mind. It had to be possible to find the stranger – even in the sprawl of England’s second city. Compared to the situation with Charlie, which I could do no more about, looking for the man who kissed me seemed an enticing alternative. After all, what could be more positive than searching for someone who clearly thought I was beautiful?
‘Positivity is key,’ Wren said that evening, when she joined me for dinner in my little house in Stourbridge, ‘or else you’ll never go through with it. Still can’t work out where you should start looking, though.’
I handed her a glass of red wine. ‘Me either. But I’ll think of something.’
‘So, things with you and Charlie are a bit better?’
‘I’m not sure they’re better, but at least we’ve talked about it. One thing I do know is that I definitely made a mistake. He’s only ever seen me as a friend.’
‘Yeah right,’ Wren muttered into her Merlot.
‘Sorry?’
‘Who can fathom the minds of men, eh?’ she replied dismissively. ‘Charlie will sort it out eventually.’ She looked over to my Christmas tree in the corner of the room and smiled. ‘I see the bauble has pride of place.’
I followed her gaze and felt a shiver of excitement as I watched the reflections of the tree lights passing smoothly across its surface, remembering the stranger’s voice by my ear. ‘Yes. It’s lovely. Makes me feel Christmassy – I was worried I wouldn’t feel like that this year after what happened with Charlie.’
‘Everyone should feel Christmassy, no matter what,’ Wren said, raising her glass in a flamboyant toast. ‘It should be law. Or at least a tradition.’
‘Talking of traditions, are you looking forward to the band Christmas meal tomorrow night?’
‘Of course, wouldn’t miss it. You?’
I shrugged. ‘It should be OK. I think Charlie and I will be putting on a united front. Hopefully nobody will notice any difference.’
Wren took a rather large gulp of wine. ‘Absolutely. And it will be good to hear about the gigs Dwayne has booked for next year.’
‘They’d better be good. He hasn’t exactly been successful with bookings this year.’
‘Don’t pick on him; he’s still learning about the business. He hasn’t managed us for that long, remember,’ she replied, frowning at me. ‘Dwayne tries his best. And he needs our support. Anyway, from what he’s said, he has some great gigs lined up.’
‘You’re too nice to him,’ I smiled. ‘He has to prove himself tomorrow night, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Hmm,’ Wren replied, her sly expression clear behind her half-empty wine glass. ‘And he won’t be the only guy there who’ll be proving himself, will he?’
We are family
Next morning a thick fog shrouded the city centre as I wheeled my bicycle out of the train station. After all the emotion of the past few days I needed to clear my head. A long ride was just what the doctor ordered.
Even in the dim December light, the rolling fields and picturesque villages huddled alongside the road were impossibly gorgeous. I had taken the route to Kingsbury many times since Jack first persuaded me to join the unofficial Pinstripes’ pursuit of cycling. He, Charlie and Tom have been bike nuts since university, grabbing any opportunity to tackle increasingly demanding off-road terrain. Following much cajoling and pro-cycling propaganda from the Terrible Three, I had finally surrendered and subsequently spent a very amusing day shopping for bikes with Jack, who spent the whole time skipping like a child in and out of endless cycle shops. While I’ve still to fully appreciate the delights of mountain bike trails, I’ve fallen in love with road cycling – especially on days like this when I hadn’t a particular schedule to stick to. Plus, this particular route had one distinct advantage: it inevitably involved generous helpings of cake with two of my most favourite people in the world.
As I passed through the lovely village
‘Positivity is key,’ Wren said that evening, when she joined me for dinner in my little house in Stourbridge, ‘or else you’ll never go through with it. Still can’t work out where you should start looking, though.’
I handed her a glass of red wine. ‘Me either. But I’ll think of something.’
‘So, things with you and Charlie are a bit better?’
‘I’m not sure they’re better, but at least we’ve talked about it. One thing I do know is that I definitely made a mistake. He’s only ever seen me as a friend.’
‘Yeah right,’ Wren muttered into her Merlot.
‘Sorry?’
‘Who can fathom the minds of men, eh?’ she replied dismissively. ‘Charlie will sort it out eventually.’ She looked over to my Christmas tree in the corner of the room and smiled. ‘I see the bauble has pride of place.’
I followed her gaze and felt a shiver of excitement as I watched the reflections of the tree lights passing smoothly across its surface, remembering the stranger’s voice by my ear. ‘Yes. It’s lovely. Makes me feel Christmassy – I was worried I wouldn’t feel like that this year after what happened with Charlie.’
‘Everyone should feel Christmassy, no matter what,’ Wren said, raising her glass in a flamboyant toast. ‘It should be law. Or at least a tradition.’
‘Talking of traditions, are you looking forward to the band Christmas meal tomorrow night?’
‘Of course, wouldn’t miss it. You?’
I shrugged. ‘It should be OK. I think Charlie and I will be putting on a united front. Hopefully nobody will notice any difference.’
Wren took a rather large gulp of wine. ‘Absolutely. And it will be good to hear about the gigs Dwayne has booked for next year.’
‘They’d better be good. He hasn’t exactly been successful with bookings this year.’
‘Don’t pick on him; he’s still learning about the business. He hasn’t managed us for that long, remember,’ she replied, frowning at me. ‘Dwayne tries his best. And he needs our support. Anyway, from what he’s said, he has some great gigs lined up.’
‘You’re too nice to him,’ I smiled. ‘He has to prove himself tomorrow night, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Hmm,’ Wren replied, her sly expression clear behind her half-empty wine glass. ‘And he won’t be the only guy there who’ll be proving himself, will he?’
We are family
Next morning a thick fog shrouded the city centre as I wheeled my bicycle out of the train station. After all the emotion of the past few days I needed to clear my head. A long ride was just what the doctor ordered.
Even in the dim December light, the rolling fields and picturesque villages huddled alongside the road were impossibly gorgeous. I had taken the route to Kingsbury many times since Jack first persuaded me to join the unofficial Pinstripes’ pursuit of cycling. He, Charlie and Tom have been bike nuts since university, grabbing any opportunity to tackle increasingly demanding off-road terrain. Following much cajoling and pro-cycling propaganda from the Terrible Three, I had finally surrendered and subsequently spent a very amusing day shopping for bikes with Jack, who spent the whole time skipping like a child in and out of endless cycle shops. While I’ve still to fully appreciate the delights of mountain bike trails, I’ve fallen in love with road cycling – especially on days like this when I hadn’t a particular schedule to stick to. Plus, this particular route had one distinct advantage: it inevitably involved generous helpings of cake with two of my most favourite people in the world.
As I passed through the lovely village
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