‘Fine. Totally fine with me. It’s a relief, in fact. Now I can focus on my future career and meeting someone who appreciates me.’
And my mung beans and lentils and other amazingly healthy pulsey things. Although right this minute she’dkillfor a bacon buttie and something strong and alcoholic. A Bucks Fizz or a mean Bloody Mary. Anything to take the edge off her humiliation at being gazumped at the eleventh hour.
Several hours later and Tabitha was feeling slightly better. A glass or two – or three – had nicely numbed the pain. And chewing her way through two rounds of Tesco’s finest smoked bacon encased in slabs of sliced white slathered in butter had helped too. Maybe not her cholesterol levels but who gave a flying fig about that right now? She was young, she was single and the world was her oyster. Or lobster, as Aunt Celeste was prone to saying.
She’d had a little snooze, curled up on the sofa like an ageing tabbie. Bollocks, not the cat analogy again! Woken up with a mild headache and a sense of being wounded but not defeated. Tabitha metaphorically prodded her heart. Definitely bruised, but broken? Probably not. Being dumped by Tom wasn’t up there in her Top Ten moments to cherish but in a way, it was a relief. She was just a bit cheesed off she hadn’t been the one to do the dumping. More wounded ego than anything else. Although the fact he was heading off on holiday with his newfound love did grate a little. More than a little.
’You’re going to Hong Kong with someone you’ve barely known five minutes? Are youkidding? We were together eighteen months and the most I got was a dirty weekend inBath. Pardon the pun. And that was only because you had to attend that boring travel expo thingy. Remember? So, I saw you for about three hours in the evening and you were too shagged out – or pissed – to do very much.’
Tom had at least looked sheepish as she’d ranted on, furiously stuffing his clothes into a suitcase. He had disappeared into the bathroom, emerging with a pathetic handful of toiletries and a well-worn toothbrush. They hadn’t accumulated much together as a couple. A few cheap wall prints, some DVDs, a set of kitchen knives. Tom had assured he didn’t want any of it (and was certainlynotgoing for custody of the spiraliser).
So, what now? She was officially single again and free to see anyone she wanted. The problem was, eligible, hunky bachelors weren’t exactly queueing around the block, in her experience. Her mum had finally started dating again, although was being incredibly coy about the details. Meryl was totally loved up with Miroslaw and her aunt Celeste had always seemed very happy in her marriage to Uncle Michael. She’d just never been that close to either of them. She’d never quite understood her aunt’s reluctance to having children (although she knew that not everyone was cut out for motherhood). The topic of Michael’s first marriage and child was a touchy one, her mum warning her many years ago that the subject was taboo. Tabitha just knew that her own biological clock was ticking away in the background. Not loudly but ever-present. She adored babies and grew positively misty-eyed when a new mum wheeled her little bundle of joy into the shop.
It wasn’t something she’d ever really contemplated for herself but Tabitha wondered if online dating was worth considering. She’d tried to persuade her mum – without success – but Meryl had eventually found her prince after a few frog encounters. Surely there was no harm in just looking,for goodness sake! It wasn’t like she had to bare her soul – or anything else – in the first place. Just sign up, log in and fill out a few pertinent details. Then see what, or who, popped up.
Tabitha decided to steer clear of the site where Meryl had met more than her fair share of disasters. She opted for another, entitled Cupid’s Bow, that claimed the highest match rate on the internet. Yeah, right. How could they possibly calculate that? Did its members have to pledge to supply a blow by blow account of their successful encounters, maybe even invite the company founders to their weddings? Still, the sitelookedimpressive and was easy to navigate. It was offering a one-month free trial. All she had to do was complete a questionnaire and upload a photo. This was optional but Tabitha figured she scrubbed up pretty well. She had a good one of her and Tom together at a party a few months ago which was particularly flattering. A quick crop and the traitorous one was history.
OK, this might be alittlenaughty but Tabitha also created a profile for her mum, but without a photo. She was just curious who might pop up as potential life partners for both of them. She had texted Emily several times begging for details about her new man, but been fobbed off with excuses.
A lot on my plate, darling. Be in touch soon xx.
That was a few days ago so she didn’t know about Tom, although it wasn’t going to be acompletesurprise following their last conversation. So, a lot to catch up with on both sides.
After a few minutes of the system processing Tabitha’s data – her Five Point Test had come in handy as a guide to her wants and absolute turn-offs – a series of profiles became available for her perusal. She sped-read through them, immediately dismissing several as no-hopers. One listed a Crime Watch-worthy physical description of hisideal woman. As she had neither Pamela Anderson’s boobs nor Gillian Anderson’s hair colour they were destined never to meet. Another related his tales of romantic woe, including his recent divorce and how he’d been hurt countless times by heartless women in the past. There was one who looked promising from his photo – cute face, curly dark hair, nice smile – but his written profile was littered with grammatical errors and an abundance of LOLs. Like her mum, Tabitha was a stickler for good grammar and spelling. Maybe he had an awesome personality but clearly couldn’t write for toffee. Another “no”.
Grabbing a quick cup of tea, Tabitha returned to the screen and switched to possible candidates for her mum. She had no idea really how Emily would describe herself on a dating site but she’d tried to be as accurate as possible. Her mum was both attractiveandsmart, with a great sense of humour. She’d seen how men would look at her when they were out together. Not so long ago a thirty-something guy had asked if they were sisters! Emily had laughed and asked if he’d been to SpecSavers recently. Self-deprecation was another of her characteristics, not necessarily the best one when it came to meeting men.
