Read Online Butterfly Summer by Anne-Marie Conway - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne-Marie Conway
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That’s not what I meant. Look, I’ll see you later.”
I slipped out of the door before she could stop me. The last thing I wanted was another row. Mack had crossed to the other side of the lane. He was sitting on a low, drystone wall, playing around with his phone. Stella had mentioned that he was going into Year Nine, but he looked older, tall with really strong arms. My tummy flipped over as he glanced up and caught me staring. I’d never been out with a boy I didn’t know, not even for a walk.
“Where shall we start?” he said, as I crossed the lane to join him. “The village green? Or how about the village green?” He spread his arms out wide. “The choices are endless!”
“Anywhere except for the church,” I said hurriedly. “I don’t want to risk bumping into Mrs. Wilson.”
“Ah, the lovely Mrs. Wilson.” He smiled. “I bet you didn’t know that in her spare time Mrs. Wilson is in charge of the local rugby team. Trains them up and everything.”
“No she doesn’t,” I said, laughing.
Mack laughed as well. “You’re right, she doesn’t – but I have heard rumours that she goes into people’s houses to cast out demons.”
“What, you mean, like, exorcisms ? The same Mrs. Wilson who keeps asking me to go to church?” I wrapped my arms around myself, shuddering. No wonder she was so creepy. She’d probably come over that time to check things out – see if there were any evil spirits to get rid of.
“Earth to Becky.” Mack waved his hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, that freaked me out a bit. It’s just that I’m scared of spirits and haunted houses and stuff like that, and I hate horror movies.” I glanced up at him, embarrassed. I probably sounded like the world’s biggest wimp. “What do you do around here then?” I said quickly, to change the subject. “Do you play rugby?”
“Yep. Every Saturday morning.” He flexed his arms like a bodybuilder. “Training on Saturdays and matches on Sundays – but not in this sort of heat.”
We set off from the green, trailing up one of the small, winding lanes. The sun was high in the sky and burning hot. I’d always been shy around boys. At my old school, the cool guys were a million miles out of reach. They were so in love with themselves, they’d never pay the slightest attention to someone like me. But Mack seemed different. He was cool and very cute, but he made me laugh.
We criss-crossed our way around Oakbridge, past the village hall and across a field of sheep. I was more than happy to let Mack lead the way as long as we didn’t end up at the church. He chatted on as if we’d known each other for years – funny stories about school and rugby and life in a small village. He somehow made Oakbridge sound as if it was the most interesting place on earth.
We must’ve gone round in a massive circle because after an hour or so we ended up back at the green. It was sweltering hot and I was dying for a drink. Mack grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the Jacksons’.
“There’s one more place I want to take you, but we’ll need provisions.”
I pulled back, shaking my arm free. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden, is it?” I couldn’t face introducing him to Rosa May. Not today. “I don’t mind, it’s just that I’ve been there already. More than once actually.”
“No, you’re alright,” he said. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden.” He stopped for a second outside the shop. “Watch out for Mrs. Jackson though,” he whispered. “I know she looks like a sweet old lady, but she is in fact an undercover spy working for the secret service. Pass me your phone for a minute and I’ll give you my number – just in case you ever find yourself in danger.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to be in danger? From Mrs. Jackson?”
“Better to be safe than sorry,” he said.
Inside the shop, I walked up to the counter with a bottle of water, trying to keep a straight face.
“Hello, Becky, my love,” said
I slipped out of the door before she could stop me. The last thing I wanted was another row. Mack had crossed to the other side of the lane. He was sitting on a low, drystone wall, playing around with his phone. Stella had mentioned that he was going into Year Nine, but he looked older, tall with really strong arms. My tummy flipped over as he glanced up and caught me staring. I’d never been out with a boy I didn’t know, not even for a walk.
“Where shall we start?” he said, as I crossed the lane to join him. “The village green? Or how about the village green?” He spread his arms out wide. “The choices are endless!”
“Anywhere except for the church,” I said hurriedly. “I don’t want to risk bumping into Mrs. Wilson.”
“Ah, the lovely Mrs. Wilson.” He smiled. “I bet you didn’t know that in her spare time Mrs. Wilson is in charge of the local rugby team. Trains them up and everything.”
“No she doesn’t,” I said, laughing.
Mack laughed as well. “You’re right, she doesn’t – but I have heard rumours that she goes into people’s houses to cast out demons.”
“What, you mean, like, exorcisms ? The same Mrs. Wilson who keeps asking me to go to church?” I wrapped my arms around myself, shuddering. No wonder she was so creepy. She’d probably come over that time to check things out – see if there were any evil spirits to get rid of.
“Earth to Becky.” Mack waved his hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, that freaked me out a bit. It’s just that I’m scared of spirits and haunted houses and stuff like that, and I hate horror movies.” I glanced up at him, embarrassed. I probably sounded like the world’s biggest wimp. “What do you do around here then?” I said quickly, to change the subject. “Do you play rugby?”
“Yep. Every Saturday morning.” He flexed his arms like a bodybuilder. “Training on Saturdays and matches on Sundays – but not in this sort of heat.”
We set off from the green, trailing up one of the small, winding lanes. The sun was high in the sky and burning hot. I’d always been shy around boys. At my old school, the cool guys were a million miles out of reach. They were so in love with themselves, they’d never pay the slightest attention to someone like me. But Mack seemed different. He was cool and very cute, but he made me laugh.
We criss-crossed our way around Oakbridge, past the village hall and across a field of sheep. I was more than happy to let Mack lead the way as long as we didn’t end up at the church. He chatted on as if we’d known each other for years – funny stories about school and rugby and life in a small village. He somehow made Oakbridge sound as if it was the most interesting place on earth.
We must’ve gone round in a massive circle because after an hour or so we ended up back at the green. It was sweltering hot and I was dying for a drink. Mack grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the Jacksons’.
“There’s one more place I want to take you, but we’ll need provisions.”
I pulled back, shaking my arm free. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden, is it?” I couldn’t face introducing him to Rosa May. Not today. “I don’t mind, it’s just that I’ve been there already. More than once actually.”
“No, you’re alright,” he said. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden.” He stopped for a second outside the shop. “Watch out for Mrs. Jackson though,” he whispered. “I know she looks like a sweet old lady, but she is in fact an undercover spy working for the secret service. Pass me your phone for a minute and I’ll give you my number – just in case you ever find yourself in danger.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to be in danger? From Mrs. Jackson?”
“Better to be safe than sorry,” he said.
Inside the shop, I walked up to the counter with a bottle of water, trying to keep a straight face.
“Hello, Becky, my love,” said
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