My friends and I group up outside the ballroom as we’ve done the rest of the week. There’s a sense of lightness from knowing my free time will no longer be buried under studying. Jemima and Helena have cheery smiles, perhaps feeling similar to me. Belle shows a more controlled expression, yet I can tell that she’s happy inside, keeping her smile down. As for Violet, she looks as calm as ever.

Once we have exchanged our greetings and had a little chitchat about the exam, I ask, “What shall we do for now?”

There’s a moment of silent looks sent to each other before Helena says, “How about a walk?”

“Oh yes, let us stretch our legs,” Belle says, lightly brushing down the front of her dress. “Get the blood flowing.”

I’m not opposed, feeling stiff from sitting in those awkward chairs for a good hour. With everyone else in agreement, we set off down the path, walking around the back of the main school building, up to the flower garden, and eventually reaching the classroom where I had earth magic lessons. We go off onto the grass at this point, loosely curving around the pair of girls’ dormitories, and then take the path in front of the main school building this time. There’s some flowerbeds here, a beautiful sight now they’re in bloom, and the distant view of Tuton.

My life has changed so much in this small place. I’ve changed so much.

Going through the building, we loop back to the dormitory. A silence has followed us this whole time, not awkward, but I guess we’re at a point where there’s not much else to say. No need to discuss anything to do with school. Me, I just want to savour this comfortable feeling of being with my friends. A memory to bring me warmth if I ever feel lonely.

Entering the dormitory, Belle quietly says, “I should pack.”

“Ah, me too,” Jemima says.

Violet softly clears her throat. “Shall we meet up in, say, an hour?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say. The others agree as well.

It’s a short walk to my room, and the inside is stuffy from the morning sunshine. I go over and open my window for what good that will do. Though I’m only leaving on Sunday, I start packing and tidying up, mindful of what I’ll need for tonight and making sure there’s enough space for everyone.

The way boarding works here is that this will still be my room next year. Rather than move us, they’ll simply rename this to the senior girls’ dormitory, and the new juniors will use the other one. However, the maids will want to properly clean, so it’s best to empty out the room as best I can.

Most of my uniforms get folded up as I go through the wardrobe, along with my handmade dresses, and I only need underwear for two days, no need for pads. There might be a need for me to write, but a pencil will do. Things like my shawl and scarves from Lottie (and Gwen) are neatly placed beside my dresses. The Valentine’s card from Gwen is slotted into my most sturdy book for safe travels.

Of course, Pinky Promise has to stay out.

It doesn’t take me long, not much else beyond clothes, so I get started on preparations for this evening. I fill the bottom of the bath with cold water, not icy cold but chilled, and dunk my bedsheet in. Then I strain out most of the water and hang it in front of my bedroom window. (This is something Lottie told me, apparently making the air coming in cooler and adding some humidity—very helpful in this dry weather.) At the least, having a tub full of cold water probably does something to cool down the two rooms.

The most pressing issue (hopefully) taken care of, I take out the canvasses and arrange them: one on top of my chest of drawers (the group portrait), the other on my study desk (the still life). I’ll work on Violet’s silk scarf tomorrow, so I just put away those things in a desk drawer.

Last of all, I use a perfume to lightly scent the room. It’s a soft fragrance to begin with and I only use a bit, more a hint than a scent, yet I hope it will help soften any smell of sweat. (Not that ladies would actually sweat and, if they did, it would obviously smell wonderful, right?)

And now I wait. Of course, I don’t just sit around—such inaction a breeding ground for dark thoughts. Instead, I brush out my hair and work on something a little special. I start with the Violet-like braid just above my fringe, tying up all my silvery highlights into a pretty tiara. Next, I gently push it into shape, combing through with my fingers, getting the rest of my hair to settle into a sort of wavy cascade. Then… that’s it.

