‘The flowers you’re grabbing. You’ve already snapped one.’
I looked at the crushed stalks in my hand. I’d actually snapped three.
‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’
‘Yes. Sorry, Mum. Just a bit annoyed.’
‘Anything I’ve done?’
I shook my head. ‘Of course not. Ignore me. Bad morning.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Thanks, but I’m fine. And I’d better get on with this bouquet or I’ll have an angry customer on my hands to make a bad day even worse.’
Mum reached out and took my empty hand in hers. ‘Remember that I’m here if you need me.’
‘Thanks, Mum, but I really am fine.’ It was tempting but I didn’t feel like opening up at that moment. The anger had subsided and I just felt silly. Nick’s text last night must have been the drink talking. He’d definitely downed at least five pints. Clearly I’d imagined the chemistry and he wasn’t interested. I should have ignored his text and not sent that ridiculous reply. I shouldn’t have deviated from the search for Steven… look where it had got me!
I finished the bouquet and tied a piece of raffia round the bottom, muttering to myself, ‘He’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in him either because he’s not called Steven and I have a load of Stevens to contact on my list so I don’t care. In fact, there’s no time like the present and I’m going to contact them right now. Well, maybe not right now, but I will the minute I get home. That’s what Clare would do. She’d say bollocks to him and set up her next date.’
I lay the bouquet on the counter. Maybe I’d see if he appeared at quarter to six, though, before I rushed into anything…
I waited over an hour after closing time, just in case. I must have gone through every emotion in that hour from excitement (maybe he’ll turn up?) to devastation (he’s not going to come) to apathy (I don’t care anyway; I’m a successful woman in my own right and don’t need a man in my life) to anger (why the hell would he lead me on like that?)
The anger became the strongest emotion and eventually spurred me home and into decisive action. As soon as I closed the door at Smuggler’s View, I stormed into the kitchen and grabbed my list off the fridge, scattering the magnets to the floor. I marched into the dining room and flicked the computer on. ‘Goodbye Nick Derbyshire. Stand me up will you? Well, I don’t need you.’
An hour later, I sat back, feeling exhausted but a lot calmer. I reflected on my updated list:
Ste Parker (original list) — Casual ‘hello’ email sent, apologising for the delay in getting in touch due to setting up new business
Steve Masterson & Steve Berry (original list) — Both profiles had been removed
Stephen Fitzpatrick (original list) — Emailed him. Immediate response back to say he’d got back with his ex-girlfriend at his work’s Christmas party last week but wished me every success in finding someone. Grr
Steve Collins — Had added me to his favourites (very flattering!) Emailed to thank him for this and say ‘hi’
Stephen Webb & Steven Fox (both new) — Casual ‘hello’ emails sent
I retrieved the magnets from the floor and stuck my new list to the fridge door. Kat squeaked at my feet. I picked her up and gave her a hug.
‘It was the right thing to do,’ I said to her. ‘What if I’d got involved with him and Steven came along? We’d both end up getting hurt. This way’s better. He’s obviously not interested in me or he wouldn’t have sent me such a casual text. I have a silly little crush on him, that’s all. It will go away soon and maybe one of these Stevens will be your new daddy. Would you like that?’ Kat purred and nuzzled closer. ‘That’s right. Nick and I were never meant to be. The man of my dreams is called Steven. Nick was just a blip. Madame Louisa said it wouldn’t be plain sailing. This is obviously what she meant. From now on, we’re searching for Steven. We’re not dreaming about Nick.’
But a tear slipped down my cheek.
By Thursday lunchtime the following week, I hadn’t heard a peep out of Nick. It was the last full week of school term so I’d barely seen Elise who was tied up with a stack of school Christmas activities. Stevie wasn’t available either. He’d promised to spend some time with Rob who was going through an emotional crisis after his ex’s Facebook profile changed from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship’. Clare was away at a work conference although she’d promised to visit on Saturday. Mum and Dad were out partying every night with friends. And I was all alone with just Kit, Kat, and a computer for company. The days were fine as the shop was non-stop and I was revelling in my role as successful business owner, but the evenings were tough. Despite my resolve to forget about Nick and just search for Steven, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I didn’t think it was appropriate to text him again but I’d ventured down to the beach at dawn for a run five times in the hope that we’d run into each other — literally. We didn’t.
