‘Sarah! Tea!’ Ben shouted again.
‘Coming,’ I shouted back, reluctantly putting the photo back on the dressing table. Something else in the larger picture caught my eye: Grandma’s bracelet. When she died, Auntie Kay as the elder sister had inherited her wedding and engagement rings and Mum had inherited the bracelet.
‘She also says your mum will be devastated in the future when she can’t find your grandma’s bracelet… it’s under the sofa…’
I’d already looked under Mum and Dad’s sofa. But what if it was under Auntie Kay’s instead? I raced out the room, down the stairs, and into the lounge. I bent down on the carpet and looked under the sofa but it was too low to see anything.
‘What are you doing?’ Ben said, making me jump.
‘Do me a favour and lift up that end of the sofa.’
‘Why?’
I glared at him. He sighed but did as he was asked. I bent down and looked on the floor again. Fluff… coins… hair-grip and… oh my God! I reached under and grabbed at the object.
Ben lowered the sofa back down with a grunt. ‘What is it?’
I stared at the item resting on my palm. ‘Grandma’s bracelet. The one Mum thought she’d lost years ago.’
‘No way! How did you know it was there?’
I smiled and shook my head. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’ I suddenly felt very weak. I sunk back against the sofa, breathing deeply. Wow! The bracelet under the sofa and the lighthouse photo. Exactly as predicted. There was no way she could have guessed at those things. There was just one thing left to happen, then. Meeting Steven. Oh. My. God!
Chapter 15
‘How cute is this cottage? Can’t wait to see it in daylight.’
I ushered Clare into the narrow hallway and closed the door on the icy November night. ‘Glad you found it alright. I’ve got a fire going in the lounge.’
‘A real one?’
‘Of course. Now, do you want to be all cutesy cottage and have hot chocolate with marshmallows or can I tempt you with a glass of wine?’
‘After the drive I’ve had, what do you think?’
‘I’ll get the glasses. Make yourself at home.’
I grabbed a bottle of wine and glasses from the kitchen and headed back to the lounge. I could hear Clare talking to Kit and Kat. ‘Hi cats. How’s your new home?’ There was a pause. ‘Jesus. I must be going soft. Will you listen to me talking to two stupid moggies!’
I laughed as I put the glasses down on the coffee table so I could pour the wine. ‘I thought you might be expecting an answer from them.’
‘Scarily enough, I think I was. It’s been a long day.’ She took a glug of her wine then looked round the room full of my books and other belongings. ‘Nice room. Looks like you’ve settled in well. Where’s all your auntie’s stuff?’
‘In my old bedroom. Dad and Ben did a huge swap round yesterday while I was at the shop. I’d just been thinking that I should look for somewhere to rent so it’s worked out perfectly. After living away from home for so long, I don’t think I could have lived with my parents for long but wasn’t sure how to tell them.’
‘Can’t say I blame you. If I moved back to Ireland, I’d hate to live with my parents.’ Clare stared into the fireplace for a moment, fiddling with the Claddagh ring she always wore on her right hand. ‘Will you listen to me? What a stupid thing to say! I have no intention of ever moving back to Ireland — whatever happens in my life — and, seeing as I don’t even exchange Christmas cards with the parents, the mere idea of me being in a situation where moving back in with them is even an option is absurd, so it is.’
‘More wine?’ I asked as Clare gulped hers down in one.
‘Please.’ She held out her glass. I noticed the glass shaking in her hand. I’d noticed the rambling too. It was odd how we shared the same nervous tendency to talk too much.
‘You know I’m here if you ever want to talk about what happened with you and your parents, don’t you?’
‘I know. But I’m grand, thanks. I don’t know what came over me. Must be the sea air or something.’
