It Started With a Kiss (28 page)

Her curls bounced as she shook her head. ‘I don’t know. One minute he was über-keen, the next he announces we’re not working and he’s found someone else. Guys just don’t seem to want to hang around for me after the initial chase. What am I doing wrong, Rom? I mean, am I hideous or something?’ Tears sparkled at the corners of her impossibly large, cocoa brown eyes.

I hugged her, feeling the shudder of her shoulders as her tears began to fall. ‘The right one is out there for you, I know he is. He might be closer than you think. You just have to focus on what makes you happy until he arrives, that’s all, instead of putting your life on hold indefinitely.’

She sniffed. ‘I know. I’d just like a man I could keep hold of, you know?’

Right at that moment, I knew exactly what she meant.

‘Welcome one and all to the beautiful surroundings of Cannock Chase,’ Jack announced next day, leaping on to a rock by the car park as we gathered together. ‘As you are no doubt aware, we are gathered here today to help our very good friend Wren Malloy in her quest for the perfect school outing.’

We broke into hammy applause as Wren took a bow.

‘Thanks, Jack. Now as you know, I do not do bikes in any shape or form and I really, really need to impress my Head so that he might consider giving me a pay rise sometime before I retire. So I need you bikey people to tell me how you find the trails, if you think a bunch of fourteen-year-olds would enjoy it here and how good the facilities are. Also let me know if there’s anything you think could be a problem. Honest opinions, please.’

Jack jumped down from the boulder. ‘Right, so the idea today is that we complete at least three circuits, following the white and yellow arrow bike trails. If you fancy a breather at any time, come back from the road crossing on the orange trail, which will conveniently deposit you at the refreshment cabin. I’d suggest people wait there anyway once they’re done and then we’ll head back to ours tonight to compare notes.’

Clutching the handlebars of our mountain bikes, we all sounded our agreement and disbanded – D’Wayne and Tom racing off first due to a bet they had made that morning to try to get four circuits in before lunch. Wren and Sophie, both confirmed non-bikers, headed in the opposite direction to start the foot trail, while Cayte, the latest convert to The Pinstripes’ bike club, rode steadily towards the easier bike trail with Jack, who last night had promised to accompany her – no doubt as part of his attempt to build bridges. With everyone else thus occupied, Charlie and I were left together. He fastened his cycle helmet and put on his gloves. ‘Well, looks like just thee and me, kid. Thanks for keeping me company.’

I adjusted the knee support on my left leg. ‘You’re welcome.’ Noticing he was fiddling with the water bottle clipped to the frame of his bike, I decided to take advantage. ‘Shame you’re going to come last, though!’ I called over my shoulder as I rode quickly away over the ginger-brown pine-needled floor of the forest, feeling the rush of pine-scented air against my face.

‘Oi!’ I heard him shout after me. ‘Alright, Parker, you want a race? I’ll give you a race!’

We sped through the undulating terrain of the trail, dodging the low-hanging tree branches and roots that jutted out into the path, attempting to negotiate the obstacles with some finesse, but more often than not resorting to what amounted to ‘falling with style’. As I neared the start of a hairpin right-hand bend, I misjudged the angle and skidded, feet flailing, over to one edge of the steep drop that fell away from the path, just about recovering in time to see Charlie overtaking me, laughing triumphantly as he did so.

‘You’ve asked for it now!’ I yelled, the rush of adrenalin intoxicating as I pedalled quickly in his wake.

I was inches away from his back wheel, but he managed to stay just a fraction ahead of me. At this point, some of Dick Dastardly’s sabotage contraptions would have come in rather handy, I mused to myself, pushing my legs as fast as I could to move alongside Charlie, just as the trail levelled out.

‘Your ass is mine, Wakeley!’ I grinned.

Charlie’s smile lit up the forest clearer than a spotlight on a night ride. ‘Tempting, Parker, but I think I’d rather woop yours.’ He found a reserve of energy from nowhere and pushed a length ahead of me, laughing like a loon as he looked back over his shoulder.

Schoolboy error, right there. Because unfortunately he didn’t see the rather large and pointed granite boulder directly in front of him until it was too late. With a yelp, his front wheel hit the rock head on, flipping him clean over the handlebars to land and skid a few metres down the sandy path on his bottom. It was so hilarious a sight that I guffawed with laughter, sensing my victory was near.

Unfortunately for me, nearer still was the exact same rock he had collided with moments before, and my front wheel crashed into it, flinging me to the ground inches away from Charlie’s winded but guffawing body. Rocked with gasping breaths of laughter, I lay on the ground for a time, my backside complaining vehemently.

