Chapter One
‘So, when am I going to meet this new man of yours?’ my bestie demanded. ‘It’s high time Stu and I made up a foursome with the pair of you.’
We were seated in my tiny cottage kitchen on a sunny, but cold, November morning. The weekend stretched ahead, and I knew Jen was hinting at doing something this evening. In her opinion, a Saturday night was wasted if it didn’t involve company and plenty of wine.
‘Soon,’ I soothed.
‘You said that last month.’
Jen folded her arms across her chest. Uh-oh. Her chin had thrust forward. Body language. Bad signs. Right now, I could read my mate like a book. She didn’t believe my story about me having a new man in my life. Indeed, suspicion was oozing from her very pores.
Jen had every right to suspect my fella was fictitious. After all, I’d pretended before. Not that I usually told porkies. But at the time I’d been going through an arid patch in my love life. I’d been fed up with Jen bossing me about, banging on about a popular dating app. She’d joined and consequently met Stu. Naturally he was her soulmate. She’d almost ended up with Repetitive Strain Injury from so much swiping right.
‘Well?’ she prompted.
‘It’s tricky,’ I said, making a see-saw motion with one hand.
‘Lottie, you’re repeating yourself.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ I huffed, pushing back my chair. I stood up. ‘Do you want another coffee?’
Jen’s eyes tracked me as I picked up the kettle.
‘If you’re having one,’ she sniffed. She unfolded one arm and made a show of studying her fingernails.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Okay, in which case I’ll also have another doughnut,’ she added.
‘I thought you were on a diet and calorie counting.’
‘No. You’re the one who said she was on a diet. Instead, I’ll count the calories that I’m saving you from eating.’
‘You’re such a thoughtful friend,’ I said, giving her a smile as sweet as the sugary doughnuts we’d been tucking into.
‘Anyway,’ said Jen. ‘Regarding this boyfriend of yours.’ Her eyes swivelled back to my face. They were her most expressive feature and gave away exactly what she was thinking. Currently they reminded me of two hazel-coloured searchlights. They almost pinned me to the cupboard as I reached for the coffee jar within. As she tucked a strand of dark hair behind one ear, I pretended not to notice her scrutiny.
‘What about my boyfriend?’ I said casually, spooning coffee into mugs.
Jen narrowed her eyes.
‘I smell a rat.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said, playing for time. Slowly, I poured boiling water over the granules.
‘I don’t think this boyfriend of yours really exists. You’re trying to fob me off again, aren’t you?’
Flipping heck, I knew I’d been right about her thinking that.
‘No, no!’ I hastily assured. ‘He’s real. Promise.’
‘So what’s the problem about us going on a double date?’
I stirred milk and sugar into the mugs but didn’t reply.
‘Oh God,’ Jen groaned. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re embroiled with a married man.’
I picked up the mugs and set them down on the table, alongside the plate of remaining doughnuts.
‘Ryan is not married,’ I said emphatically.
‘Hm.’ Jen picked up a doughnut, all the while eyeballing me suspiciously. ‘Are you certain? After all, you said he’s sixty years old. No man gets to that age without some sort of track record. He must have history. Unless he’s been a monk. A celibate one at that.’
‘All right ,’ I snapped. I snatched up my coffee, slopping hot liquid over my jeans in the process. ‘Bugger,’ I muttered. Grabbing a nearby roll of kitchen towel, I tore off a strip and mopped ineffectually with one hand. ‘Ryan is single, but this status is quite recent.’
‘You mean it’s not that long ago he was a married man. I knew it,’ Jen crowed.
‘He’s single ,’ I said tetchily. I swapped the kitchen towel for a dishcloth, patting away at my denims. Typical. Clean on this morning. Worn for barely three hours. Now I’d have to wash them again. It was either that or smell like a Costa Coffee shop. ‘Anyway’ – I pointed out – ‘there’s nothing wrong with being newly single. Remember, we’ve both been married too.’
‘Ah, but we only have one ex-husband apiece,’ Jen pointed out. ‘How many ex-wives does Relic Ryan have?’
