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:
Hope thrives at Ivy Lane . . .
As winter descends on Ivy Lane, the frost sparkles and icy winds flurry – but Tilly is still reeling from the events of the Hallowe’en party. Only the die-hard plot holders brave the cold weather, and Tilly fears the loneliness that gripped her a year ago will return.
Resolute to stay cheerful, she throws herself into organizing both the inaugural Ivy Lane Great Cake Competition
and
the Christmas Party, and even squeezes in a little match-making along the way. Surrounded by her friends at the Christmas Party, Tilly has come a long way in a year. She can feel her own heart slowly melting, but who will be waiting under the mistletoe?
Ivy Lane is a serialized novel told in four parts – taking you through a year in the life of Tilly Parker – ending with Winter.
Contents
Have you loved reading
Ivy Lane
?
Cathy Bramley
In
Autumn
at Ivy Lane . . .
Change was in the air again at Ivy Lane when a young offenders’ rehabilitation scheme was announced. Alf persuaded a reluctant committee to help the young offenders, but the allotment community were devastated when Alf died suddenly in his sleep.
His death brought back awful memories for Tilly, but she was finally ready to tell her friends at Ivy Lane about the terrible car accident two years ago that killed her husband James and her baby. Now, though, Tilly knew she was ready to move on. She couldn’t stop thinking about Aidan, who she hadn’t seen since the summer . . . So when he returned for the Hallowe’en party, Tilly was overjoyed – but an angry Charlie ruined the moment and left Aidan thinking Tilly wasn’t interested.
And when pregnant Gemma was rushed to hospital in pain, it looked as if tragedy might have struck again . . .
Will Tilly find love with Aidan or has she left it too late? And will Tilly’s best friend and baby be alright?
I love winter.
As of the first of November each year, I enter my official winter mode: Thermal underwear, a thermos of soup for my lunch at school, fleecy pyjamas at night . . . the lot.
Winter is about walks in the snow, it’s about snuggling up in front of the fire with mugs of tea and crumpets, indulging in wild and ambitious plans for the following year and dreaming about hot places to visit in summer. Of course, I’d done none of these things for the past two winters, except for the ‘sitting in front of the fire’ part, but this year would be different. I was sure of that.
And, of course, the very best thing about winter is Christmas. I love everything about Christmas. Some people moan when the shops get full of decorations and presents and food weeks before the big day itself, but not me. The more robins, snow, mistletoe and Christmas lights the better, as far as I’m concerned.
Winter is definitely my favourite season. The only downside is that all the things I love most about winter are, without doubt, more enjoyable when you have someone to share them with.
This first of November, I poked my head out of the door to check on the weather and the wind nearly took my breath away.
A meow at my feet alerted me to my errant feline’s return.
‘Well, good morning, CallyCat, you dirty stop-out.’ I bent down to stroke his head. ‘And where were you all night? Hmm? Come on in out of this wind.’
He meowed again and padded straight past me towards the kitchen where his breakfast was waiting.
I stared at the sky and tried not to dwell on the fact that my cat appeared to have a better social life than I did.
What I really needed was a sunny day to cheer me up. One of those bright, crisp and clear winter mornings that invigorates and energizes. Unfortunately, it was rather grey and extremely blustery today, and the poplar trees along Wellington Street had been well and truly stripped of leaves overnight. Ho hum. Gloves, hat and thick woolly socks weather, I decided. And my bike would have to stay at home in case I got blown off.
It was the start of the weekend. More importantly, it was the morning after the Ivy Lane Hallowe’en party and what an eventful night that had turned out to be!
I shuddered at the memory of how the night had ended. Gemma had really panicked when she’d started to bleed, which had made me panic with her and by the time Mike arrived to take her to the hospital, only ten minutes later, she’d convinced herself that she was definitely in the process of losing the baby.
I’d had a call from Mike shortly after midnight. Gemma had a nasty infection, which had caused her to lose some blood, but she and baby were going to be fine. I had burst into tears of relief and sent them all my love down the phone. Gemma had stayed in hospital overnight so that they could keep an eye on her, but she would be home later this afternoon and I planned to go round to see her if she was up to having visitors.
In the meantime, although the prospect of returning to the scene of last night’s disastrous events was about as appealing as a visit to the dentist for root canal treatment, I had to nip back to Ivy Lane and lock up my shed. I’d fled the vicinity having neither turfed Aidan out of it nor secured it for the night. But that was all I was planning to do and with any luck I could be there and back home again in time to see Mary Berry’s new baking show on iPlayer as I’d missed the first episode earlier in the week.
Suitably attired, I set off for Ivy Lane allotments and braced myself against the swirling wind. It was a good job I was wearing a woolly hat or my hair would have been all over the place. Looking on the bright side, at least the walk would liven me up a bit. I’d hardly slept all night, what with worrying about Gemma and what might have happened and thinking about Aidan and what
didn’t
happen. The lack of sleep might not have done much for my complexion, but it had given me an opportunity for a long hard think.
As I marched along, I ran through my big decisions to see if they still stood the ‘cold light of day’ test.
