One perfect day we'll be out walking
Something is calling me
This perfect day I can't stop thinking
Are you over there? Are you happy there?

And tell me if it's still raining in England
And tell me what you did last night ...
If you ever come back, just stop by
One perfect day

Roger Hart-Wells

On the other side of the white rose garden, Julian and Noel find an information board which has a map of the park. They learn that the bench in the middle of the rose garden marks the exact centre of the park, and therefore, the exact centre of the Waystation.

Julian does a double take, and moves further back from the board to scrutinise it. 

"You know, the park is set in a square, but it's actually circular."

"Yeah, there's the gravel path that we crossed to get to the gate," Noel says, pointing to the map. "That's what's around the circle to fill in the square."

"And if you take a good look at the map of the park, it forms the shape of a rose within the circle," Julian says. "See? The pool in the water garden forms one of the petals, and the paths through the meadow make up several petals. The rose garden star is the centre of the flower."

"You can't see it when you're walking through the park, but the whole time you're actually inside a rose," Noel marvels. "It's really clever how they managed to do that."

"I suppose that's what life's like," Julian muses. "While you're living it, everything seems like random chance, but if you could step back and view it from above, you'd see it was actually made up of interconnecting patterns."

"Maybe that's what happens at the assessment," says Noel. "The judge can sort of look at our lives and see the patterns in it that we can't."

By following the map, they take a meandering path through beech woods, and cross a bridge over a narrow stream. Here there is a big lawn area, ringed by oak trees. There's a restaurant, all glass, on the shores of a lake, but Julian somehow doesn't fancy the look of it.

Instead they find a kiosk with Pedro's Picnic Hampers written above it in cheerful yellow letters. A good-looking man gives them a wicker picnic hamper and a checked purple and white picnic rug.

"Enjoy your lunch, mates," he says, flashing them a friendly smile. You can hear the faintest flicker of a Spanish accent in his voice. "Remember that Pedro Sombra makes the best picnics, okay?"

"Thanks, we will," Julian says, as he accepts the basket.   

"Will you, though?" Pedro says, giving him a wink, so that Julian's stomach suddenly falls and goes cold.  

Julian carries the hamper and Noel the blanket, until they find a shady oak tree on the very edge of the lawn, where the scent of wild violets and woodruff blows sweetly on the breeze.

"It's hard to believe Forward can be any more beautiful than this," Julian says, putting down the hamper on the thick, soft grass, as a large lilac-coloured butterfly flutters past them.

"Oh ... Jeannie makes Forward sound different to what we think," Noel says vaguely. "Sort of ... I dunno ... like giving yourself up to something bigger, but then you get yourself back again, and you're even more yourself, if you see what I mean."

Julian doesn't see, not exactly.

They sit together on the blanket, and spread out their picnic. Julian puts one arm around Noel, and holds a ripe strawberry up to his lips.

"Oh, wow. My mouth just fucking exploded," Noel says. "You have to try one, Julian."

He sucks the juice from Julian's fingers. In a moment, Julian is licking strawberry juice from his lips, and Noel stretches up to kiss it away. They continue their picnic, sharing bites of food, feeding each other treats, swapping cold drinks, until it is all gone.

Julian wipes his hands on a napkin, before saying, "Going Sideways isn't exactly what I thought, either. I've been reading this really good book about it. You see, there's seven bus stops, starting at Lilyfield and ending with Mount Pleasant ..."

"Ugh, Ju! We're meant to be having a day off," Noel whines. "I bet you were such a swot at school."

"Not really," says Julian. "I ran away to London to become a jazz musician when I was seventeen."

"All by yourself? That's so brave," Noel says, looking impressed.

"No, with my band," Julian says. "We'd heard about unknowns getting discovered at Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club, and thought, well, that could be us."

"Did you get discovered?"

Julian laughs. "No. We lasted about three days in London on our own. Two days longer than our parents expected."

"I never even knew you were in a jazz band, I thought you liked heavy metal."

"Well, it was an acid funk jazz band. We spanned many genres."

"Acid funk jazz!" Noel shrieks. "Does that even exist? You're winding me up, Ju."

"No, it's a real thing," Julian assures him. "I played guitar with them for a while. We released a single, and toured Europe a few times."

"Wow, that's so cool," Noel says. "Then what happened?"

"We went broke. Then my parents said maybe I should back go to uni and start planning for the future."

"Oh, but - "

"And then I got into stand up," Julian says quickly. "But sometimes I think, I thought, well, maybe I gave up music too easily. And wondered what if we'd stayed in London for three months, instead of three days?".

"Okay, now I have to get comfortable and hear the story properly," Noel says, pulling Julian down to lie beside him, and linking their hands together. "Tell me all about your three days as a wild teenage runaway jazz musician."

They lie on the blanket and tell each other everything. Childhood stories, school days, embarrassing memories. Daydreams, soaring ambitions, burning desires. First kisses, first sexual experiences, first heartaches. The best days of their lives. The worst days.

They easily go from holding hands, to putting their arms around one another, to pressing their lips together. Soft kisses that become deeper and deeper, their memories of the past beginning to wash away in the happiness of the present.

There's only one thing that spoils the day for Julian. Noel suggests that they go for a boat ride on the lake. He's so excited about the idea of pedalling around in a boat shaped like a swan, as if he's a little kid, that Julian can't help but smile and agree.

The little lake is clear and blue, dotted with fragrant waterlilies, and not even very deep. It's a bright sunny day with cloudless skies, and they're surrounded by happy people enjoying picnics or having lunch on the terrace.

Yet when Julian approaches the lake, it seems dark and threatening, sheets of drizzle falling. He feels damp and chilled, and instead of the sun, there is a full moon shining on the black waters of the lake, an icy white reflection.

Julian can feel himself being pulled into the lake, going under, his lungs burning as he struggles against whatever is forcing him beneath the water. And as he disappears into the black lake, he can hear his mother again. But this time there are no words, only the sound of her sobbing. And soon he cannot even hear that.

It is Noel who rescues him, bringing him to the surface, hauling him into the light. Julian is standing on the shore of the little lake, completely dry. He hasn't moved.

"Hey easy there, Joo'n," Noel says, his arm tight around him. "What happened? Where did you go?"

Julian turns to him with a face pale with terror, and can only babble, "It was the moon. I saw the moon in the lake."

"You know, some people think the moon's beautiful," Noel says, "but if you ask me, he's nothing but a vanilla rapist. You're okay now, you're in the sunshine with me."