by Lynsey James
‘You know what guys, I think I will,’ I said with a smile.
Chapter 11
Tracking down Adam Johnson didn’t turn out to be that hard. I found him on LinkedIn; he was apparently a freelance social media manager who worked mainly in the creative industries.
‘So does that mean he gets paid to be on Facebook and Twitter all day then?’ Fran asked, craning her neck to look at my computer screen.
‘I suppose it does in a way. It says here he increases a business or person’s public image through social media interaction and engagement.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Not a clue,’ I admitted. ‘He looks fairly normal though, right?’
I turned my screen around to show her a picture of Adam giving a presentation in a smart grey suit. His russet-brown hair was still amazingly wavy and he was every bit as gorgeous as I remembered.
‘Yeah I reckon so. Mind you, aren’t the psychos in movies always really good-looking to lure the main character in? Look at Mads Mikkelsen in Hannibal,’ said Fran.
I ignored her, fired off a quick message to Adam then returned to my main focus of that day: my quirky Valentine’s Day story. The Kiss and Tell Ball was in just over two months’ time and I had no intention of letting Maddie McQueen beat me. I was still in two minds about whether to use Mr Writer as my story, so I’d already started work on one about Ivy and Leo. I pulled up Friends Reunited and my heart sank: no messages as yet.
Earlier that day, I’d made a profile on the website, explaining that I wanted to find a man called Leo Browning who’d travelled to New Orleans in the sixties and met a jazz singer named Ivy St Clair. In some corner of my mind, I’d imagined a message would ping through right away and my search would be over before I knew it.
However, that wasn’t the case.
‘So this is your idea of a quirky Valentine’s Day story? Reuniting a couple of crumblies?’
My eyes screwed shut as I realised Maddie was standing behind me. Dealing with her was the last thing I needed that day.
‘They’re not “crumblies”, as you put it. Ivy was a jazz singer back in New Orleans; she fell in love with an Englishman named Leo but he had to come back here to take over his family’s business when his dad died. Sorry if that doesn’t quite meet your exacting standards.’
Anger boiled and hissed inside me. How could she dismiss two such amazing people as “crumblies”? She didn’t even know them or their wonderful story.
‘Anyway, are you working on something better?’
Maddie scoffed. ‘Well of course I am; anything’s got to be better than your effort. I’m doing a modern take on the classic Cinderella story; a girl from humble beginnings meets a handsome prince, they fall in love and she goes off to live happily ever after with him.’
‘And that means?’ Fran shot her a withering glance and folded her arms whilst looking skywards. No one could convey disinterest or disdain like her.
‘I’m Cinderella, I’m going to find myself a handsome prince and create my very own happy-ever-after. I think I might’ve already found him actually.’
My heart sank even further; that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. In fact, knowing Maddie, she’d find a way to pull it off in spectacular fashion.
‘Oh yeah, and who might that be? Did Gerard Butler roll into town for the weekend, or maybe Brad Pitt?’ I asked with an innocent grin.
Maddie’s beady little eyes narrowed, making her look increasingly like a crow stalking some unsuspecting prey.
‘For your information, he’s a Premier League footballer with a fit body, plenty of money and a massive crush on me. Are you still chasing after your Mr Writer like a pathetic little puppy?’
A million responses congregated in my head, clamouring for my attention. I couldn’t choose one so stayed silent instead.
‘Thought so. Ciao.’ She departed with a swift rise and fall of her eyebrows and her skyscraper heels clicked along the floor as she left.
I went back to writing my rough draft of Ivy and Leo’s story. The sheer unconditional love that had existed between them leapt off my pages of notes and made me want to cry. It was so rare to find such a true love these days. People were more cynical for one thing; they didn’t believe in butterflies or love at first sight or soulmates any more. Love today was more about practicalities and box-ticking. There were no more “lightning bolt” moments where you just saw someone and knew they were the one, regardless of circumstances. I sighed heavily; I yearned for a love like Ivy and Leo’s but was it just too much to hope for?