As nice as a fancy braid is, the Disney princesses never had braids, did they? I think Cinderella had hers in an updo, maybe Tiana as well? But I’m more a fan of Aurora—at least as far as looks go. She had the more mature face, not so soft and rounded, angular even, a pointed nose, and the noticeable eyeshadow. I mean, her story is pretty appalling, but she looks beautiful. Not cute, beautiful. Today, I want to look beautiful too.

When it comes to makeup, though, I stick to moisturiser and a dusting of foundation. Simple elegance. By the time I finish, my internal clock says it has been an hour. So I put away my things and set off for the lounge.

There’s not too many people here today, I guess most packing or outside—it’s not even four o’clock yet, still plenty of daylight left. I spot Trissy along with Ladies Wye and Ashford, talking amongst themselves by an open window. Lady Challock is also here, with I think Lady Tudeley (maybe Lady Capel, the two often together and I haven’t been introduced to them).

Over at our usual table, Violet is sitting with a book. I smile and walk over, easing into the seat next to her when I get there, leaning over to peer at whatever it is she’s reading. It seems to be related to the history of politics—far from the first time she has read such a book.

Although she doesn’t verbally acknowledge me, she angles the book better for me to see, and so we sit silently, reading one of the most dull books in existence. It’s nice. Reminds me of watching the bonfire with Evan, actually. Nothing but the quiet company of a friend and yet I could sit here for hours without complaint.

However, we only have five minutes (or thereabouts) before Jemima comes along, and she is not as enthused by silence as we are. Violet slots in a bookmark and closes her book, putting it on the table. I ask Jemima, “How did the packing go?”

She gently shakes her head. “Do not ask me how it is possible, but I brought along two suitcases at the start of the year and am returning with five,” she says.

I giggle, finding that a very Jemima sort of thing. “What, new clothes?” I ask.

She brushes off my answer with a small gesture. “That and accessories, not to mention it is hardly a job for us ladies, is it? Why the maids here do not simply do it for us….”

I smile, but it’s not entirely sincere. I’m understanding that my friends obviously don’t hold the same values as me; however, that doesn’t mean these little moments don’t still rub me the wrong way. Well, it’s something I got used to growing up. My mother and Clarice are hardly shy about relying on maids for all manner of things.

(That said, the maids probably would pack her suitcases if asked. It’s just that packing is harder than unpacking, so there would problems if every student requested a maid today.)

Surprisingly, Violet is on a similar wavelength to me. “Self-reliance is an important virtue. We even had lessons on folding at Queen Anne’s, did we not?”

Jemima pouts, but her faux petulance merely lasts a moment before she moves on and asks, “Are the preparations for tonight ready?”

I hum a note to myself. “Well, I have done what I can for now. The maids should bring over the supplies during supper.”

“Wonderful,” she says, quietly clapping her hands together. She does like gesturing while she talks.

Helena comes through next, and Belle shortly after. Asking them a similar question to what I asked Jemima, Helena says, “No, I cannot say I had any difficulty? We only ever wear our uniforms, so I have little else here,” while Belle says, “I already sent most of my things ahead last week.”

Jemima takes this all very personally, again pouting to herself. “I thought we were friends.”

Not one to beat about the bush, Violet flatly says, “Take it from me that true friendship is built upon honesty. Or, would you have us smile as you carry on mistaken?”

Knowing better than to fish for sympathy, Jemima fakes a sniffle and rubs her eyes, and then breaks into a smile. “If that is the case, I should point out that you may be too serious at times.”

“I am too serious at all times. If not, the lot of you wouldn’t ever get anything done,” Violet replies, completely deadpan.

It’s too much for me, giggles bubbling out. I glance over at Helena and see her no better, even Belle on the verge of laughter, mouth pressed tight. And then Violet herself laughs, apparently amused by her own joke. That sets us all off for a good minute.

The afternoon still young, Belle suggests we go outside. So we do. Rather than going for a walk, this is simply walking to a destination, just that we don’t exactly know the destination just yet. We start by going to the picnic spot. It’s pleasant here, shaded from the afternoon sun and in a good position for a breeze.

