An Autumn Crush (13 page)

‘I might,’ said Juliet. ‘At least you meet a wider circle of cardigans and slippers.’

Floz used that as her cue. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it and bid you goodnight.’

‘Another glass of vino?’ Juliet offered.

‘Thanks, but I’ll pass,’ said Floz and feigned a yawn. ‘I’m knackered.’

‘Okay,’ said Juliet. ‘I’ll go and hunt some more quarry then. Pass me my laptop, would you?’

So whilst Juliet logged on and scrolled through lists of men, Floz retired to her room, turned the light off and quietly turned her PC monitor on. She hoped Juliet wouldn’t hear her
tapping away on the computer.

Juliet went back onto Singlebods and found a couple of fresh possibles on the horizon. Ryan, a marketing exec from Sheffield, Jonathan, a web designer
from Wakefield, and Brian, a salesman from Rotherham. Juliet opened up chat with all of them. She dropped contact with Jonathan after five minutes when he invited her to view his webcam and she
found him sitting at it totally naked. Shame, as he had a gorgeous body, but no one could fancy him more than he fancied himself. Ryan and Brian seemed quite sweet, if not exactly blowing her bra
off. They both asked to meet her as soon as possible. She picked Brian for tomorrow and Ryan for Thursday.

Floz woke up at 3 a.m. and made straight for her PC convinced that she would find a reply from Nick, as if she were in tune with him. She had always felt that if they met, they
would be the sort of couple who would be able to finish off each other’s sentences, know instinctively when the other one was in trouble.
Like your mother and father, Floz?
No, she
answered herself. Not like them, because she and Nick would not be obsessed with each other to the exclusion of everyone else. She and Nick would be nothing like them.

She was right – there was a mail from Nick awaiting her.

Floz hit reply immediately and began to type.

3.15am – can you tell I can’t sleep?

‘So you had a second date then? How did it go?’ Juliet said to an effervescent Coco on the office phone the next morning.

‘Fabulously,’ beamed Coco. She could tell he was beaming – it was more than obvious. ‘He’s lovely. And no, I haven’t slept with him yet. I want to, but
I’m also enjoying getting to know him. Ooh, how grown up do I sound?’

‘Very,’ said Juliet, impressed. Then she filled him in on her own date, pausing whilst he laughed at the funny bits.

‘I’m meeting Brian for drinks at the Old Mill at seven tonight – and Ryan for light supper in the Orchards Hotel near Denby at seven-thirty tomorrow,’ said Juliet.
‘Both are public and well-lit and there will be no chance of home-made pie on a tray.’

‘Good,’ said Coco. ‘You were lucky. You could have been my first corpse friend.’

‘Only you could make that sound a fashionably acceptable thing to be,’ giggled Juliet.

Piers Winstanley-Black bobbed his head around the door and indicated that he needed Juliet’s assistance.

‘Have to go, see ya.’ She ended the call to Coco and grabbed her pad and pen. If only the damned man would make a move on her soon and save her from the uncertain waters of internet
dating.

‘Sorry to interrupt your call just then, Juliet,’ said Piers as they climbed the staircase to his office.

‘It’s fine,’ replied Juliet, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt. ‘It was just a friend of mine who is driving me slightly potty at the moment.’

It wasn’t a firm that frowned on the odd personal call. The solicitors were all very warm and lenient because they knew they had a cracking staff force who worked hard for them, often
above and beyond the call of duty.

Piers opened the door for her and as she passed him, his aftershave drifted towards her. She could breathe in his scent all day, every day, and never tire of it.

They sat down at either side of his huge mahogany desk. Piers passed her a written list.

‘I’m due in court at ten so I’m sure I can leave all this in your capable hands,’ he said. His voice was like honey. She could have listened to his voice all day, every
day, whilst she was breathing him in.

‘Of course, Piers,’ she smiled, taking the list from his large, square hand. He had beautifully kept hands. She could have let him touch her with them all day, every day, whilst she
was listening to him and breathing him in. He was so gorgeous, his eyes blue and big enough to swim in – naked. He could have her on the desk right now, if only he’d ask.

But all Piers Winstanley-Black saw when he looked at Juliet was the reliable, smiley female from the office below, not the sexually charged Amazon who might make his heart gallop like a
racehorse on a beach.

Yet.

Juliet floated back to her desk, much to the amusement of Amanda and Daphne.

‘Well, has he proposed yet?’ asked Daphne.

‘He wanted to, I could feel it,’ replied Juliet dreamily, as she adjusted her magnificent bosom. ‘But he’s due in court at ten. Another day.’

‘Well, give me plenty of notice to get a hat,’ chuckled Daphne.

‘I’m thinking of an autumn wedding,’ sighed Juliet. ‘To follow in your footsteps.’

‘Anyone want a refill of coffee?’ asked Amanda, bringing them down to earth. ‘I’ve got dark chocolate digestives to dunk, unless you’re slimming for your
nuptials.’

‘Maybe just the four then,’ said Juliet in her best affected posh voice. ‘One wouldn’t want to get stuck down the aisle.’

The mail landed whilst Floz was cooking a lunch for herself that she ended up throwing away. Her heart felt so heavy in her chest, and loud, booming out
a hard rhythm. It ached for a man she had never met who lived across a very big sea. The distance was doable though, she suddenly thought. If she moved quickly, before there was a distance between
them that she could not cross.

