Ivy Lane: Winter: by Cathy Bramley Page B

company.
    We began to walk, my clip-cloppy heels echoing along the pavement while his black boots didn’t make a sound.
    ‘Freya’s very nice,’ I said.
    ‘Hmm,’ he replied in a non-committal sort of way that I couldn’t interpret.
    ‘She asked me to put in a good word for her with you.’
    He laughed softly and shook his head. ‘Nah, not my type.’
    I watched the breath swirl around his face in the cold air and bit back the words on my tongue. I had a pretty good idea what his type was. I shivered and he held out his elbow for me to take. I looped my arm through his and leaned against him, savouring his warmth. We walked along in companionable silence for a few minutes, with me contemplating how on earth I’d managed to go from a pamper evening in front of the TV to a cold walk home with a fireman.
    Charlie and me.
    It would be so easy.
    Me and Charlie.
    I could ask him to come in with me and he would. I could ask him to stay the night so that I wouldn’t have to be alone and he probably would.
    But that wouldn’t be fair. I wished I was in love with Charlie but I wasn’t. He was, and always would be, the big brother I’d never had.
    We were nearly at my house and I reached into my bag to get my keys. His next question nearly made me choke on my own breath. ‘So what’s the story with you and the TV guy, any news?’
    ‘Who? Aidan? Oh, gosh no’ I laughed, shook my head and rolled my eyes. ‘No, that’s all ancient history, water under the bridge. Gosh no!’
    It was a good job it was dark, even if my words convinced him, which I doubted, my blazing cheeks would certainly have betrayed me.
    Charlie sighed, whirled round to face me and rubbed his hands over his face. I heard the rasp of stubble against his fingers. I jingled the keys in my hand and stared at my feet.
    ‘I am so sorry for what I did, Tilly. If I’d known what a mess I would make of everything . . . He’s a nice bloke and I had no right to come between you. If there’s anything I can do to help, you know, put in a good word . . .’ His face softened into a smile and I smiled back sadly.
    I remembered the girl who had answered Aidan’s phone earlier and shook my head.
    ‘You’re not to blame. I’m the only one who made a mess of things.’ I sighed. ‘It’s too late for Aidan and me, Charlie, but thank you for the offer and thank you for walking me home. Goodnight.’ I stood on my tiptoes, kissed his cheek and let myself into the house, leaving him standing there in the moonlight with his hand still rubbing his face.

Chapter 7
    Next morning after a rather restless night’s sleep I made myself a cup of tea, perched myself on a kitchen stool and called Gemma, thinking as I dialled that I probably wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer; she would be far too busy with a new baby in the family to deal with my dating dilemmas. But at least at the moment she was fully recovered and hopefully would have time to talk to her single friend.
    ‘Ah, sad face,’ Gemma said with a sigh, after I’d regaled her with the events of the previous evening, from Cally’s impending fatherhood to Aidan’s new woman. I left out the bit about how Charlie leapt from his fire engine to chaperone me home. I wanted sympathy, not speculation.
    ‘To be honest, you don’t know how lucky you are, being single,’ she added.
    She must have heard me gulp.
    ‘I’m sorry, Tills, I know that probably sounds insensitive.’
    It did rather. I made a polite soothing noise all the same.
    ‘But last night, I swear, Mike snored from the second he turned out the lights until the birds started twittering this morning while I lay there propped up on three thousand pillows, trying to ignore him and my flippin’ heartburn. At one point I found myself looming over him holding one of my pillows inches from his face. I was tempted, I can tell you.’
    ‘Poor Mike!’ I couldn’t help giggling at the image of an exasperated Gemma being driven to suffocate her