‘I do not speak like that.’

‘Sure you do. Go on.’

‘Hi, I’m Sky Bright. I’m from Richmond, England.’

‘Now you say, “Wow, what lovely flowers. How about coming in for a nice cup of tea?”’

That accent had to go. I threw a look over my shoulder, wondering if Sal y or Simon would come down.

‘They’re asleep.’ Zed nodded into the house.

‘So?’

‘Wel , they are lovely flowers.’ Perhaps we did have to talk. Here was better than school. I stepped out of the way. ‘Coffee?’ He didn’t seem the sort for a cup of PG Tips.

‘If you insist.’ He smiled, a shade nervously for him, and entered.

‘Come through to the kitchen.’ I busied myself switching on the kettle and finding a vase for the flowers. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? I messed up. I want to say sorry.’

I tipped the plant food into the water. ‘These are a good start.’ Actual y, it was the first time anyone had ever given me flowers. I felt less nervous in daytime, knowing my parents were just upstairs. I could cope with this conversation if he felt the urge to apologize.

Tina would probably think it worthy of its own newsflash if she knew that the great Zed Benedict had stooped to humble himself to a girl.

Zed juggled with the cafetière. ‘How does this thing work?’

I took it from him and showed him how much coffee to put in. ‘You’re not very at home in a kitchen?’

‘Family of boys,’ he said as if that explained it.

‘We’ve a coffee maker—does great filter coffee.’

‘And she’s cal ed your mum.’

He laughed. ‘No way. She gets waited on hand and foot in our house.’

OK, I could do this. We were having a normal conversation about normal things.

He took his mug and sat at the breakfast bar. ‘So tel me something about yourself. I play drums and guitar. How about you?’

‘Piano, sax, and guitar.’

‘See, we can talk without me freaking out on you.’

‘Yeah.’ I chanced a look at him; he was watching me like a bear crouched over a hole in the ice, ready to hook a salmon. ‘You … you like al music, or just jazz?’

‘Al , but I like the freedom to improvise.’ He patted a place next to him on the bench. I sat down, keeping a space between us. ‘I like to cut free of what has to be. For me it’s a kind of free fal with the notes as the parachute.’

‘I like that too.’

‘It’s musicians’ music. Not so straightforward as some but real y repays when you get into it.’ He gave me a look, asking me to understand there was another meaning below his surface words. ‘I mean, you’ve got to be real y confident to launch into an off-the-cuff solo and not make a fool of yourself.

Everyone can make mistakes when they rush something, go in too early.’

‘I suppose.’

‘You real y didn’t know.’

Oh God, he was going to raise that savant stuff again.

He shook his head. ‘And you’ve not the faintest idea why I warned you that day. You think I’ve been trying to scare you.’

‘Weren’t you? Al that stuff about knives and blood.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ He rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, clenched on the table between us. ‘It’s funny sitting with you. I get so much from you, like you’re broadcasting on al frequencies.’

I frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

He stretched his long legs out, gently bumping mine. ‘It’s difficult to explain. I’m sorry I’ve been rude to you.’

‘Rude? I just thought that you had some weird al ergic reaction to economy-sized English girls.’

He looked me over. ‘Is that what you are?’

‘Um … yeah.’ I stared at my feet. ‘Stil waiting for that growth spurt Sal y’s been promising since I was fourteen.’

‘Your height’s perfect. I come from a family of giant redwoods; a bonsai makes a pleasant change.’

Bonsai! If I’d known him better I would have dug him in the ribs for that one. Too shy, I let it pass. ‘So you’re not going to explain what’s been the problem with me?’

‘Not today. I’ve messed it up once; I’m not going to risk spoiling it a second time by rushing. This is too important.’ He picked up my hand and punched himself in the side with it. ‘There—I deserved that.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Yep, that’s me.’ But stil he didn’t explain how he knew I’d wanted to do that.

Zed released my hand. ‘OK, I’l head out now. I don’t want to push my luck. It was good meeting you, Sky. See you around.’

I didn’t trust this reformed-bad-boy behaviour, but Zed clearly wasn’t letting this go. On Monday at the end of school, he was waiting for me by Tina’s car.

‘Hi, Tina, how’s it going?’

Tina stared at him, then looked at me, eyebrow quirked. ‘Fine, Zed. You?’

‘Great. Sky, ready to go home?’ He held out a motorbike helmet.

‘Tina’s giving me a lift.’

‘I’m sure she won’t mind if I do that. I want to make sure Sky gets home, OK, Tina?’

Tina looked as if she did mind, not least because she didn’t trust Zed any more than I. ‘I said I’d take Sky.’

He held the helmet out to me. ‘Please?’

Zed Benedict saying ‘please’. Icicles were forming in Hel . And he was offering to fulfil one of my private fantasies: me riding out of school on the back of a hot bike. I knew it was a kind of cliché, but this rocked.

‘Sky?’ asked Tina, worried now.

I suppose such humility should be encouraged.

‘It’s OK. Thanks, Tina. I’l go with Zed.’ I took the helmet.

‘If you’re sure.’ She bunched her dreadlocks back, a gesture that I knew meant she was uncomfortable.

Not real y. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah.’ Her last look left me in no doubt that I was going to get a gril ing on what happened after she left.

Zed led me over to his bike. We were attracting quite a few astonished stares from the students mil ing about.

‘I’ve never ridden one of these before,’ I admitted as I climbed on behind him.

‘The secret is to hold on tight.’

I couldn’t see his face but I would’ve sworn he was grinning. I slid forward and looped my arms around his waist, my legs brushing his hips. Easing out of the car park, he turned the bike up the hil . As he pushed up the speed, I tightened my grip. I felt a brief caress of his hand on mine—a reassuring touch.

‘Doing OK back there?’

‘Fine.’

‘Want to go a bit further? I can take you up into the mountains. There’s about thirty minutes of light left.’

‘Maybe just a little way.’

He went past the turning to my house and up the road. It became a switchback. There was little beyond here, only a few hunting cabins and a couple of isolated chalets. He pul ed up on a promontory with a view back down the val ey. The sun was setting ahead of us, bathing everything in a buttery gold light that gave an il usion of warmth despite the cold.

Parking the bike, he helped me dismount and let me admire the view in peace for a few minutes. The overnight frost stil hung on in shady patches, the leaves, edged with white, crunchy underfoot. I could see for miles—the mountains which I had ignored al day thrusting themselves back into my conscious thoughts, reminding me of my insignificance in comparison to them.

‘So, Sky, how was your day?’

Such a regular question from Zed was a surprise: Wolfman turning into puppy-carrying-slippers? I think not. It was kinda hard to trust him when he was acting so normal. ‘Fine. I did a little composing at lunchtime.’

‘I saw you at the piano.’

‘You didn’t come in?’

He laughed and held up his hands. ‘I’m being careful. Very, very careful with you. You’re a scary girl.’

‘Me?’

‘Think about it. You rip me up in the parking lot in front of my friends, save my best penalty kick, chuck me out of your apple tree—yeah, you’re terrifying.’