‘Come on, Aunty Holly!’ Harry’s little voice piped up, now fed up of the lingering adults as he took off down to the bottom of the garden where the chicken coop resided.
‘We’ve been told,’ Holly laughed as she fell into step beside Charlie and followed in the toddler’s wake. They wandered down the garden, and as they drew closer, Holly was jolted to feel Charlie’s warm hand slipping into hers. It felt so right there that she just enjoyed the sensation, in this beautiful garden, out of sight of her parents for a moment. She turned back to face him. ‘I’m glad you came today,’ she said softly. ‘It might feel a bit juvenile, inviting you to Sunday lunch, but I wanted Mum and Dad, and Rachel and Harry to properly meet you. As well as apologise for, well, you know.’
‘I’m really glad you did,’ Charlie said.
A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the apple tree that they were standing under and loosened a strand of Holly’s hair from the toggle at the base of her neck. She felt a tingle of desire as Charlie reached up his free hand and brushed it away from her mouth. Holly’s stomach started to flutter. Charlie dipped his head slightly and they were within a breath of each other.
‘Come and see the chickens!’ Little Harry’s voice broke into the moment and Holly jumped away from Charlie as if she’d been up to something naughty.
‘OK, munchkin.’ To break the tension, Holly bent down and placed a kiss on Harry’s forehead, blowing away a lock of unruly blonde hair as she did so. ‘I’ll race you to the chicken house,’ she said. She glanced up at Charlie, who was, thankfully, smiling. ‘Come on, Charlie, you too.’
‘How can I refuse?’ Charlie grinned. ‘Come on, Aunty Holly!’
Holly smiled. ‘You’re on.’ Both of them took one of Harry’s hands and scampered towards the chickens, who, somewhat surprised to be the focus of so much sudden attention, clucked disapprovingly.
Holly’s heart thumped as she saw Charlie smiling down at Harry as her nephew pointed out all of the different-coloured chickens in the coop. They’d come close to something just now. The question was, was it something that either of them would pursue again?
16
The next morning, Holly grinned as she read the message that had just arrived on her phone. She briefly considered setting Charlie his own notification sound but dismissed the idea as far too ridiculous. They hadn’t even kissed yet, after all. Although, for a long moment while she was reading his message, she did think about the kind of sound that would be appropriate for his messages. Justin Timberlake’s ‘SexyBack’, perhaps, or, more wittily, ‘Moves Like Jagger’, which she was sure he’d be flattered by.
Say thanks again to your folks when you see them, he’d written. I’m stuck on the train just outside Reading, as usual, and I wish you were here with me! C x
Holly’s heart thumped as she saw the kiss at the end of the text. They’d been so close yesterday, so achingly close, and yet they’d both paused. Perhaps, even fifteen years on, they were still the same reticent, geeky teenagers underneath it all. Holly was stunned that, even having seen the picture of herself as a teenager on the fridge, Charlie still hadn’t made the connection that they’d met all those years ago. It wasn’t a great indicator for a politician, she thought wryly, if he couldn’t remember a face. Or perhaps she just hadn’t made as much of an impression on him as he had on her. Having said that, she thought, she’d forgotten all about him until her mother had passed on her university stuff, so it wasn’t as if he was the great, lost love of her life or anything. It was all just a rather pleasurable coincidence.
Thanks, she replied. But I think I’ve got the better deal. It’s a gorgeous day in your new home town, and I’m looking forward to a nice long walk later.
She paused before adding her own X, after deciding that it was juvenile to worry about it. He’d used it first, after all. Who knew text communication could be so confusing?
They’d parted last night once again without kissing, as Rachel had offered to give Holly a lift back home, and Charlie had chosen to walk. Frustrated somewhat by her sister’s, as ever, perfectly imperfect timing, she and Charlie had said goodbye on her parents’ doorstep, and she knew, since he was getting an early train in the morning, she wouldn’t get another opportunity to be alone with him until the end of the week when he came home from London. Why hadn’t she just taken the initiative and kissed him in her parents’ garden? What was holding her back?
It wasn’t until she was at the end of a deep-vision meditation session with a small group of clients the following morning that it hit her like a bolt from the blue. Curled in child’s pose at the end of the session, she suddenly knew exactly why she hadn’t taken the lead. It was so obvious. She was, deep down, miffed that he hadn’t recognised her. She was, basically, suffering from a case of bruised ego!
Putting those thoughts to one side abruptly as the bell above her shop door tinkled, she glanced up from the book she’d been flipping through on deep meditation techniques. She’d been trying to develop her practice lately, with a view to branching out and holding more regular sessions in the outdoors. She always felt so much more in touch with the elements when she meditated outside, but she’d only ever really held sessions in the shop. Perhaps outside was the next step. Placing the book down, she smiled at a small group of people, obviously tourists, who were glancing around the shop in trepidation. Realising that often people just came in to gawp, she smiled again, and left them to it. Sales of anything other than novelty crystals were rare in this instance.
Once they’d bought a couple of trinkets, and she’d filled them in on where the best places to get a coffee and a snack were (namely Jack Winter’s coffee shop a few doors further along), Holly decided to take the bull by the horns. Flipping the sign on the shop’s door to ‘Closed’ for a few minutes, she padded up the stairs to her bedroom, where she’d stashed the blue suitcase under her bed and released the mottled catches and lifted the lid on it again. Finding the old manila envelope that contained the photographs, she shook them out onto the bed and picked up the one of Charlie that had triggered her memory. Her heart thumped as she saw his smiling, open face, framed by those thick, black glasses. He looked so young, so different, and yet there he was, Charlie Thorpe, the glimmer of the man he was to become hidden in those deep brown eyes. She’d made the connection; why hadn’t he? Was she really that unmemorable? No, that wasn’t fair on Charlie. So why was she letting it hold her back? Why hadn’t she just kissed him in the garden and moved on, whichever direction it would have gone?
She shook her head in exasperation. This was getting her nowhere. Then she had an idea. She could just tell him, of course. Smile, laugh, drop it into conversation the next time they happened to meet. The air would be clear, and things would move on naturally. But where was the fun in that? No, this deserved a little more fanfare. He’d caught her off guard in the shop when they’d first met; now it was her turn to do the same to him. After all, she reasoned, a politician had to be able to think on his feet; let’s see what happens when she springs the reveal on him.