My Ice Prince
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– Because Oxford is my dream» I admitted honestly, glancing at Harry.
He smiled, and I thought about the fact that he was pretty good-looking. But then I tapped myself on the forehead with an open palm.
– Oh, I forgot! – came out of my mouth in Polish.
– What?» Harry asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise: he obviously didn't know Polish.
– I remembered that I forgot something very important in Poland! – I mumbled in English.
I had forgotten what I should have taken in the first place – Maria’s list of rules.
– It happens to everyone» Harry smiled. – By the way, you don't have to buy a bicycle, you can ride Mary's.
– Mary? – I asked.
– Yes, that's my sister. She's seventeen. She's gone to stay with our uncle in Scotland, and her bike is all yours.
– That's great» I said, but I didn't feel any joy.
– You and your sister look very much alike. How many years older is she than you? – The guy suddenly asked.
– Seven» I answered without thinking.
A rather pointless, banal question.
– I wouldn't say that: it's like you're the same age. And her hair is the same golden colour.
I grinned at his compliment on my hair.
– Sisters always look alike» I said.
– Yeah, I guess so.
We fell silent.
I decided to take advantage of the silence and call home as promised and ask my mum to send me Maria’s list.
Taking out my blue smartphone, I dialled my mum's number.
– Hi, I'm already in England. – I switched to Polish so Harry wouldn't understand my conversation with my mum.
– Hi, how was your flight? – Mum asked in a tired voice.
– It was great: there was an lady sitting next to me and she was snoring right in my ear» I replied with a smile. – Mum, I forgot something at home, could you send it to me by post?
– What is it?
– In my room, in one of my desk drawers, there's a piece of paper – it's the advice Maria wrote to make my long-suffering life at Oxford easier.
– Yes, I found it. It's funny, Maria has a real talent for satire.
– Send it to me today, will you? Ordinary post, registered mail. I'll text you the address.
– Okay. Where are you now?
– I'm on my way to Oxford. Hired a car.
«It's a good thing this mortal bloke doesn't speak Polish! I can't tell him I'm taking a taxi.
– OK. I'm working now, so I'll call you tonight.
– It's not necessary, but I'll call you when I'm free.
– I look forward to your call then , sweetheart.
– Bye, Mum.
I disconnected the call and noticed Harry was smiling.
– What's wrong? – I asked him.
– 'Polish is a bit strange and sounds funny to the English ear,' he replied. – But I think it's a very beautiful and original language.
– Thank you. But, you know, not many foreigners think so, – I said sincerely.
– Why?
– 'They think it has too many funny sounds, hisses and the like.
«Well, there, I've been breaking the most important rule for about half an hour now: don't socialise with people. But that's how you die of boredom!» – I thought mockingly.
We chatted all the way to Oxford, Harry telling me about his sister, about his family, about what Mary was like when he saw her. As for me, I didn't tell him anything about myself, but was careful to keep the conversation neutral.
Finally, we arrived in the city of my dreams. Oxford.
As soon as we got there, despite Harry's displeasure, I poked my head out the window to look at the streets: people were going somewhere, with and without their bags, a huge number of bicycles were scattering the roads, and I felt with all my soul that I was free at last. My dream had come true: I was in Oxford!
Harry stopped the car outside a two-storey stone house, a rather old-looking building that reminded me of the Morgans' castle in Prague.
– Welcome to your new home! – said the guy, getting out of the car.
I got out too and stared mesmerised at the marvel.
– I think I ordered a flat, not a house! – I exclaimed with sincere admiration.
– Well, yes, it is your flat. It's just that all the living rooms are on the ground floor, and the upstairs is where we keep the stuff we're leaving until next summer» Harry explained to me.
– Yeah, but I'll still be the mistress of the whole house! – I laughed.
The Englishman looked at me intently.
– A tenant» he reminded me.
«How tedious and boring he is!» – I thought mockingly, covering my eyes with the palm of my hand.
– Are you ill? Do you have a headache?
I took my palm away from my eyes; Harry was looking at me with concern.
– No, I'm not. It's just that you're very tedious» I couldn't help but grin mockingly again.
– Tedious? – He asked in surprise.
– Very tedious» I clarified. – Don't take offence.
– Don't worry, I think I understand why you thought that. – He took one of my bags out of the boot and walked up the low stairs to a very modern but antique-patterned door. – We English don't call it «something tedious», but «love of order».
I couldn't find anything to say, so I just followed Harry upstairs and stopped behind him, waiting for him to open the door.
– The key's a little stiff here. You've got to push it a little harder. Just a minute… – Harry started fiddling with the key in the lock.