A little after lunchtime, a deliveryman came into the office, carrying a huge bunch of red roses.
‘I’ve got a delivery for Ava Clements?’ he said in a slightly nasal voice.
My mouth dropped open in shock.
‘That’s me.’ I put my hand up and he came over to my desk, dumped the flowers then left.
‘Jesus Christ, who are they from?!’ Fran immediately abandoned what she was doing and came over to inspect them.
‘God knows, I’m trying to find a card,’ I replied, lifting the elaborate fronds of foliage and delicate pieces of gypsophila to look for it.
‘Got it!’ Triumphantly, Fran pulled out a little white envelope from the massive pink ribbon tied round the bouquet. She handed it to me to open, the anticipation radiating from her.
‘Come on, come on, it might be from Mr Writer!’ She sounded like a kid at Christmas trying to persuade their mum to let them open their presents.
As I wrestled with the envelope and took in the grandeur of the gesture, something felt off. Red roses were the classic romantic flower; my admirer knew my favourites were gerbera daisies. He’d also never send them to work, unless he was suddenly becoming a lot braver.
No, I thought as I finally burst the envelope open, this was the work of…
‘Nate.’
‘Nate?! No bloody way; I told you he fancied you!’
If this doesn’t get your attention, nothing will! Dinner tonight?
Nate x
My first reaction was to giggle nervously. He was still such an enigma to me; I’d only met him a couple of weeks before at Giselle and Aaron’s wedding. Yet I couldn’t deny that something about him intrigued me. There was a mystery behind his slate-grey eyes, just waiting for me to solve it…
‘Surprised then?’
Nate’s voice behind me made me jump almost ten feet in the air. I turned round and saw him: a good-looking, well-built package tied together with a lazy smile.
‘Yeah, definitely; what girl doesn’t love a good bouquet of roses eh?’
Nate’s eyes were fixed intently on me. A heat slowly crept its way up my body and into my cheeks; I knew what he was going to say next.
‘And what about that dinner invitation?’ His voice was a soft, gentle purr that made my spine shiver.
‘Um…’
Fear stole the rest of my words and rooted me to the spot. Here was a guy asking me out on a date, an actual, real-life, honest-to-God date. I hadn’t been on one of those for a whole year (I chose not to count Gary from Stockport and Greg for obvious reasons). The prospect of going out with someone who genuinely liked me terrified me. It all came down to one basic, primal fear that I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried. What if I’m not good enough?
It had happened before, after all.
‘Gonna have to rush you I’m afraid!’ Nate chuckled lightly and his million-dollar smile shrank a little.
‘I-I… I can’t tonight, I’ve got to go costume shopping.’ The words came out in one long string that just about made sense.
He cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. It had obviously sounded as ridiculous to him as it had to me.
‘I’ve got that Halloween wedding to cover this weekend and Miranda says I need a costume,’ I explained.
He nodded and his shoulders visibly slackened, like he was relieved he hadn’t just asked out the town psycho.
‘Another time t
hen, what do you say?’
‘Yes,’ I squeaked. ‘Another time should be fine!’
‘Cool, catch you later gorgeous.’ Nate strode off in the direction of his desk and gave me one final heart-stopping glance as he shrank away.
So that was it: I, Ava Clements, had the prospect of a date. And I was shitting myself.
‘How does this look?’
I stepped nervously into the main area of The Costume Trunk, Manchester’s best fancy dress shop, wearing a pirate costume, complete with bandana and eye patch. It was nearly closing time and the woman behind the counter was looking at me, Max and Gwen as though we’d murdered her cat. My two best mates didn’t look particularly pleased to be there; I’d only invited them after using costume shopping as an excuse not to go out with Nate.
‘Uh, I’m not loving it babe. What about that can-can dancer one you tried on earlier? That one was cool.’
‘The one that made me look like I should be in the red-light district, you mean?’ I replied with a wry smile.
