Page 43 of Daydreams & Doughnut Cake

But did Iwantto move on? Without Mark?

I really wasn’t sure about that.

Was it just the guilt that was holding me back, though?

I hadn’t been altogether truthful with Ellie back there. I’d declared that I felt nothing but friendship towards Danny. But that night when we were together, it had felt... right, somehow. I’d had a lot to drink but I wasn’t drunk enough that I couldn’t remember how good it felt to be held by him and to feel his passion.

Of course, I’d been denying it ever since because it was just too shocking to face – that I had actually felt something for him.

A lot of my guilt was to do with the fact that ithadbeen good that night between Danny and me. Because of his illness, Mark and I hadn’t had sex for a really long time.

But it wasn’t just because of that. There had been realfeelingthere – and that, I supposed, was why I was finding it so impossibly hard to forgive myself for what happened that night.

The idea that Danny had had feelings for me all these years was quite an emotional one. Tears sprang to my eyes as I drove along, just thinking about that. And yet it had been Danny who’d had the strength to try and call a halt to our kisses, not me.

The morning after, I’d sent him away, not wanting to talk about it, even though he thought we should.

I’d pretty much dismissed him after extracting a promise that we’d never talk about what happened between us. Ever. Because I felt so ashamed.

A few days later, I left Brighton for good with Amelie, unable to stay in a place that had memories around every corner. Great memories of my days with Mark – but also those oh-so-shameful memories of how I’d disgraced myself and soiled his memory by sleeping with his best friend...

I hadn’t once stopped to think about how Danny might be feeling as I sent him away.

And yet it was clear he hadn’t held a grudge over my treatment of him. Seeing him again, he was the same as he’d always been towards me, and I wondered how I could ever have thought he could have sent me those horrible anonymous letters.

He was the same Danny as he ever was, loved by everyone who met him... warm, funny and unstintingly supportive towards people he cared about...

*****

When I arrived to pick up Amelie, Angela was making cupcakes with the two girls, so I stayed until they were out of the oven and had cooled down. Then of course we had to sample one each, Angela and I with a cup of tea.

I was feeling exhausted after such an emotional day, but Angela was a good talker and highly amusing with it, so I was able to just sit there at the kitchen table and mostly listen to the three of them chattering away, telling me what they’d been doing.

Amelie yawned repeatedly in the car on the way home and went off to bed quite happily for once, falling asleep halfway through her bedtime story.

I kissed her soft cheek and retreated, pulling her door to and walking slowly downstairs. I needed an early night, I decided. I’d just make myself some scrambled eggs on toast and retire to bed with a book.

Crossing to the kitchen window, I reached up to pull down the blind, and my heart leapt with shock.

The dark figure in a hoodie was bending down by the van, which I’d parked right outside the house.

Anger rose in my chest as I saw what they were doing.

Whoever it was had trashed my food for the market and broken my beautiful vase. And now they were letting the van’s tyres down!

Well, they weren’t going to get away with it this time.

I grabbed my keys and dashed out of the house, remembering to pull the door closed this time. Then I ran out to confront the stranger.

Hearing my footsteps, the person suddenly reared up and started running away.

‘Hey, come back! What do you think you’re doing? I’m calling the police!’ I yelled, as I charged after them.

Two people were walking towards us and as I raced along the pavement, I realised it wasn’t going to end well for the intruder. Sure enough, in trying to avoid the person racing towards them, the couple stepped the wrong way and they all collided, my quarry ending up on the ground.

‘Sorry,’ I panted, as the pair hurried away.

The figure on the floor was cradling an ankle, as if they’d injured it, so I took the opportunity to bend and whip off the hood so I could finally see the face of my antagonist.

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