Page 114 of All Wrapped Up
What I still needed to do, just as I had intended to on the storm-filled night, was establish whether Jason had been right. I needed to find out if Ash was in love with me. I had no idea how he was going to respond to the suggestion, but I hoped that focusing on his feelings for a while might offer me some respite from constantly struggling with the shocking ones of mine that had now floated to the surface.
‘Come on, Pixie,’ I said, picking her up and refusing to overthink what I was about to do. ‘It’s time for some straight-talking. We’re going to the barn.’
I couldn’t help thinking that my little friend looked relieved. I daresay she’d had enough of being the only recipient of my rambling and soul-searching to last her a lifetime.
‘That’s a different truck,’ I muttered, when I pulled through the barn gate. ‘Do you think Ash has had a change of wheels, Pixie? Perhaps his other one is stuck in that mud-infested field.’
Mention of the field evoked a sudden rush of the sensations I had felt when I had spotted him, safe and sound, headingtowards Will the night of the rescue. My shocking lightbulb moment had certainly been a tempestuous one and I wondered then, as I stared blankly at the barn, if I was now doing the right thing. Was he going to laugh at what I was about to ask? Or be offended? Either response could ruin our recently repaired relationship, but which one would I prefer? And which one might help me get a handle on my own emotions?
So much for not overthinking…
‘Oh, let’s just get on with it, shall we?’ I said to Pixie.
She gave me another long-suffering look which I read to mean,I wish you would.
‘Come on then,’ I said. ‘And if I lose my bottle and don’t say anything, at least seeing him again will consolidate my feelings and I’ll know what I’m truly up against.’
With my mind made up to use Ash’s ownI just happened to be passingphrase as justification for my randomly dropping by, I unclipped Pixie from her harness and walked up the path to the door. My finger was poised to ring the doorbell when I saw, through the glass door side panel, an internal door open and a woman, wrapped in a rather small towel and with her wet hair snaking over her shoulders, walk out of what I presumed must be the bathroom. She was laughing and said something over her shoulder to whoever she was with. Obviously, I didn’t watch for long enough to see who that was.
‘Shit,’ I muttered, as I picked Pixie up to aid a speedier and hopefully invisible getaway. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.’
I tiptoed back along the path and launched Pixie on to the passenger seat.
‘I’ll strap you in, in a minute,’ I told her and rushed around to the driver’s side, but to no avail.
‘Hello!’ called the woman from the now open barn door. ‘Are you looking for Ash? Only he’s—’
‘No, no,’ I immediately interjected because I absolutely did not need to hear her explanation of where he was. ‘I’m not. In fact, I don’t know who that is. I’ve just realised I’ve got the wrong place. So sorry to have disturbed you.’
I left her looking bewildered as with more speed than grace I reversed the Land Rover back on to the road and shot off.
‘Oh well, Pixie,’ I said, trying to jolly her as well as myself along. ‘That’s one thing less for us to have to worry about, isn’t it? And at least I know now what I have to do. I’ll soon be able to shrug off unrequited love, won’t I? Not that Ireallythink it was love. More like a silly crush or something.’
Pixie looked flummoxed as a result of being tossed about. And while I should have been feeling relieved that Ash had another woman in his shower and I wasn’t going to have to further battle my guilty feelings for him, I wasn’t comforted at all. What I actually was, was jealous. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying and sternly told myself that it would soon pass. I just needed to find something else to focus on, like the festival, while I got myself back in check and slotted Ash back into the friendzone he had no idea I’d pulled him out of.
‘Ash did tell you that he had room in his life for more than one woman, didn’t he?’ I said desperately to my canine chum. ‘And now we know what he meant, don’t we?’
Ash might not turn out be a one-woman man, but I was still a one-man woman and would always remain so.
I headed into town bright and early the next morning, with a slightly forced spring in my step and wearing a slightly strainedsmile to match it. I had taken my time over my hair, make up and outfit selection – brown low-heeled boots, jeans, a cashmere cream coloured sweater and leaf patterned scarf – and looked the best I could under the circumstances. My emotions were still swirling all over the place if left unchecked for three seconds together, but as long as I didn’t run into Ash and his mermaid companion, I thought I’d be fine.
‘So, families will be carving and painting their pumpkins in here,’ I said, as I swept efficiently through the town hall, with a clipboard and pen in my grasp, ‘and adults will be carving outside in the square, once the votes have been cast for the favourite dog outfit.’
The yarn bombers had really gone to town, knitting their selection of autumn outfits for dog owners to pick and dress their pooches in before taking to the catwalk. Or should that have been dogwalk?
I had attempted to turn Pixie into a crocheted pumpkin but just as I had suspected she would, she flatly refused to play ball and was now simply, and begrudgingly, wearing an autumn patterned bandana. I wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive me for tying it to her little head, but as the pooch belonging to the festival organiser, it felt important that she should play some part.
‘That’s it,’ said Kathleen, another town local who was as organised as I was and had tweaked the itinerary when some parents told her their children would rather paint than carve their pumpkins. ‘Warm drinks and snacks in here and on the market, and judging, for the carving competition after the dogs have been put through their fashionable places, happening at the end of the day.’
‘Super,’ I nodded, giving another item on my list a big tick. ‘And who will be serving the drinks and snacks in here?’
‘Only Dorothy, who is the cook from Wynthorpe Hall,’ Kathleen told me. ‘So, we might need to draft your deputy in to help with that if it gets really busy.’
‘No need to bother him with it,’ I said breezily. ‘I’m here. I can drop Pixie off at the gallery to stay with Lizzie and do it if needs be.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said as Lizzie herself then rushed in with a tray of paints and brushes.
