Daring To Date Her Ex. Annie Claydon

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trashed all the values and ideals that had meant so much to him, then he really wasn’t the person she’d once known. If he could pretend that it didn’t matter, he was nothing to her.

      She texted back her reply, together with the contact number for the newspaper reporter. Then she grabbed her coat and bag and made for the hospital car park.

      The house was easy to find. It had to be the smallest in the road but it was still imposing enough, and stood next to the house that Thea had been to when she and Lucas had visited his parents. Travelling the world, eh? He hadn’t gone very far.

      Even the dividing fence between his house and his parents’ had been taken out, one drive serving both properties now. Thea parked in the space next to Lucas’s car and took a moment to steady herself.

      Climbing plants wound around the Victorian-style portico of his front door, and instead of a bell there was a heavy brass knocker in the shape of a dolphin. Almost as soon as she knocked on the door, it opened.

      A teenage girl answered. Dark-eyed, with dark hair, she looked suspiciously like Lucas, but none of the sums added up. The girl was definitely a good bit more than seven years old. The thought that Lucas had been even more of a fraud that she’d bargained for floated into Thea’s mind.

      ‘Thea?’ The girl grinned at her as if she knew her. ‘Come in.’

      She stepped into a large hallway and the girl closed the front door behind her. ‘You don’t know who I am, do you? I’m Ava.’

      ‘Lucas’s niece?’ The last time she’d seen Ava she had been six years old, and they’d played football together in the back garden while Lucas and his brother had argued about medical aid in the developing world.

      ‘Yes.’ When Ava smiled, she looked even more like Lucas. ‘I suppose I have changed a bit.’

      ‘It’s so nice to see you, Ava.’ It was such a relief to see her. Unless Lucas had another surprise hostess tucked up his sleeve somewhere. ‘You’re staying with your uncle?’

      ‘I live here.’ Ava wheeled around with impetuous energy. ‘I’ll show you around.’

      ‘Thank you. Where’s Lucas?’

      ‘Out back, lighting the barbecue. I’d stay clear if I were you. I always do.’ Ava danced back towards Thea, leaning in close as if she had a secret to impart. ‘He’s not very good at it.’

      ‘Which naturally makes him cross.’ Lucas never had liked being outmatched by anything.

      ‘Yep. He gets over it. When we see smoke signals coming over the horizon, it’ll be safe to come out of hiding.’ Ava opened one of the doors leading from the hallway. ‘Sitting room.’

      Thea peered past Ava into the comfortable, bright sitting room. ‘Very nice.’

      ‘Dining room …’ Ava was on to the next room before Thea had a chance to even cross the threshold of the first.

      ‘Equally nice.’ Thea grinned at her.

      ‘Kitchen …’ Another door, which revealed a gleaming kitchen. ‘We won’t go in there.’

      ‘Very wise. Leave the cooking to Lucas.’

      ‘Do you remember when we roasted chestnuts in the fire on Bonfire Night?’ Ava didn’t stop for an answer. ‘Would you like to see my room?’

      ‘I’d love to. If you’d like to show it to me.’ Thea draped her coat over the banisters and put her heavy bag down in the corner. She felt suddenly lighter as she followed Ava up the stairs and into a large, stylishly decorated room.

      ‘I went on holiday with Gran and Grandpa, and when I got back Lucas had decorated it as a surprise. What do you think?’

      ‘It’s beautiful. He did all this?’

      Ava nodded. ‘Yes. He said that I needed something a bit different now that I’m older. I think it’s turned out pretty well.’

      ‘It’s very sophisticated. I like the curtains.’ A bold, confident pattern of yellow, purple and green, the shades somehow blending perfectly together.

      ‘It’s an old fifties print. We went up to town to look at some fabrics. Lucas said it was for the conservatory.’

      ‘And you fell for it.’ Thea grinned.

      ‘He’s good with surprises, he never lets on.’

      ‘No, he doesn’t, does he?’ The time that Lucas had started driving, saying that they were going out for a pub lunch, and hadn’t stopped until they’d reached the ferry for France. When they’d reached dry land again they’d driven all night and watched the sun come up over the bright, glittering waters of the Mediterranean.

      That was the old Lucas. The one who would have taken such delight in planning a surprise like this. The one that Thea had told herself was lost for ever.

      Ava was gazing down, out of the window, and opened it in response to something below. Lucas’s voice floated upwards, along with a puff of charcoal smoke.

      ‘Are you listening for the door, Ava?’

      ‘Yes.’ Ava shut the window again abruptly and Thea suppressed a smile. What was it Lucas used to say? If you want the right answers, you have to ask the right questions.

      Maybe she should take that advice too. But if she wanted to know why Ava was living here and not with her parents, she should either wait for Ava to volunteer the information or ask Lucas.

      ‘That’s a great place to work.’ She pointed to the desk, which sat in deep bay window on the far side of the room.

      ‘Yeah. I think that was a hint.’ Ava grinned wryly.

      ‘Exams next year?’ Thea couldn’t remember whether Ava was fourteen or fifteen now.

      ‘No, two years. I’m choosing my GCSE subjects now.’

      She must be fourteen, then. ‘What do you want to do?’

      ‘History. I’m not sure about the rest, yet. I want to be an archaeologist.’

      ‘That sounds great.’

      ‘I’ve already been on a dig—last summer. They didn’t let us do much on our own, but it was pretty cool.’ Ava’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. ‘Look.’

      She grabbed Thea’s hand and led her over to the desk. Inside the alcove, a pinboard was fixed to the wall, covered in photographs. ‘That’s Lucas and me, with my find.’

      Lucas had his arm around Ava’s shoulders and they were both pulling faces for the camera. Suddenly, seven years seemed like nothing. His hair looked as if it had been styled by the wind, and he was wearing a rock-band T-shirt that had seen better days. Longing reached into her stomach, gripped hard and then twisted.

      ‘That’s fabulous.’

      ‘Isn’t it? It’s Samian ware. That’s high-quality pottery from Italy or France that

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