1912.
The first time his father suggested boarding school, Colin had thrown a fit. He very rarely lost his temper these days, having left that aspect of his personality behind him with his wheelchair. But the thought of being sent to London and away from Misselthwaite, away from her, terrified him so much that he truly did collapse into a rage.
"Calm yourself son," his father urged, a flash of something in his eyes – fear perhaps, that the cripple was coming back in place of this new, healthy Colin of the last few years. "Please."
"What about Mary?" he demanded, scrunching his fists and his nose and trying to look as obstinate and contrary as possible. "Why does she not have to go to London?"
His father sighed. "She is to have a governess. That will be sufficient until she reaches sixteen. You require further education. This is the best boarding school for boys in all of England. You will – "
"I won't go!" he shouted, stamping his foot. "You can't make me!"
"Colin, please – "
"NO!" he began to shake, feeling the tremors shuddering through his body. The thought of leaving, of going away while Mary and Dickon stayed together in the garden… Mary and Dickon… he groaned loudly, a guttural, miserable sort of sound that soon transformed into a hacking cough.
"Alright!" his father said quickly, raising his hands, a tortured expression on his face. "Alright son. You don't have to go to boarding school just yet. Perhaps when you're fourteen…"
The shuddering stopped, and Colin took a deep breath. He felt as though he had just taken a small step away from the abyss. Fourteen was almost two years away, long enough for his father to forget all about boarding school. And besides, he would never go without Mary. Never.
.
When he told them about it later, their reactions were not what he expected. Mary frowned and Dickon merely seemed bemused at Colin's vehement refusal to consider studying in London.
"Does not tha' want a good education?" he asked in his soft, quiet way.
"Of course I do," he spluttered, disconcerted at their responses, Mary's in particular. He had thought she would be happy to learn that he was staying, but instead she was simply watching him with her brows furrowed. "I just don't see the need to go to London right now."
"I heard you all the way from my room," she said bluntly. "You threw a right fit about it. Just like the old days."
He flushed. "Yes, well, I didn't want to go. The thought of it upset me."
"You threw that fit because you knew Uncle Archie would give in if you did," she said, giving him a hard look. "You shouldn't do that, Colin."
He hated that she sounded disappointed in him. Hated that she wasn't pleased he was staying. "I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, glaring at her. "Honestly Mary, must you always talk such rubbish?"
Dickon lifted his pipe and began to play, effectively cutting off the argument between them. Mary closed her eyes at once and soon began to sway to the music. A small smile played at the edge of her mouth. Colin stared at her, transfixed, and realised that it didn't matter if she was angry with him, as long as he was here, with her. That was all that mattered. And if he had to throw a fit to get it, then so be it.