‘Don’t call him that,’ I tutted, ignoring the question. ‘Anyway, these days, sixty isn’t that old.’
‘It isn’t that young either,’ Jen muttered.
‘Sixty is the new thirty,’ I said airily.
‘Where did you read that twaddle?’ Jen snorted. ‘Probably in one of those trashy magazines you secretly read – yes, don’t deny it. I extracted one from behind a cushion the other week. It was full of nonsense about Prince Harry taking up painting to supplement his income.’
‘Would that make him the artist formerly known as Prince?’ I said dryly.
‘Ha bloody ha. And don’t think I haven’t spotted your attempt to evade answering my question.’
‘You think Ryan is too old for me.’
‘Put it this way. If you live your life all over again, you’ll be ninety-six. Whereas the six for Ryan will be in relation to him being six feet under.’
‘There’s only a twelve-year age gap between us,’ I protested.
‘Never mind that for now. Spill the beans about his marital history.’
‘Oh, okay,’ I sighed, tossing the tea towel to one side. I leant back in my chair. ‘He was married to someone called Heather for about thirty years. Prior to that, there were a couple of partners he lived with – not at the same time, obviously. Anyway, co-habitations can’t be included when reviewing a potential partner’s history.’
‘Of course they can,’ Jen scoffed. ‘He might not have exchanged wedding bands with the women concerned, but they were still relationships.’
‘Well they didn’t last very long. Only a few months apiece.’
‘That’s a poor track record-’
‘That can be put down to youth and inexperience,’ I interrupted. ‘His subsequent three decades of marriage with Heather demonstrates – to me – some serious staying power.’
‘Hmm.’ Jen looked down her nose. ‘Who left who?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, trying to still the fluttering that had started in my stomach. I didn’t want to tell Jen that, despite Ryan being single, he was still living with his ex-wife. Something about not yet finding suitable alternative accommodation. It was time to smartly move this conversation forward. ‘Anyway, we’ve only been dating for a couple of months. I haven’t, you know, felt able to ask any pertinent questions. Reading between the lines, I think they just got bored with each other. Ryan did divulge-’
‘Oooh, yes?’ said Jen, leaning forward. ‘I sense juicy gossip. Don’t tell me. Heather went off with the postman, and Ryan had a deep flirtation with a neighbour?’
‘Nothing like that.’ I shook my head. ‘More… Heather being annoyed at always finding the loo seat up. Or… Ryan being irked by Heather’s long hair bunging up the bathroom drains.’
‘Fascinating,’ said Jen, rolling her eyes. ‘So, when are you next seeing him? Presumably tonight.’ That was another thing about Jen. It wasn’t just plenty of wine she wanted at the weekend. She expected lots of sex too. ‘After all, it’s Saturday. That’s when lovers get together.’
‘Maybe,’ I shrugged. ‘Ryan said he’d be in touch. Mind you, we seem to spend more time on the phone to each other than having one-to-one dates, what with the demands of his son-’
‘Who must surely be grown up?’ said Jen incredulously.
‘Y-e-s,’ I agreed. ‘But unfortunately, he’s still-’
‘In nappies?’
‘No,’ I shook my head again. ‘He’s at school.’
‘Ryan is sixty years old and has a child at primary school?’
‘Of course not,’ I said, doing my own eyeroll. ‘Joshua is at secondary school. He’s studying for his A Levels, but he seems very…’ I paused, trying to find the right word. ‘Needy,’ I said eventually. ‘He’s always buttonholing Ryan to do things with him.’
‘Like what?’ Jen’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Fly kites at the local park? Go to London and visit museums for the day? Surely, if Joshua is a teenager, he’s a bit beyond all that?’
I’d privately thought the same. Sally, my own daughter, had almost disowned me when she’d been a teenager. She’d found herself several jobs to pay for her social life – from babysitting to waitressing to shelf stacking – and had accordingly spent her earnings in clubs with mates or on days out with friends. The only time she’d ever freely wanted to hang out with her old mum was if I’d suggested shopping and offered to pick up the tab.
These days, I didn’t see my girl as often as I’d have liked. Sally was miles away at Bristol university, in digs. Our contact was mostly confined to FaceTime or text messages. A bit like my relationship with Ryan, now I came to think of it.
