North Bristol Art Trail.

When Ellie Grover’s Mother signs their house up to feature on the North Bristol Art Trail, she can’t imagine anything worse.

“So you're saying that for the whole of next weekend there's going to be random strangers snooping around our house?” Ellie huffs. Eileen Grover’s never exactly had the best plans, but this one really takes the biscuit.

“Yes Darling, isn’t it brilliant! They’ll only be here to look at your my art pieces though Honey, they won’t be in your room.” Eileen smiles as if expecting her moody 16 year old daughter to join her in her jubilation.

“Great, that’s where I’ll be all weekend then.” Ellie snaps pushing a strand of frizzy blonde hair away from her face impatiently. She wishes it didn’t keep invading her vision, as it was becoming an awful handicap.

“You're not going to spend all weekend reading again are you honey?” When Eileen Grover had given birth to Eleanor Jane Grover on the 16th of March 1998 she had hoped for a perfect little mini me. Arty and ultra unique,with a knack for beautiful portraits. What she got however was far from expectations, Ellie Grover was a quiet, uninteresting book nerd, who’s artistic skills extended no farther than a stick man with a top hat.

“I was planning on it yes, you're not going to spend all weekend drawing are you Mother?” She was so close to starting a full scale fight with her Mother.

Eileen Grover let out a long breath as if in pain. “Just try to be nice if our visitors speak to you.”

***

When James Alexander's parents decided that it would be a good idea to go on the North Bristol Art Trail, he couldn’t imagine a more boring way to spend a perfectly school free weekend.

“But why do we have to? I had plans you know.” James complains running a hand through his floppy brunette hair with a scowl.

“Don’t scowl Honey it doesn’t compliment your features. Were going because we don’t spend enough time as a family, you're always out with your friends.” His Mother was a tall blonde women, with pin straight hair and a strange passion for art.

“Yeah for a reason,” James mutters under his breath, feeling his weekend with his mates slipping away from him more and more with every word his mother uttered about this goddam Art Trail.

James has come to the conclusion that when his Mother had a child she was hoping for someone to go to the park, and engage in general fun family activities with. She got that, for the first 11 years or so, she’s was just having a hard time accepting her little boy was now 16 and had much better things to do.

“You're coming James,” Mark Alexander usually had to step in to reaffirm James’ mothers points, and when he did it meant the decision was final.

Great, roll on the weekend. James couldn’t wait.

***
“Come on James! We’re leaving now, get your coat on,” Mark Alexander called up the long flight of stairs to where his 16 year old son was sat in his room sulking at the prospect of looking at art all weekend.

“Right yeah, coming.” James muttered under his breath pulling a navy blue sweatshirt over his head, and grabbing his phone off the homework littered desk.

‘This is such bull,’ James muttered to himself in his way down the softly carpeted stairway to where his parents were waiting in the oak hallway.

“Lets get this over with then,” James shoots a sarcastic smile towards his overly excited parents and swung open the front door.

***


The morning of the Art Trail was the kind of day you see in romance movies after the couple had just had their heart wrenching break up scene. The rain was falling fast and hard, and a gale force wind was blowing outside.

Eileen Grover however did not let that dampen her spirits. She was bustling around the lower floor of Penrose Cottage dusting off her pieces of art and and humming to herself.

Ellie however, one floor up was definitely feeling some of the weathers misery. She was destined to a whole two days holed up in her room, in order to avoid elderly people asking her opinion on the art, and what she enjoyed drawing in her spare time. Questions she had no legitimate answers to.

So to avoid this general awkwardness Ellie found herself holed up in her room with a hardback in her hand, her earphones in and a large stack of books less than an arms length away just in case she finished the first one.

‘Maybe this weekend wouldn't be too awful after all.’
***

The first stop on the Alexanders whistle stop tour of the dullest art in North Bristol was a small cottage with roses around the door and a little patch of grass out front. It stuck out like a fat man at a modelling convention amongst the urbanised housing and roads that surrounded it as far as the eye could see.

The front door was left open and there was a small cluster of purple balloons tied to the handle, like people do when there is a birthday party inside.

The hallway was a narrow corridor with a long rickety stairway branching off to the right. The stairway however had a piece of string tied from one side of the banister to the other, signifying that it was out of bounds. Intriguing.

His parents had swooped into the living room to look at an antique piece, so they hadn’t noticed James stop to examine the staircase. To climb or not to climb?

‘Ahh why not?’

***


Ellie had just picked up her second book when there was a tell tale crack from one of the stairs. Ellie snapped her head upwards opening her ears for any sign of human activity out on her landing.

