Page 25 of On Circus Lane

I flash a curious glance at him. His cheekbones redden.

Freddy’s brow furrows, and it’s completely obvious he knows Tom’s lying. Tom’s body screams fitness. But Freddy just nods gravely. “You take your time, then.”

“Thanks, mate,” Tom says serenely.

Freddy touches his fingers to his forehead in an amiable salute and vanishes up the stairs again.

We stand for a few seconds, and I try to think of something entertaining to say. But all I can concentrate on is Tom’s warm, fresh smell and how the wind ruffles his brown hair and shows red strands glinting like fire in the odd winter light. I shiver.

He scans my body. “That jacket is way too thin. Please tell me you brought another coat with you?”

“Shall I do that right after confessing my winter holiday outfit choices consist of five pairs of board shorts and a T-shirt that says, ‘Bad Boys Always Have a Good Summer’?”

His laughter is loud and hearty and makes my lips twitch. Finally, he sobers. “Really?”

I nod. “I’m also good if anyone needs to self-tan to the shade of a pecan nut.”

That sets him off again. He smiles at me. “We need to go shopping.”

“Oh, joy to the world.”

He glances upward. “Prepared to do more steps?”

“Does King Charles like a good roller disco?”

He holds out his arm. “Ready, darling?”

Even though it’s a joke, my heart skips a beat. I stow my inhaler and take his arm. “Thank you, Sir Galahad.”

He chuckles, but I can’t help but feel that he is indeed a knight, intent on riding to my rescue.

Keeping to a steady pace, we climb the steps. Towards the top, we’re more akin to a husky pulling a sleigh, but we reach the final step without me having a heart attack, so that’s a win.

I look around. We’re on another wind-blown cobbled street.

Tom smiles at me. “Okay?”

“Thank you,” I say.

He gives me another courtly gesture. Then, when Freddy shouts his name, he lopes off towards his friend. I watch him go regretfully and then clear my expression as Ivy comes up next to me.

“How lovely of Tom to help you,” she says sweetly. “In the future please never,everentertain me with your instant judgements on people.”

“Stow it, Mother Teresa.”

We wander down a pretty street, with frequent stops for the group to vanish into shops. I stay outside, looking around and resting my feet. I’d thought my Converse were worn in, but wearing them for a short walk to the corner shop, the pub, or the university doesn’t qualify them for a route march, and blisters are already forming.

I lift my feet a little, wincing as I discover one of those blisters might have burst already.Fuck.

Tom comes towards me, and my heart accelerates. I pat my pockets for my inhaler just in case, but my breathlessness seems to be Tom-generated rather than asthma.

“What do you think?” he asks, gesturing at our surroundings. His eyes are very intent for such a plain question.

“It’s lovely,” I say, looking at the tartan shop we’re currently standing outside. Sal, Ivy, Steven, Georgina, and Theo have been in there for a while and show no signs of emerging anytime soon.

“There’s more to Edinburgh than shops. It has layers,” he says. He glances at Freddy and Jack, who are on their phones as they wait for the others. Tom tugs my sleeve. “Come and look at this.” I follow him a few yards down the road until he comes to a narrow opening between two grand old houses. Two carvedlions guard the entrance, their paint making them bright and charming. “Through here.”

I follow him, intrigued.

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