‘Must be. It can have a strange effect on them city folk that are not used to it.’ I put on my best yokel accent and smiled. The subject of Clare’s past was closed again. Every so often, she let something slip. I’d pieced together that she’d been brought up in a strict catholic family in a village about fifteen miles from Cork. There’d been some major family fall-out when she was a teenager resulting in Clare moving to Cornwall to live with a distant relative. She’d never returned to Ireland or spoken to her parents. There were siblings — possibly two brothers and two sisters — but she wasn’t in touch with them either. She never mentioned her guardian in Cornwall so I suspected ties had been severed there too. I’d never seen any family photos or pictures of her home.
When we were at university, I’d tried to get Clare to open up and tell me about her family but she always refused. The bits I knew had mainly come from drink-fuelled nights out, but the minute she revealed something about her past that I tried to probe, she’d clam up completely, make some excuse to go home, then avoid me for several days. I soon wised up and realised it was none of my business and I’d rather have Clare as a friend with a mysterious past than know all about the skeletons in her closet yet no longer have her as a friend.
‘So,’ Clare said getting to her feet, ‘where’s your computer?’
‘Why?’
‘Will I be right in guessing someone hasn’t registered on a dating site yet? It’s my mission this weekend to make sure they do.’
‘Now?’
‘Now’s just grand. Sure, if we get your profile up and running tonight, you could have a few dates set up by the time I head to Newcastle on Monday.’
‘I…’ But I had made the decision to register and I was all out of excuses for delaying it. It would be good to have Clare with me for support. ‘Sod it, let’s do it. My PC’s in the dining room.’
‘Do you really think I’ll get any responses?’ I locked the door to Flowers the next evening after an exhausting day of assembling display units, while Clare painted some stunning floral images onto the walls.
‘For the fiftieth time today; YES! I’m convinced of it.’ She rummaged in her bag. ‘And not only that, I reckon you’ll have several responses by the time we get back to the cottage. Now will you be quiet? I’m concentrating.’
We set off up Castle Street. ‘What are you looking for?’ I asked.
‘My phone.’
I stopped. ‘Your iPhone?’
‘Yes.’
‘The iPhone that you said you’d left at the cottage charging?’
Clare pulled it out of her bag. ‘I lied.’
‘Why would you do that to me?’
‘If you’d known I had my iPhone meaning instant access to the Internet all day, you’d have been checking your emails constantly. You’d have been on a high if you heard from anyone and on a low if you didn’t and, either way, would have got nothing done. Instead, you’ve put together more flat-packs than an IKEA store, which, I have to say, was quite impressive to watch. I’m assuming you got that from your dad?’
I nodded. My dad ran a very successful kitchen design and fitting business and I’d spent many hours helping him when I was younger. I’d never imagined putting my learning to use in my own shop one day.
I watched Clare fiddle with her phone. ‘I miss my iPhone,’ I whined. ‘Shame it belonged to work.’ I’d had to revert to my battered old pay-as-you go handset, unable to justify the cost of an iPhone when I had a business to set-up. ‘Can I check my emails now?’
‘No you can’t. Wait until you’re home and can see a big screen and fully appreciate all the Stevens begging for a date with you.’
We walked for a while in silence with Clare scrolling through her emails. She was right to hav
e hidden it; I would have been checking every five minutes. Broadband wasn’t getting connected at the shop until the following week so my lovely new computer had been sitting there all day, teasing me with its inability to do anything online.
‘Do you think it was a bit sad marking all those Stevens as my favourites?’
Clare sighed again. ‘Will you shut your trap, now? I’m trying to read my emails. We’ll be home in ten minutes. If you promise to keep quiet until then, I may let you control the mouse.’
Sulking slightly, I dug my phone out of my pocket and was surprised to see a text from Nick. I hadn’t heard it beep.
* From Nick
Going to have to miss running next week. Last minute job in Edinburgh. Working for a Steve! But he’s twice your age & 5 times divorced! :( Keep that Monday free still. Will catch up soon to explain my proposition. Also had some ideas for your website xx
Damn! I was looking forward to seeing him. Whoa there, Sarah! Stop it! You may have emails at home from a stack of Stevens begging for a date with you. Think lustful thoughts about them, not about Nick.
