Page 24 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘They call that the butterfly effect,’ nodded Maggie.

As she spoke a brightly coloured butterfly landed on the condiments on their table. They watched it briefly flapping its wings before it flew away again.

‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s a sign.’

‘I don’t believe in signs. After Mum died, every time my Auntie Pam saw a white feather, she’d say it was her.’ Flick rolled her eyes. ‘People fool themselves to make themselves feel better.’

Maggie looked at Flick. In her crop top and denim shorts, she appeared the embodiment of young and carefree, but she was anything but.

‘I’m sorry. About your mum.’

‘Thanks. It’s OK.’ Flick attempted to shrug it off. ‘It’s been over six months now.’

‘Six months isn’t very long, especially when it’s a parent. I lost my dad two years ago. It still feels like yesterday.’

They both looked at each other across the table, for the first time realizing they shared a common bond.

‘It wasn’t long after that I met Him.’

‘Perfect timing.’

Flick was being sarcastic, but Maggie missed the sarcasm and sighed.

‘It certainly felt that way at the time. I was so sad and then there was this man who made me smile again.’

‘From everything I’ve read, romance fraudsters target women when they’re vulnerable.’

‘Can someone really be that cold-hearted and manipulative?’

Sitting across from her, Flick felt a flash of pity. Could someone really be so naive?

It wasn’t really a question. Maggie already knew the answer, but even now, a big part of her still couldn’t believe it.

‘Well, that’s what we’re here to find out,’ replied Flick as a waiter appeared at their table to take their order.

They both looked at the menus. Maggie wasn’t very hungry and ordered a small salad. Flick was starving but felt nauseous at the prices and ordered a small salad too. To drink they ordered tap water. The waiter looked pissed off. Cheap tourists. Pah.

Dumping down a breadbasket, he scooped up the menus with a flick of his wrist and quickly headed over to check on the table of six drinking champagne and eating lobster.

Flick dived on the bread and immediately begin buttering.

Maggie watched her enviously. She didn’t have an appetite. Her stomach was still off. For a few moments she could fool herself they were on holiday but there was a more serious reason why they were there, and it was making her deeply anxious.

‘Tracking him down and exposing him is one thing, but why on earth do you think he would agree to talk to a journalist?’

‘Because you’ve agreed.’

Reminded, Maggie’s chest tightened. Was it too late to change her mind when she was in Monte Carlo at a fancy restaurant having lunch with the journalist all expenses paid? She sipped her water and wished she’d ordered wine.

‘And from my experience, everyone wants to tell their side of the story; their truth, even if it’s a pack of lies . . . criminals especially always seem eager to give you their version of events.’

Maggie nodded while wondering if she should voice her doubts.

‘He didn’t want to answer the questions the police wanted to ask him.’

‘That’s different. No one wants to talk to the police,’ replied Flick, pulling a face. ‘Not even the innocent. Though to be honest, once you get to know the person behind the uniform they’re just like us.’

Flick thought about Police Constable Khan down at her local station. They were on first name terms. She’d got to know Tariq over several years and had become quite friendly. He was actually quite attractive, now she came to think about it. She quickly shoved the thought out of her mind. She had a serious boyfriend, remember? One who’d texted her this morning and she’d promised to call later.