Page 12 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘Anyway –’ eager to move off this subject, Seymour quickly grasped on to another – ‘enough about work. Any summer holiday plans? I understand you’ve still got some annual leave to take before the end of August.’

‘Yes, two weeks.’

‘You know, if you don’t use it, you lose it.’

Flick noticed Seymour chuckle to himself, there was obviously a joke in there somewhere, but she didn’t get it.

‘I’d rather be at work to be honest.’

Seymour studied Flick. She reminded him a lot of his daughter, when she was that age. Ambitious. Opinionated. Fearless. Before the drugs knocked all the stuffing out of her and tore their family apart. He felt suddenly protective.

‘Look, I know you’re dedicated, but it’s all a work–life balance. Why don’t you take some time off? Go on holiday with that boyfriend of yours, whatsisname?’

‘Rory.’

‘You two must be quite serious by now.’ He raised an eyebrow.

Flick responded by returning the kind of smile she knew was required of her whenever anyone asked this question.

‘Anyway, I’m sure Simon and Tony can manage on the Features Desk. Summer’s always a quiet time for news.’ He smiled genially. ‘Think about it.’

‘I will.’ Flick nodded. But she didn’t need to think about it. She didn’t want a holiday. She wanted to break this story.

Pep talk over, Seymour threw the empty crisp packet in the bin and swung his legs back underneath his desk. It was Flick’s cue to leave and, standing up, she walked over to the door and reached for the handle.

‘Who is she anyway?’

Flick turned to see Seymour looking at her thoughtfully.

‘This poor woman who lost everything?’

‘Her name’s Maggie. She used to own a little art gallery in Bath. Apparently she was quite successful.’

‘And now she’s penniless and living in a caravan up on the Pennines?’ asked Seymour. ‘Why move up here?’

‘To be honest, I don’t think she had anywhere else to go.’

Shaking his head, Seymour let out a low whistle. ‘You just never know, do you? One wrong decision and your life’s over.’

Nothing to Lose

‘It’s been declined.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Your card. It’s been declined.’

Louder this time. The other people in the queue at the local farm shop turned to stare. Standing at the checkout, Maggie felt her face flush with embarrassment.

It was Friday afternoon, and she’d cycled to the local farm shop to buy a few groceries. Stock up for the weekend. Treat herself to a bottle of wine. At least that was the idea.

‘Sorry, my mistake, it must have expired, let me try another one.’

Now, with all eyes upon her, she rummaged around in her bag. God, why did she carry all this crap around? Finally she located her purse and hastily pulled out another credit card.

‘Here, this should work.’

As she held out her card, the teenage cashier gave her a blank look.