But he did sign off his text with two kisses this time! What does that mean?
‘Oh my God!’ I squealed fifteen minutes later. ‘Five messages; I can’t believe it!’ Hands shaking, I clicked on the first one.
‘What does it say? Will you sit down so I can see?’
I did as I was told. ‘This one’s pants; just a welcome email from the-one.com. I’ve made the right choice… number one dating site… thousands of satisfied members… blah, blah, blah.’
‘So read it later then.’ After acting so relaxed about it all day, Clare now had her excited head on. ‘Who’s the next one from?’
I clicked on the next message. ‘Crap. Not a Steven. It’s from someone called Dave Peacock. Let’s see.’ I scanned the message then screwed up my nose. ‘Ew! That’s disgusting. And he can’t spell.’
‘What does he say?’ Clare wrestled the mouse out of my hand.
Hi, I’m Dave. I see your new. Your gorgeous. I bet your a dirty bitch. I want to lick cream off you. If you fancy a shag, get in touch. I’m hard for you. I want…
‘Ew!’ she agreed, clicking off the message. ‘Dirty, dirty man. I’m sure they’re not all like this. Will you try the next one?’
‘Did you change my profile back to one of your mucky ones?’ It had been a battle the night before to get something I approved of on my profile. Clare insisted on being in control of the mouse and keyboard and kept selecting hobbies like ‘pole dancing’ and ‘erotica’ as well as compiling indecent summaries about what I’d like to do to any Stevens out there.
‘Of course not. I was only messing with you last night. You know I wouldn’t do that to you for real.’
I tentatively looked at the next message.
Hello Sarah, my name’s Chris Taylor. I’m 25 and I live in a small hamlet called Greavedon between Whitsborough Bay and York. I work in the planning department at York City Council. I’m an administrator but I’m training to join the planning permission team. I hope to specialise in listed buildings as I love old properties. I’m not a boring historian or anything — I just think old buildings have so much more character than new-builds. You say you live in a 200-year-old cottage so you probably agree!
‘He sounds normal.’ I could hear the relief in Clare’s voice. ‘A bit young perhaps, but quite nice.’
I didn’t say anything but I could feel my spirits lifting. Clare was right; he did sound nice. And he could spell. Then my spirits fell again as she pointed out, ‘He’s not called Steven though.’
‘Typical,’ I muttered, but decided to read on anyway.
I was married for three years to Melissa but we’ve separated. The divorce will be final in a few months. Mel’s moved out of the area with our two children and the dog. Turns out she was having an affair with her ex-boyfriend and she’s expecting his baby. I don’t think I’ll see the kids again — Mel’s ex is a psycho and said he’ll beat me up if I go near them.
Some mates said I should try to meet someone new to help me move on.
I like your picture. I think you look like someone who’d listen and understand what I’m going through. I really hope you get in touch. I love Whitsborough Bay. I have happy memories of playing on the beach there with Lucy, Jack and Benji. Hope to hear from you really soon. Chris
I sighed and slumped back in the chair. ‘What was that you were saying? Nice? Desperate more like. Poor guy. How messy are other people’s lives?’
‘I’m gutted,’ Clare said over drinks in Minty’s later that evening. ‘I really thought it was a good idea.’
‘You weren’t to know. Please don’t feel bad.’ I took a sip of my wine and wondered what else I could say to lift Clare’s spirits and make our night out fun rather than the sombre affair it was turning out to be.
‘Great, that’s just what I need,’ Clare muttered, staring towards the entrance. I turned round to see what had caught her attention.
‘Elise! I thought you were going to your grandma’s.’
‘I was but she’s had a better offer. Some old bloke in her retirement home is taking her out to the theatre. It’s the culmination of months of flirting. Grandma’s really excited, bless her. It’s so sweet.’
‘Ew — old people getting it on? Disgusting.’ Clare shuddered.
