Ivy Lane: Autumn: by Cathy Bramley

getting over. It stands to reason you aren’t ready for another relationship. But I want you to know,’ he paused and squeezed my fingers tightly, ‘I’m here for you. And I’ll wait.’
    I gulped and nodded and to my eternal shame, I didn’t drive the point home further. I excused myself on the pretext of needing the loo and fled from the pavilion.

Chapter 11
    The car park was full but luckily there was only one Alfa Romeo, a sporty looking thing with shiny wheels and brown leather seats. It was a world away from my new yellow baby. I admired the car for a moment, popped the note under the windscreen wiper and nipped off to the loo.
    I locked myself in the cubicle and tried to be as quick as I could. The outdoor loos were very handy in summer, but a bit cold for skimpily dressed witches at Hallowe’en.
    So. The note was in place.
    Meet me in the shed, plot 16B x
    Now that I’d deposited the note, I began to worry that I hadn’t written the right thing. Was it too forceful? I’d kept it fairly nondescript in case it fell into the wrong hands but maybe I should have written something more seductive, more romantic perhaps? Plus I’d sort of assumed that he’d remember that that was my plot. Which in the cold light of day, or evening, was perhaps a bit presumptuous.
    Oh well, too late now. I washed and dried my hands and darted back across the car park, shivering in the chilly night air towards the pavilion. I flicked my eyes quickly towards Aidan’s car to reassure myself that it was on the right car. Which was ridiculous, of course it was. . .
    I gasped. The note had gone! Aidan must have gone back to his car for something. Now he was possibly there at my shed before me! This was all going wrong!
    Hell’s bells, I was not cut out for romantic liaisons, I thought as I pegged it up the road towards my plot, hanging on to my witch’s hat for dear life. I arrived at the shed, puffed out and sniffing from the cold. There was nobody there. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Either way I was freezing.
    I unlocked the shed with a key on a string round my neck and escaped out of the cold for a moment while I collected my thoughts.
    OK. Deep breaths and panic not. Concentrate on the facts.
    Fact One: Aidan has the note. Hurrah! I gave myself a mental round of applause for at least getting something right.
    Fact Two: he is not here yet.
Yet
being the operative word. He was probably still busy. In all likelihood, he had just popped to his car for something, a pen maybe, seen my note and had to return to the pavilion to . . . I don’t know. . . finish judging the fancy dress or something. But he would come, I was sure of it.
    Fact three: no way was I sitting here in the shed, in the dark, for much longer. It was damp, musty, smelled of fertilizer and I was probably surrounded at this very moment by three thousand pairs of spiders’ eyes.
    I glanced out of the shed window furtively. Nothing. No one. And especially not a tall purple wizard. I locked the shed, scampered back towards the pavilion and re-joined the party, hopefully unobserved.
    The stiff point of a purple wizard’s hat led me to my quarry. Aidan was circulating with a clipboard and a pen, jotting notes as he walked. Ha. Just as I thought, still busy with the judging. Nothing to be concerned about at all. And now he was in possession of the note it was simply a matter of time.
    I tapped his arm and smiled at him coquettishly when he turned to me.
    ‘Have you nearly finished?’ I said, batting my eyelashes. My first flirtatious manoeuvre in a very long time. I hoped it passed muster.
    ‘Almost,’ he said with a wink. ‘No peeking at the judge’s notes please.’
    ‘OK,’ I giggled. ‘How long will you be, five minutes, ten?’
    ‘You’re very giddy tonight,’ he laughed.
    ‘Well,’ I said, fiddling with my ribbons, ‘I’m looking forward to later.’ I quirked an eyebrow at him.
    ‘I won’t be long, just judging the