When our mirth subsided, Charlie hauled himself upright, offering me his hand. ‘Are you OK?’

I checked myself and, apart from an incredibly dirty behind and a shallow scrape along the length of my thigh, I appeared to have survived the fall. ‘Yes, thanks. You?’

‘I’ll live.’ He gave a rueful smile and rested his tall frame on a verdant, fern-fringed grassy bank at the edge of the trail.

Still amused, I flopped down next to him and picked a dried beech leaf from the lace of my shoe. With its tall, majestic trees stretching up from the lush green foliage, the forest around us was breathtaking in both appearance and size – stretching in all directions as far as the eye could see.

‘I’ve come here all my life, but I’m always amazed by this place,’ Charlie said, watching the kerfuffle of two crows scrapping for supremacy in the branches of a pine tree opposite. He turned to look at me. ‘I know that sounds lame.’

‘No, not at all. I think you should be proud of how you feel.’

‘Like you are with your quest, you mean?’

It came completely out of the blue. I blinked away my surprise. ‘Yes, I suppose so. I’m a big believer that you should be able to express your feelings, whatever situation you find yourself in.’ Suddenly self-conscious, I added, ‘It works for me, anyway.’

His blue eyes were very still. ‘It’s a good plan. That bloke is lucky to have someone like you searching for him.’

The intensity of his gaze unsettled me a little. I looked away. ‘Yes, well. At the moment I don’t know if he would even remember me.’

‘Well, in that case he’s a fool. All the same, it’s good that you have the support of those people on your blog.’ There was a pause. ‘I support you, too. I hope you know that.’

I turned back to meet his gaze. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

A gentle smile broke across his lips. ‘Even if you do have half the forest floor plastered to your face.’ Reaching up, he brushed the dirt from my cheek with the deftest of strokes, his midnight blue eyes never leaving mine. My breath quickened a little as his fingers came to a gentle rest on the con tour of my cheekbone, and I could see the pronounced rise and fall of his chest in reply to mine. Suddenly, it was as if the whole forest was filled with sparks of electricity, as an invisible force began to pull us gradually, instinctively closer …

‘SLACKERS!!!’

Tom’s shout as he approached us shattered the moment and we jumped back from each other, startled by the intrusion. He skidded to a stop by us. ‘Come on, Charlie-boy – just because you’re not riding with D’Wayne and me doesn’t mean you’re not expected to maintain your excellent trail record.’

There was a loud yell and D’Wayne jumped the rock that had floored us both, pulling up by Tom. ‘What are you doing, guys? This is our second circuit and you two haven’t even done one yet!’

‘Getting old, that’s what it is,’ Tom agreed, jumping on his bike and speeding away when Charlie rose to the bait and grabbed his bike.

‘I’ll give you “getting old”, you sarky git!’ He grinned at me as he started to ride away. ‘Catch you later, yeah?’

Still shell-shocked by what may or may not have just happened, I nodded blankly. ‘Cool.’

Tom shot me a quizzical look, but the call of competition was too strong for him to resist, so he straightened his cycle helmet and set off in hot pursuit, leaving me more than a little dazed at the side of the track.

When I finally remounted and rode after them, my thoughts were in dire need of direction. I decided to take my time on a single circuit of the trail. Negotiating the twists and turns, I replayed the moment over and over, drawing a blank every time. I must have imagined it. He’d said he supported my quest, so why then would a moment like that happen? Perhaps I was more winded from my fall than I realised, or maybe … I pushed the thought firmly to the back of my mind. By the time I reached the others at the picnic tables outside the refreshment cabin, I had convinced myself that nothing had happened. And so, it seemed, had Charlie.

For the rest of the day, and on into the evening back at Jack and Sophie’s, Charlie and I resumed normal service, mocking each other, joking around with the others and enjoying being with our friends. There were no longing looks or stolen glances, awkward pauses or touchy subjects.

When I eventually climbed into my bed in the early hours of the morning, my mind was set: I had obviously misread the moment and everything remained as it had been before.

Over the next few weeks, I tried not to think about Charlie, finding as many things as I could do to distract my mind. Work was incredibly busy as we began to compose the station’s festive jingles for furniture sales, catalogue stores and indulgent food ranges at major supermarkets. Mick jokingly covered the whole of the Bat Cave in tinsel and coloured fairy lights, ‘… to get us in the Festive Zone’, which Amanda hated, of course, grumbling about a lack of respect for health and safety regulations, but Mick refused to take them down, knowing full well that Amanda wouldn’t challenge it, needing to keep us on side and productive in order to impress her bosses. I found the decorations amusing, but their presence inevitably reminded me that time for my quest was running out.

