The Friday after Easter was April’s Christmas Book Club Challenge meeting. This time, Ashley went first.
‘Well,’ she began, twirling the strings of multicoloured beads draped round her neck. ‘I’ve searched the electoral roll for Hillary West and tried some other online searches but the woman is like a ghost! No social media page or anything. I can’t even find a photograph.’
‘Maybe you should take the hint?’ Frances said, slurping a huge gin-and-tonic. ‘Respect the poor woman’s privacy.’
Ashley ignored this. ‘So, anyway, I decided to do some old-fashioned detective work, and read everything I could that’s been written about her, searching for clues.’
‘And?’ Kiko asked. ‘What did you find?’
Ashley opened the enormous carrier bag she’d brought and tugged out a cork notice board. She proudly held it up for us all to see. There was a map of Nottinghamshire in the centre, and several typed cuttings surrounding it, each with a ribbon pinned from the cutting to a part of the map.
‘Put it down, then, so we can have a proper look!’ Frances said, now interested.
We gathered round. It was somewhat less impressive up close.
‘So, you’ve got articles saying she’s lived the past few years in Sherwood Forest. We already knew that.’ Lucille sniffed.
‘Yes, but this confirms it,’ Ashley replied, undeterred. ‘And, this one here says she’s in her thirties. And this one says she returned to country life. So, she used to live in the country, then didn’t, then did again.’
‘Well, that narrows it down!’ Frances said.
‘It’s a start,’ Ellen said pointedly. ‘What are your next steps?’
‘I’m going to visit her publishers and pretend to be a reporter. And if that fails I’ll break into her agent’s office and see what I can find there.’
‘Oh!’ Kiko said. ‘I don’t think—’
‘Or I could run her agent over, break his leg and then stake out the hospital waiting for Hillary to visit.’
‘You can’t…’
‘Or I could pretend to be another author, sue her for plagiarism and wait for her to turn up at court.’
‘Ashley!’ Ellen yelled.
‘I could get a job as a postwoman, find letters with her name on them…’
‘You need help,’ Frances and Lucille muttered at the same time.
‘I bet you could help, Jamie, couldn’t you? You do this sort of thing in your sleep.’
‘That’s not the help I had in mind,’ Lucille said.
‘Failing that, I’ll just knock on doors until I find her. There aren’t that many people living in Sherwood Forest. And I might meet some interesting people along the way. I could start a blog or something, “the Great Hillary West Hunt”.’
Sarah had her phone out, searching Google. ‘Ashley, there are over a hundred thousand people living in the Newark and Sherwood area. That’s a lot of doors.’
‘There are ways to narrow it down,’ Jamie said, grinning in Lucille’s direction.
‘Exactly!’ Ashley said. ‘Like, um, I won’t knock on any of your doors. And, um…’
‘She’s probably living somewhere isolated,’ Jamie added. ‘She values her privacy highly. Start with houses that don’t have any close neighbours. And she’s a bestselling author, so can afford an expensive house, with top security. Look for gates, cameras, that sort of thing. A lot of that type of homes have older people living in them, so knowing her general age will also help.’
Ellen gave Jamie a hard stare. ‘Are you seriously suggesting Ashley starts scoping out every big house in the area looking for a reclusive author?’
He shrugged. ‘It can’t do any harm.’
‘Sending an obsessed fan snooping around local houses with top security?’ Ellen replied. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’
We heard updates from Lucille next, who had entered a five-K race. Kiko showed us the holiday she’d found – not quite climbing Mount Everest, but hiking as far as the base camp.
‘I mean, I’m never going to actually go. I couldn’t just up and leave, could I? For three whole weeks? It’d be impossible for Adam, managing the kids and the house and cooking and shopping and everything—’
‘And everything that you do, every day?’ Sarah said. ‘It’s three weeks. Adam and the kids’ll survive.’
‘Ooh, no.’ Kiko let out a giggle. ‘I mean, I’m just having fun looking. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself knowing I’d left them to struggle. And what about his work?’ She paused, looking at our faces.
