No Going Back by ALEX GUTTERIDGE Page B

friends. I mean, you were an only child too. You know what it’s like.” I sighed into the warm summer day. “It’s just a glass of lemonade, Dad, or a cup of tea. You know, that stuff that grows on bushes in India. I think it comes from the camellia family and by the time it gets over here it’s in a packet and you add hot water and—”
    â€œI don’t want you to be on your own, especiallynot with him.”
    â€œI’ve noticed that,” I replied drily.
    â€œI’ll come with you.”
    â€œNo, Dad, it’s fine. I don’t need a chaperone.”
    â€œYou can’t be too careful. This vicar’s son thing is a great cover. He’s too good to be true.”
    I twisted my lips into what must have been a particularly unattractive expression. He just wouldn’t take a hint.
    â€œDad, I’d really rather you didn’t.”
    He looked extremely put out, shocked even.
    â€œBut, Laura, what if… he, you know, tries it on?”
    I tried not to laugh. “I think it’s unlikely.”
    Worse luck, I thought, and hoped that Dad couldn’t read my mind. I tugged at my hair.
    â€œLook, my hair needs washing. I’m wearing my oldest shorts and well… I’m sure he doesn’t see me like that. He just wants to be friends, that’s all.”
    â€œThe trouble with you, Laura, is that you’re too trusting.”
    â€œAnd the trouble with you, Dad, is that you’re not trusting enough.”
    The words were out before I had the chance tostop them. His face fell. He looked as if I’d slapped him.
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Actually, yes I did. “Look, I won’t be long. If I get into trouble I’ll call you. You’ll hear me, won’t you?”
    â€œMaybe I will. Maybe I won’t,” he replied.
    â€œDon’t be like that. Please. It’s nice to know that you’re there, protecting me.”
    I wanted to tell him to stop being so childish but I managed to hold those words back. They wouldn’t have helped. Sam was making his way towards me. Surreptitiously I blew Dad a little kiss. His sulkiness softened.
    â€œI’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll see you later, back at home?”
    He nodded. “If you’re sure?”
    â€œI am.”
    But as I walked over to join Sam I couldn’t help but let Dad’s words get to me. I hardly knew anything about this boy. Maybe Sam was too good to be true. Maybe Dad was right and I was too trusting.

S HARING
    T he house was modern but built from local stone, with a slate roof.
    â€œThe original rectory is over the other side of the wall,” he said, pointing to a big house with tall, elegant windows. “I suppose it just got too expensive to run so the Church sold it off and built this instead.”
    He pushed open the holly-green door and ushered me inside his house.
    There was a little lobby, where a pile of shoes had taken up residence, and two doors to either side. The one on the right led straight into the kitchen. Sam said the one on the left was his dad’s study and I could hear the tapping of computer keys.
    â€œSo, what would you like – tea or homemade lemonade?”
    â€œLemonade, please.”
    I watched as he took two tall glasses from a cupboard and opened the fridge.
    â€œIce?”
    I nodded and suddenly wished that I hadn’t come. And why oh why had I put on this tatty coral-coloured T-shirt and my old blue-and-white striped shorts? I could have been wearing my favourite summer dress with the deep pink roses on it and lacing up the back or the new turquoise jeans with my favourite strappy top. Anything that would have made me feel a bit less grungy and more confident.
    â€œShall we go outside?” he suggested.
    I followed him across the lawn towards a wooden table and four chairs set up under a weeping willow tree. There was a tabby cat stretched out