None came until the handle on her bedroom door rattled slightly and the door sprung open revealing a floppy haired boy, with warm hazel eyes and a hole in the knee of his baggy jeans.

“James! The hell are you in my room for?” Ellie gasps recognising the school joker immediately. It wasn’t as if she had never fallen foul of one of his silly practical jokes before.

A frown crosses his unfairly handsome face, “Uhh right you are.. ummm-” he sinks in to deep thought looking truly and completely bewildered.

“Ellie Grover? I’m in your Maths? There’s no reason you would know me though, I’m pretty elusive,” Ellie laughs, trying to ignore the growing panic at having the most popular guy in school standing in her (none too clean) bedroom.

“Ah Ellie Grover, the reader,” a look of recognition crosses his face as he peers around room, his hazel eyes lingering on her bookshelf for a moment before gliding over the rest of the room.

Ellie frowns, a small line appearing between her eyebrows. “You read? Like not for school.” She asks momentarily forgetting she had by no means invited James into her room.

A smirk lifts the corner of James’ mouth, at the same time as small blush colours his cheeks a baby pink. “I have been known to occasionally, believe it or not.” He pushes himself up from where he was leaning against the wooden door frame, and sits himself down at Ellie’s slightly wobbly desk chair.

Ellie laughs slightly, studying the boy carefully. “Why are you here anyway?” Her mind jerks her back to the real question.

“My parents wanted to do the art thing, and I never could resist a roped off stairway. I mean if I’d known there was a princess at the top of the tower…”

“Oh shut up.” Ellie blushes, “a princess? With hair like mine, not likely!” she laughs and gestures to her head of crazy blonde curls.

“I like your hair.” He shrugs with a smile thats so bright and perfect it almost takes her aback.

“Are you flirting with me James?” Ellie ask, a strange warm feeling spreading across her chest.

“That depends on whether you want me to be,” He smiles dragging the sentence out in a pathetic attempt to be seductive.

“I’ll let you know,” Ellie says deciding that flirting was something she probably ought to try at some point.

“Great, until then I’ll just talk to you in a manner which suggests I would like you to be my lady love,” James quips moving from her desk chair to sit next to her on the bed their thighs brushing for a moment as he settles himself on the bed.

“Isn’t that all flirting is?”

“Depends on which end you're on.” James reaches his tanned arms over her lap, to pick up the discarded book lying on the other side of Ellie. The small contact made Ellie blush and her insides started to feel warm and tingly. Like her biggest dream had come true. Which unless Theo James was hanging around in her room somewhere it hadn’t.

“Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, it’s a classic. You a Harry fan Grover?” James asks turning the book over in his hands.

“I have been known to dabble in occasionally, believe it or not” She quips remembering what James had said about reading when he first arrived.

The boy laughs again making the bed creak slightly under the movement. “Why have I never spoken to you before?” He says mainly to himself Ellie assumes.

She decides to answer him anyway. “You're popular, and I have a friendship group comprised of a startling four people?” She offers flashing him a grin.

“Odd isn’t it, that we form groups based on how many followers we have on Instagram.” He turns to face Ellie, surprising her by the lack of mirth in his eyes.

“I don’t have Instagram,” She mutters looking away from his intense gaze.

“Exactly.”

A resounding silence filled the room as the two of them lapsed into deep thought. Deep thought that was promptly interrupted by the growling of James’ belly.

“Hungry are we?” Ellie turns to face him again injecting a bit of humour back into the conversation.

“In my defence, I was dragged out of the house to look at art so quickly I didn’t have time to eat breakfast this morning.” His eyes have a glint of humour in them once more and Ellie feels herself begin to relax back into the conversation.

“The things you sacrifice for amatuer art hey,” A chuckle rises to the back of her throat. “You're such a martyr.”

He fakes a pained expression before throwing his body back in a comical manner.

“Is there a reason you're lying on my bed?” Ellie asks the fallen boy politely.

“Comedic value,” He mutters from the side of his mouth not opening his eyes.

“Ah I see.”

They sit like that for a moment before a shrill voice pierces through their comfortable silence. “James Alexander if you are up there I demand you get yourself down right now!”

The boy in question groans. “That’s my Mother, I guess I’d better go. See you in school?”

Ellie’s heart begins to sink a little, as she knows once they get back to school they’ll be strangers again. “Yeah I guess.” She smiles half heartedly as she watches the floppy haired boy twist out of her room and make his way down her creaky stairs.

A few moments later when she’s certain the Alexanders have pulled away in their shiny silver bmw she opens her book once more to find the numbers; 07856432567 written in neat cursive handwriting just above the phrase ‘I don’t have Instagram either.’

Maybe the Art Trail wasn’t such a bad idea after all.