Nobody spoke.
‘That would be ridiculous! Wouldn’t it? I mean, I’m me. I don’t do things like that.’
It was up to Kiko whether she went or not. She was right – there was no point going if she spent the whole time writhing in guilt and worry about the family she’d left behind. But I had to wonder if, once she got there, and stepped off that plane into the mountains, she’d suddenly find it a lot easier to leave her guilt behind.
‘Twenty-one days, Kiko.’ Sarah held up three fingers to represent the three weeks. ‘They’ll survive.’
‘And have a better mother at the end of it,’ Frances said. ‘What kind of a role model are you to those girls? Do you want them to be women who get out there and live their dreams, or not?’
‘Well, yes, of course I do, but I was thinking maybe a weekend in Snowdonia instead,’ Kiko whimpered. ‘It’s still a mountain.’
We moved on…
Jamie had made white chocolate and ginger ice cream. It was outrageous. There was nearly another fight over the last scoop. He’d not yet baked with Sarah at the café due to a work situation he couldn’t tell us about.
‘Don’t you just love a man who makes a good dessert?’ Ashley asked Sarah, licking her spoon. ‘What more could you want?’
‘Quite a lot.’ Sarah frowned, seemingly oblivious to Jamie’s crestfallen face. ‘And after the dates I’ve had this month the list has grown even longer.’
‘Well? Don’t make us beg for details.’ Lucille smirked in Jamie’s direction. ‘Tell us everything.’
‘Not much to tell.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘The first bloke was at least twenty years older than his profile picture. Not that I’m averse to an older man. Even if he did look as though he’s spent every minute of those twenty years eating deep-fried food, swilling beer and slobbing. But I’m not interested in men who don’t own up to who they really are.’ She glanced at Jamie, who was taking a long drink from his beer bottle and staring at the ceiling.
‘Unless it’s for work purposes, of course. Like Jamie.’
Jamie choked on his beer.
‘So I told him that. I marched straight up to him and said, “Lying to catch criminals is fine. I could be interested in a man who does that.”’
Kiko ran to fetch Jamie a glass of water. Sarah ploughed on regardless. ‘“Lying to catch women is not. It makes me think you view women as something to be caught. You, sir, are a dud.” And I marched straight out again. All right, Jamie?’
Jamie continued wheezing, waving his hand in a ‘carry on’ gesture.
‘Date two?’ Sarah grimaced. ‘Date two should have been christened Dud.’ She paused for dramatic effect.
‘Date two, otherwise known as Nottinghamshire’s greatest dud, was not alone.’
‘He didn’t bring his mother?’ Ellen gasped.
‘His ex-wife.’
We all gasped.
‘It’s messed up on so many levels I didn’t know where to start. I told them both that, actually: “How dare you even sign up to a dating website under these circumstances? What kind of woman would be okay with this? You” – and here I pointed at his supposedly ex-wife – “need professional help. Sharpish. This man will never find a girlfriend you approve of – that’s not the problem here. Get some counselling right away and save shelling out for your kids to have it later.” And then I scarpered before she launched her fork at my eye.’
Ashley leaned over to pat Sarah’s arm. ‘Never mind. Keep looking. Love can turn up in the funniest places.’
Somehow, we all managed to resist pointing at Jamie. Sarah took another order for drinks while we squeezed in one more update. Frances.
‘How was the wild swimming, Frances?’ I asked.
She showed us a picture, of her in a swimsuit with a towel wrapped around her shoulders and goggles pushed up on her head, surrounded by a crowd of young men in wetsuits. ‘Cold. Muddy. Tiring. Invigorating. Marvellous. But once was enough. It took three days to get the grit out of my crevices.’
‘What’s next?’
‘I tried to book a sky-dive but they wouldn’t cover me on the insurance because I’m dying. Aren’t we all? I told them, surely that’s the best time to do it? If I crash-land it’ll save the NHS a whole lot of money it can’t afford. But they wouldn’t budge. So my next challenge is the Big Zipper.’