Scanning the available photos Tabitha was grabbed by a distinguished-looking gent who was into rock climbing, fine dining and wanted to meet a lady ‘who makes me laugh but isn’t afraid to poke fun at herself. Nobody’s perfect – least of all me – but I believe there’s someone out there to share life’s journey with. Bumps and all.’ Ooh, promising, she thought. If things don’t work out with Emily’s current squeeze then … Tabitha accidentally hit the forward key and another image filled the screen. Hang on a sec, didn’thelook rather familiar? She squinted at the photo. It was a bit blurry and dark. She peered closer. Oh shit. Oh no. Itcouldn’tbe, could it? She hastily read through the accompanying profile.
‘My name is Martin and I’m looking for love. Who isn’t? I’m keen on cooking, movies and romantic weekends in the countryside. Looks are less important than being on the same wavelength. I just want to meet someone who I can share things with and who feels like the missing half of me.’
Tabitha could feel herself shaking with a mixture of disbelief and rage. Calm down, she told herself. Perhaps this was an ancient profile and he’d simply neglected to take it down. She checked the date when it was posted. Less than two weeks ago. Right, officially a complete and utter cheating bastard. Martin – aka Miroslaw – was doing the dirty on the lovely Meryl. Which one was his real name? Maybe neither. Perhaps he had a long list of fake identities which he used to attract unsuspecting women. But why? What was his motive? Was he just a serial philanderer who notched up conquests and moved on? Or was there something more sinister going on?
She felt genuinely devastated for her boss and good friend. Meryl had a heart of gold and always saw the best in people and was forever performing little acts of kindness. Like knocking a few pounds off the price of an item in the shop if she suspected the customer was struggling to gather together change in their purse. Or, more recently, arranging a surprise birthday party for a woman she barely knew but had felt desperately sorry for. She would becrushedto discover the man she was seeing was a two-faced liar with a hidden agenda. Tabitha really,reallydidn’t want to be the bearer of such horrible news. But she knew she couldn’t keep her stomach-churning discovery to herself. That would be cruel and unfair. She prayed that it wouldn’t be a case of shooting the messenger. That Meryl would ultimately be grateful and glad to see the back of Miroslaw/Martin/whatever else the slimy toad called himself.
Meryl had also woken earlyafter a disturbed night of tossing and turning. Forsaking her fennel tea for an eye-opening double espresso she turned on her computer. Accessing her e-banking details she clicked on her private savings account. Current balance just over £25,000. Gosh, that was more than she thought. She'd set it up in such a way that a fixed sum from her current account was transferred over each month. Plus, she'd had a couple of wins on the National Lottery in the past couple of years. Instead of blowing the money on holidays or clothes she'd salted it away too.
There'd never been a grand plan as to what todowith the money, or when to dip into it. Perhaps if she was nearer sixty and still alone she would splurge it on a fabulous cruise or as a down payment on a little holiday pad in France. The Little Shop of Treasures was never going to make her a millionaire but it allowed her to live a comfortable life and she'd sensibly built up a private pension pot to ensure her later years were equally secure. Now that she'd met someone who really cared for her, her fears of ending up a lonely old pensioner had faded significantly. She closed her eyes and envisaged a golden sunset, walking hand in hand on a sandy beach with Miroslaw. Which might well be in jeopardy if he couldn't repay his creditors. If he lost the business would he stay here or flee to his native Poland? That thought filled Meryl with horror, and she felt panic take a grip. If there wasanyway she could ease his financial burden then she would do it.
Downstairs in the shop Meryl set about preparing for opening at nine. Tabitha had rung half an hour before. Full of apologies, she pleaded a bad headache but insisted she would be in for the afternoon shift, despite Meryl's insistence she take the day off.
'So, how was last night?' she’d asked, but not in her usual teasing tone. Poor girl, she was obviously in a lot of pain.
'It was lovely! Miroslaw really appreciated my cooking. I'll tell you more later but – please – stay home if you don't feel any better.'
A handful of customers drifted in and out during the first hour. One sale in particular – of a set of hand-painted wine glasses and matching decanter – made the till ring with delight as they were one of the more expensive items on the shelves. The rest either browsed and left or picked up small knick-knacks and greetings cards. The shop was empty when the doorbell chimed and in walked Miroslaw. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, then dropped when she saw how exhausted and drawn he looked. There was a visible layer of stubble on his chin and his shirt was clearly un-ironed.
'Oh, Miroslaw! You look done in, my poor darling. Look, I'll pop up my "Back in fifteen minutes" sign and we can have a cuppa out the back.' He smiled gratefully and followed her through.
'Listen, my beautiful Meryl. I should never have burdened you with my problems last night. It was selfish and unfair. I have done much thinking and … I think it best I go away for some time. If I sell my car –no, not that divine leather-seated Range Rover! –and a few other things I can perhaps keep the wolves from the door. But not for long. I have acquaintances in my own country who might be able to offer me some work …’
Before he could continue, Meryl had taken his hand and squeezed it tight.
'Look at me, Miroslaw. I've been thinking too and … here's the thing. I have some savings put away and I'd like you to have them. No, please don't argue. My mind's made up. It's only £25,000 but if it helps—’
She wasn't allowed to finish her sentence. Miroslaw had enveloped her in a gigantic hug, sniffing loudly. With a voice dripping in emotion he whispered, 'You would really do that forme? You are truly an angel sent from heaven. I count my lucky stars every day that I met someone as wonderful as you. Thank you. And I promise I will pay back every penny as soon as I can.'
Needing to get back and reopen the shop, Meryl told Miroslaw to email her his bank details immediately so she could arrange to transfer the money into his account.