Firstly (for the main reason that it had been the easiest one to think about), I was going to accept the full-time teaching position that I’d been offered at school. My career had taken a back seat for two years, but I was ready to go for it again now. And although I loved the allotment, it wasn’t enough to fill all of my time – especially now that winter had begun and I didn’t have so much to do. I’d been baking a lot recently, which was fun but I’d be the size of a house by Easter if I didn’t watch it. The answer was work and lots of it. I looked up briefly as I passed school, still closed up for the half-term holidays until Monday. The flutter of excitement in my tummy told me that I’d definitely made the right decision.
Secondly, Aidan Whitby.
My heart did that scary elevator thing of zooming up and then plunging back down at the thought of him. I didn’t blame him at all for pulling away from me last night. I mean, poor man. He was probably just looking for a nice straightforward relationship with a normal girl. Instead, he happened to choose me, someone with more baggage than Virgin Airlines and a jealous pumpkin-carving, not-so-secret admirer.
I ducked my head down and suppressed a sigh as I rounded the corner into Ivy Lane. All my hopes for the future, all my brave resolutions to move on from James, had been cruelly dashed. What should have been a romantic, candlelit rendezvous in my little shed, marking the start of – I had hoped – a new chapter in my life, had ended up being one rather passionate interlude followed by an equally passionate argument.
The truth was, I really, really liked Aidan. Oh, who was I kidding? I was well past the ‘like’ phase. In all honesty, I only had the merest scrap of hope that our . . . whatever it was (relationship? dalliance? snogfest?) could bounce back from the battering it had received last night but I was going to let fate decide and keep everything crossed that said fate was on my side.
But one thing I knew: I was ready to share my life with a man again.
Those precious few moments with Aidan had been more than enough to convince me of that. In fact, there was a point – when we were alone in my shed – when I’d thought I might explode with desire. But it hadn’t just been his physical presence that was so intoxicating: the maleness of him, his delicious spicy scent, the feel of his arms around my body and how our bodies fitted together, although that had been amazing, obviously . . . It was the feeling of belonging with someone that I really wanted to enjoy again. I wanted someone to come home to, to care for, to create new memories with, to share special moments with. I wanted someone to love.
I had wanted so much for that person to be Aidan.
Because as well as finding him heart-spinningly attractive, intelligent and a genuinely decent man, there was one other major appeal. It might sound a bit odd and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to admit it to anyone but . . . well, I had this overwhelming feeling that Aidan and James would have been friends.
I shook my head firmly.
No matter how many times that scenario ran through my brain, it still sounded weird.
And if Aidan and I
weren’t
meant to be and nothing came of our . . . whatever it was by, say, the end of November, then, for the first time in ten years, I was going to start dating again. I felt a prickle of cold sweat at the back of my neck just thinking about it.
The allotment gates were open and ahead I could see three cars in the car park: Charlie’s and Peter’s I recognized, the other I didn’t.
Charlie was the subject of my third decision. And as he was here I might as well get it over with now. Or maybe later.
Tilly Parker, stop procrastinating
. OK, I would go and see him as soon as I’d checked on my shed.
I hurried up the path along the edge of my plot. Someone, Aidan presumably, had at least shut the shed door. I held my breath and put my hand on the door handle. Imagine if he was still in there. His car has gone, whispered the rational side of my brain. Yes, but imagine . . .
The shed was empty. I exhaled, laughing at myself. Of course it was. What had I expected? Aidan to still be there, dressed as a wizard with that same look of disappointment on his face? Unfortunately, the three offending pumpkin lanterns were still in situ.
‘You’ve had it for starters.’ I tucked one under each arm and headed out to the compost bin.
‘Hello, there!’ Peter waved from the path, accompanied by a middle-aged couple in anoraks.
‘Can I introduce Wendy and Richard?’ He shouted over the wind. ‘Prospective plot holders.’
We shook hands and Richard, a wiry-looking chap with a pointy chin but a kind smile, explained that since their son had left for university, they suddenly found themselves with less taxiing, washing and food shopping to do and they were looking for something to fill the gap at weekends. They were debating whether to go for Gemma’s half plot by me or one of the newly dug ones.
Wendy had short neat grey hair, a button nose and a healthy glow to her cheeks.
‘Classic empty-nesters,’ she said with a smile. She pulled her collar up around her chin. ‘I’ve been so busy being a mum for the last eighteen years that I don’t know what to do with myself.’
Oh gosh! That reminded me, Mum had called last night with something important to tell me and I still hadn’t found out what it was. I would call her from my shed as soon as my visitors had gone.
‘Lovely cabbages!’ Wendy added, pointing at my only remaining crop.
‘Thank you.’ I pulled Alf’s knife from my pocket and cut one for her and she beamed with pleasure. ‘I wish I’d grown more winter crops now. Some sprouts or something.’ I sighed. ‘Everywhere looks so bare.’
‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen mine,’ chuckled Peter, pointing to his plot next door. ‘Blasted pigeons have made a right mess of my sprouts.’ He led them away. I waved them off and pulled my mobile from my pocket as I walked into the shed out of the wind.
‘Hi, Mum, it’s me. Sorry I had to cut you off last night,’ I said as soon as she picked up the phone.
‘Tilly, darling! What on earth happened?’
‘My friend Gemma – you know, from the allotment – started to bleed and we had to get her to hospital. Her baby is due at the end of December and . . .’ I felt my throat swell as I relived the fear of last night’s events. ‘But she’ll be fine. Just an infection. Nothing major.’
‘Poor thing. Well, I’m glad to hear she’ll be all right. Anyway, thank you for ringing me back.’