‘Do you mean the big dipper?’ Ellen asked. ‘The roller coaster?’
‘I do not.’ Frances snorted. ‘The Big Zipper, I said, and that’s what I meant. The fastest zip-wire in the world. Over a mile long and reaching speeds of one hundred miles per hour!’
‘Sounds fantastic,’ Kiko said.
It did. It sounded fantastic. I hoped I wouldn’t be eighty-four years old before I grew the guts and the gumption to get out there and take some risks. I made a mental note to start badgering Kiko to book that trek. To persuade Sarah to ask Jamie out.
The next morning brought with it more bad weather, leaving The Common Café empty of customers. I pottered about behind the counter while Sarah played KerPlunk with Edison. This gave me plenty of time to practise my opening line in my head:
So, Sarah, have you ever thought there might be someone worth dating at book club?
Sarah, you must have noticed that Jamie is completely nuts about you…
Look, Sarah, you’re a lovely woman, he’s a lovely man when he isn’t kicking people’s butts…
‘Why don’t you ask Jamie out?’ I blurted, when Edison went upstairs to fetch his jumper.
‘What?’ Sarah squinted at me. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘Well, you’re looking for a man. And you could do a lot worse.’
‘I’m aiming a bit higher than “could do a lot worse”. Recent events have revealed I could do a lot worse than just about every bloke in Middlebeck. Including Yellow Mickey.’
‘Well, yeah, but Jamie’s good-looking. And decent. He’s got a good business. And his desserts are amazing. He’s categorically not a dud.’ I came out from behind the counter and sat at her table.
‘Sounds like you should ask him out.’
‘I’m not looking for a relationship. And even if I did like Jamie – which I don’t, in that way, if I did we wouldn’t be having this conversation – he clearly isn’t interested in me.’
‘Why not?’ Sarah grinned at me. ‘You’re good-looking. And decent, when you aren’t beating people up…’
Before I could answer, Edison scampered back in demanding a KerPlunk rematch. But that was fine – I’d planted the idea in her head. Surely next time Sarah saw Jamie she would see why he wasn’t interested in me.
The rain intensified throughout Sunday night, hammering on the windows and doors while I lay in bed imagining rivers running through the roof. I could have got up to look, but I wasn’t up for that information at three in the morning.
Ellen had the names of a few local roofers waiting for me on Monday. ‘Ignore what my dad says. Don’t let him pressure you into anything. He can be a nasty bully. It’s the main reason we don’t see him often, and when we do it’s in small doses. Especially since Mum left. Stick at it and you’ll have that house a home again in no time.’
After seeing the kids safely into school, I called the first one on the list. Three hours later he came round and quoted a figure that made me snort tea out of my nose. Deeply offended, he stalked back to his van and revved off before I could apologise.
A second guy could fit me in some time next September. Another deemed the whole house a health and safety disaster, refusing to work without a hefty ‘contingency fee’ to cover the additional risk.
The other two never returned my call.
I started to grow a little suspicious.
And when Fisher turned up uninvited for dinner at the Camerons’ on Thursday, asking how things were going with my ‘nightmare renovation’, my suspicions swivelled over in his direction.
‘I heard you’ve not found a roofer. I expect most reputable tradesmen consider it more hassle than it’s worth.’ He stuffed a roast potato in his mouth. ‘Let’s be honest, those piles of rubbish are probably the only thing keeping it upright.’ He broke out into enormous guffaws.
‘Grandpa Fisher, it’s not allowed showing chewed-up food. Mum says its disgustering,’ Billy pronounced.
Fisher was laughing too loud to hear him.
But he wasn’t laughing when he followed me out into the hallway after the meal. Instead, he leant in close and murmured, ‘It’s a good offer I’ve made. But I’m a businessman. The market’s dropping and my offer will reflect that. You could hand over all the worry and hassle and be in a brand-new luxury apartment by June. Think about it.’
I backed away out of the door, droplets of his greasy breath lingering on the back of my neck all the way home.