‘Hi Clare, nice to see you as always. Thanks for sharing.’
‘Ladies,’ I warned, ‘play nicely.’
‘Don’t worry, Clare.’ Elise pulled up a chair to the end of the table. ‘I’m not going to crash your night out. Gary’s at the cash point. We’re meeting friends for a Chinese, but I spotted you in the window and thought I’d come in to say hello to Sarah and see if she’s had any emails after registering last night.’
‘How do you know she’s registered?’ Uh-oh.
‘Sarah texted me last night to tell me, of course.’ Elise turned to me. ‘Any news?’
‘Five messages.’
‘Any Stevens?’
‘’Fraid not. There was one welcoming me to the service, one from some perv who wanted to cover me in cream and spank my — and I quote — “pert little buttocks”. There was another from some married bloke whose wife was having an affair and had supposedly told him to do the same to even things up. Plus one from some bloke who sounded really nice at first, but is so completely on the rebound that I wouldn’t touch him with a bargepole even if he’d been called Steven. Which thankfully he wasn’t. Not the best start.’
‘That’s only four,’ Elise said.
‘What? Oh yeah, the other was from one of the Stevens I’d picked as a favourite saying he was flattered but he’d met someone and was about to remove his profile.’
‘That’s a shame. Do you know what I think you should do?’
‘Go on. Have a dig,’ Clare said. ‘Tell Sarah you thought it was a stupid idea, that I shouldn’t have got her hopes up, and that she should remove her profile immediately.’
‘Have you quite finished?’ Elise gave Clare a hard stare. ‘For your information I told Sarah I thought it was a really good idea. Despite it being yours. I still think that and I was going to tell Sarah that she should just put this down to initial teething problems and stick with it. I’d suggest she gives it until Christmas and, if it’s more of the same, she either changes to another site or she gives it up as a bad job. Do you have anything else to add?’
Clare, well and truly put in her place, muttered, ‘No.’
‘In that case, I’m off to meet my husband.’ Elise nodded towards where Gary was loitering outside the window. ‘Don’t give up,’ she whispered, giving me a hug. ‘Sarah, call me when your house-guest has gone. Clare, as always, it’s been a delight.’ And, with that, she sashayed out of Minty’s leaving a trace of gorgeous perfume, but an ugly atmosphere.
I looked at C
lare. ‘You did ask for that, you know. So we can let your little altercation ruin our night or I can get us a couple more drinks and we change the subject. How about you tell me about that young graduate in your team whom you’ve been pursuing? Aidan is it?’
Clare gave me a half-smile. ‘She did say it was a good idea.’
‘Yes, she did. In fact, when I first told her, she was extremely complimentary but I forgot to tell you. So, you relish in the moment and let’s not mention this again.’
‘Is it your round?’ Clare said.
‘Yes.’
‘Grand. Consider it forgotten. And his name’s Haydon. Although I think Hard-on would be more appropriate.’
‘Clare! He’s only twenty-one! You haven’t!’
‘Someone had to…’
‘Has she gone?’ whispered Elise down the phone on Monday evening.
‘Assuming you mean Clare, she went early this morning.’
‘Dare I ask…?’
‘Two more messages. And I have a date.’ I couldn’t keep the excitement out my voice as I did a little dance around the lounge.
‘Really? When? Who?’
‘He’s called Steve Turner. I’d put him in my favourites so he sent me an email last night. He sounded pretty nice so we exchanged a few emails when I got home an hour ago and we’ve arranged to go to the cinema tomorrow night.’
‘Can I come round and help you get ready?’
‘If you want. I could probably do with some wardrobe advice.’
‘We can discuss a strategy for what to do if he’s creepy or boring and you want to escape. Not that he will be, of course,’ Elise said, ‘because he may well be The Steven.’
‘I know.’ I did another little dance round the room. ‘I’m so excited.’
‘What about the other email?’
Searching for Steven (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 1) Page 13