‘I dunno, I think you look a bit like Penelope Cruz in Pirates of the Caribbean,’ Max said with a cheeky grin.
‘Ha bloody ha! Come on guys, I need to find something for this bloody themed wedding at the weekend!’
‘Can I just remind you that the shop closes in ten minutes?’ The woman’s voice was stiff and her lips were pursed.
‘Yeah sorry, we’ll be gone soon,’ I promised.
I turned back to my best friends, who were lying in varying degrees of boredom on the spongy seats opposite me.
‘I’ll try on one more costume then admit defeat if I don’t like it; how does that sound?’
‘Go for it,’ said Max. His phone buzzed and he sighed heavily, took it out of his pocket and thrust it back in after quickly looking at it.
‘Everything OK?’ I asked as I browsed through some more outfits.
He flicked his gaze up to me but dropped it back to the scratchy shop carpet. I saw him purse his lips and fiddle with a loose thread on his jacket – not typical Max behaviour.
I watched him for a minute more before resuming my search for the perfect costume. I grabbed a 1920s flapper dress and fascinator set and took it into the changing room with me. After sliding it on, I took a look at myself in the mirror. Not bad, I thought, not bad at all. The softly flared A-line dress flattered my figure and the charcoal colour complemented my skin tone. It stopped just above my knees and I could imagine wearing it with some pearls and a pair of heels.
Yes, this was the one.
I neatly positioned the fascinator on my head and pulled back the curtain to let them see me in all my glory.
‘Wow.’ Max’s eyes almost popped out of his head and his lips parted slightly.
‘You look amazing!’ said Gwen. ‘If you don’t get that, I’m buying it myself!’
‘Is it OK?’ I asked, adjusting the dress a little round my hips. ‘My hair isn’t right and I need a new pair of shoes…’
‘It’s perfect,’ Max cut in. ‘You… You look great.’
‘Exactly!’ Gwen chimed. ‘If Mr Writer’s at this wedding by any chance, you’ll knock him dead!’
‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling my cheeks and neck pink up with pleasure. ‘Looks like this is the one then!’
I bought the costume and the three of us went out into the wintry night.
‘How about we head to The Dog and Duck and I treat you two to a couple of drinks?’ I suggested. ‘I think we need it after being holed up in there for an hour and a half!’
‘I’m not really in the mood, to be honest,’ said Gwen. ‘A tub of ice cream and a DVD back at the flat are calling me! Man, it sucks being single!’
‘I’m up for it if you are,’ Max replied, his breath a white plume of smoke in the icy air.
‘OK, let’s do it!’
I said bye to Gwen, whose tiny little figure shrunk into the distance as she went for a taxi, then turned towards Max.
‘You ready?’ he asked.
He offered his arm for me to take and I looped mine through it. We began walking along the street; The Dog and Duck wasn’t too far away. He slipped his arm out and put it round my shoulders. I felt the warmth of his body and the smell of coconut shower gel wafted around me.
‘So, now I’ve got you alone; what was up with you in the fancy dress shop? You obviously saw something on your phone you didn’t like. What’s happened; is Amira begging you to get back with her after being a total cow?’ I smiled up at him to make sure he knew my tongue was firmly wedged in my cheek.
‘Actually, yeah she is,’ he replied. ‘She’s been texting me most of the day asking if we can give things another go.’
Ouch that hurt. I felt like someone had sucker punched me in the stomach; all the wind had been knocked out of me.
‘Oh well… that’s great news obviously.’ Liar. ‘What are you going to do?’
Max heaved a sigh and shrugged. ‘I dunno Munchkin. On the one hand, we were good together and I really, really liked her. I probably would’ve fallen in love with her soon enough. On the other hand, she clearly doesn’t think I’m good enough for her, judging by what she said before. Do I really wanna be with someone who thinks like that?’
‘Of course you don’t.’ My mouth opened and words came out before I could stop them. ‘You want someone who thinks the world of you, who thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them and lets you know that every day. Why go for someone who thinks they can do better than you?’
