Ivy Lane: Winter: by Cathy Bramley Page A

my wildest dreams, we were here again. My heart was beating so wildly that Aidan could probably feel it through his jacket.
    I looked up at him. ‘Did you do this?’
    He shook his head and laughed self-consciously. ‘All Charlie’s work.’
    Charlie had done this? For me? That explained why he’d said it had cost him dearly.
    ‘He phoned me. Told me the whole story.’
    I swallowed and loosened my arms around his neck. ‘When you say the whole story . . .’
    I blinked up at him, my voice shaky with fear. Did he know about James? Was that why he had come, to humour Charlie? If Aidan had come back out of pity, then my heart could quite easily crumble into a million pieces and I would be right back to where I was last year: broken and lonely.
    He exhaled slowly, lifted a hand from my waist and traced a line down my face with the tip of his finger.
    ‘About you and him being nothing more than mates.’ He laughed softly. ‘Although he did admit that it wasn’t for want of trying.’
    I nodded and felt my face flush. ‘I tried to tell you that.’
    He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. ‘And to my eternal shame I didn’t listen. I suppose I just thought it was too good to be true that someone like you would be unattached.’
    The corners of my mouth lifted. That was exactly how I’d felt about him.
    He shrugged apologetically. ‘Ever since Hallowe’en, even though I suspected that there was something going on between you and Charlie, you’ve been in here.’ He took one of my hands and placed it on his chest inside his jacket and I felt the insistent beat of his heart.
    ‘Then why not call?’ I thought back to the nights I’d sat at home, hoping that he would somehow get in touch. Even though he didn’t have my number, if he’d really wanted to he could have found a way, surely?
    ‘I wanted to call you. But I felt as if I’d been too pushy, that I’d misread the signals. And I was pretty ashamed about the way I’d acted at Hallowe’en. I should have called straight away after that to say that even if you were spoken for, I’d still like us to be friends.’
    So that was why he was here. To be friends.
    I smiled sadly. ‘And now you’ve met someone else. You’ve moved on . . .’
    He frowned and shook his head. ‘There’s been no one else. Since meeting you, I . . .’
    I folded my arms and looked away. ‘I know you’ve met someone else because I phoned you and she answered.’
    ‘Wait? You called me? When was this?’ He placed his hands on my shoulders and scanned my face.
    I didn’t hesitate with my answer. ‘Friday the thirtieth of November at seven forty-five.’
    ‘Approximately?’ He tried to keep a straight face but his eyes gave him away. ‘Actually I remember that night very clearly.’
    So much for playing it cool. I blushed furiously. ‘Now you’ll probably think I’m a bunny boiler or something.’
    ‘No.’ He stepped towards me, his eyes boring into mine. ‘I’m thinking how overjoyed I am that you did call, I’m thinking that we’ve wasted a whole month. Two, in fact. More if you count back to the allotment show.’
    ‘So . . .’ I swallowed, determined to get the answer I needed. ‘Who is she?’
    ‘My sister,’ he said simply.
    ‘Your sister? But she was all breathless and I thought . . . well, never mind,’ I groaned. We both seemed to be expert at jumping to the wrong conclusion.
    ‘I was babysitting for my niece and nephew for the first time. My sister was in a complete flap, running late and convinced that I’d take a work call, forget about her children and something awful would happen. So I left my phone in the spare room where I was sleeping. My sister and her husband were running late, she must have answered it before she went out and then forgotten to mention it. She certainly never passed the message on. I’m so sorry. To be honest, my phone rings all the time, I don’t ever think to check my call history.’
    That was true. I’d seen