Floz pulled up the Google taskbar and started to type in airfares for Kelowna, which she supposed would be the nearest airport to him in Okanagan, not that she had his address there. Then she
stopped. She knew enough about Nick to know that there was no way he would see her now when he was weak and ill and not the big strong man who had been going to come over and court her and take her
back with him – and love her. The closest she could get to him was when he read her words, and she read his. They were transporters of their feelings to each other’s heart. Floz felt
weighed down with sadness. She knew that she would have to go to Canada when he was gone and walk in his footsteps. She wouldn’t feel as if she had said goodbye until she had.

Juliet arrived at the Old Mill exactly on time and was impressed that Brian was there waiting for her by the gastropub door. He had on a black suit and a red tie and he wore a
nice pine-scented aftershave, that Coco would have liked. The good news was that he was impressively tall, the bad – that he was a bit too thin for her tastes, but she told herself off for
being ridiculously picky. He had a nice smile, had dressed to impress, and there she was moaning that he was lean and not a tub of lard.

‘Hello, Juliet.’ He gave her a double-kiss and said how lovely it was to meet her, then he opened the door for her and followed her inside. A big fat tick in the box for that –
she liked gentlemen. She was a lot more old-fashioned than people gave her credit for. They presumed because she was big and brash that she would be a die-hard, bra-burning women’s libber,
but nothing was further from the truth. Juliet Miller was a typically strong woman searching for a man strong enough to take her on and not be threatened by her enough to start whittling away at
her fortitude – as Roger and all of her exes had.

Brian bought her a drink, carried it to a nice quiet corner table and asked her if she wanted anything to eat. She didn’t, but thought that was sweet of him.

‘So, have you been single long?’ asked Juliet.

‘Four months,’ said Brian with a loaded sigh.

Possible point deduction here. ‘That’s not very long.’

‘No, but the marriage had been limping along for a very long time.’

‘Ah.’

‘She left me for another man,’ said Brian, taking a long sip of his half of lager. ‘My first wife did the same. I think I’m cursed, to be honest.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Juliet. ‘Anyway—’

‘As soon as I filed for divorce, I thought it was time to get out there and find myself a new partner.’

‘I’m glad to hear—’

‘The financial stuff will take a bit of time to sort out, of course.’

‘Yes, it usually—’

‘It took me a lot longer to move on with my first divorce. This time it was much easier.’

Juliet opened her mouth to contribute to the conversation, veer it away from ex-wives and onto the here and now, but there was absolutely no gap in Brian’s diatribe. Juliet drained her
lager, sat there with an empty glass whilst Brian demonstrated that he was about as much over his marriage split as the Clifton Suspension Bridge was over the River Danube.

Though they had both agreed to have one drink together, an hour and a half had passed and Brian’s half a lager remained unfinished, so she couldn’t even offer to get another round
in. Juliet’s throat, by this time, had turned to Sahara sand, and as Brian said, for the umpteenth time, ‘It feels good to be over Janet and have moved on . . .’ she heard her own
voice crash into Brian’s monologue.

‘STOPPP!’ She could bear no more, her ears were about to bleed. She got to her feet and held up her palm as if she were on traffic duty and halting cars. Brian was shocked into
silence and sat there gaping at her, wondering what could possibly have led her to roar at him like that.

‘Brian, you are a very nice man, but you are so clearly not over your wife leaving. In fact, I’m not quite sure you ever got over the first one giving you the heave-ho.’

‘I . . . I am,’ Brian nodded, but it was a very limp nod.

‘No, you are not. Look at my glass! I drained it an hour ago but you didn’t notice. You haven’t asked me one single question about myself. You haven’t noticed that
I’m about to fall into a coma.’

Brian looked horrified.

‘You have talked incessantly
for one and a half hours
about wife number one – Sue – and wife number two – Janet. I know that Sue ran off with Robin who fitted your
double-glazing and took Ringo the Vizsla with her when she left. And your jointly owned Nissan Micra. I know that Janet is presently holidaying in a cottage in the Dordogne with Neil who is a
butcher in Morrisons. I know that Sue is a size sixteen blonde with an allergy to Bri-nylon and Janet is a size twelve after losing ten stone in the past eighteen months through a combination of
salsa-dancing and Weight Watchers. I know she hates marzipan, fancies George Michael and has a bunion on her left foot the size of Scarborough. So, what do you know about me then?’

‘Er . . .’

‘Precisely.’ Juliet shrugged.

‘I’m not ready for the dating game, am I?’ gulped Brian, with tears blooming in his eyes.

‘In modern parlance, no – are you fuck!’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Brian, fumbling in his pocket for tissues. Juliet thought he might have cried into a lot of tissues recently. He blew his nose very loudly, took a deep
breath and stood up.

‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ he said.

He gave Juliet a clumsy kiss on the cheek after escorting her out to her Mini.

‘Do you think, in a few months, we might meet . . . again?’ He looked hopefully at her, but her expression said it all. ‘Ah, perhaps not.’

‘Good luck, Brian. Don’t rush it,’ chivvied Juliet. ‘You’re coming across like a total desperado and a bit of a knob at the moment, if I might be so
honest.’

‘Yes, yes, I deserve that,’ said Brian, sniffling. ‘Thank you.’

Juliet slammed her car into first gear and turned on the CD player full blast: AC/DC. She wanted to hear some real, wild men with guts and balls. What a bloody waste of an evening, she said to
herself. Still, there was always Ryan tomorrow – third time lucky. And if that failed, well . . . maybe internet dating wasn’t for her after all.