‘Perhaps’ – my tone took on a defensive edge – ‘Joshua is just a thoroughly nice boy who loves his dad’s company.’
I had a sinking feeling that meeting Ryan’s son was an event that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. I also had a nagging suspicion that Joshua was hellbent on getting his parents back together again. I even suspected that Heather might be in cahoots with their son.
Jen would not approve of Ryan’s domestic setup – no matter if it was temporary – or a woman who continued to treat her ex-husband like a spouse. Heather ensured Ryan was always at her beck and call. From putting up a shelf here. A new picture there. Changing a flat tyre. Assembling a new lawnmower. From what Ryan had let slip, such occasions involved Joshua and Heather too, whether passing a screwdriver or just idly looking on. Whenever a job was finished, they always seemed to get in the family car and take off to some local eatery or other. I’d discovered this after looking Heather up on Instagram and having a snoop. There were always lots of pictures. The three of them. Beaming away. Shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes at McDonalds. Other times, a five-star bistro. Yes, hands up, I couldn’t deny it. I’d been a bit of a stalker.
My insides briefly curdled with jealousy. And why was it that whenever Ryan and I did manage to meet up, we’d get interrupted? Whether going for a walk together or grabbing a snatched coffee, invariably his mobile would ring. It would either be Heather or Joshua, but the outcome was always the same. Ryan being summoned to return home and attend some contrived urgent matter.
‘So exactly how much time do the two of you spend together?’ Jen now asked as she licked jam from her fingers.
‘Not a lot,’ I said miserably.
She gave me a curious look.
‘You have slept with him, haven’t you?’
I picked up a doughnut and took a huge bite, rendering speech impossible.
‘Lottie?’ she urged.
My jaw rotated as I eyed her silently.
‘I do not believe it,’ she shrieked. ‘You haven’t done the deed?’ She rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘Why ever not?’
‘There never seems to be the right moment,’ I said in despair.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’
‘It’s true,’ I protested.
After all, I could hardly go back to Ryan’s place. Not with Heather and Joshua in situ. I could imagine the scene now. Ryan yodelling, “It’s only me. Lottie’s here too. We’re going to have a quick bonk, then we’ll all bond together over a nice cup of tea.”
Ryan had been to my place a couple of times now, but nothing had happened. On one occasion Sally had been home from uni – and no way was I having a romantic night with my daughter on the other side of a paper-thin wall. On another occasion, we’d just got up close and personal when, embarrassingly, I’d been caught short by a dodgy prawn from the curry we’d had earlier.
‘There just hasn’t been the right moment,’ I despaired. ‘There’s always been an interruption. The last time we almost got to first base. However, Ryan’s widowed mother telephoned at a crucial moment. She insisted he get in his car and drive over to her immediately because she’d lost her dentures. Apparently, she was fed up eating strawberry creams instead of chocolate toffees. Our intimate moments always seem to descend into a fiasco.’
‘If I were you, I’d dump Ryan. You need to find someone who is properly available.’
‘That’s a bit harsh.’
‘No it isn’t. You want a guy who prioritises you.’
‘Ryan is trying.’
‘Ryan sounds very trying,’ Jen muttered.
‘Actually’ – I folded my arms across my chest, a defensive gesture – ‘he’s suggested we go away for a weekend.’ I gave Jen a coy smile. ‘To properly get to know each other.’ I followed that statement up with a meaningful look. ‘Without any interruptions.’
‘Then make sure it happens,’ she said sternly. ‘It’s about time you had someone reliable in your life. Someone who gives you happiness instead of turdy nonsense. After all the hoo-ha with our respective exes, we now deserve to be cherished. Stu is coming up trumps, and I want someone in your life who does the same for you. After all, the last thing you need is another prat like that husband of yours.’
‘Ex-husband,’ I quickly corrected. ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about Rick.’
Geez, if Jen got me on to the subject of the disastrous life I’d shared with Sally’s father, then I’d be exchanging the coffee and jam doughnuts for a stiff gin and tonic.