One Step Closer to You Read Online Free PDF Page B

this story, Hugo and I still love it.
    ‘Well, it all happened about a hundred years ago. Two lovers …’
    ‘Kissy kissy,’ says Hugo, nudging me.
    ‘Behave, or I won’t finish the story,’ says Dad. ‘Two lovers weren’t allowed to be together. Their families hated one another.’
    ‘Why?’ we ask.
    ‘They just did, OK! Otherwise we’ll never finish the story. They couldn’t see one another in daylight so they decided to meet every night in the boat, when the clock struck twelve and their parents were in bed, fast asleep. So they’d meet down at the boathouse. It was very romantic, the lake was beautiful in the moonlight, but one evening there was a terrible storm. The girl was anxious, said maybe they should go back inside. “Where is your sense of adventure?” the boy asked, encouraging her into the boat. There was thunder and lightning, it was a wild night, the small wooden boat rocking from side to side. She begged him to stop, but he was determined to prove he was brave, that nothing could stand in the way of their being together. Well of course they lost an oar and hit a submerged tree trunk, just here,’ Dad says, as we row up to the sunken boat and look down into the murky water. It’s spooky. Even the seats are still there. I imagine the girl with long red hair, splayed out in the water, weeds coming out of her mouth.
    ‘And they drowned,’ Dad says. ‘And that was the end of them.’
    I shiver each time I hear the story.
    ‘They haunt the lake, but in a good way,’ Dad continues, ‘reminding us never to take foolish risks.’
    I stare at the murky water, wondering what other secrets lies beneath it.
    *
    The following morning, Dad, Mum, Hugo and I eat breakfast. Dad has taken the day off to drive Hugo to his new school. He knows Mum will be too upset to travel home alone. Besides, he wants to say goodbye too. ‘Please can I come,’ I try again, pushing my porridge away, lumps sticking in my throat.
    Mum butters her toast. ‘You have school.’
    I hold back the tears and look beseechingly at Dad.
    ‘No, Polly,’ she snaps. ‘We’ve talked about this.’
    ‘Dad?’
    I try one last time.
    ‘Best do as your mum says.’
    Why doesn’t he ever stand up to her?
    ‘Please can she come,’ says a small voice from across the table.
    *
    Later that morning we’re on our way to Hugo’s school in Dad’s old bottle-green BMW. We play car games and Dad sings his favourite song, ‘Meet me in St Louis’. It always makes Hugo and me laugh, especially when he sings the words, ‘hoochee koochee’ and ‘tootsie-wootsie’.
    When we reach the gates of Hugo’s school, Mum orders Dad to stop the car. I hold Hugo’s hand until Mum unbuckles his seatbelt and sits him on her knee in the front, stroking and hugging him.
    Slowly we approach a tall grey stone building with wide, open green space on either side of the driveway. The school looks like a castle with turrets and lots of narrow windows. We approach a courtyard with a fountain, cupids spraying water. Dad turns off the engine. I notice a tall wiry man with a moustache and dressed in a suit walking down some steep stone steps and approaching our car. ‘Wait,’ Mum says. Hugo’s hands are clasped around her neck.
    Nervously I step outside and look up at the imposing building, already feeling scared for my brother. I can’t imagine living here. I bet this place is haunted. Dad opens the boot and lifts out Hugo’s trunk, packed with all his new clothes to start his new life. He shakes the tall man’s hand. Dad tells me this is Mr Barry, the headmaster.
    Mr Barry shakes my hand too, welcoming me to the school. He smells of cigar smoke. ‘Hello, Hugo,’ he says. Hugo rushes back to Mum. ‘I don’t want to go,’ he says, suddenly tiny and fragile, lost in her arms.
    When Mr Barry tries to prise them apart, Hugo lashes out at him, hitting his arm.
    ‘Hugo,’ my father says tearfully, taking him to one side, ‘you’re going to be fine.