Birmingham Friends by Annie Murray

knew William often went out of his way to appear superior to Angus.
    ‘But William’s so ridiculous!’ I protested. ‘I know he’s awfully brainy and all that, but you can’t have a decent conversation with him. It’s like trying to talk to a shire horse – big and strong and quite intelligent but awfully dopy. I can talk to you so much more easily.’
    Angus laughed. ‘Well, that’s something anyway.’
    We turned through the wrought-iron gates. It was Birmingham’s biggest and proudest park, the expanse of grass sloping softly down from the bandstand under the chestnut trees to the fish ponds where there were boats for hire in summer.
    We strolled round the murky oval of water. Ducks slid alongside us in hope of food.
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said gloomily, after a while.
    ‘What? What’s the rest of that sentence?’
    I smiled. If I’d said that to William he’d just have ignored me. One of the things I’d always liked about Angus was the way he listened to you.
    ‘I’m not sure I like growing up really. The way you realize certain things suddenly.’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘Mummy and Daddy were talking about those poor people in Spain this morning.’ The bombing of Guernica had reached our households in bold newspaper headlines. ‘How can people do things like that? I thought the League of Nations was going to stop there being any more wars?’
    ‘Not if countries defy the League. The Germans already have, remember.’
    We found a spot to sit on the grass in the shade of a tree, near the park’s large war memorial. I was frowning. I felt heavy and preoccupied when what I really wanted to do was laugh and be good company. But I was already wondering whether our walk would cause trouble.
    ‘I can tell there’s a thought in there trying to get out,’ Angus said, leaning round to look into my eyes.
    I laughed reluctantly. ‘It’s just, Angus, would you say your family was happy? I mean they seem happy to me.’ I’d thought a lot about the Harveys recently. Angus’s father, James, owned a business crafting pianos and harpsichords. He was kind, jovial. There was Mrs Harvey with her friendly, welcoming face, who spent her time reading and reading, and John and Mary, Angus’s younger brother and sister. I’d begun searching for undercurrents, wondering if there was something I’d missed in every family, even my own.
    ‘Yes, I s’pose I would,’ Angus said. ‘You know, just normal. We rub along.’
    I told him some of my feelings of unease about Olivia, though I didn’t mention Elizabeth’s mysterious visit. ‘I don’t know what it is I’m trying to tell you really,’ I said. ‘It’s just that they can behave rather oddly. I’ve been noticing it more recently, but even that holiday I went on with them – you know, a couple of years ago – they were certainly different from how they seem normally.’
    ‘Wouldn’t any family be if you were living closely with them for a week or two?’
    ‘No. Not like that. There’s something not right, but Olivia won’t talk to me. I can’t seem to get near her any more. And I don’t like that.’ I looked into Angus’s face. ‘I know you all find her a bit of a trial at times, but she’s so nice really, and so different when we’re on our own. I’m really very fond of her.’
    ‘I know. I can see. But if there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about then you can’t make her, can you? You know Olivia, she likes attention. If there was anything she wanted you to know she’d soon tell you.’
    ‘We used to be able to tell each other everything,’ I said sadly. ‘And now she’s gone all chilly because she thinks you and I . . .’ Face burning, I stared down at the grass, feeling I’d said too much.
    I sensed Angus waiting tensely beside me. We sat in silence for a moment. Then he reached over and gently took my hand. I felt him trembling slightly.
    Neither of us could think of anything to say. The silence grew longer, our shyness