Read Ivy Lane: Winter: Online

Authors: Cathy Bramley

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Humor, #Topic, #Marriage & Family, #Romance, #General, #Collections & Anthologies, #Family & Relationships, #Marriage & Long Term Relationships, #Love & Romance

Ivy Lane: Winter: (2 page)

BOOK: Ivy Lane: Winter:
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I detected hesitation in her voice and wondered if I’d called at an inconvenient time.

‘Did you have something to tell me, Mum?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Well, it’s nothing really, it’s just that . . .’ She cleared her throat and my heart began to race.
Please don’t tell me you’re ill, I couldn’t bear it.
‘Oh gosh, Tilly, I feel so awkward saying this . . .’

‘Mum, please just spit it out.’

My shoulders were hunched up around my ears and I was holding my breath.

‘I’ve got a boyfriend. There, I’ve said it.’ Mum went quiet and I let out a huge breath of relief.

‘Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to worry you. You . . . you don’t mind, then?’

My heart ached for her. Always so concerned about me. Suddenly I couldn’t wait for Christmas to see her again. There is nothing as comforting as a hug from my mum.

I shook my head. ‘Mum, I’m delighted that you’ve met someone, truly I am. And please don’t worry about me. Come on, tell me all about him.’

‘Well, his name is Clive and he runs the local history society . . .’

I could hear the happiness in her voice as she confided that they had actually been courting since Easter, but that she had not wanted to tell me earlier in case it upset me.

‘He sounds lovely, Mum, and it must be great not to be on your own any more.’ My voice cracked a bit and I swallowed. It did seem as if I was the only single person on the planet at this precise moment.

‘And what about you, love?’ Mum asked softly. ‘Is there anyone new in your life?’

I stared at the remaining pumpkin lantern and an image of Aidan in his wizard’s outfit filled my mind. I turned to look out of the shed window at the bare trees and wiped a layer of dust from the window sill. ‘I did meet someone,’ I said, ‘but so far things haven’t exactly gone smoothly.’

‘Well, that’s good news,’ she said, ‘and give it time, a new relationship is bound to be difficult for you at first.’

That was the understatement of the year. I managed a wry smile. We ended the call with promises to sort out Christmas arrangements over the next few weeks and I slipped the phone back in my pocket and peered out of the shed.

The wind had picked up even more, with leaves and twigs blowing everywhere, and I could hear Shazza and Karen’s shed door creaking as the wind rattled against it. Apart from me, Peter and the visitors and Charlie, Ivy Lane was deserted. It was as if the Hallowe’en party last night had marked the end of the allotment year. My heart sank as I realized how much I was going to miss the place over the coming months when there was nothing to do and no one to do it with. The Christmas party was the next highlight on the Ivy Lane social calendar but that was weeks away. The conversation I’d had with Christine last night popped into my head about organizing some more events. Perhaps that was the answer.

I dumped the remaining pumpkin in the compost and locked the shed. Now to talk to Charlie. I headed off towards his plot.

I saw him before he saw me. He was in his greenhouse, earphones in, head nodding in time with the music and scooping potting compost into seed trays. I paused at the door and composed myself.

Not to put too fine a point on it, Charlie had completely stuffed up my chances with Aidan last night. And at moments, as I lay in bed during the wee small hours and my feverish brain dissected the evening, I’d been truly livid with him. But if there was anything that the last two years had taught me it was that life is too short to bear grudges.

After all, the carved pumpkins that had to have been left by him spelled out the words ‘I love you’, and if someone loves you, no matter how unrequited, should you punish them for it?

No. Absolutely not.

Still, a few firm words wouldn’t go amiss.

I knocked briskly on the glass so as not to make him jump and went in.

His eyes widened and his face blushed a vivid scarlet. He instantly dropped the seed tray and yanked the earphones from his ears.

‘Hi.’ He folded his arms and did his best to look nonchalant.

‘I got your message,’ I said quietly, shutting the door behind me to keep out the swirling wind.

‘What? Sorry, I don’t follow?’ He glanced at me nervously.

‘Charlie,’ I chastised him gently. I squeezed myself next to him, folding my arms and mirroring his stance. ‘The one carved in the pumpkins.’

He let out a defeated sigh. ‘Oh, right.’

I took a deep breath and felt my face heating up as I spoke. ‘The thing is, Aidan and I, we—’

‘Why him? Why Aidan?’ he muttered.