Meanwhile, Auntie Mags and Uncle Dudley were on the verge of a new adventure in their lives, with my aunt’s tea shop – Tea and Sympathy – opening imminently. I spent most evenings after work helping them to paint, furnish and prepare the small shop unit, another welcome distraction from conflicting thoughts about Charlie and PK. On the night before the big opening, we gathered in the tea shop with celebratory glasses of wine and a freshly baked strawberry and white chocolate cake ‘for new beginnings’.

‘Well, Magsie, we did it,’ Uncle Dudley beamed, hugging her to him.

‘Yes, I think we did. This is going to work, isn’t it?’

‘Of course!’ I reassured her. ‘Look at this place – it’s so homely and welcoming. I reckon you’ll be fending people off.’

Painted in soft green, pale pink and duck egg blue, the café was a haven of all things sweet. Vintage teacups filled with silk flowers and primrose yellow tablecloths were placed on every table, glass cloches covered rose-painted chintz china cake stands on the whitewashed wood counter top, old books from Uncle Dudley’s car boot forages were stacked on shelves along the walls and large wicker floor-baskets were stuffed with extra cushions – everything a customer could need to feel extra welcome and at home. It was every inch my aunt, even down to the framed pictures of Uncle Dudley, Elvis,
Our Pol
and me behind the counter.

I raised my glass. ‘I’d like to propose a toast. To Auntie Mags and her amazing cakes!’

Uncle Dudley joined the toast, but Auntie Mags stopped us.

‘No, I’ve got a better one.’ She lifted her glass. ‘To dreams. And believing they’re possible.’

Whatever reservations I may have harboured about Cayte being back in Tom’s life, I had to admit that she was definitely making an effort to repair the damage she had done with her article. Now working freelance, she had written a positive article on love-against-the-odds stories and had linked to my blog at the end. The fresh swell of interest and support this generated really helped to boost my resolve for the quest. Every time I looked at the site, there were a few new messages of support and, as October passed into November, the site’s regular visitors began to have conversations with each other via the comment boxes, forming a virtual community all of their own.

Bridges were even being built between Sophie and Cayte, much to Jack and Tom’s relief. A Saturday night out at The Garter unexpectedly revealed their shared love of karaoke when Jack persuaded them to sing a duet of ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’. I half-expected a full-on catfight to break out mid-song, but to my surprise they ended up hugging when they received a standing ovation from the regulars. The following weekend, Cayte brought her copy of
SingStar
to a meal at Jack and Soph’s, leading to the two of them taking centre-stage in the living room, singing away into the early hours of the morning – and that was it. Having found a language both could understand, they looked to be well on the way to becoming firm friends.

Uncle Dudley and Auntie Mags meanwhile were busy drumming up support from their ever-growing number of customers at Tea and Sympathy. Conversations with my aunt and uncle soon began to include familiar names of the people who were now travelling from all over Warwickshire to visit Auntie Mags’ little shop of culinary magic in Kingsbury.

‘You know, it’s just like Suzi was saying last week …’

‘That reminds me, Rich Robbins recommended a great new artisan jam for my Victoria sponge that a farm shop near him sells …’

‘If Davey suggests we let him and his strange Goth friends make a movie of the quest one more time, I think I’ll scream …’

Discussions would begin in the tea shop and pass over to my blog, and vice-versa. It was lovely to see my aunt and uncle acting as self-appointed surrogate parents to their tea shop kids by answering questions, offering timely advice and – in my aunt’s case – prescribing cakes for various emotional ailments.

Focusing on the quest – in particular, my virtual supporters’ enthusiasm for it – was good for my mind, too. It meant that my goal of finding PK was uppermost in my thinking, reminding me of why I was searching for him in the first place and reinforcing the still-glowing possibility that I would find him again. With every new follower, I knew I could be one step closer to finding PK.

Since our conversation on the bike trail at Cannock Chase, Charlie had said no more about what I was doing. Neither did he reference or acknowledge what happened in the forest, leading me to assume that it was just another red herring on the long road to finding the man I was meant to be with. We had spent most of the past year learning to be friends again – the last thing we needed was for one of us to decide we wanted more. Even if the memory of what I
thought
had happened in the forest still burned more brightly than it should in its far corner of my mind …