However, no one suggests we stop. For me, it’s a kind of adventurous spirit, kindled by knowing this is our last day together at school until September. (Even if the summer break is pretty much as long as the winter and spring breaks, it feels longer.)

So we don’t stop. I haven’t been much further than this before, no clue where the boundary of the grounds even lies. But, when we climb to the crest of the slope, a forest pops up in the distance, and I guess that’s the end of the grounds. While we don’t walk right up to the edge of the forest, we go most of the way and sit beneath an oak tree. The wind blowing down from the forest feels cool and carries with it a fresh scent. Though the somewhat recent downpour helped, most of the grass is drying up, so it hasn’t smelled green the last few weeks.

“Will we even hear the bell for supper from here?” I ask.

Helena hums in thought. “Even if we did, would we make it back to the hall in time?”

We giggle to varying degrees, not exactly a joke, but funny nonetheless—reminded of our foolishness. What’s the point in walking out this far? Well, I guess “because we can” is a good enough reason for teenagers.

It’s very peaceful. Usually, there’s the distant shouts and cheers from the lords kicking about a ball, but those don’t reach here. I can’t see anyone either, the natural rise and fall of the land blocking out everything but the spire of the main school building (where the bell is).

And this isolation is freeing. As we talk, I laugh without holding myself back, and I speak my mind, saying all sorts of minorly outrageous things. A bad influence I am, yet Jemima is eager to match me, and Helena is a willing co-conspirator, answering even my most risqué of questions. Although Belle and Violet are more reserved, they chime in now and then, and their apparent reluctance makes those times all the more hilarious.

From underwear and puberty to bedwetting and flatulence, we really make the most of this privacy to talk about anything and everything. Bonding. Safe in the knowledge that these stories will stay secret while finding comfort in sharing them, in being validated and reassured.

After all, there’s no Internet we can go on to see what’s normal, or to ask embarrassing questions behind the protection of anonymity. We just have each other and (for some of us) our family.

When we are worn out from that, I go picking flowers and show my friends how to make them into flower crowns. “Oh it is gorgeous,” Belle softly says, carefully lifting it up.

“Shall we have one each?” I ask.

They’re all in agreement, so they collect a pile of flowers and I chain them together, using the corner of my nail to split the stem and then slotting the next flower through. One, two, three—enough flowers now, Helena starts helping me—four, five. It takes a while, but we get there.

And when I see my friends sitting around, flower crowns on their heads, socks and shoes off, grass between their toes, cheeks pink with laughter, mouths set to warm smiles… I really have found my dream. Not for the first time, but this time feels more impactful than before. A comfort that grips my soul.

A comfort that had always eluded Ellie.

“Is something the matter?” Violet softly asks, her hand coming over to hold mine.

I blink and realise I’m tearing up. Oh, I’m a little bit of a mess, aren’t I? After drying my eyes, I gently shake my head. “I am just so happy to have such good friends,” I say, smiling brightly.

My words lead to misty eyes and a chorus of similar sentiments.

Somewhat afraid of missing dinner, our frolicking and such comes to an end around half past five; we leave the flower crowns together on a branch—a small tribute to nature. The walk back is quiet, fairly tired in body and spirit.

Back at the dormitory, we retire to our rooms to freshen up. Our hair did get a bit messy, and we maybe worked up a bit of a sweat, so some brushing and wiping down helps me feel refreshed. Ah, my hair must have looked good earlier, but no one said anything….

It’s not long before the bell rings for supper, and we meet up in the lounge; we’re all still smiling.

The dining hall is rather full and it’s full of cheer when we arrive, everyone happy to be done with exams, many mentions of Lundein and summer homes floating across my ears. Because of Clarice, my family will be staying in Lundein for most of the summer. (We have a couple of family events we host at the Kent estate that we’ll be returning for.)