‘Well, it’s not him now, you’ll no doubt be pleased to know. He got your message too,’ I retorted, ignoring the question.

I stared at him and forced myself not to react as a fleeting smile played across his lips.

Count to ten, Tilly.

The blasts of air whistled through the gaps in the greenhouse and I shivered. Several plastic plant pots, carried along by the wind, blew past and it occurred to me for the first time that I really didn’t relish being outdoors for much longer.

‘I saw you put the note on his car window so I went across and read it. I couldn’t believe it.’ He lifted his blue eyes to mine and shook his head.

I pulled my bottom lip in between teeth. My face was probably absolutely scarlet by now. I had to admit that some of the blame had to be laid at my door. I hadn’t been totally straight with Charlie and I should have done more last night to make it clear that I would never see him as anything other than a friend.

‘I’ve been patient, waiting for the right moment to ask you out, but then last night, I realized I was running out of time.’ He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. ‘Christine had got some spare pumpkins in the pavilion so I brought them in here and carved them. I don’t know why I did it really; it was a bit of a sad thing to do.’

‘How did you get into my shed?’ That had been bothering me, I was sure it had been locked.

He shrugged. ‘It was open.’ He scratched his nose, pulled his phone out of his pocket, squinted at the screen and slipped it away again.

I frowned at him, still unconvinced.

‘You ruined my night, Charlie.’

Charlie groaned. ‘You and me, we’ve got so much in common. I know losing your husband like you did is much worse than me and my wife splitting up. She had an affair and threw me out, just like that, and I thought I’d never get over it. I actually think I went a bit mental for a while . . .’ He paused and gazed at me hopefully. ‘We could be so good for each other, Tilly.’

‘I’m sorry, Charlie, I really am.’ I reached for his hand and rubbed it gently. ‘But I don’t feel the same way.’

‘Aidan jets off all over the place with his job. You need someone to be here for you. I’m here, Tilly.’ He brought my hand to his lips and was about to kiss it before I wriggled it away.

‘I can’t explain how love works, Charlie,’ I said sadly, moving towards the door, ‘but I know that Aidan is special to me. He makes me happy and I think I deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you?’

He scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. ‘Fine, but just so as you know, I can’t just be friends. I’m sorry, Tilly. It’s him or me.’

‘Charlie, that’s not fair!’ I exclaimed.

He just shrugged and turned back to his seed trays.

I stared at his back in disbelief for a few seconds before wrenching open the door and flinging myself back out at the mercy of the elements.

What had just happened in there? Charlie’s friendship was important to me and I’d hoped he would understand how I felt. Now it looked as if I’d lost both him and Aidan in less than twenty-four hours.

Way to go, Tilly.

The wind was so strong that I could barely breathe. I pulled my hat down round my ears and stomped along the path towards the pavilion, intent on making it home for a restorative hour of Mary Berry before my temper worked itself up into a proper fury.

A movement on the pavilion roof caught my eye; the gable end appeared to be moving. I stopped in my tracks and stared, clamping a gloved hand across my mouth in horror. All of a sudden there was an almighty creak, followed by a tearing sound as the wind lifted the corner of the roof clean away from the walls of the building. An entire panel, almost a third of the roof, splintered off with an ear-splitting crack, flipped over in the air and then came thundering down in the car park, missing the visitors’ car by a whisker.

I screamed as a second roof section – smaller this time, thankfully – was wrenched off the building, tossed up by a swirl of wind, and came crashing down to the ground, partially blocking the pavilion doorway.

Where were the visitors? Where was Peter? Oh my God, please say that no one had been hurt.

Heart clattering, I ran towards the pavilion and heard Charlie’s footsteps close behind me.

Peter, Wendy and Richard appeared white-faced at the pavilion door. Peter shoved the torn roof panel to one side and I joined them inside. I look up at the huge holes in the roof, it was surreal. The posters on the noticeboards were flapping and a stack of loose papers were blowing around the floor.

‘Oh, thank goodness no one was in the car park when that happened,’ I panted, clutching a hand to my chest.

‘Someone could have been killed,’ said Wendy, her voice shaky.

Charlie arrived only seconds behind me. ‘Is everyone all right?’

I nodded but noticed that he didn’t look at me directly. Richard wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. I wondered briefly whether someone would put an arm around me. I could certainly do with it. My knees had turned to jelly.

