Ivy Lane: Autumn: Part 3

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Hi. Nice dress.’

  I met his eyes and he grinned at me knowingly. There was an awkward pause and we both giggled.

  He cleared his throat and folded his arms. ‘So how are you?’

  ‘Good. You?’

  So far no prizes for scintillating conversation. I couldn’t speak for him, but I was incredibly nervous.

  ‘How was Peru? How were the spectacled bears?’ I pressed my lips together. I’d done my research.

  He whistled softly. ‘Incredible. And Peru was possibly the most amazing place I’ve ever worked in.’

  ‘Even more amazing than Ivy Lane?’ I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Well, Ivy Lane did have its attractions.’

  We locked eyes and my heart absolutely soared.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t phone,’ I said.

  He grinned and shrugged. ‘That’s OK, it wasn’t compulsory.’

  Oh. My confidence slipped a notch. He didn’t seem at all bothered.

  Peter stuck his head between us. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Aidan, but I think we’ll get started if you’re ready?’

  ‘Sure.’ Aidan touched a hand lightly to my arm. ‘Shall we catch up afterwards?’

  I nodded and watched him stroll to the front of the room.

  Gemma waved to me and I took a seat next to her. ‘Well?’ she whispered. ‘How does it feel, seeing him again?’

  I looked at her and sighed. ‘He’s lovely. But I think I might have ruined my chances. I did harbour a hope that we might pick up where we left off. But now I’m not so sure.’ I smiled at her sadly. She pulled a sympathetic face and squeezed my arm.

  Shall we catch up afterwards?

  A polite way to end our conversation? Or a genuine desire to talk to me again?

  I had an entire episode of Green Fingers to get through before I’d have an answer to that.

  ‘Evening, everyone,’ said Aidan loudly above the babble of voices. He smiled and waited as people settled themselves into chairs.

  ‘It’s lovely to be back at Ivy Lane and see you all again. The Green Fingers crew had a great time here over the summer. Dougie,’ he said, singling him out in the audience, ‘Suzanna couldn’t make it tonight, but she sends her best.’

  ‘She hasn’t forgotten old Dougie!’ grinned Dougie, punching the air.

  ‘So.’ Aidan threw his arms wide. ‘Your TV programme. We wanted to create something special with our allotment episode and we believe we have. I hope you’ll be as delighted as we are.’

  He crossed his fingers and held both hands up, pretending to be worried.

  ‘The show will go out next Sunday night, but we thought you deserved to see it first. If you like it, please tell all your friends. If not, then I apologize and it can just be our little secret.’ His brown eyes sparkled playfully and a rumble of laughter ran around the pavilion.

  ‘So without further ado, as they say. The moment of truth!’ He nodded to Christine as he started the DVD and she turned out the lights.

  The Green Fingers theme tune came on, people wriggled in their seats and then silence fell as the pavilion, looking delightful in all its summer finery, filled the screen. Suzanna stepped into the shot and everyone cheered.

  I stole a last furtive glance at Aidan as he found a seat and then focused my attention on the TV and waited for my first on-screen appearance.

  I didn’t have long to wait.

  Only a minute into the show, a slightly frosty girl stomped across her vegetable patch, slopping water from a watering can, which she then upended all over a tiny courgette plant.

  Gemma grabbed my arm and I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from squealing. There I was, hair tied up with string, mud-splattered trousers and boasting about my carrots. I looked so comical: a scruffy, feisty know-all with blotchy eyebrows. I wondered what on earth Aidan must have thought of me that first day.

  I certainly hadn’t been overly impressed with him then. I flicked my eyes towards him and studied his handsome profile; he had a gentle smile on his face and was completely absorbed in the show. I took a deep breath and turned back to the screen.

  How things had changed.

  The next hour flew by. I was totally captivated. The programme was utterly charming and portrayed Ivy Lane and all its characters in such a heart-warming and friendly way that I felt guilty for ever thinking that Aidan might have had some sort of hidden agenda.

  We were a good audience, silent for the most part with only the odd cry of ‘That’s me!’ as individuals saw themselves on screen for the first time.

