Hi guys! This is my first fanfic in ages so sorry if it's a bit patchy – I've kinda forgotten how this works ALSO: All copyright to Debbie Moon

Thanks and enjoy!

I remember the day that I met Liam

It was that summer, that glorious summer, where there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Actually, that could be wrong, I think it just seems like that in hindsight. Or at least hindsight has enhanced the feeling. Me and Mama had driven the five hour journey up to Stoneybridge from Oxford; we had come for the last two weeks of the summer, to look after my gran. She was dying, at 78 years old, from old age and a low immune system. She had been dying for the last three years.

We arrived around four in the afternoon that day. Gran and Granddad lived in a average-sized house in the village. Grandad, bless him, did his best at looking after her, but we knew the time had come, and frankly he could do with some help, as well as wanting to be with her.

I came out about six that evening, to go down to the village shop and get some supplies. The shopkeeper was a kindly lady, friendly and only slightly patronising, but I could tell she didn't mean to be. I thanked her for her time (I was the only customer so she had lots to give to me) and left the shop. As I did, I turned round the corner and crashed straight into a boy. He was tall and slightly funny looking, about sixteen I reckoned, with mousey brown hair verging on ginger. We both apologised hurriedly, and I darted down to pick up the shopping I'd dropped, carefully avoiding eye contact. It didn't work though, because he crouched down to help me. He smiled. He had a nice smile, I thought, and when we both stood up he was looking at me in a nice sort of way.

"Thank you." I said, smiling. He returned it.

"Don't mention it." There was an awkward pause, but then he said, "I'm Liam Hunter." I liked the casual way he spoke.

"Emily Graves."

"I haven't seen you around before. You just moved here of something?" He had quite a few freckles, I noticed.

"No, I'm just up here staying with my grandparents. For a week or so" I replied

"Well it's nice to have a new face. We don't get many around here." I gave a little awkward laugh.

"Where's your grandparent's house?"

"Umm… Up Rosemary Way. Actually I should be going now, sorry"

"It's ok. I'm going up that way too, so I'll walk with you." And so we started to walk. We talked too, for probably about ten or fifteen minutes, meandering and wasting time. By the time we got to my grandparents, I knew quite a lot about him. I knew he lived on a farm at the end of the road, had done all his life and his family had for centuries. He was sixteen and a half, 9 months older than me. We talked about lots of other stuff too, but none of it really matters now. We parted at the gate with a "See you soon." I really hoped I did.

First things first, this is not a love story. Anyone who wants that is advised not to read on. It's more of a tragedy, really. Except no, actually I don't like that, because it makes us sound like victims of fate. No one in this story is a victim. We make our own fate.

If you really want to put it in a box, I suppose you could call it a cautionary tale. A warning not to get in so deep that you can't get out. But in all truthfulness, this is written for no-one apart from me. So it doesn't really matter, and you can decide for yourselves what it is, if you really want to.

I like Northumberland. The atmosphere, the beauty of it. The sense of mystery and adventure. I wouldn't like to live there though.

Have you heard the song A Nightingale Sang In Berkley Square? It's an old song. I was singing it, hanging out the washing, the next day. Suddenly Liam appeared at the fence. I guess he'd been walking past. It made me jump, I'm a jumpy sort of person, and he laughed. He looked funny, just his head poking over the top of the fence.

"You scared me." I was laughing though. As I walked over, he called;

"What song was that?" I was embarrassed he'd heard me singing, so I told him rather shyly.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"Yeah, it's a sweet song." I peered over the fence to see muddy knees and studded boots. "Football?" I asked.

"I'm just coming back from training." So he's a football lad I thought.

"Cool." I thought I was sounding enthusiastic, but he could obviously see straight through me.

"I'm guessing you have a deep hatred for it then?" He was grinning, but I felt a bit stupid and my defence barriers had come up.

"No, no, not at all…" I knew I sounded a bit desperate, "I've just had some bad experiences." Inside though, I knew that was just an excuse for the prejudice I had formed based on knowing a few choice individuals.

"Like what?" I didn't really want to be having this conversation, but I told him anyway about a few of the dickheads I knew. Then I realised I'd essentially been ranting at him.

"Sorry about that." For god's sake Emily, you couldn't get any worse if you tried. I was expecting him to react badly, like, you're just being stupid kind of thing. Instead he said,

"It's okay. You know most people aren't like that." In that moment my heart lifted up. Now though, Liam, that just seems like a joke.

When I came in, Mama was cooking pasta in the kitchen. She has dark brown/reddish hair, much more red than mine which is just a boring brown. She's beautiful. She saw me come in and said, "Who was that?"

I forget that she's my mum and she pretty much knows or can work out everything.

"Just a local guy I was chatting to yesterday." I was doing my best at remaining casual.

"What's his name?"

"Liam Hunter." I knew what was coming.

"Do you like him?"

"Mum!" She was giving me that knowing smile. Luckily, just at that moment Granddad walked in, oblivious to the conversation, wanting some help moving some furniture, so I was saved from that awkward conversation.

New chapters up when I can. Thanks for reading (and please review if you can!)