Free Expecting to Fly by Cathy Hopkins Page B

would be over visiting an uncle who managed a serviced apartment block in Knightsbridge and he wanted
to see how it worked and whether it was a venture that might work back in Italy. Hotel management was to be his career and he did a lot of work experience as part of his course. I was looking
forward to seeing him again, not only because he was great company but also because he was another one to talk prospective careers over with.
    ‘What have you got planned for us for the holidays?’ asked Joe, as if he had picked up on my thoughts.
    ‘Few exhibitions,’ I said.‘I’ll email you the details. And I’d like to do one of the boat trips. Greenwich or Hampton Court.’
    ‘Hampton Court,’ said Joe. ‘I want to go there to take some photos for my portfolio. I want to focus on the river and get as many shots as I can from different
locations.’
    ‘Good idea,’ I said. I had seen some of the photos he had taken the day we were down by the river when we’d been to Tate Modern and they were fabulous. ‘And can I take
some photos of you for my art project?’
    Joe nodded. My portraits of friends idea was going great, but I hadn’t done any of Joe yet. I was looking forward to getting some photos of him and then working on them in the darkroom at
school. It would be fun playing around with his image and seeing how I could change it or distort it. I had had an idea of doing a collage of some photos of him, making some light and some dark to
show the different aspects of having a boyfriend – like the sunny days when everything felt great and the shadow days when it was harder work.
    ‘Everyone on,’ called a man from the bus company as the bus doors opened and people began to pile on.
    ‘Shall we go up top?’ asked Joe.‘Will you be warm enough?’
    I nodded. It was a dry day and I had a fleece on under my jacket and a hat in case it got windy. Once up top, we took the back seat where Joe put his arm around me. ‘We can snuggle up if
we get cold,’ he said. ‘And, er . . . back at you, what you said before we got on the bus. Have I ever told you that I think you’re really pretty? Um, I do rate you . . . a
lot.’
    ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘No. You haven’t ever told me and it is nice to hear.’ Wow , I thought, the appreciation thing really did work!We’d both made each
other feel really good.
    We sat with our arms wrapped around each other as the bus started up and began to make its way down Piccadilly towards Hyde Park corner.
    We could only just make out what the bus guide was saying about Green Park and St James’s Park and Buckingham Palace, but neither of us wanted to move closer to him because it was nice
being on the back row together away from everyone else.
    ‘So, going back to the hols,’ said Joe, as we chugged on around the roundabout and began to head back up Piccadilly. ‘How about we take a boat to Hampton Court on the first
Saturday morning in April?’
    ‘I . . . Oh. Um. No. I can’t do that Saturday. Can you do Sunday?’
    ‘I’d rather do Saturday.’
    ‘What about football?’
    ‘Coach is away so it’s been cancelled. Why, is there a problem?’
    ‘Yes. No. Not a problem, just I . . . I can’t do it.’
    ‘OK. Why not?’
    I felt myself going red as I desperately scrabbled around in my head trying to think what to tell him. The truth? No. He might go off on a jealousy trip. Cancel Bruno? No. I wanted to see
him.‘Um. Family thing.’
    ‘What family thing? You never said. Am I invited?’
    ‘Yes. No. Um. An old family friend is over from Ravello and wants to meet up.’
    ‘That’s where your dad’s from, isn’t it?’
    ‘It’s where my gran still lives. She’s got a fab house there.’
    ‘So am I invited?’
    ‘Um. Not sure.’
    Joe took his arm away from my shoulder and was quiet for a while. It felt uncomfortable, like the conversation wasn’t over but neither of us was saying what we needed to say.
    ‘I’ll find out from Dad,’ I said after