Chapter 7

Lynda paced around her small bedroom, sprinkled some fish food into Sullivan's tank and flopped onto her bed. The giant WHY? poster on her bedroom wall seemed to be lit in pulsing neon.

"Why indeed?" she said to herself, looking at the two heavily marked-up documents in front of her. One was an article on the proposed school uniform policy, the other her script for Romeo and Juliet. She paced again. Her room felt stuffy so she leant over her tights drying on the radiator, cracked the window and then recoiled in surprise at the sight of a figure standing in the back garden.

"What light through yonder window breaks?" drawled an unmistakably American accent. "It is the east, and Lynda is the sun. Hey, and your last name is Day! This can't be coincidence!"

"Why are you lurking in my back garden?" asked Lynda bluntly.

"Lurking? I was hardly lurking," said Spike as he casually began climbing up to her window. "Skulking maybe, but lurking, no." He hauled himself through the window into her room. "I'm getting pretty good at that. 'With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out' "

"What's wrong with the front door?" Lynda turned her back and pretended to feed Sullivan again.

"You might not have let me in," replied Spike, sprawling on the bed.

"I might not have let you in the window either," replied Lynda.

"It was a calculated risk," grinned Spike. "I figured I could fake a massive injury and gain entrance to your place by way of your extremely concerned parents."

"My parents are out," replied Lynda and immediately wished she hadn't. Spike smirked.

"Well, well, well. No wonder you let me in," he said.

"Is there something you wanted, Spike, besides to annoy me with your childish smut?" Lynda felt the familiar aggravation rising, yet strangely she didn't particularly want him to leave her alone with her pacing. Spike rose from the bed, smiled, then dropped alarmingly to one knee.

"Hic! What are you doing?" squeaked Lynda, as Spike withdrew a small velvet-covered box from the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Lynda Day . . ." said Spike, solemnly, "Will you do me the honour of . . ."

"Hic! Hic! Hic!" Lynda gasped frantically, falling into her chair.

"Lynda?"

'Hic! Hic! Hic!" Was this a panic attack? Spike wasn't sure but he knew he had to act. Casting his eyes frantically around the room, he plunged his cupped hands into Sullivan's fish tank and threw water onto Lynda's face.

Lynda shrieked. The hiccuping stopped immediately and was replaced by a look of pure fury. Spike was relieved. Fury meant normal where Lynda Day was concerned.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Lynda," he said, grabbing her towel which was hanging from the back of her door and handing it to her. "You had me worried there for a minute."

"I had you worried? What were you doing with that box?" asked Lynda.

"Oh," Spike looked sheepish and handed it to her. She opened it. Inside was a simple white gold wedding band.

"Spike, what is this?"

"It was my mom's. I was going to ask you to wear it. For the play, I mean. My dad gave me his. I thought it would be kind of cool to present it to you properly before the dress rehearsal. So, how about it, Boss? Will you wear my ring?"

Lynda slipped the ring onto her wedding finger. It was a perfect fit, which was unusual for her. Spike's mother must have had similarly slender fingers.

"You know what, Spike, this is really nice," she said. "I'd love to use it for the play. Thank you."

"O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial." Spike clapped his hands together and made for the window.

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow," replied Lynda good-naturedly as Spike hauled himself out of the window and made his way down to the ground.

"Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, his help to crave, and my dear hap to tell." Spike said to himself, grinning as he made his way out of the Day's garden.