Karen Gregory - I Hold Your Heart

For Nikki

Praise for Karen Gregorys

This moving romance, with its well-drawn working-class heroine, its examination of power, politics and protest, and its clarion call to make courageous choices, represents all thats best in British YA

Guardian

Wonderful family dynamic, believable voice. About love, identity, and the power of standing up for what you believe in and not letting others put you down. Highly recommend!

Katherine Webber, author of

Only Love Can Break Your Heart

An authentic, hopeful-but-not-saccharine account of contemporary life

Irish Times

An elegantly written, page-turning story of two girls falling in love, interwoven with themes of wealth, injustice, protest and what it means to be free. But most of all its about love

Jenny McLachlan, author of Truly, Wildly, Deeply

Praise for Karen Gregorys

A heartbreaking, hopeful and highly unusual debut

Metro

Countless is written with empathy and deep compassion and we could all do with more of that

The Bookbag

Moving and thought-provoking

Irish Times

Insightful, authentic and profoundly moving This is an important, impactful, mightily impressive debut about love, reaching out and taking one step at a time

Lovereading4kids

Gregory writes with a realism worthy of Ken Loach

Inis Reading Guide

I inhaled this book. I was emotionally involved from the very start and couldnt bear to put it down Though Countless is heartbreaking it is also full of heart and it celebrates the power of finding your people and yourself and the resilience to keep going

Rhino Reads

Books by Karen Gregory

Countless

Skylarks

I Hold Your Heart

Were going to miss it.

Dads hopping next to me on the touchline, face contorted in agonised suspense.

Mums not doing much better, but she attempts a weak, Itll be fine.

Hes not focusing, hes

Mum gives him a worried shhh face; words have been had with him before about shouting out during matches. I can sense rather than see Dad grappling with the stream of advice he wants to yell at Michael, swallowing it back down. I know how he feels. My brother looks suddenly small, positioned a few paces back and to the side of the ball, facing off the goalie a few feet away. The goalie is about six foot, even though he cant be older than fifteen. Hes staring right at Michael, his gigantic gloved hands resting on his thighs, knees bent.

Dont let him psych you out, I think. Its not long since the summer league cup, and we all want that particular weekend wiped out. Like Dad said again on the drive here, this seasons make or break for Michaels chances at the Academy. He needs to score a goal preferably in the opposing teams net this time.

I take a long breath in and let it out gently, trying to send positive vibes over on the breeze. Its seriously warm for September and I can feel the sun on the backs of my shoulders, smell cut grass and suncream and sweat, courtesy of Dad, whos been leaping about as ever through the whole match. Michael got some good touches in, a few shots on goal, but the match has gone on, vital minutes to impress tick-tocking themselves away. And now were nearly at time and hes got a free kick just outside the penalty area. This is his chance.

The whistle goes. Michael flicks a look up at the goalie, assessing. Then he puffs out his cheeks, makes a sharp shrugging movement and starts his run-up. I sense Mum and Dad tense beside me as the solid thwack of Michaels foot connecting with the ball echoes around the pitch. I feel my fists clench too, willing it on.

The ball rises, and the lads forming a wall leap high in the air. Sunny Patel is running down the left wing. I hear Dad sucking air in through his teeth in a sharp hiss.

Go in, go in, go in.

Its going too high, too fast.

Come on

And now at the last second, the balls curling round, dropping like a bird of prey. The keeper dives, but even I can see hes way too late. A split second later the ball smashes into the back of the net.

I let out a massive whoop, Dads roar practically deafening me.

Get in! Superb, Dads shouting. He turns and envelops Mum in a massive bear hug, swinging her off her feet, all of us laughing.

A moment later, the whistle blows for time. Weve won, one-nil.

I stop cheering and watch my brother, whos still zipping around the pitch on a victory lap. Short he may be, but hes super fast: even Sunny cant catch him until he stops and then all his team-mates pile on top of him. I spot Jim, the coach, pumping his fist in victory. Another parent claps Dad on the back.

Ive still got a massive grin on my face as Michael looks over and gives us a thumbs-up, then the team start jogging off the pitch.

At that moment I get the sudden sense Im being watched. I shift my gaze and see a tall boy, maybe a couple of years older than me, a golden Labrador at his calf. Technically, hes not supposed to be here, but theres a public footpath running across the next field and sometimes dog walkers stray over. Hes only about three metres away, and as my eyes meet his, I get this weird sense I know him. Or that he knows me. An odd feeling flutters in my stomach, halfway between nervousness and interest. I wonder how long hes been there. Hes about the best-looking boy Ive ever seen I suspect he knows it too. This is confirmed by the smile he flashes me: all overconfident, slightly teasing. Im suddenly uncomfortably aware that Im probably bright red with the heat and the cheering, and my fringe is sticking to my forehead.

The boy holds my gaze for a beat longer than generally considered socially acceptable, then his smile widens. Something about it makes me smile back too. The next moment, Dads saying, Come on then, Gemma, and the boy twitches the dogs lead and begins to walk on.

I hesitate for a second, feeling oddly disappointed, then follow my parents out to the car, listening to them going over the goal for what I know will be the first of many times. Just as we get to the edge of the field, I cant help turning my head to check if hes still there.

He totally is.

Im about to turn away, embarrassed, when he lifts one hand, as if in greeting and I swear I can feel his smile even from this distance.

I grin and give a small wave back, then jog over to the car.

Later, after lunch, Mum drops me off at the Beach Cafe for my afternoon shift. Ive been working here all summer, but now college has started, Im down to weekends only. Esis already here, and so is Dora, who owns the place. When she sees me, she gives a big smile before wiping her hands on a tea towel. Right then, Ill leave you girls to it. Ill be back later to lock up. She bustles out.

I slide behind the counter next to Esi and stash my bag. The place is only half full, now were into September, mainly retired people and a couple with a young baby. Cucumber sticks litter the floor under their table. The whole cafe is filled with light, slanting through the huge windows and bouncing off the floorboards, which Dora has painted white. There are seascapes on the walls, a model ship in a huge bottle up on a high shelf and tea lights wavering in jars on each table, surrounded by artfully scattered shells.