As if it’s a feast, everyone’s appetite is big tonight. Battered chips (deep-fried) are certainly popular, an unusual item that is delicious to the point of addiction, and I believe the maids have been instructed to comply with a little more than the single glass of wine we usually have. (With how much we eat, I doubt any of us even get tipsy from the extra half a glass. I mean, I don’t feel it, and I’m quite the lightweight—something I learned from attending many events in the spring break.)

After finishing my second glass, I ask, “Say, does my hair look nice today?”

Hmm… maybe I’m closer to tipsy than I thought.

“Oh yes, it rather does,” Helena says, nodding. “I would have said, but did Lady Hythe not mention it this afternoon? She was with you when I arrived.”

We all look at Jemima, who loosely shrugs. “I thought Lady Dover would have.”

We all look at Violet, who raises an eyebrow. “Lady Kent always looks beautiful—must I say so every time I see her?”

We all nod, and I do so vehemently. Then there’s a moment of silence before we break into giggles.

When it comes to dessert, I indulge in a good mousse (coffee flavoured, to help sober me up a bit). Oh gosh, it’s so tasty, I could eat a sink-full, throw up because it’s way too much, and then eat a regular portion. (Incidentally, this is how I know I’m not ready to be called an adult.)

After we finish, we have a slow walk around the school buildings, silent but for the odd comment on something interesting we see. A beautiful flower, or a bird nearby. Once we arrive at the dormitory, we say our see-you-soons and go to our rooms to prepare for this evening.

For them, that is freshening up and collecting their sleepover bags; for me, I ignore the pile of linen and duvets and pillows in my bedroom and go run a fresh, shallow bath of cold water, and then dunk my bedsheet-curtain in it before straining it and putting it back up.

Despite rushing through that, I barely have the chance to sit down before someone knocks on the door.

“Coming,” I say, back on my feet and shuffling over. I open the door and see Violet. “Prompt as always.”

“I do try,” she says, and she enters my room with a slight bow of her head. Polite as always.

Belle and Jemima come half a minute later, Helena a handful of seconds behind them. Unlike last time, we don’t rush to change, still a good amount of sunlight left. (There’s just something a bit uncomfortable about being in nightclothes while the sun’s up.)

As I close the door, Violet says, “This is the group portrait you painted?”

I turn around and they’re huddled around my chest of drawers, looking at the canvas. It’s a bit of a funny sight and a giggle slips out. I mean, we weren’t taught to do portraits in our watercolour classes, so my friends are painted as an assortment of shapes in roughly the right place. There’s no spark of life to them, no sense of movement.

“It is,” I say.

Belle says, “So you meant it when you said a portrait wouldn’t compliment us.”

Oh I lose it, laughter flowing freely as I sit on my bed. Jemima lightly elbows her, and I hear her harshly mutter, “Mabel.”

“No, no, I said that first,” I manage to say through my giggles. “I told her that a portrait wouldn’t come out well.”

Jemima holds back because of that, but she still has a displeased expression. Meanwhile, Helena and Violet have been looking intently at the painting. Helena turns around and, smiling, she says, “I quite like it myself. It may not be very lifelike, but I think it captures us well.”

Violet nods at her side. “Ignoring that I was there, I can easily tell that it is us four, and which of us four each one is.”

“There is no need to flatter me,” I say. “I think I shall continue practising over the summer and perhaps paint a more pretty portrait if my progress is good.”

But Belle shakes her head. “This portrait is plenty good already,” she says, and then whispers, “I can see the warmth you hold for us.”

While I could argue all day about how terrible it is, I can’t disagree with her on that point. If she can see my feelings, then I guess it can’t be that bad, huh?

“It is rather warm,” Jemima says. She leans closer and I can see the corner of her mouth smile. “We look so happy, our little cheeks pink, hair caught in the wind? I do not recall posing like that.”

“Well, I see everyone like that so often, I don’t need a reference to paint it,” I say.

Jemima giggles, Belle chuckles. Helena, though, simply asks, “You watch us so closely?”

