It Started With A Kiss. Miranda Dickinson

in-joke served as a small icebreaker and I felt a modicum of ease in the tension between us. Only for it to instantly disappear when Charlie said: ‘Look, Rom, about Saturday …’

      A sickening rush of nerves swept over me. If the worn olive-green lino beneath our feet had parted to swallow me up at that moment I would have been the happiest woman in the world. Ever since Saturday’s debacle I had found myself wishing fervently that I could do that thing Christopher Reeve did in Superman, where he flew up into space and reversed the rotation of the earth to turn back time. But the fact remained that this wasn’t something that was going to disappear. Gathering what courage I could, I faced him.

      ‘I’m sorry I embarrassed you.’

      ‘You didn’t.’

      ‘Yes I did, Charlie. I embarrassed myself, too.’

      ‘Rom …’

      ‘No, please let me say this, OK? Because if I don’t say it now I never will.’

      He nodded and folded his arms.

      ‘You see, the thing is, I got my wires crossed. I obviously thought we were heading a certain way when, clearly, we weren’t. It’s my mistake. I just don’t want to lose your friendship over this.’

      ‘You won’t.’

      ‘Well, good.’

      Charlie was about to say something else when the café door flew open and a large group of builders burst in. Their raucous laughter and loud voices rendered further conversation impossible as they spread themselves liberally around the café. I wondered if this would bring our meeting to a premature end, but Charlie motioned for me to stay where I was and left the table to go to the counter, where a slightly startled Harry was surveying the onslaught on his establishment. A few minutes later, he returned with two takeaway cups and a brown paper bag.

      ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I know a better place to have these.’

      I followed him out of the noise of the café and out into the High Street. Five minutes later, we were walking down the steep hill towards Cannon Hill Park.

      While I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted this conversation to be prolonged, I had to admit that Charlie knew me well. Everywhere I turn memories surround me in this park: summer weekends spent as a kid feeding the ducks; fun bank holiday picnics with Wren, Tom, Jack and Sophie; lunchtime meet-ups on sunny spring days – it’s all happened here. Like Harry’s, the park is an integral part of our lives.

      And what Charlie could never know – but what now stabbed at my heart like sharp winter icicles – was that this park was the place where I first realised I was in love with him.

      We had arranged to meet for lunch by the lake on the first Saturday in September, three years ago, just as we had countless times before. The deal – as always – was that he would bring sandwiches if I provided some of my aunt’s homemade cake, so I had made a special trip to collect a particularly spectacular white chocolate and elderflower cake from her that morning. Charlie’s smile was pure delight when he saw the cake and it made me laugh.

      ‘You’re so easy to please,’ I mocked him. ‘One cake and you’re anybody’s.’

      ‘Ah, but this isn’t just a cake, Rom. It’s love at first sight.’

      ‘Blimey. So all those girls who try to get you to go out with them have clearly been missing a trick. All it takes is cake.’

      He grinned, broke a piece off the cake and popped it into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he clasped a hand to his heart. ‘Find me a woman who makes me cake like this and I’ll be hers forever.’

      ‘I’m afraid my aunt’s already taken.’

      ‘Shame.’ His eyes flicked open and the twinkle in them was unmistakably Charlie. ‘Maybe I should settle for a girl who can bring me cake like this, then …’

      ‘Yeah, well good luck finding her then,’ I grinned back.

      He smiled again and his midnight eyes held mine a moment longer than usual. And that was when it happened. I felt my heart skip and the world began to swim a little – and I knew I was in love. The revelation rocked me completely and, when Charlie turned his attention back to the cake moments later, I was left dazed by what had just happened.

      In the following days I tried to dismiss it as a freak occurrence and almost managed to convince myself until the next time we met on a Friday night at Jack and Sophie’s. As soon as Charlie walked into the room, my pulse began racing and all evening I had to resist the urge to stare at him. Suddenly it was as if I was seeing him for the first time – his easy smile, the twinkle in his eyes as he joked about with Tom and Jack, how he used his hands when he talked. I’d known him all my life but somehow I’d never noticed how wonderful he was.

      From that moment on, I fell deeper and deeper in love with him. Every minute we spent together reaffirmed my feelings and then, last year, I began to notice his attitude change towards me. He sought my company more often and when we were together the chemistry was astounding. Or so I’d thought …

      Today that blissful summer day three years ago felt light years away. The park was covered in a thick layer of frost, the lake an icy winter blue as we walked along the icepuddled path. I stole a glance at Charlie, trying to work out his feelings from his nondescript expression. The little we had already said to each other this morning clearly wasn’t enough for him, otherwise this unscheduled jaunt in the park would not be happening. On the walk down from Harry’s our conversation had retreated to safe small talk, Charlie telling me about an art launch his father’s gallery had managed to secure and me amusing him with the latest double-glazing advertising jingle I had written for Brum FM.

      We walked away from the lake until we reached a Victorian ironwork bandstand. Tiny snowflakes began to swirl about our ears as we climbed the steps and sat down on the wooden bench seats for our alfresco breakfast. Charlie bit into his bacon sandwich and as silence fell between us I felt my stomach begin to knot once more.

      ‘Good sarnie?’ I offered, reasoning that any conversation was preferable to none at all.

      He nodded and turned the full force of his stare on me. ‘Rom …’

      The excruciation factor shot up a million-fold. ‘Charlie, can we just forget Saturday ever happened, please?’

      ‘I still think we need to talk about it. I reacted badly, and I’m sorry.’

      ‘You were just being honest.’

      ‘As you were. And I should have handled it better.’

      ‘You don’t have to say that. I know it wasn’t what you were expecting.’

      He smiled. ‘It wasn’t. It came totally out of the blue. I mean, one minute we were talking about Quincy Jones and the next …’

      ‘I know. I’m sorry, Charlie. I should never have said anything. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

      Charlie sighed and looked at me. ‘I think you’re amazing, Rom. I always have. But you’re my best friend and that’s what matters to me. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I … that we … you know.’

      Instantly, I looked away. As I stared at my coffee, a sudden image of the handsome stranger from the Christmas Market flashed into my mind. Despite the intense embarrassment still working its way through my guts, the memory of his lips on mine gave me a welcome boost of hope. I remembered Wren’s words to me yesterday, when she gave me the bauble from the scene of the kiss:

      ‘Let this remind you that there is at least one amazing bloke in the city who thinks you’re beautiful …’

      And suddenly, everything came into sharp focus. True, this wasn’t particularly helpful right now, seeing as I didn’t actually know where he was, or have any idea of where to start looking. But I was going to find him. Somehow.

      ‘So where did you go after you