‘Isn’t that a shame?’ says Suzy, brightening. ‘Annie’s leaving on Friday. But I’m sure I’ll bump into him when he’s back.’
I feel a sick swoop of disappointment. Perhaps I was too quick to assume that fate had taken a hand. At least, if it has, it appears to have changed its mind.
‘I hope you’re not too disappointed,’ says Suzy when Max has left. ‘I know how much you liked him.’
‘Of course not,’ I say. ‘We’ve only met him once. How about you? Are you disappointed?’
‘Hardly!’ she says. ‘He isn’t really my type. I prefer men who work out. Well, at least he had the decency to send us a message. And it sounds as though he’ll be moving to Edinburgh. So, that’s that.’
‘Yes,’ I say quietly. ‘I suppose that’s that.’
Chapter Three
Iarrive home for the Christmas holidays in a state of great excitement. Not only have I been away from home for the past few months, but I know from Mum that Alex is home for Christmas.
She told me he arrived a few days ago. I would have liked to have been there when he arrived, but I promised to stay for a few extra days while a friend resat an exam. I surprised myself by passing with high marks, but Evie has struggled with the course, so I stayed for moral support.
But now I’m heading back home for ten days. I’m staying until New Year’s Day. There will be the usual whirl of excitement – meeting friends, seeing my parents, wrapping presents, and making the Christmas cake. But most of all there will be Alex.
I tell myself it’s ridiculous to get so excited. For all I know, he may have met someone in Scotland. Or he may not be interested in me. But even while I’m telling myself to keep my hopes in check, I’m fizzing with excitement. It somehow feels right. There was such an instant connection when we met in the summer. Everything felt so easy and natural. So, while my head tells me to be cautious, my heart is bursting with excitement.
Dad meets me at the station and gives me a huge hug. ‘Welcome home, Annie! We’ve missed you.’
‘And I’ve missed you,’ I say sincerely.
He picks up my cases. ‘It’s out of sight, out of mind for young people when they go off to university. You’ll have been too busy partying to spare us a thought.’
‘Not true,’ I say, following him towards the car. ‘I’ve been counting the days.’
‘Your mother will be pleased to see you. She’s been holding off making the pudding until you were home. She says it’s not right to make it without you.’
‘She’s quite right,’ I say. ‘I’ve been helping her make the Christmas pudding for as long as I can remember. I love putting the sixpence, the thimble, and the ring in it. Do you remember the time you broke a tooth on the thimble?’
‘I do indeed,’ he says. ‘I had to ring around to find an emergency dentist on Christmas day of all days! I’m not going to tell you how much that cost.’
I give a choke of laughter. ‘I remember how cross Mum was – not because you had to find a dentist but because you’d chipped the thimble.’
‘We got a metal one after that,’ he says, slinging my case into the boot. We’d better hurry or your mother will be thinking we’ve had an accident.’
Mum is waiting for us at the front door, wearing an apron with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it. Her hands are covered in flour. She bends forward to kiss me. ‘Careful! I don’t want to get flour all over your –’
She breaks off, looking disapprovingly at my old duffle coat. ‘Are you still wearing that? I thought you’d have got rid of it ages ago.’
‘I’m a student, remember? But that’s lucky because it means I can hug you properly.’
‘Lunch is ready,’ she says, giving me a quick hug. ‘Your father can take your case to your room while I serve up. I’m afraid there’s no time for you to change. I’ve made a cheese souffle, and they don’t wait for man nor beast.’
I follow Dad upstairs. ‘I wasn’t going to change anyway. This is the smartest outfit I’ve brought with me. Except for a party dress.’
‘You’ll be needing one of those,’ he says. ‘Your mother seems to have something planned for every day you’re here.’
‘Of course, she has! She’ll probably grumble about me wearing the same thing each time, but that’s too bad. And it’s a lovely dress.’
It’s a short, black dress, woven with shimmering sparkles. I spent an entire Saturday shopping for it. I ended up spending far more than I could afford and had to borrow my train fare home. But I don’t care. It’s absolutely perfect.
Mum monopolises the conversation during lunch. I have to hear the full history of the harvest festival, the fruit and produce show, and last week’s Christmas Bazaar.
Dad leans back in his chair when lunch is over. ‘I think she’s all caught up now. It probably feels as though you’ve never been away, Annie.’