Secret heart

What are you made of,

What are you afraid of?

Secret Heart - Feist

. . .

Thursday morning, late August

Each morning the local TV weathermen reported from the comfort of their air-conditioned studios, how fast the mercury level was rising along the coast. They called it an unforeseen heat wave, even though we'd had weeks of sweltering, endlessly sunny days and little rain before it.

Many of us, Noah included hadn't paid much attention to the warnings of hosepipe bans and a long, dry end to the summer. Until of course we found ourselves in the throw of it, with the heat so intense, so energy sapping that most of the townsfolk was now shuttered up in their homes, hoping to find cool solace from the roasting outdoors.

In the weeks that followed the warnings, nothing stirred. Not even the birds in the heavy trees that seemed to hang their heads under the suns relentless attack. Not even people, it was too hot to even make the effort from the front porch to the sidewalks, as the light beat down like a furnace, no breeze to lighten its blazing breath.

Everything felt sluggish and stifling, and being indoors didn't help much.

Noah and the kid's weekly trips to the beach had been called off until the wave of heat subsided, a sensible decision after too many sun burnt cheeks and worrying symptoms of heatstroke. Even Max the dog, with his mad dashes into the sea couldn't weather through and so we all stayed huddled inside or in our backyards under the sprinklers we weren't supposed to have on.

My own cheeks had formed a rosy sheen, like flesh from an apple skin and my feet were raw from walking down the scorching porch steps each morning to take out the trash.

Most of my scheduled cleaning duties had been written off as the families stayed in and hid away from the heat wave or sympathised that moping and dusting in the heat wasn't much fun.

For the first time in months, I again felt dispair, stuck inside the bungalow without the freedom to leave and with the fear of burning up, or melting under the hot rays.

Every day I wished for rain to wash away the blistering heat but in the mornings my wishes still remained unanswered.

The news reporters had tried to assure us all that a cool front would come soon, to lift us out of the waves clutches but I wasn't so sure.

Maybe it would never end, I thought as I made my way towards the living room from another cold shower - my third in so many hours. Poppy was sprawled out on the couch, using a book as an additional fan even though all the windows were wide open, with the shades pulled down.

Even the industrial looking fans she'd snatched up from the store down by the boardwalk couldn't quite cut through the heat. Poppy had tied brightly coloured ribbons to the metal grates, as if that would somehow ease our suffering but of course they hadn't.

Resting my head against the cooling tiled breakfast counter, I wished for crystal blue waters to lap around my feet and swallow me whole. It seemed I wasn't the only one dreaming of diving into cold waters as Poppy kicked her bare feet against the couch, yelling out how she wished we had a pool.

Rubbing away the sweat onto yet another t-shirt sleeve that would end up in the growing usually modest washing pile, I sighed back in agreement.

"I've just got to get through the morning and then I'll be fine." Poppy said, once again taking to herself. "Because you know Henry's invited me to stay with him for the weekend, at the hotel his work have put him up in and they apparently have this beautiful infinity pool, stretches right out into the cliffs and I'm just going to swim in it all day and night, until I forget about this bloody hell hole."

"Alright for some." I replied, spreading my arms out onto the cold counter.

Really I was jealous at the thought of toes dipping into cool, cold waters and that Poppy would be escaping the blistering heat. Caught up in the fantasy of infinity pools, it took me a moment to realise that Poppy had unwittingly given away the name of her secretive lover. The one she had been so careful to keep under wraps, even when I told her I didn't care to know anything about their dalliances and weekends away.

"Henry?" I asked, barely lifting my head up, the word rattling across the tiles.

Sitting up with sweat rolling down her temples, Poppy screwed up her face and mockingly repeated my voice. "That's his name, yes."

"Not really what I had expected from your elusive paramour." I jokingly teased.

"It's just a name, and I'll have you know that Henry is quite fitting for such a charming and wonderful man." Poppy replied, swinging her legs off the couch and hauling herself up. "Not that it's anything to do with you."

Pretending to clasp my hands together I snorted. "Thank God."

"You know I'm off this afternoon for the whole weekend, don't you?" she said approaching the kitchen. "With Henry."

