The Songbird and the Soldier by Wendy Lou Jones Page A

lady for the dress and folded it carefully into her backpack. Then she scooted off home, ravenously hungry, as with all the excitement she had forgotten to eat any breakfast.
    Pulling up outside her house, Sam noticed there was someone sitting on her doorstep. It was a man. She stopped the bike at the gate and got off, removing her helmet before she spoke. The man stood up and smiled and she realised who it was and was struck dumb.
    “Hello, Sam.”
    Sam’s heart almost exploded, it was hammering so hard in her chest. Her hands began to tremble and her mouth went dry. “You… you’re early.”
    “Yes,” he said.
    “You weren’t meant to be here until Friday. I’m not ready.”
    “Oh, sorry. I just thought… It was stupid. I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”
    Sam’s brain had stopped. She had no idea what to say to make things right. It was as if her brain was screaming inside her head, but nothing intelligible was coming out, so she said nothing, just continued to stare at him.
    Andy picked up his rucksack and started to leave.
    “No! No. It’s all right. Stay, please.” Sam stepped closer, her hands out to block his exit. “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” She stepped past him towards the door and fumbled for the keys in her pocket. His body was only inches away from hers. She stepped inside and was greeted by an enthusiastic Humphrey. He yapped and jumped up at her, pleased to see her back, but Andy paused on the doorstep. “Come on in, please. I’m sorry, I must seem so rude. Don’t mind Humph.”
    “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I left? I can come back on Friday if you prefer, or…”
    “Stay,” Sam said.
    Andy held her gaze for a moment and then looked about him for somewhere to set down his things.
    “Here, let me.” Sam’s body froze as in trying to help him with his bag, his arm brushed against hers. She breathed deeply and tried to hold on to her composure. Humphrey gave Andy a bit of a sniff and Andy patted him fondly, then Humphrey trotted back over to be with Sam. Sam showed Andy where to set his bag down, in an alcove under the stairs and walked across the kitchen. Busy, busy, busy, she thought. If she could keep herself occupied she might just get through this. The attraction on her side was no longer in any doubt at all. She was in bits around him already and he hadn’t even touched her yet. But he was so calm and relaxed. Sam wondered if he was feeling anything approaching the level of nerves that she was suffering. “Coffee? Tea?” she asked.
    “Er, tea, please.” Andy stood leaning against the kitchen doorframe looking in and watching her as she clunked and clattered about nervously. He was taller than she remembered and his eyes seemed fathomless as they gazed at her. She couldn’t look back, her nerves wouldn’t let her. He was out of her league and probably far better than she deserved.
    “Were you waiting long?” she asked.
    “About an hour,” he said.
    “An hour? I’m so sorry. If I’d known I’d–”
    “It’s fine. It’s a nice day. I didn’t mind.”
    “God, I’ve just realised, I haven’t got any food in the house to feed you. I was going to do that this afternoon, but–”
    “I turned up unannounced. Sorry. If it helps, I’m not hungry.”
    “I might have a biscuit around here somewhere.” Sam began to search high and low for something, anything to feed to Andy.
    He watched her from the doorway.
    “I’ve got some digestives.” She looked around. “There’s bread. I could make you a toasted sandwich, you’ve gotta love a Breville. Or a butty? I must have some bacon in here somewhere.” Sam looked in the fridge and then opened and closed two more cupboards. “What about some…”
    Andy moved inside and settled a hand on her arm. “I’m fine.” His hand lingered and seared its mark on her skin.
    Sam’s mind was racing, her body felt like it was running a marathon and she was desperate not to look a fool in front of him.