Page 6 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘Yes, I did. That’s how I got your number.’

‘I assumed you were going to write a piece for The Local Echo.’ Maggie realized she was beginning to sound accusatory, but she didn’t care. Her beloved cat was missing. She’d invited this reporter into her home to help find him. Reaching across to a stack of old newspapers, she found the one she was looking for and thrust it at Flick. ‘Like this one. Look.’

Sure enough, there was an article Flick had written about a lost cat, entitled ‘He’s The Cat’s Whiskers’. Flick cringed at the headline. That had been her editor’s idea.

‘And you said you had some information,’ continued Maggie, refusing to give up.

‘Yes, I do. But it’s not about your missing cat.’

‘It’s not?’

Watching Maggie’s face crumple with disappointment, Flick felt a stab of guilt. This woman was obviously upset about her pet. She should have explained more on the phone. Been more honest. Not come here under false pretences.

But she also knew if she had, Maggie would never have agreed to talk to her.

‘So what is it about?’

Flick snapped back to see Maggie studying her suspiciously.

‘It’s in connection with a Mr Theo C. Stratin.’

At the mention of his name Maggie felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. Even now, over six months later, it was still so raw.

‘Is this a missing persons thing?’

Flick quickly side-stepped with the deftness of a politician. ‘I wondered what you could tell me about him?’

Maggie laced her fingers tightly around her mug. ‘Not much really. We were in a relationship, we broke up.’ She kept her voice even. ‘The rest, as they say, is history.’

‘I understand he scammed you out of your life savings.’

Boom. Maggie reeled.

‘Who told you that?’

‘It’s a small town. People talk.’

Maggie’s internal shutters came slamming down.

‘I’m sorry, but I think you should leave. There’s obviously been a misunderstanding.’

The caravan felt suddenly claustrophobic. Hastily, Maggie got up from the table and in her hurry she banged herself on the corner of the banquette and spilled her tea. Cursing under her breath, she rubbed her thigh furiously. She could feel the bruises beginning to form already.

Well, that went well. Watching her, Flick felt a stab of dismay as she put down her mug and reached for her bag. Mutely, she rose from her seat. Then paused. It was now or never.

‘You’re not the only one.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You’re not the only woman he’s romance scammed. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again.’

‘If you don’t mind.’

Clambering over the collapsed airer, Maggie’s foot caught in a bra strap, causing her to trip and bend down to unloop it. It was one of those T-shirt bras. Flesh-coloured with huge cups like giant jelly moulds. God, the indignity of it all. Standing upright, she glared at Flick, daring her to say anything.

‘All right, look, I know I should’ve been honest about why I wanted to talk to you, but I thought if I told you, you wouldn’t want to speak to me.’

Finally, Maggie lost her patience.