The Barn on Half Moon Hill by Milly Johnson Page B

Harry Bell-ender anything but. And the stamps and the paper . . .’
    â€˜You’re not in my debt. I wrote because I wanted to!’ Cariad interrupted him.
    â€˜I really think I owe you big time.’
    â€˜And I really think you’ve gone nuts.’
    â€˜Maybe I have, but it’s the best idea I’ve had in years. Something that benefits young people, stars in the making, hands across the pond. And the publicity opportunities it
would bring would be amazing. I think we could make this work between us.’
    â€˜You could come over and give a few lessons yourself.’
    â€˜I fully intend to.’
    Cariad’s mouth gaped open. ‘I was joking.’
    â€˜I’m not. How many dance schools are there in the area? Did you do any research?’
    Cariad huffed. ‘Of course I did. There are a couple a few miles away, but this was always the most famous of them all. Mavis Wickersley was a local legend. She still had a waiting list for
her classes when she was eighty-two. She died on the job, demonstrating an arabesque. I wanna go the same. Although not for a few years, mind.’
    â€˜Then do we have an agreement?’ Franco at last let her go and held out his hand to shake on the deal.
    â€˜You should have a good hard think on the plane home.’ Cariad eyed his hand suspiciously, as if it might suddenly grow teeth and bite her.
    â€˜I promise I will. So now, do you at least agree to be my potential business partner?’ He wiggled his fingers to alert her to their waiting status.
    Cariad reached forward and curled her fingers around his. ‘Okay then,’ she said, humouring him.
    â€˜Good girl.’ Franco grinned. ‘I won’t let you down. Not again.’
    â€˜Better order a taxi now,’ said Cariad, noticing the time on her watch. She didn’t want this day to end, but then she wasn’t sure she could take any more excitement. She
wouldn’t sleep for weeks as it was with the amount of adrenaline that was pumping around her system.
    When Cariad took out her phone, she noticed that there were five missed calls from her uncle. She rang him back and assured him that she was fine and was just about to ring for a taxi, but Effin
insisted on coming for her. He would make sure she was home and then drop Franco off at the gates of Winterworld. Effin was very protective of his older brother’s daughter, who he thought of
as dearly as he did his own children.
    â€˜He worries,’ Cariad explained to Franco as she ended the call. ‘He’s a lovely fellow is my uncle. Just like Da was, only he goes more purple. He’d do the building
work for me for the school, I know he would. He’s brilliant.’ Cariad imagined the long wall completely mirrored, dancers resting their powder-pink ballet shoes on the barre in front of
it. The image was accompanied by the smell of Olwen Rees’s dance school in Dolgellau and the sound of mad Blod Griffiths playing the ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ on a piano
that hadn’t been tuned since it was originally constructed. Such happy days.
    While they waited for Effin to arrive, Cariad and Franco sat on the bench and looked at the lovely valley below them and both of them sighed simultaneously.
    â€˜Why is it called Half Moon Hill?’ asked Franco.
    â€˜Haven’t a clue,’ said Cariad. ‘I’ll find out and send the answer in a letter to you.’
    â€˜I never wrote to you, Cariad, because I can’t write.’ Franco’s confession came out in a rushed spurt.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Dyslexia,’ he said, eyes cast down. ‘Only worse. I can read better than I can write, but . . . I’m just crap at forming letters of the alphabet. I tried to write to you
so many times: a note, a postcard, the message you asked for on a photo; but they all looked such a mess . . . I was ashamed.’
    â€˜
Duw Duw
.’
My God
. Cariad shook