Picture Perfect

Or that they are the only animal who moves two legs on one side of the body and then two on the other to walk?

Instead I clear my throat.

“Come on then,” Nick says. He’s smiling: the words are all stretched and snug. “Hit me with it.”

“Hmm?”

“Whatever is preventing you from telling me multiple facts about giraffes right now.”

Sugar cookies.

“I’m … umm.” I cough. “I think that …”

Of course. I should be approaching my news about America from a totally different angle.

“Nick, did you know Admiral Horatio Nelson started dating Emma Hamilton in 1798, and then went away for two years to fight the Napoleonic Wars? They wrote a lot of letters, and their budding relationship wasn’t affected in the slightest and remained strong and beautiful throughout.”

“Is that so?”

“And OK, he was fatally wounded by a musket ball at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805 and died before he could see her again, but that’s not really the point.” Wrap it up, Harriet. “So …”

“Harriet,” Nick says. “Are you going away to fight the Napoleonic wars?”

“No.”

“Are you at risk of getting hit by a stray musket ball fired from a French ship in suburban Hertfordshire?”

“No.”

“Are you planning on dying next to a man named Hardy and then having your body preserved in a large barrel of brandy?”

My boyfriend knows a lot more about Admiral Nelson than I thought he would. “No.”

“Then you probably don’t need to sound so worried.”

OK.

I need to pull this out all at once, before it gets all green and liquidy like the splinter in Year Two.

“I’m leaving England,” I say quickly. “My family is moving to New York for six months and I’ll be gone before you’re home but I’ll buy some pretty stationery and write you some poignant and heartbreaking letters and get novelty stamps and—”

“Harriet, that’s brilliant,” Nick interrupts. It’s a genuine, delighted brilliant.

I blink.

Right. It’s bad enough that Toby and Nat are thrilled by my departure, but my boyfriend? He’s supposed to be making impassioned speeches on the edge of bridges about the darkness of life without me. Not throwing a mini verbal celebration and cracking out the Harriet’s Finally Leaving banners.

“Fine,” I snap, “if that’s the way you feel then you can just—” Nick’s laughter stops me mid-rage.

“That’s not what I meant, Harriet. New York Fashion Week starts soon, so I’m going to be there too. I get more modelling jobs in America than anywhere else. I’ll be able to see you loads. This is really brilliant news.”

I pull my phone away from my face while I get my emotions back under control.

“Harriet? You haven’t been attacked by any other kind of artillery, have you?”

“Really?” I say. “You’ll really be in New York?”

“Of course,” Nick laughs. “It’ll take a bit more than a couple of miles and an inch of water to stop me seeing you.”

I impulsively kiss my phone, even though Nick is seriously underestimating the size of the Atlantic Ocean.

“Harriet, did you just kiss your phone?”

“Umm. No. My cheek is just very … sucky.”

“Ah,” Nick laughs. “I’ve always had a weakness for girls with sucky cheeks …” There’s a shout in the background. “Shoot. I have to go. Apparently the elephant I’m riding doesn’t like my voice.”

“You rang me from the back of an elephant?”

“Yeah. I suddenly got reception and I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

We beam at each other in silence. I don’t know how I know he’s beaming, but I just do.

“Nick,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I l—”

“Got to go. I’ll see you in New York, Freckles.”

And the phone goes dead.

(#ulink_fda75d6b-98c3-5e0d-b369-e1b094f890d4)

And yes, there’s quite a lot of kissing, but I just quite like it, OK?

By the next morning I am desperate to leave.

In fact I’m so keen to get to New York I’ve asked my parents if I can go ahead without them.

“Do you think we’re insane?” Dad replies.

“Yes,” I tell him promptly and focus on packing with renewed enthusiasm.

Everything is ready. The house is clean. The electrics are off. The last of our belongings are being lobbed into a large van by a man who is tutting about our ‘ineffective boxing skills’.

A note has been left for Bunty saying DO NOT TRY TO DYE, BURN OR REUPHOLSTER ANYTHING. PLEASE FEED THE CAT ON A DAILY BASIS. Hugo has been sent to live temporarily with a delighted Toby while we get his American passport sorted.

And I’ve spent the evening putting together my own little box of home souvenirs to take with me. A 1,000-yen note with a picture of Mount Fuji on it. A T-shirt with a photo on the front of Rin and me riding a computer-generated unicorn. An American-English dictionary from Toby. An envelope containing a newspaper cutting of me sat with Fleur on the catwalk in Moscow, and a photo I took of Wilbur in Tokyo wearing wing-shaped sunglasses. A photo of me and Nat in cowboy hats and moustaches.