Read Online The Apple Tart of Hope by Sarah Moore Fitzgerald - Free Book Online

through me, followed by what felt like a skewer of ice stabbing me in the stomach. Bloody hell. I tried desperately then to remember the exact words that I’d written, but all I remembered was that it had definitely been my declaration of
love
. And now Oscar was going to read it—that’s if he hadn’t already. It wasn’t Paloma’s fault. She’d thought she was being helpful. No one could blame her.
    I felt dizzy and a bit sick. Perhaps I still had time, I thought for a moment as the image of Oscar actually
reading
my secret note became more and more clear and more and more mortifying.
    I checked the time of her email, thinking for one bright and comforting second that I might still be able to reverse things and persuade Paloma to snatch that letter back before Oscar had had a chance to read it. But no chance, of course. She had sent it over a day ago. He already had my letter, and he knew what was in it and it was too late to do anything except sit blinking at my laptop thinking what kind of damage-limiting thing I should try to do next.

the eighth slice

    As soon as I’d read it, I’d wished I hadn’t.
Dear Oscar
,
Just in case you have some idea that you and me could ever be a couple, I thought you would find it useful to know that that’s never, ever going to happen. I’m not into it and you might as well get used to realizing that. Maybe it’s time for you to move on? Stop obsessing about one person and look at possibilities elsewhere. It’s okay being your friend and everything. Stop me if I’m making any assumptions here that I’m wrong about. I just thought I should be clear with you so you can get on with your life and I can get on with mine
.
What I’m really saying is that you need to spread your wings
.
Adios
,
Meg
    I lay on my bed then all rigid and tense, letting a thousand cheerless thoughts chase each other around my head. And then Iheard a noise. It was Paloma throwing those little bits of plaster—plaster she’d found on Meg’s sill—at my window and asking me about the letter. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it but Paloma had this way of blinking at me quite slowly, and it made me want to tell her my secrets. And before I knew it, I was confiding in her about how Meg didn’t have any interest in . . . well . . . in me. She listened carefully and she nodded her head a lot and went “uh huh, I see, mm.” She said she had some advice. She said that the only way to respond to a letter like that was to ignore it completely, and to act as if I didn’t care about what it said—as if what it said was totally immaterial and of no consequence to me whatsoever.
    â€œOscar, you need to let her know that what was in that letter is so irrelevant that you’ve practically forgotten what it says. That’s by far the best way to deal with something like that.”
    I reckoned Paloma was doing her best to be wise and honest and helpful and I wanted to take her advice.
    â€œI’d say you’re better off not thinking about that girl. She doesn’t sound too nice,” Paloma said, then, which was Paloma’s own opinion and possibly fine if you’re able to apply logic to a particular situation. But the things I felt about Meg, they didn’t operate, they didn’t even exist, in the logical, rational part of my brain. Paloma might as well have been telling my heart to stop beating, or commanding my blood to stop flowing through my veins.
    After Paloma had said good night, an email pinged into my mailbox:
To: Oscar Dunleavy
From: Meg Molony
Subject: Accidental letter—please disregard.
Oscar, I’m really sorry but Paloma’s been in touch and she told me that she dropped a letter from me in(?) to you and yes, it’s from me but you weren’t supposed to get it and you see I never really meant what I said when I wrote it —I wasn’t really