Evenings consisted of staring blankly at the TV then heading into the dining room every fifteen minutes or so to see if I’d received any new emails or to check Nick’s Facebook status. I hated being like that. I kept opening up my lovely silk beaded notepad and trying to focus on ideas for developing the business, but the next priority really had to be my website, which got me side-tracked looking at the websites Nick had pulled together, which got me thinking about Nick again, which drew me back to the PC to check his Facebook status. Vicious circle!
Ste Parker from my original list hadn’t been in touch but the three new Stevens had. I’d stupidly entered into friendly email conversations with all of them; a huge challenge in remembering who’d said what. In desperation, I set up a plastic wallet for each of them full of spider diagrams showing who liked what and what we’d discussed. Lesson learned: if nothing developed with any of them, I’d definitely only email one Steven at a time in the future; I couldn’t cope with the lies and stress.
Around mid-afternoon on Thursday, we hit a lull. I’d offered a Saturday job to Cathy’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Jade. She’d finished college early for Christmas to do some exam revision, but was keen to take me up on the offer of a few hours in the shop each day. I watched her dusting the shelves in the glass display cabinets while she sang along to ‘Last Christmas’. In the Outback, I could hear Mum singing while she unpacked a delivery of gifts. Cathy, making a Christmas wreath next to me, hummed away quietly. I smiled as I watched my team in action. My team. I liked it.
A beep from my PC alerted me to new emails. Clicking the mouse, I was surprised to see my inbox full of messages; must have been a jam in the server. I scrolled down the list. There was one from each of the three new Stevens and, as I quickly scanned through them, my heart sank. I don’t believe it! Pants, pants, pants!
‘I just need to nip out for a moment, Cathy. Will you be okay on your own?’
Cathy laughed. ‘I’m hardly on my own. I’ve got George Michael in here and Andrew Ridgeley out there. You take a break.’
‘I’ll only be ten minutes. Maximum.’ I grabbed my coat and, clutching my mobile, headed for my favourite bench in a small park at the end of the street, overlooking the sea. The biting coastal wind made my eyes stream but at least it was dry. I speed-dialled Clare, hoping I’d catch her on a break.
‘Clare. Please say you can talk.’
‘Sure. We’re at an exhibition, but I’ve seen what I need to. Let me go somewhere quieter.’ The background chatter died down and her voice came over a bit echoey. ‘I’m in the entrance hall now. What’s the craic? You sound worried.’
‘I am. I’ve heard from Steve Collins and he’s asked me to meet him.’
‘That’s grand. When?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘So what are you worried about?’
‘I’ve heard from Steven Fox and he’s asked me to meet him too.’
‘Oh. Dare I ask…?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘Bummer.’
‘I’ve also heard from Stephen Webb.’
‘No! Tomorrow night too?’
‘Yep.’
‘Christ, Sarah, you’re in demand! What will you do?’
‘I was hoping you’d tell me.’
‘You could try meeting all three of them,’ she said. ‘Pick three pubs close to each other, arrange to meet them at three different times, then keep making excuses to leave one and go onto the next.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘Of course I am, you eejit. Imagine what a nightmare that would be for someone like you.’
‘What do you mean “someone like you”?’
‘You know exactly what I mean. Someone nice and polite and a bit anal.’
I couldn’t take offence as she was absolutely right. ‘So what should I do?’
‘Several options spring to mind. You could pick your favourite and keep the others warm, you could pick your favourite and reject the others, you could say you can’t make it to any of them, or you could suggest Friday night to one, Saturday to another, and Sunday to the other.’
‘Which would you do?’
