It Started With A Kiss. Miranda Dickinson

some kind of twisted stalker …’

      ‘Wren, he wasn’t like that.’

      ‘How do you know? He could have been walking round kissing random female shoppers all day! He could get his sick, evil kicks out of doing that …’ Wren’s cocoa brown eyes opened wide. ‘Maybe he kisses the women he’s about to murder in cold blood … Oh-my-giddy-life, you’ve just had a Judas kiss!’

      I let out a long sigh as I sank into Wren’s oversized sofa in her chic city-centre apartment. ‘I wish I hadn’t told you about it now.’

      Wren placed a concerned hand on my arm. ‘No, Rom, you were absolutely right to tell me. If only so I could stop you making a terrible mistake!’

      Sometimes I wonder how I came to have a friend quite as theatrical as Wren. But then, being a drama teacher, I suppose it’s something of an occupational hazard for her.

      I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this now, but I was still reeling from the events of the day before. In a daze, following the stranger’s hasty departure, I had stumbled to the train station in a fog of emotion and shock. Slumped in my seat, mind numb, I had called the only person who would understand. Wren has been my closest friend since primary school and she’s known Charlie almost as long as I have. Initially, she insisted that I catch a train back into the city and head straight for her home, but all I really wanted to do was to sleep. So instead she made me promise to visit her the next day.

      After a restless night with images of Charlie and the gorgeous stranger interchanging in my mind, I arrived at Wren’s chic canalside apartment, just along from the elegant bars and restaurants of Brindley Place.

      Eyes wide with concern, Wren had listened quietly as I relayed the events of the previous day; but as soon as I finished she launched into an impassioned commentary.

      ‘The way I see it, this bloke is just a diversion from the real issue – you and Charlie. I mean, come on, Rom, one minute you’re telling Charlie you love him and then you “just happen” to meet the love of your life?’

      ‘It doesn’t make sense, I know. But honestly, Wren, it was the most intense, amazing moment. He took my breath away …’

      ‘And your mind off Charlie.’

      This was useless. ‘Forget I mentioned it, OK?’

      Wren gave me her best impression of a serious look (which, in truth, is about as serious as engaging in a staring contest with a fluffy kitten …). ‘Oh, Rom, I’m sorry. It’s just that you have to admit it’s a bit odd. Someone you’ve never met appears out of nowhere, does the knight-in-shining-armour bit and then kisses you. What kind of crazed, maniacal freak does things like that? And if he thinks you’re so amazing, how come he didn’t stick around?’

      I had been asking myself that very question ever since it happened. ‘I don’t know.’ The events of our encounter remained imprisoned behind a frustrating haze. Whatever – or whoever – had called him away had seemed import ant; but then I’d hardly had sufficient time to know anything about him, so how could I really know what was important to him? ‘That’s the problem: I have no answers. All I can say is that it was the most amazing moment I’ve ever experienced. He was … perfect.’

      ‘He was a nutter. Believe me, hun, you’re better off not knowing who he was. I’ve chased handsome princes before and they’ve always turned into proper fairytales.’

      ‘Isn’t that a good thing?’

      ‘No – I mean Grimm.’ Seeing my face she quickly hid her mirth. ‘Sorry, bad joke.’

      I shook my head. ‘I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about him.’

      ‘Thank heaven you had the good sense to come here, then! Are you feeling OK now? Do you need anything?’

      ‘I’m fine …’

      Wren snapped her fingers. ‘Tea! That’s what you need – hot, strong, sweet tea!’ She jumped up and dashed into her smart-yet-bijou kitchen before I had a chance to protest. Cupboard doors banged, crockery clanked and spoons jangled in mugs as the one-woman whirlwind noisily prepared my unwanted beverage. ‘Tea is the best thing for shock, trust me. Or is that brandy? I can never remember …’

      ‘Tea will be fine, thanks,’ I called back quickly. The last thing I needed was Wren’s idea of a ‘shot’ of brandy (to everyone else, that’s about a quarter of a bottle). Despite her diminutive stature, Wren can drink more alcohol than me, Charlie and all our friends put together.

      Ugh, Charlie. In the craziness of the past hour, I had almost forgotten the gut-churningly awful reality of his reaction, but now it made its horrific return to my innards.

      ‘How did you leave things with Charlie?’ Wren asked, once she had thrust a scalding hot, impossibly sweet cup of tea into my hands.

      I shuddered as embarrassment launched another crushing onslaught on my guts. ‘I didn’t. I just legged it. I was so mortified, Wren. I mean, what on earth was I thinking, telling him how I felt?’

      Wren grimaced. ‘I bet you felt a right prat.’ Seeing my expression, she raised her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh, Rom, I’m sorry! That came out wrong.’

      ‘Don’t worry. It’s accurate. I just don’t understand how I got it so wrong.’

      ‘I don’t think you did – at least, that’s what all of us thought would happen, sooner or later. But you know Charlie. He’s a typical bloke, head goes straight in the sand the moment he’s challenged on anything. You know that.’

      Without thinking, I drank some tea, recoiling in horror as the high sugar content grated against my teeth. Wren completely misread my reaction and grinned with pride.

      ‘See, I told you tea was the answer.’

      Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I swallowed, even though every fibre of my being was screaming at me not to. ‘Thanks.’

      ‘You’re welcome. So did you get the bloke’s name?’

      I shook my head. ‘I just wish you could have been there. He was amazing – just calmly helped me while everyone else stared.’ I stood and walked over to the window to gaze out at the tiny slice of the cosmopolitan city heart outside. The afternoon light was fading as Christmas lights from the surrounding apartments, restaurants and bars were reflected in the canal four storeys below. Festive city revellers hurried by on the frozen towpath, muffled up against the arctic weather. ‘And he’s out there, somewhere, right now …’

      Wren appeared by my side, watching me carefully. ‘He’s really got to you, hasn’t he?’

      I nodded, the memory of his lips brushing mine suddenly bright in my mind. ‘I’m honestly not using this as a diversion. I want to find him again.’

      ‘Right. Come with me.’ Wren grabbed my hand and yanked me towards the front door.

      ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘To find him, of course!’

      ‘What? Wait …’

      ‘We can’t wait, Rom! We need to find him now!’

      ‘But we also need coats?’

      Wren looked down at her thin jumper, jeans and large pink fluffy slippers. ‘Ah. Absolutely. And then we’re going!’

      One of the things I love the most about Wren is her ability to get things done. Although the lightning-fast change in her attitude to my handsome stranger was a bit of a curveball, there was no doubting the fact that when Wren Malloy puts her mind to something, nothing can shake her from her chosen course of action.

      ‘Wren, it happened yesterday. He won’t be there,’ I protested as we flew along the canalside and across the bridge to the city centre.

      ‘I know. But there might still be some people around who remember him,’