Ivy Lane: Winter: Read Online Free Page B

She was right, of course, but I hadn’t realized how transparent I was.
    ‘So why don’t you phone him and explain, once again, that Charlie is just a friend?’
    ‘But don’t you think I should wait for him to call me?’ I dropped my sandwich back onto the plate. Gemma eyed it up hungrily and I handed my untouched half to her.
    ‘Well, pardon me, Jane Austen.’ She rolled her eyes and took a large bite. ‘I think we women have moved on a bit since
Pride and Prejudice
, you know.’
    ‘Oh God,’ I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut briefly. ‘I’ve thought about phoning him, truly. And I hear what you’re saying, but it’s been ten years since I’ve been on the dating scene.’
    We both winced at the expression.
    ‘And the thing is, if I contact him, I’ll never know whether he would have got in touch with me himself, will I? And I want him to want to get in touch with me.’ Very badly, in fact.
    Gemma looked a bit confused for a moment and then nodded. ‘I see where you’re coming from.’
    ‘And I know he’s in the country at the moment, so if he wanted to phone, he could,’ I added.
    ‘You’ve been keeping tabs on him, then?’ she smirked. I went bright red and buried my face behind my teacup.
    ‘No not exactly, your mum happened to mention that he was in London for a few weeks editing his Peru programme, that’s all. She’s still in touch with the
Green Fingers
team apparently.’
    ‘So what are you going to do?’ Gemma craned her neck round to get the waitress’s attention. ‘All this talk of cake has made me hungry again,’ she muttered.
    ‘I am going to run the most profitable cake event Kingsfield has ever seen,’ I announced solemnly. ‘And you are going to help me.’
    ‘OK.’ She nodded. ‘I’m on it.’
    ‘Really?’ I beamed at her. ‘Thanks, Gemma.’
    ‘Yeah. The bun’s already in the oven, isn’t it? Boom boom!’ She elbowed me and guffawed at her own joke.
    I cast my eyes heavenwards. ‘I hope your cakes are better than your jokes,’ I sighed, ‘or you will be in trouble.’

Chapter 3
    The day of the Ivy Lane Great Cake Competition had arrived, thankfully all the repairs had been completed on time and the weather couldn’t have been more perfect if it had tried. It was cold but the sky was dazzlingly blue. There had been frost on the inside of the pavilion windows when I’d arrived an hour ago. But now the room was cosy and warm.
    Sunlight poured through the glass and dust motes danced in the sunbeams as I and the rest of the allotment committee and Roy darted around putting the finishing touches to the display tables. I was beginning to see why Christine always seemed to move at over a hundred miles an hour; there was so much to do!
    I shimmied with a mixture of pleasure and fear as I set out a new notebook, several pens and a Quality Street tin to store the money in on a table by the door. The tin was possibly a bit on the large side, but there was no harm in being optimistic.
    We’d arranged tables all around the room to display the cakes that I was hoping would arrive imminently to be judged; there were chairs in the centre of the room for people to sit and enjoy our delicious refreshments; and in pride of place at one end of the room was the enormous raffle prize: a wicker basket filled with every chocolatey thing imaginable. All we needed now were customers . . .
    ‘What next?’ asked Peter, wiping his forearm across his brow.
    ‘Just these signs to go on the tables please, anywhere will do.’ I whipped out the cardboard signs I’d made for each competition category from my bag and handed them over. ‘And then I think we’re good to go,’ I added.
    ‘Perfect timing, love,’ said Christine, nodding her head towards the clock. ‘Let’s open up.’
    ‘Already? Oh my goodness!’ I yelped. ‘What if there’s no one there?’
    My heart was clattering like a runaway horse. I’d worked so hard for today and really, really wanted to make a