“Of course. Isn’t that only natural when it comes to the friends I love?” I say.

Those words hang in the air for a long moment. I’ve only ever told Violet I love her, haven’t I? They… won’t think it’s weird, will they? My heart pounds in my chest.

However, I need not have worried, Jemima coming over in a stride and leaning down to hug me. “We all love you too,” she says.

I hug her back, trying not to squeeze her too tightly, failing to keep my eyes from tearing. It really is that kind of day. Before I can calm myself, Helena sits down next to me and gets in on the hug. As nice as this is, it’s awfully hot, every second more uncomfortable than the last. Fortunately, they release me shortly.

Looking at Violet, she seems amused by all this, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Do you love me as well?” I ask her.

Although I expect the smile to disappear, if anything it becomes bigger, and she takes a step towards me, lowering herself until her breath tickles my ear. “I love you,” she says.

A shiver runs through me, but then I laugh, thoroughly caught in my own trap. “Shouldn’t you be more bashful?” I ask.

“Should you not have some semblance of shame?” she retorts, her expression showing how pleased she is with herself.

At that, we all break into laughter. It carries on for a long while, a release for the moments before, an echo of the early afternoon. Nothing in the world is as funny as a friend’s laughter and we are each spurred on by the other four.

When it eventually fades into titters and broad smiles, I see Belle looking at me. “Is there something…” I say, trailing off.

She gestures for me to stand, so I do, and she then guides me to stand in front of the portrait. “Ah, I knew something was missing,” she whispers.

I’m a little confused, but the others nod in agreement with her. Jemima, with something of a cheeky expression, tells me, “Make sure you include yourself next time, okay?”

Ah—I’m not in the portrait. I nod, and they smile, giving me such a warm look.

The moment passes and we get to work on some of the preparations for the evening. That is, we collect some stools the maids put aside for us in the kitchen (mainly used to make tea), which we take back to my room and then squeeze them into the bathroom.

You see, I had a most cunning plan: a cold foot bath. The room already stuffy, we sit on the stools and hike up our dresses and slip our feet into the near-chilled water. Most of us can’t help but giggle as we do, the cold ticklish, and it’s incredibly pleasant—reminding me of (Ellie’s memories of) going to the beach.

We stay like this for a while, happily chatting, replacing the water when it warms up. You know, sharing our plans for the summer. We already have before, but we can always go into more detail, going from events we know we’ll be attending to books we want to read to hobbies we want to pick up. Me in particular, I have a long list of things I would like to try painting; the Lundein townhouse has quite the selection of flowers and the pond for me to do.

There’s promises to write letters, to see each other when possible—a bit tricky as Violet and Belle won’t be in Lundein for the whole break (nor will I), and Jemima will be going north for a family member’s marriage in the middle of it.

Hope. A tangible hope, different from the hoping I did as a child. In the same way, I’ll soon be lonely, but it will be a different kind of loneliness than the last few years, missing my friends rather than from simply being alone.

Put another way, the hope and loneliness I now have is much more real. I am a lot more real. Full of contradictions, of hypocrisy, of difficult decisions. I’ve thought before of how opening your heart means you will be hurt, and in that vein I’ve picked up many scars this years. But I have also found so much love.

And, you know, if I kept my heart closed, I’m sure I would still have been hurt. Not as much, but I would still have been hurt. But since I was brave, I have all this light in my life, right?

Books like to talk about happily-ever-afters, neat endings where good triumphs over evil and everyone gets what they want. My life isn’t some story, though. I’m not who I am today because of some plot written down, but because of the choices I’ve made, the hard work I’ve put in, and a willingness to believe in others and love them.

Besides, who says this is the end? My life is only just beginning. Another year of school along with all my friends, my debut, marriage, raising children, and all sorts of things squeezed alongside those busy years. There’s Violet’s silk scarf to finish, the exhibition next year, lessons for Gwen, seeing what Iris makes me in exchange for her dress….

Still, this is a year I won’t ever forget.