‘I’d date all three on the same night.’
‘And if you were me?’
‘I’d pick one. Will you have a favourite?’
‘I like them all so far. It’s hard to judge from a handful of emails.’
‘You must be leaning towards one of them.’
I thought for a moment, trying to separate them in my mind. ‘Steven Fox. I think. Perhaps.’
‘Foxy it is then,’ Clare said. ‘But I’d keep the other two warm; tell them you already have plans for the weekend, but would love to meet up after Christmas. And just hope they don’t catch you out with Foxy.’
I thanked Clare and headed back to the shop, feeling slightly more relaxed. I’d give it till the end of the day and email Steven Fox. No point in looking too keen.
Cathy was serving a customer, Jade was still cleaning, and I could hear Mum on the phone in The Outback. Them all being occupied saved me from a barrage of questions about where I’d been and what I’d been doing which was a relief as I didn’t have the energy to think of an excuse.
‘Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?’ I asked Cathy and Jade when the customer left.
‘I sold another of those silver teddy bear money boxes for a christening,’ Jade said before shyly adding, ‘and I talked her into a really cute teddy bear, a card, and some gift wrap.’
‘The customer who just left wanted two bouquets; a twenty pound and a ten pound one,’ Cathy said. ‘She’s coming back in half an hour.’
‘Thank you both.’
‘What about that guy, Mum?’ Jade said.
My stomach lurched. What guy?
‘Soup for brains,’ Cathy said. ‘Nick came in looking for you.’
Oh my God! ‘Nick Derbyshire?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever known his surname. The one whose sister got married when you split up with your boyfriend. You helped with the flowers.’
‘It’s Derbyshire. His surname’s Derbyshire. Did he leave a message?’
‘He looked a bit disappointed that he’d missed you and said he’d probably see you after Christmas.’
‘Anything else?’
‘He said something about a club, didn’t he Mum?’ Jade prompted.
‘Ah yes, would it be Bay Trade?’ Cathy said.
I nodded.
‘He said the first meeting is the second Monday in January but he’ll text you before then.’
‘Was that all?’
‘Definitely,’ Cathy said.
‘Is he your boyfriend?’ Jade asked.
‘Jade!’ Cathy scolded. ‘You can’t come out with things like that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s very personal.’
‘Sorry, Sarah,’ Jade said. ‘But is he your boyfriend?’
‘No. He’s not my boyfriend.’ But I wished he were. Then an exciting thought struck me. What if the Bay Trade thing was just a ruse and he’d realised the error of his ways and did want to go out with me after all?
‘Are you okay?’ Cathy said. ‘You look a bit peaky.’
I waved my hand dismissively. ‘I’m absolutely fine. Just a bit tired from the whole opening a new business at Christmas thing. I’m just going to make a cuppa. Do either of you want one?’
Drink orders taken, I headed into The Outback where I pulled my phone out my pocket and quickly texted Nick.
* To Nick
Hi. I hear I’ve just missed you. So sorry. Would love to have seen you. Don’t suppose you’re still in town?
I stared at the screen in nervous anticipation while I boiled the kettle. No reply came. He was probably in his car going home. Pants, pants, pants.
Two hours later, cashing up complete and the team on their way home, I stood by the counter in the darkened shop and looked at the emails from the three Stevens. I realised I couldn’t face meeting any of them. The only person I really wanted to go out with was Nick and all he seemed interested in was making sure I joined that damn business club. Maybe I blew it when I told him about Steven that first day in the pub. I made it pretty clear I wasn’t interested in him then. I’d made a joke in my text about ‘Steven who?’ But I hadn’t categorically said that I’d given up on my search. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to take the risk. Could I blame him?