‘Because that way, if it screws up then I know why. It’s down to me, there’s no wondering if there was anyone else or what happened to make it go pear-shaped. It’ll come down to one reason: I wasn’t good enough. If I went for someone who really could be right for me and things went badly, I’d be heartbroken.’
I turned and took his hands in mine. ‘If you live in fear of things ending all the time Max, you’ll never enjoy anything. You’ll be too busy looking over your shoulder, wondering where the next threat’s coming from. That’s no way to live your life, is it?’
‘I’ve fucked up so many times in the past Munchkin. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve thrown away amazing opportunities and I can’t see the impact of what I’ve done until it’s too late to make things right. It’s like I don’t trust myself, you know?’
I looped my arm through his and brought him close to me. ‘What’s brought all this on? It sounds like there’s more to this than Amira dumping you.’
He shook his head dismissively. ‘Don’t worry about it Munchkin.’
I knew him better than that. There was a pain behind Max’s kind eyes and easy smile that I was determined to get to the bottom of.
We decided to give The Dog and Duck a swerve that night: too many loudmouth business types for our liking, plus our favourite booth near the huge open fire had been taken. Instead, we walked around the city centre, drinking in Manchester’s beautiful architecture and immersing ourselves in its seductive atmosphere. We saw the coloured lights of the high street and the Arndale Centre shone like a beacon to tempt in late-night shoppers. The Manchester Wheel was a carnival of colour and music as it spun elegantly, making the tourists and children riding it whoop in wonder. I held Max close to me as we watched it. I could just about hear his heartbeat through his thick winter jacket; it was such a comforting sound. There was also something wonderful about being close to him. Something had changed between us since I’d started my search for Mr Writer. Our friendship had deepened in a way I hadn’t expected.
After walking around a while longer, we ended up outside my front door.
‘Here we are,’ I said, trying to ignore how awkward I felt. A fizzy feeling had started in my tummy and wouldn’t go away.
‘I can’t thank you enough for tonight Ava; you’ve cured me of my Grumpy Bastard Syndrome for tonight at least.’
‘Wow, I’ve worked miracles!’ I shot back with a grin.
‘You really have. Come here, you.’
Max stepped
closer to me and put his arms around my waist. I let myself sink onto his chest and he held me close. He stroked my hair and rested his chin on the top of my head. I felt safe and at peace.
He pulled back, making me do the same. He stared down into my eyes with an intensity I’d never seen before and pushed a stray lock of hair away from my face. He caressed my cheek gently then rested his hand on the base of my neck. My knees began to feel weak; I was glad his arms were around me to stop me from falling. It seemed inevitable what was going to happen next. Until…
Rrrrrrring!
‘Fuck,’ Max said softly, pulling the noisy phone out of his pocket and holding it to his ear. ‘Hello? Amira, I’ve told you I need time to think…’
Suddenly I felt like the third wheel. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. I mouthed goodnight to Max and went inside.
Chapter 12
Mr Writer’s third letter arrived on the day of the Halloween wedding.
Dear Ava,
Christmas isn’t far away and around this time of year, I think about when I was supposed to meet you all those years ago. Not turning up will always be one of my biggest regrets; I was a coward who was scared I wouldn’t be good enough for you. I was unhappy at uni and had no idea what to do with my life. Things are very different now; I have a career I absolutely love and all that’s missing is you. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share my life with more than you Ava.
The festive season is all about spending time with people you love and is usually the time of year I think about you the most. I imagine us snuggled up together in front of a huge roaring fire or putting up a Christmas tree or wrapping presents. One day, those dreams could be a reality but for now, communicating through letters will have to do. I know you’re probably wondering how long I’m going to hide behind who I am on paper and the answer is not too much longer. I’m planning how I’m going to tell you who I am and once everything’s in place, I’ll let you know. Keep smiling, beautiful.
Love always
?
I passed it to Gwen, whose smile grew broader and broader as she read it.