raise your arms [freddie]

Part of him really wanted to take Barbara up on her offer that he could write her letters. He wondered, though, what he’d tell her. He was not exactly sharing a lot of detail with anyone. Barbara knew some of his background but he didn’t want to tell her (or anyone) the truth. What if he wrote to her that her father was drunk and had thrown things through the flat in a fit of anger? If she had this written by him she had proof. She could show this to Aase if she ever got mad at him and… no, he just couldn’t confide in her, couldn’t give any details.

“I’ll try to write at least once,” Freddie heard himself say anyway and he wondered if he still meant it or if it was just an automatic response to what she had said. He wasn’t sure. Going home always made him struggle. He always felt torn - part of him wanted to confide in someone and another part of him wanted to bottle everything up and tell tales about a nice holiday instead.

“It’ll be good to go home,” Freddie muttered, unsure if he was telling Barbara this or if he tried to reassure himself. The boy felt quite conflicted and was actually tempted to turn around and run back to the castle where he’d hide in his dormitory and wait for school to start again after the break.

The last carriage arrived and Freddie felt Barbara’s gaze on him. He turned to face her and offered a small smile. “Alright then, let’s get onto the carriage…” He held out a hand for her to help her get in and then climbed in as well.

[out]

Freddie didn’t look particularly like he would try to write at least once, but Barbara couldn’t begrudge him a little fib, when she thought it had been rather a long shot to get him to open up in the first place, when she was generally just as taciturn about her life. She just nodded – even if he didn’t mean to write her, she didn’t have to tell him she thought that of him. Doubtless it was unkind, and it was probably rude too.

She kept her eyes on him, though, less to read his expression and more to have something to look at; he still looked troubled, and still sounded troubled, but there was nothing she felt able to say on the matter, when she didn’t understand it herself, so she (dumbly) just nodded again.

“Alright then,” Barbara echoed; Freddie, to her surprise, held a hand out to help her up, and she took it with a little smile and strove not to look like a fool gathering her robes up to climb into the carriage; Freddie followed, and then – with a creak and a shift – they began to roll away.


OUT