Free The Call of Destiny (The Return of Arthur Book 1) by Unknown

pretty?’ she asked him softly.
    Pretending not to hear, he
scooped up the scraps of bread and the apple core and stuffed them in his
plastic lunch box.
    ‘Do you, Tom?’
    He clicked the lid shut. ‘I
wish you wouldn’t talk like that, miss.’
    ‘Why not? It’s a simple
question.’ She put her head on one side and eyed him seductively. ‘Do you?’
    He said something under his
breath. ‘I didn’t hear you.’
    ‘I said yes, didn’t I?’
    For a while they sat without
speaking, then, without warning, she took his hand in hers; when he tried to
draw it away, she tightened her grip. For a young girl she was surprisingly
strong. ‘How big your hand is,’ she murmured, caressing it gently. ‘I love big
hands.’ Neither the smile nor the coquettish look that accompanied the words
were hard to read. Flushing bright red, Tom snatched his hand away.
    In an instant her mood had
changed. She jumped up, graceful as a ballet dancer, and spun round and round
on the tips of her toes. Tiring of that, she turned two perfectly controlled
cartwheels, revealing in the process slim legs and a pair of white knickers.
Tom looked guiltily away. Such thoughts; what was the matter with him? Look at
her, skipping round the lawn, a carefree, innocent child. ‘Good-day, miss,’ he
said gruffly, and rushed off in the direction of the lake.
    ‘Good-bye, Tom!’ she cried
after him, watching him disappear from view. Lifting her skirts, she whirled
round and round until she was so dizzy that the lawn reared up and tumbled her.
For a while she lay on her back, eyes closed, waiting for the earth to stop
moving. When finally it came to rest, she sat up and giggled. ‘Dear Tom,’ she
murmured wistfully.
    As the days passed, Tom
convinced himself that he had been imagining things. What had seemed at times
deliberately seductive behaviour was nothing more than the natural way of a
girl at the confusing age of puberty. All the same, he wished she hadn’t taken
his hand in hers. The thought of physical contact between them disturbed him.
Perhaps he was being foolish, but for him the touch of her hand had tainted
something wonderful between them, something precious and innocent. For some
reason he felt ashamed, as though he had committed a sin. It was not as if he
had done anything to feel guilty about, but it was enough that he felt guilty.
That night he went home and proposed to his steady girl friend. A few weeks
later they were married.
    It was the following year
before he saw Margot again, and he was startled by the change in her. She was
no longer a child, she was taller, her slim hips swayed as she walked, her long
dark hair fell loosely about her shoulders. With her head carried high, she
moved with a natural, unselfconscious grace and an indefinable air that told
the world, “I am beautiful, and I know it.” His heart beating fast, he went to
greet her, wiping earth from his hands and bobbing his head deferentially.
    She held out her hand. ‘Hello, Tom.’
    ‘You don’t want to shake my dirty hand,’ he
said churlishly. As if she hadn’t heard him, she took his hand in both of hers
and held it for a long moment. Gently, he eased it away. ‘I’m off to get some
more bulbs.’
    ‘I’ll come with you.’ Quickly she fell in step
beside him. For a few moments they walked together without speaking a word. ‘I
got married,’ he blurted out.
    ‘I know.’ She pouted. ‘Beast!’
    ‘Known her a long time.’ Why,
he was thinking, did it sound like an apology?
    ‘Oh, Tom,’ she cried happily,
dismissing all talk of so mundane a subject, ‘it’s brilliant seeing you again! It’s
been so long! I’m sixteen already. Think of it. Sixteen!’ Catching the
meaningful sidelong glance, his face burned bright red.
    ‘Sit down and talk to me.’ She
pulled him to her on the lawn.
    ‘I don’t have time to talk, miss,’ he
protested.
    ‘Oh you!’ she scoffed. Her
eyes softened and before he could stop her, her arms were round