  Aidan had done a superb job: each little tableau perfectly captured the personality behind the plot, whether it was Liz waist-high in flowers, Christine explaining how to make bird-scarers or Dougie bottling some of his homebrew, and one particularly poignant moment when Alf appeared in his greenhouse. There were a few sniffs in the audience at that point.

  Gemma nudged me with her elbow. ‘Makes me yearn for the summer already.’

  The show was nearly at an end and my face filled the screen yet again. This time I was at the annual show, smiling and laughing as I discovered I’d won second prize for my sweet peas.

  ‘Me too,’ I whispered, realizing how much I had blossomed at Ivy Lane this year. I slipped my arm through Gemma’s and gave it a squeeze. It had been so good for me, taking on the allotment. So many wonderful memories.

  Only hours after that scene had been filmed, I’d kissed Aidan for the first time. Possibly the only time. I looked back over to him; his features were in shadow with just the light from the screen flickering across his face. My fingers itched to stroke his face.

  Why hadn’t I phoned him? I could kick myself.

  My solo life over the past two years had been a series of firsts and that evening had marked a massive turning point for me. The first kiss with someone other than my husband. Major moment for me, but for Aidan, who knows? He had been halfway around the world since then. He would have probably forgotten all about the kiss by now.

  I felt sad all of a sudden and let out a weary breath as the credits rolled and everyone clapped.

  The lights came back on and Aidan jumped back up to the front.

  He held his hands out. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  There was a chorus of appreciation. Peter added a formal word on behalf of the committee and Aidan clasped his heart with mock relief.

  ‘Thanks to you my bosses are very pleased with me, so if it’s all right with you . . .’ He darted to a box at the side of the room and pulled out some bottles of champagne. ‘I thought we’d celebrate.’

  ‘You can’t take your eyes off him,’ whispered Gemma five minutes later as she put a plastic cup of bubbly in my hand.

  ‘I know you don’t drink,’ she said as I began to protest. ‘Just hold it in case there’s a toast.’

  I took it from her. I hadn’t touched alcohol since the night of James’s death. My last drink ironically had also been a tiny glass of champagne. I hadn’t thought I would ever stomach it again. I sniffed at it tentatively.

  ‘Evening, girls,’ said Charlie, waving a bottle in our direction. Gemma and I both shook our heads and covered our cups.

  ‘What did you think?’ I’d spotted him at the back with Roy but hadn’t managed to speak to him so far.

  He puffed his cheeks out and shifted his gaze to the floor. ‘There was a lot of you in it,’ he said, bringing his eyes to meet mine. ‘Anyone would think the cameraman had a crush on you or something.’

  I went bright red, swallowed and tried to come up with a witty retort.

  ‘Ooh, Charlie, you are funny,’ giggled Gemma, tapping his arm playfully and taking the spotlight off me.

  Phew.

  ‘Jeff was a total sweetheart, but I don’t think he was interested in Tilly. No offence, Tills.’

  ‘Could have fooled me,’ Charlie muttered, taking a swig of his champagne.

  Just as Gemma rolled her eyes at me, I felt a warm hand on my arm.

  ‘Aidan!’ I st
ammered, turning to meet his smile.

  He lowered his head to whisper in my ear. ‘Can we have that chat?’

  So he really had wanted to talk me. Hurrah!

  Charlie frowned and I flushed.

  On the spur of the moment I took a sip of the champagne. The bubbles exploded exquisitely on my tongue.

  I nodded to Aidan, handed my cup to Gemma, who slipped me a wink, and followed him to the door.

  Chapter 8

  Aidan held the door open and the two of us stepped outside into the cold night air. A thick fog had descended over the allotments, blanking out the world until all that was left was him and me.

  I shivered and wrapped my arms around my body.

  ‘I don’t fancy driving in this,’ he said, zipping up the neck of his jumper.

  Invite him back to Wellington Street, then he won’t have to.

  ‘Me neither,’ I giggled nervously. ‘But then I haven’t got a car so, er . . .’

  Awkward silence. He raised his eyebrows and I had to stop myself from whistling to fill it. Tomorrow morning I was going to buy myself a new book. How Not to Talk Twaddle in Front of the Opposite Sex, or something along those lines.

