A Snowfall of Silver by Laura Wood

Author:Laura Wood [Wood, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic
Published: 2020-09-30T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I spend the following day trying very hard to stay busy and not to think of Viola’s words, words that struck at some deeply vulnerable part of me. Fortunately, this evening is my dinner with Russ, which provides an excellent distraction. I feel strange about it – a little nervous, a little excited. I have already decided to throw myself into it, the romance of it all. Russ is practically a paper cut-out of the perfect man, and so – for tonight, at least – I will be the perfect girl on his arm. Perhaps I’ll get swept up in the feelings that dominate so many of my favourite stories – the passion, the desire, the soul-searing connection between two people. I can give it a go, at least.

After the performance, my head full of kisses and whirling music, I head to the wardrobe closet to get changed, and I find Nora there waiting for me.

“I hear you have a big evening planned,” she says.

“I don’t know about that,” I reply. “After all, Russ is the one doing the planning.”

She laughs. “I know you don’t need yet another person warning you off, but…”

I hold up my hand to stop her. “Honestly, I’ll be fine. I know who Russ is. I want to take a little risk. I don’t have any stories of my own yet, and you all have so many! Whatever his faults, Russ is a story. I like him, when he’s not taking himself too seriously.”

“Fair enough,” Nora says. “But for what it’s worth, I like the stories you already have. The ones about your family and your friends. Don’t confuse drama with living, Freya. That’s all I’m going to say.” She grins. “Well, that, and if you are going to go out for dinner with Russ for the story, then you should wear something sensational. Something to make him sit up and take notice.”

“I don’t own anything sensational.” It has actually been a bit of a sore point for me, because when one is determined to live out a fantasy, one imagines doing it in something other than an old frock that doesn’t quite fit because two older sisters have worn it first.

“Don’t I know it.” Nora gives me a pained look. “You must start making your own clothes, Freya, you’ve got such a good eye, and these old hand-me-downs you wear do nothing for you.” While she’s talking she’s riffling through the clothes rail and then she pulls something from the rack. It is an evening dress the colour of saffron strands, sleeveless with a trailing bow holding one shoulder together, and falling into a long tulle skirt, embroidered with a design of golden petals.

“Oh, my,” I say.

Nora looks pleased. “I know. It’s one of mine.”

“Nora, you’re so good.” I stroke the material with reverent fingers.

“I know that too. Now, get out of that horrible thing.”

I slip out of my cheap (but quite pretty, I’ll not concede everything to Nora) dress, and stand in my underwear as Nora lowers the frothy golden concoction over my head.

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