Waving her away I told her that of course I knew, since she'd been reminding me all morning and that I was looking forward to having the bungalow to myself.

Wiping down the counter with a dishcloth, to rid it of clammy hand marks she asked me if I could manage by myself for the weekend.

"You mean, will I survive though this insane heat wave?"

A small chuckle escaped her lips and she stopped mopping up to look me straight in the eye.

"Will Noah be staying over, you know so you've at least got some company and someone to help clean the place up when you do eventually melt away from the heat?"

I knew she was only trying to be nice but it made me feel glum with the reminder that Noah probably wasn't going to be staying round and that I had so far failed to tell him just how I felt. The thought of asking him to stay the night needed a bold, brave attitude that I couldn't quite muster. Not that I hadn't tried.

"Probably not." I replied casually, careful to keep my sombre tone hidden.

"Why not?"

"He's got a lot on at the moment, so I doubt he will." I lied, not wishing to explain to her how I was frustratingly stuck behind the line of friendship and how utterly obvious Noah seemed to be about it.

Frowning, the beads of sweat catching on her eyelashes Poppy sighed. "You guys are really stringing out this 'friendship' thing aren't you?"

"I don't really want to talk about this right now, please."

"You'll have to at some point Scarlett, unless you just want to remain friends of course."

Making her way round to the other side of the counter, she gently ruffled my hair, the strands sticking to her palm. "I'm surprised it's gone on this long, if I'm honest."

"What do you mean?" I asked her, pushing her hand away.

Poppy rolled her eyes, and once again let out a long groan. " C'mon just the way you two look at each other, how he can't seem to go a day without appearing at our door, anyone would think you were together."

Shrugging my shoulders and gently knocking my head against the tiles, my patience wearing thin for such conversations, I managed to mumble we are not together.

"Shame." Poppy said. "He seems to like you."

"Just friends." I said quietly, hoping it would convince not just her but myself too.

"Oh, I see." she gulped, leaning away from me to whisper. "Is it one of those 'friendly' agreements?"

With my face already flushed and exhausted from the heat and questioning I hissed back. "Jeez, it's not like that!" Because it was true, the only agreements Noah and I ever made was about what to order during our Friday nights at the Diner or what time to meet up.

Laughing at my objections to her question, Poppy threw up her hands. "What, it happens!"

"Can we stop talking now please?" I begged.

"Fine but honestly Scarlett, if you do like him just let him know how you feel and if he doesn't feel the same, then he's an idiot."

"It's not his fault if he doesn't like me."

"Look, you might be a total pain in my ass and a nightmare to live with but you're still my little sister, and a Ryan woman at that." Poppy said before adding. "And we are strong, tough, not to mention beautiful women so if he can't see that then it's his loss. He'll just be another stupid, blue eyed, scruffy haired idiot."

"Noah's got brown eyes." I corrected, without hesitation.

Patting me on the shoulder as she passed by to pack her bags, she sighed Oh Scarlett and gave me a pitying smile.

"Just be the strong woman I know you are under all those sweaty, gross layers." Poppy said, pinching at my drenched t-shirt. "And tell him straight."

"Okay." I offered back. "I'll try."

"You will?"

"Yeah."

"Great! Right I've got to sort out my pool attire and pick out which dresses are going to look utterly fabulous whilst I sip cocktails at night." Poppy smiled, twirling beside me.

"Not that polka dot one." I said sharply.

"The polka dot one!" she replied excitedly, ignoring my sarcastic tone. "Yes, that will look brilliant pool side."

As she disappeared down the hallway, delighted at her choice I finally lifted my head to see what time it was. Again I banged my head against the counter, as I watched the small hand on the kitchen clock tick by slowly.

Alone in the living room, with only the suffocating heat and time to kill, I flopped down onto the couch as Poppy had done and tried to think of anything other than him and the dilemma I knew I would have to address later, when dinner at The Allen's would creep closer.

When I would have to sit and face him, cycle the streets home with him and talk to him, out on the lawn and under the stars.

I could feel the waves of heated frustration lap over.

Trying to think of anything other than him, I buried my head in my hands and silently screamed.

No such luck.

. . .