‘Thank you, Tom, for the water. I don’t think we’re suited,’ I say icily.
‘Don’t tease, honey,’ he says and, unbelievably, he’s still smiling, still convinced this is salvageable. ‘With no man at home, you must be lonely...’
‘I have my husband’s olddouble-barrelled shotgun,’ I lie. ‘It keeps people away and I’m never lonely.’ I starefull-on at Tom: ‘I’m an excellent shot,’ I say. The whole thing is a lie: there is no gun but I am suddenly furious that this complete stranger has invaded my personal space, touched me inappropriately and lied solidly to get me here.
Holding my head high, I march out to the car, daring him to come after me. I swear, I will kick him in the nuts if he attempts it.
I’m halfway home before I stop shaking and I realise that this was a horrible encounter. Liars cannot be trusted, no matter howsmiley-faced they are.
Mum reaches the hall as soon as she hears me unlock the front door. She takes in my face, which I know has two bright red patches on my cheeks – I always get red in the face when I’m shocked or angry.
‘Not so good?’ she asks tentatively.
I lean down to hug her.
‘Oh Mum, it was awful. He lied about his age, looked nothing like his photo, had a wig ... And he ran his hand down my back and up my leg,andpinged my bloody bra strap. One minute we were talking, the next: ping!’
‘Bastard!’ she says, shocking me. Mum never swears.
‘Why did I let Shazz and Christie convince me to do this?’ I say into the warmth of her shoulder.
‘Because you’re ready,’ Mum says softly. ‘You’ve grieved for long enough. There’s no time limit on grief and you had so much to grieve, but you are ready for someone else in your life, someone to hug, someone to hold you and make you feel like a woman again. Though this Internet thing might not be the way...’
‘No, it isn’t,’ I say, shuddering.
She leads me into the kitchen where the puppies are in their bed but come awake and waddle out of the cage to see me.
I sink onto the floor and Sausage tries to climb my leg, ripping the hated slinky tights as she does so.
‘You little darlings,’ I croon and they lick every bit of my face they can reach, making their happy little puppy noises. ‘I don’t think I am ready, Mum,’ I say. ‘This is enough – Luke, me, you, my friends and these little angels.’
‘No, you are ready,’ Mum repeats. ‘Let’s try theold-fashioned way of finding someone.’
‘Blind dates? Remember crazy Ed and the man who was married who thought I was his?’
‘They were disasters,’ Mum says, boiling the kettle. ‘No, there must be nice men out there somewhere and I have plenty of women friends with sons and nephews and contacts who will know someone.’
‘What are you going to say?’ I ask. ‘My daughter is desperate–’
‘No,’ Mum interrupts firmly. ‘I’m going to say that my beautiful daughter, whom many have admired, has finally finished grieving her husband and that she might welcome a lovely man to take her to dinner.’
‘I draw the line at wigs,’ I say. ‘I’d far prefer someone who was bald and honest than someone with a bad wig. I’m too old to be in a relationship with someone who can’t be honest with himself, never mind with me.’
‘Good thought to start with,’ says Mum, making tea and smiling her Cheshire Cat smile, which only comes out when she’s got a plan. ‘Leave it to me, darling. Just leave it to me.’
PART TWO
Christmas Lights Sparkling
20
Marin
Ma has a task for me. She wants me to phone Dom’s beleaguered wife, Sue.
‘Talk to Sue and tell her we want her here for Christmas,’ commands my mother early one morning, as I’m shaking off my coat after arriving into work. It’s freezing, the week before Christmas and I don’t want to be here and I don’t want to be in the middle of my mother’s nefarious plan.
I nearly hadn’t answered the call, but some Pavlovian response made me.
