Aidan?
What’s he doing here? What can he want to say to me that hehasn’t already said?
I pull on my dressing gown, nip to the mirror, shake out myhair and dive to the top of the stairs, then I rush back to examine myreflection up close. Chocolate smear despatched (from earlier comfort eating),I run down the stairs and pull open the door.
‘Hi. Sorry. I saw the light was on.’ He shrugsapologetically.
‘It’s fine. I was just going to bed.’
He nods, looking pensive as if he has something on his mind.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask.
He takes a deep breath and blows it out. ‘Not really. Infact, no. Everything’s far from all right.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I liked seeing you tonight, Kenzie. More than liked. AndI’ve spent the last few hours sitting on a park bench, thinking about you.’
‘You have?’ My heart starts bumping around hopefully.
He nods. ‘I’m not sure how you feel. Maybe you think I’m amassive knobhead for yelling at you outside the restaurant that time. And nottelling you that Peg was dying... making you think you couldhave done something to save her.’
‘Not at all.’ I shake my head. ‘I’d never think of you as amassive knobhead, Aidan.’
‘Just a small knobhead, then?’
‘Not even a small one.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ he says, a hint of a smileappearing.
‘Except... well, we haven’t ruled outmedium-sized.’ I venture a little grin myself to show that I’m joking.
‘A medium-sized knobhead.’ He nods cheerfully. ‘Yes, I cango with that.’
‘Do you want to come in?’ I stand aside, but he shakes hishead.
‘Thanks, but no. I just came here to say that I’m glad we’refriends. But –’ He runs a hand distractedly through his hair. ‘That day, wereyou really rescuing your friends when you drove away?’
‘Yes. Yes, I was.’
He shrugs. ‘Sorry. I want to believe you, Kenzie. I reallydo.’
‘You don’t need to apologise,’ I jump in swiftly. ‘I haven’texactly earned your trust, keeping something so huge from you for so long.’
He smiles sadly. ‘The thing is, I’m not great at trustingpeople. I guess it stems from having my heart broken and trodden into theground by my last girlfriend. I suppose what I’m saying is: I want to believeyou. But how do I know you reallywerehelping your friends? For all Iknow, the story about you helping them to escape from a bullying boyfriendcould just be something you made up on the spur of the moment. To explain awayyour actions to me.’
I nod slowly. ‘Except it wasn’t.’ I pull the door wide.‘Come in. I’ve got something to show you.’
*****
He comes in and stands in the middle of the living room,staring around him in amazement.
‘You really do love Christmas, then.’ He smiles at me. ‘Doesthis lot stay up all year round, or are you just mind-bogglingly premature withyour festive preparations?’
I draw a breath to calm myself. ‘This isn’t for me. Notentirely. It’s for a little girl called Poppy. I’ve no idea where she is now.She and her mum Rachel, who was my best friend, vanished one day with the bullyI told you about, and I haven’t seen them since. But Poppy once made me promiseto keep my Christmas decorations up all the time, I think because they gave hera sense of comfort and stability in a life that included a man who had a nasty,vicious temper and was handy with his fists.’ I look down as flash-backs tothat terrible time in our lives start to crowd in. ‘So I keep my promise toPoppy in the hope that one day, she’ll come back.’
I shrug, trying to smile through my tears.
