Page 46 of The Last Casterglass

Last night they’d lain in their separate beds, holding hands and talking until the wee hours of the morning. Seph had told him about how she’d been bullied in sixth form, a quiet, passive-aggressive kind of cruelty that had made her quit after year twelve. Oliver had told her about getting a job rather than going to university, out of a need to prove to his uncle that he could pay his way, and then applying to Oxford as a mature student at the ripe old age of twenty-two.

They’d shared each other’s disappointments and griefs in a way that had felt honest rather than self-pitying, and when Oliver woke up in the morning, groggy after only a few hours of sleep, he realised he was still holding Seph’s hand.

But now they were back at Casterglass, with everyone descending on the castle—and them—in the next few days, and Oliver was afraid they wouldn’t be able to hold on to what they’d had when they’d been by themselves in Prague. He knew Seph had a complicated relationship with her family at the best of times, and their relationship would only further that complication. He imagined Althea’s knowing looks, Olivia’s teasing remarks… How would Seph respond to all that? To him?

And then, of course, there was the whole question of the future…not just their future, but Seph’s. If she left Casterglass…well, where did that leave him?

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Seph remarked as Oliver parked the car by the stables.

He let out a sigh as he turned to her with a weary smile. “Just tired, I think.”

“It looks like Rose and Sam are back,” she said, with a nod to the car he’d parked next to. “I thought they were staying a whole week.”

“Travelling must be pretty challenging with babies in tow.” He paused and then said, “Are we…telling people?”

She eyed him uncertainly. “Telling people?”

“About us. That, you know, we’re dating.” Which made him feel about sixteen. What he felt for Seph, what he wanted from their relationship, was so much more thandating.

“Do you want to?” she asked, and the uncertainty in her voice made him answer a bit more robustly than he might normally have.

“Yes. Definitely yes.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I do, too. Even if I’m sure everyone will make a big fuss about it.” She pretended to shudder, but she was smiling. So was he.

“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

As they came into the castle’s kitchen, they were greeted first by the noise. Oliver tried not to react to the screeching as they both gaped at Rose and Sam pacing the room, each with a wailing baby in their arms.

“What’s happened?” Seph asked in alarm. Sam was looking exhausted, Rose manic.

“We came back early,” she said as she frantically jiggled Bea—or was it Michaela? “They both got colic. At least I think it’s colic. They’ve been screaming all the time.”

“And they won’t sleep,” Sam added, his voice a deadened monotone. “At all.”

“Oh dear.” Oliver glanced at Seph, who was looking like he was feeling—torn between wanting to help and fleeing the scene. So much for the big announcement they were going to make, to fanfare and fuss. Rose and Sam were too overwhelmed to notice or, most likely, care about their new couple status.

“Is anyone else home yet?” Seph asked.

Rose shook her head. “Mum and Dad are coming home tomorrow, Olivia and Will the following day, and Althea and John sometime after that.” She jigged the baby again, to more wails. “I just don’t know what to do,” she said, her tone wobbling. “She’s not hungry. I just fed her. She won’t stop crying…”

Seph glanced at Oliver, then put down her bag and held out her arms. “Do you want me to take her?”

Rose’s lips trembled and she pressed them together. “But you just got back…” Oliver could tell she was desperate to thrust the baby into Seph’s arms.

“You look like you need a sleep,” Seph replied. “The two of you. Oliver and I can manage for a couple of hours.”

A couple ofhours? He tried not to let his alarm show on his face. Neither of them was very good with babies, especially very small, screaming ones.

“Are you sure?” Rose asked, while Sam was already jettisoning Michaela—or maybe Bea—into Oliver’s arms. He took hold of the baby, floppy head and all, with as much alacrity as he could.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Seph assured both Rose and Sam.

Within seconds both Rose and Sam had disappeared upstairs, and Oliver and Seph were left holding two very loud and unhappy babies.

“You’re a saint,” Oliver told her as he attempted to jiggle Michaela—or was it Bea? “I am not.”

“It’s only for a few hours,” Seph reminded him. “We’ll manage.”