  There we were standing in the porch light, like a couple of teenagers after a date, me tongue-tied and nervous and him – well, I wasn’t entirely sure, but his feet were fidgeting and he kept clearing his throat.

  ‘Shall we go for a walk?’ I gestured towards the road that led to the bottom of the allotments.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Aidan, sounding relieved.

  Aidan fell into step beside me, our bodies close, but not quite touching. We walked for a minute or so before either of us spoke. I felt eighteen all over again, nervous and timid, waiting for him to make the first move.

  His hand brushed my sleeve making my skin tingle and I almost gasped.

  ‘Tilly?’

  ‘Yes?’

  I whirled round to face him and we stopped under a street lamp.

  This was it; he was going to kiss me. I could hear my own heart beating.

  The light cast an orangey glow over us and fog particles danced in its spotlight. The allotments were completely silent, as if the fog had wrapped everything in layer of cotton wool. I wasn’t even sure exactly where we were, there were no visible landmarks to give me any clues.

  ‘What happened in August,’ he began hesitantly, ‘I hope I didn’t frighten you off when I asked to see you again?’

  Ask me now and I’ll say yes.

  ‘No. Well, not exactly. I . . .’ Aidan gazed at me under the lamp light, waiting for me to elaborate.

  This was my chance to set the record straight. I’d told everyone else, it should have simply been a matter of explaining about James, about all that had happened in my life to bring me to Ivy Lane. A bit of a conversation dampener, though.

  I sighed instead and shook my head. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘I see.’ He nodded and his brow wrinkled slightly. ‘It’s just that you were pretty adamant that you didn’t want to see me again and when you didn’t call, I’d made my mind up to admit defeat. But . . .’

  We took a tiny step towards each other.

  ‘Yes?’ I breathed.

  ‘I decided to give it one last shot.’ He chuckled, stared at the floor and then lifted his beautiful brown eyes to meet mine. ‘I’ll tell you a secret.’ He leaned towards me and whispered conspiratorially, ‘We don’t normally arrange a special preview of Green Fingers prior to the show airing.’

  ‘No?’

  He shook his head sheepishly and stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘It was an extremely convoluted ploy to see you again.’

  ‘You did that for me?’ I whispered. That was possibly one of the sweetest, most elaborate things anyone had done in order to see little old me. I thought I might burst with pride.

  ‘Listen, I know I’m not much of a prospect, always flying off to the next project, never staying in one place for long. That’s the nature of my job. Most of my stuff is wildlife.’

  ‘Yes. Alf told me.’

  Aidan groaned. ‘I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier. I was very upset to hear about Alf. And Nigel said you found him?’ He studied my face. ‘That must have been awful for you.’

  I nodded and swallowed a lump in my throat.

  He pulled a hand out his pocket and laid it gently on my arm.

  ‘But the thing is, overall, I think I’m an all right type of guy,’ he murmured softly. ‘But if there’s someone else in your life, then obviously I’ll go my merry way and never darken your door again.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Look, I have to ask, is it Charlie? Are you and he . . .?’

  ‘No! Gosh, no!’ I laughed and gasped at the same time and Aidan clasped his chest with mock relief.

  The fog suddenly swirled and lifted and I realized that we were next to a clump of apple trees at the edge of Dougie’s plot.

  ‘Charlie and I are— Oh my goodness!’

  Before I could fill Aidan in on the situation between Charlie and I, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye: just a short distance away I could see a pair of feet on the ground, with the worn soles facing upwards. As I stared, the rest of a prone body came into focus.

  ‘Aidan, look!’

  I dashed over and dropped to my knees, closely followed by Aidan. It was Dougie, lying face first in the soil, seemingly fast asleep.

  ‘Dougie! It’s me, Tilly, wake up!’ I shook his shoulders, but he didn’t make a sound. The beam of the street lamp didn’t stretch this far and I could barely make out Aidan’s face.

  ‘I think he’s unconscious,’ he said.

  ‘Get Karen from the pavilion, she’ll know what to do and see if you can find a torch.’

  He jumped to his feet and hesitated. ‘You OK?’

  I nodded and Aidan sped off up the road.

