Read Online Ivy Lane: Autumn: by Cathy Bramley - Free Book Online Page A

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