‘The rest of that roof could go at any second,’ said Peter, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘This is all we need after the fire in the shop in July. I’d better get on the phone to a roofing specialist to secure it.’

‘Come on, let’s move those roof panels from the car park first,’ said Charlie. ‘We should be able to lift them between us.’

We bowed our heads against the wind and carried the smashed panels around the back of the pavilion and stowed them safely.

‘I shouldn’t wonder if this has put you off Ivy Lane somewhat,’ shouted Peter as Wendy and Richard said their goodbyes.

‘Goodness, not at all!’ cried Wendy. ‘This is the most excitement we’ve had in months! Count us in, don’t you agree, Richard?’

‘Good grief, yes!’ said Richard, pumping our hands before dashing out to their car. We waved from the pavilion as the two of them drove off with promises to be back in touch soon.

Trees were almost bending over double in the howling wind and I wasn’t looking forward to the walk home one bit.

‘Dear, oh dear,’ said Peter, shaking his head. I took in the dazed expression on his face and slipped an arm around his waist. Poor man, it looked like this was excitement that the Ivy Lane chairman could well do without.

Chapter 2

Although the pavilion had been given a temporary watertight covering, it was still out of action for the time being and so I had persuaded the headteacher, Mrs Burns to let us use the school staff room for the next Ivy Lane allotments committee meeting.

Actually, it suited me anyway. It was Bonfire Night and I was going out with Hayley to the big bonfire party in Kingsfield later. I needed this meeting to be short and sweet so that I could get home and change; and I knew the school caretaker would usher us out in an hour so that he could lock up.

‘Tea,’ I said, placing a tray with a teapot, mugs, milk, sugar and a plate of homemade chocolate-chip cookies on the table in the centre. ‘Help yourselves to cookies, the children and I made them today.’

‘This is very kind of you, Tilly,’ said Peter, doing as he was told and tucking in.

‘The pleasure’s mine, really.’ I sat down in the chair between him and Nigel and picked up my notebook from the floor.

I meant it too. This was exactly what I needed: to keep busy and stop myself thinking about Aidan. I was driving myself barmy; every time a silver Alfa Romeo flashed past me I found myself peering through the windows to get a glimpse of the driver. I’d heard absolutely nothing from him since Hallowe’en and I suppose as time ticked on, it was getting less likely that I ever would.

I tutted under my breath. This was precisely the problem: every time I had nothing to think about, my thoughts drifted back to him . . .

‘And thank you for offering to join the committee,’ said Nigel.

I glanced over at Christine and smiled. ‘Offer’ wasn’t quite the word I’d have chosen. As usual, she had talked me into it without me even realizing, but I didn’t mind. She and Roy were about to become grandparents again; if I could take some of the weight off her shoulders over the coming months then she would have more time to be with her family.

‘Formal nomination, et cetera, can’t be done until the next AGM in February,’ he continued, ‘but I can’t see it being a problem; we’re desperately short of numbers.’

Christine took control of the teapot and poured tea for us all. ‘So, what’s the situation with the insurance for the roof, Peter?’ she said, handing him a mug.

‘Thanks.’ He set it down and flicked through his paperwork. ‘I’ve had a letter from the insurance assessors. The good news is that I have permission to go ahead and authorize the repairs. I’ve spoken to a roofing company and they can start next week.’

‘Excellent,’ said Nigel.

‘And the bad news?’ I asked.

‘Most of the damage to the roof will be covered by our insurance, but I’m afraid there will be a shortfall that will have to be met from the Ivy Lane bank account.’

‘Ah,’ said Nigel, smoothing his tie with a frown. ‘That is a problem. Coming so soon after the fire in the shop.’

‘You’ve hit the nail on the head, Nigel,’ said Peter, nodding.

‘Funds are at an all-time low, so they are,’ explained Christine glumly, taking a noisy sip of her tea.

‘I’m afraid this will wipe out what little is left in the pot,’ sighed Peter.

‘Oh dear.’ I offered round the plate of cookies again in an attempt to cheer them all up. ‘And what is it we need funds for exactly?’

‘The Christmas party,’ they all answered as one.

‘Oh no,’ I gasped. ‘The Christmas party is a must! Please don’t say it’ll be cancelled?’

BOOK: Ivy Lane: Winter:
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