I slowly typed in a message for Steven Fox then copied and pasted it into the other two emails:
Thanks for your suggestion to meet up. Can I take a rain-check for after Christmas? As you know, I’ve recently moved back here. My best friend from London is coming to stay for the weekend. We haven’t seen each other in ages and we’ve had this booked in for some time so it would be rude of me to cancel. Really sorry. Hope you have a fantastic Christmas. ‘Speak’ soon. Sarah
* To Clare
Thanks for your advice earlier. Decided not to meet any of them just now. Long story. Don’t suppose you can give that work do a miss and come up tomorrow night instead? Need cheering up xx
* From Clare
Sorry. Would love to but will get sacked if I miss it. Bunch of very important eejits to entertain. Biggest event in company calendar. Promise to be up by 11 at latest on Sat. See you in shop. Cheer up or I’ll give you a slap xx
Chapter 24
Elise Dawson
Was intending on having a quick glass of bubbly before a night out with the Kayley School team but on my 3rd glass already. Oops. Could be a messy night!
Clare O’Connell
At The Dorchester, London — with the team from Prime PR Solutions
Kay Summers
Think I was born to travel the world. Heading to New York tomorrow till 3rd Jan. So excited :)
I sighed as I read through my Facebook news feed. Even my mum and dad had a better social life than me; they were off for Christmas cocktails with the neighbours. It was the Friday before Christmas and everyone had a packed evening of entertainment. Except me, the spinster with cats. All alone like Uncle Alan. The thought made me shudder and I had to reprimand myself: ‘You have friends. You’re not alone like him. You’re just on your own tonight and a bit lonely. It’s a different thing.’
I checked Nick’s wall for the umpteenth time but there was still nothing since the comment about going out with ‘the lovely Sarah Peterson’ from before Bob’s leaving do.
I sighed again and checked my emails. Nothing there either.
Back on Facebook, I typed in:
Sarah Peterson
Billy No Mates tonight. Feeling very sorry for myself and distinctly Bridget Jones-like, especially after seeing what all my friends and family are up to this evening — particularly you Auntie Kay
Summers! Thank goodness Clare O’Connell is coming to visit tomorrow to entertain me. Going to dig out the chick flicks, make some hot chocolate, and trough a large bag of Doritos :)
I re-read my message and toyed with not posting it. Did it sound too ‘woe is me?’ But it was how I felt and Madame Louisa said I needed to share more. Sod it! I’d post it. I was lonely and bored and I needed some sympathy.
I looked at the clock. 8.17 p.m. Was it too early for my PJs? No! Who was going to call round? I headed up to the bedroom, pulled on my PJs, slippers, and fluffy dressing gown, removed my make up and brushed my teeth to complete that feeling of freshness, even though I was about to ruin it with hot chocolate and crisps. I released my hair from its clip and shook it out.
Feeling more relaxed, I headed back down the stairs into the dining room where the crates containing my DVDs were stacked. Ignoring the computer, I rummaged until I found Pretty Woman. In the lounge, I stoked up the fire, lit some scented candles, put the DVD on, threw myself onto the sofa, and pulled a soft red throw over me.
Richard Gere had just invited Julia Roberts into the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel when a loud knock on the door made me jump. I reluctantly peeled back the throw and padded into the hall.
‘Who is it?’ I shouted.
‘Nick.’
‘Nick?’ Oh. My. God! It wasn’t even nine and there I was in my PJs, with no make-up on, hair everywhere, and Nick was at my door.
‘I wondered if Billy No Mates would like some company before she’s found on her floor eaten by Alsatians?’ he shouted. ‘But I can leave if it’s a bad time.’
I smiled at the Bridget Jones reference. So, he saw my Facebook status and came straight round, did he? My knight in shining armour. I unlatched the door and opened it an inch or so. ‘I have to warn you, I’m in my PJs. It’s not a pretty sight.’
‘I don’t believe that for a minute,’ he said.
With my stomach doing somersaults, I opened the door wider and ushered him in out of the cold.
‘Nice PJs,’ he said.
‘They’re comfortable. I know men have this fantasy of women in little satin numbers, but it’s freezing tonight and fleecy PJs with teddies on are exactly what’s needed.’
Searching for Steven (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 1) Page 19