  ‘Come on, Dougie, wake up,’ I pleaded. Still no response. I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to him, especially coming so soon after Alf. A wasp buzzed low to the ground near his face and I wafted it away. ‘You’re not supposed to be out at this time of year,’ I muttered crossly.

  I leaned back to rest on the trunk of a tree. There were still fallen apples on the floor around my knees and I picked one or two up and threw them out of the way.

  It seemed so awful leaving him in this position on the cold wet ground, but I didn’t dare roll him over until Karen had taken a look. I gingerly reached for his hand and held onto it, hoping that somehow Dougie would know that I was there.

  I heard the door to the pavilion bang in the distance and suddenly a herd of footsteps charged towards us, led by Aidan carrying a torch. Another wasp drifted by and I tutted as I flapped a hand at it.

  ‘Over here,’ I called.

  The entire community had evacuated the pavilion and Karen had to push her way through to Dougie. She crouched down and felt for his pulse.

  Charlie appeared and knelt down by my side. ‘OK?’

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ I murmured.

  ‘Here, I brought your coat. You must be freezing.’ He laid it over my shoulders and I wriggled my arms into it.

  ‘You’re a star,’ I groaned. The sudden layer of warmth was bliss. I hadn’t realized just how cold I had been.

  I sought Aidan in the crowd, but the beam from the torch blinded my eyes and I couldn’t make out specific faces.

  ‘He’s probably passed out from too much of that homebrew,’ said Vicky with a sigh.

  Karen batted a wasp away and shook her head. ‘I think he’s gone into anaphylactic shock,’ she said, rolling Dougie over and going through his pockets. ‘Damn, he hasn’t got his EpiPen.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘He’s breathing, but it’s faint. He needs hospitalization and he needs adrenalin fast.’ She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began to punch numbers.

  ‘I’d take him,’ said Nigel, ‘but I’ve been drinking.’

  ‘I’ll drive!’ I blurted. I took hold of Dougie’s hand ag
ain and squeezed it. I hadn’t been able to do anything for Alf, but there was still time to save Dougie.

  ‘You don’t drive!’ cried Gemma.

  ‘No time,’ said Karen, rolling Dougie into the recovery position, ‘we need an ambulance.’ She stood and turned away as she gave the information to the emergency services.

  ‘I can actually,’ I said in a shaky voice. ‘I just haven’t for a while, that’s all.’ Gemma locked eyes with me and I could see she understood.

  I didn’t drive. But I could. Our car had been a write-off and because I’d never replaced it, it had been easy to avoid driving. For a long time I was too traumatized even to be a passenger in a car.

  I looked back down at Dougie and made a pledge with myself. It was time to get behind the wheel. What if this happened again? What if Gemma went into labour while she was with me? I owed it to myself and to others to be in a better position to help.

  It must have been a quiet night for emergencies that evening because the ambulance reached Ivy Lane in record time. Two paramedics leapt out and within seconds Dougie had been given a shot of adrenalin. Karen had apparently been spot on with her diagnosis. Dougie was lifted onto a stretcher and hoisted into the ambulance. He’d regained consciousness, thank God. According to Christine, he had popped back to his shed to fetch a bottle of scrumpy because he didn’t like the Champagne. I bet he regretted that now. Christine offered to go in the ambulance with him and we stood back as it performed a three-point turn and sped off into the night.

  ‘How did you know, Karen?’ I asked as Shazza wrapped a proud arm around her partner’s shoulders.

  Karen rubbed a weary hand over her face. ‘He once told me he was petrified of wasps because he was allergic to their sting. He normally carries a shot of adrenalin with him, but he must have thought he was safe in October.’

  ‘Wasps are particularly vicious at this time of year,’ said Aidan, stepping towards us. ‘If Dougie stepped on their nest by accident in the fog, they would have gone berserk.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, feeling myself go all fluttery, the nearer he got. ‘Why’s that? I thought they’d all died or hibernated by now.’

  ‘Their queen will have abandoned them, flown off to start a new nest for next spring leaving the remaining worker wasps bereft and without a hierarchy.’ Aidan blew on his hands and tucked them under his armpits.