Her Sweet Surrender: The First Crush Is the Deepest. Nina Harrington

cried at your friend’s wedding? Really? And there is no such thing as a perfect marriage, just a decent wedding day.’

      ‘Yes, I cried, you cynic,’ Amber replied and scowled at him and pulled her hand away. ‘Because this was the real thing. They didn’t need a huge hotel with hundreds of guests who they would never have a chance to meet and talk to. All they wanted was their friends and family to help them celebrate. The little girls were all dressed up and throwing flowers. It was perfect. So don’t mock.’

      Sam held up both hands in surrender.

      ‘Hey. Remember my ex-girlfriend who tried to lure me into a wedding without asking me first? Not all of us believe in happy endings, you old romantic.’

      Amber thumped him on the arm. ‘Well, that is just sad and pathetic.’

      ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Sam replied and looked around, suddenly desperate to change the subject. ‘Is this one of your school rooms?’

      She nodded. ‘The building work is going flat out before the monsoon rains so this is a temporary teaching room. I like it but I can’t wait until the new air conditioned school is ready.’

      ‘Have you decided on a name for the school you are paying for?’ Sam asked as he picked up his bag and they strolled out into the evening air. ‘The DuBois centre? Or the DuBois School for Girls. What is it to be?’

      ‘Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you? No. I suggested a few names to the board of governors and they came back with one winner: the Elwood School.’

      ‘Elwood? You named the school after your friend Saskia? Why did you choose that name?’

      Amber leant back and gestured towards the girls who were playing on the grassy lawn under the mango and cashew nut trees. ‘Do you see these lovely girls? They are so talented and bursting with life and enthusiasm. And yet not one of them has a home to go to. They are not all orphans as we would define orphans—far from it. Most of them have parents who cannot look after them or there were problems at home which mean that they only see their parents for a few months every year. But one way or another they have found their way here to this girls’ home, where they can feel safe and protected by people who love them.’

      Amber turned back to Sam with moisture sparkling in the corners of her eyes and when she spoke there was a hoarseness in her voice which clutched at Sam’s heart and squeezed it tight. ‘Well, I know just what that feels like. Saskia and her aunt Margot gave me a safe refuge when I needed to get away from my mother and whatever man she was living with who struggled to recall my name.’

      Then she shook her head with a chuckle. ‘They even let me stay with them after the mega-row I had with my so called parents after the disaster that was my eighteenth birthday party.’

      Sam coughed, twice. ‘You had a fight with your mother? I haven’t heard that part of the story.’

      She sniffed. ‘I had no idea that those particular terms of abuse were in my vocabulary until I heard them come out of my mouth. Harsh words were exchanged about the expensive education I had been subjected to. It was not my moment of shining glory. And then I stomped out of the house with only my handbag and walked around to Elwood House. And Saskia and her aunt Margot took me in and looked after me as though I was one of their own.’

      Amber sat up straight and curled her right hand high into the air with a flourish. ‘Ta da. Elwood School.’ Then she blinked and gave a curt nod. ‘It may surprise you but I do have something in common with Parvita and these girls.’

      Then she shivered and chuckled. ‘Well, I did tell you that this article was going to be a challenge. I cannot wait to see what you do with that little insight, if it was on the record.’

      ‘Any more like that?’

      ‘Plenty. Just wait and see what tomorrow brings.’

       ELEVEN

      From: [email protected]

      To: [email protected];

      [email protected]

      Subject: My fiendish plan

      Well, this is turning out to be a very odd week.

      I came out first thing this morning to find Sam halfway up a jackfruit tree tossing fruit down to the girls below. He claims that he couldn’t sleep because of the heat but he is now their official hero in long pants and is mobbed wherever he goes. I have just peeked outside and he is showing his little gaggle of fans the slideshow of photos on his digital camera. Amazing!

      He even had me playing Christmas carols and nursery songs to amuse the girls during meal times in exchange for helping to organise the juniors. They adored him. I think he may never be allowed to leave!

      My fiendish plan is to steal Sam away long enough for a walk along the beach at dusk and talk him into working on Parvita’s story instead of mine. It is worth a try. Otherwise I don’t know how long I can keep him hanging on.

      The good news is that my wrist is feeling a lot better and I am enjoying playing for the first time in ages.

      Cheers from Kerala. Amber

      From: [email protected]

      To: [email protected]

      Subject: Sam Report

      Sheesh, that man has no shame when it comes to charming the ladies. Don’t be fooled. Glad that your hand is feeling better. Don’t forget to drink plenty of water. Love ya. K

      Sam wiped the spark plug from the janitor’s ancient motor car on a scrap of cotton and held it up to the fading sunlight before deciding that the plug had lived a very long life and needed to take retirement, as of right now. He had managed to find one replacement at the bottom of a tool kit which was so rusty that it had taken hours to clean the tools to the stage where he could use them to service what passed as a car.

      But at least the work had kept him close to Amber.

      They still had a lot of work to do to rebuild that fragile friendship but she had seemed genuinely delighted when he helped her collect the girls together and keep them in one place long enough for her to explain about the keys on the piano and what the notes meant. With a bit of help from a couple of coconut shells, three tin buckets and a wrench.

      Weird. He had surprised himself by actually enjoying playing on a makeshift set of drums.

      The only thing they were not doing was talking about her career.

      She might have trusted him enough to take the risk and invite him here to his magical place to see what she was doing with her life but that was as far as it went.

      So far there had always been some excellent excuse why this was not a good time to record an interview and after three days he had all the background photos he might need but not the exclusive extra material he needed to create a compelling story—her story.