Nina Harrington - Her Sweet Surrender - The First Crush Is the Deepest

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: Amber@AmberDuBois.net

To: Kate@LondonBespokeTailoring.com;

Saskia@ElwoodHouse.co.uk

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: Kate@LondonBespokeTailoring.com

To: Amber@AmberDuBois.net

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.

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