with me today.’ She stood up, and Damien jumped up out of his seat too.

‘Yep. I’m ready.’ He shoved half a slice of toast in his mouth (as well as granola? How was he not more chubby — or was he just stocking up on our food to save his pennies?) and somehow, simultaneously, shrugged on his battered leather jacket. It was an old biker jacket. It was black and worn-looking, but he loved it. The beanie hat was pulled on, and he was good to go.

‘Super.’ Rosie smiled one of her lovely smiles and patted his head. ‘Good. See you later, Tilds.’

‘Later, Tilds,’ repeated Damien as he followed her out of the kitchen.

‘Later,’ I replied to the empty room. Time to enjoy some peace and quiet for half an hour before I headed off to the café. Thank goodness I didn’t have a 6 a.m. start that day — I could have easily stumbled upon Damien and his pants again in the lounge as I headed to work.