It had taken almost a week for Erin to properly forgive me for booking us onto the speed dating evening. She rallied at the antiques fair to put on a show, and afterwards as we drove though the countryside in darkness with an almost empty van, I could tell she was doing her best to remain even-tempered.
Now the evening was looming, I had to admit I was having second thoughts. I wasn’t sure what had possessed me, and if it hadn’t been Ginger that had arranged it then I would have cancelled and happily paid the money involved as a forfeit.
However, I hated letting people down so there was no choice. Erin and I were going to have to go through it and live with whatever happened next. Hearing the sound of footsteps outside the kitchen door, I smiled brightly as Erin appeared. Dressed in jeans and a smart white blouse Luke would have described as a doily, I glanced at the clock in surprise.
‘Why are you up and dressed so early?’ I frowned. ‘It's only just gone seven.’
‘I start my new job with Phil today,’ she replied, helping herself to a bowl of granola. ‘I want to make a good impression.’
‘Of course, that’s today. I completely forgot, I am sorry.’
‘No need.’ Erin smiled, sitting opposite me at the table.
‘There’s every need,’ I said, feeling guilty. ‘I’m sorry Erin, I wanted to wish you good luck.’
‘Really, it doesn’t matter.’ She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘It’s not like I haven’t worked there before. Besides,’ she added playfully, ‘shouldn’t it be me wishing you good luck today. Isn’t Mike coming round later to put you through your paces?’
I nodded excitedly at the thought of my new personal trainer. ‘Yes. He’s coming at eight to start whipping me into shape.’
With that I stood up and flexed a non-existent bicep while Erin looked at me, clearly perplexed.
‘You do know that it takes time to build muscle?’ She frowned. ‘It won’t happen overnight. And also working out hurts.’
Privately I had wondered if I was losing my marbles. First speed dating and now exercise. I knew outsiders might think I was having a three-quarter-life crisis, but I was rather enjoying trying new things and finding out who I was. Besides Jane Fonda was older than me and she looked fabulous. But it wasn’t just about looking good, I was actually hoping exercise might help my mental health. I was always reading in the newspapers that the best way to improve your memory was to get fit and I wanted to give it a try before it was too late. Besides I’d been a bit forgetful of late, this could only help things.
‘I know that,’ I said loftily, ‘but I told you Erin, I want to try everything at least once and you should too. Stop being so afraid of new adventures.’
With that, she arched an eyebrow and fell silent. I thought desperately of something else to smooth the waters. ‘There’s another fair next weekend in Swindon this time. Do you want to go?’
Erin turned to me and smiled that lovely smile of hers that lit up her entire face. ‘Absolutely. I still can’t believe how well we did in Bridgwater.’
I rubbed my hands together in glee. ‘It was wonderful. I knew we had some good quality items but the way people flocked to our stall was a great surprise.’
‘It was all the social media promotion,’ Erin said authoritatively as she finished her cereal. ‘I asked every customer afterwards how they heard about us and 90 per cent of them said they saw us online.’
‘Really?’ I asked in surprise. ‘I didn’t think it would have that much effect. Most of the business Harry and I had was through word of mouth.’
‘Social media is a very powerful tool.’ Erin stood up and rinsed her bowl in the sink. ‘I’ll start setting up the next lot of promotional material if you let me have all the fair details’
‘Yes of course. I’ll go and get ready for my exercise session and then I’ll get the details together.’
With that, I made my way up to my bedroom. I already had my workout outfit planned, having gone into town and got myself a very nice pair of leggings, trainers and T-shirt that the sales girl assured me would keep me very comfortable.
And while I would, of course, send Erin all the details of the fair, there was something else I wanted to get on with before Mike arrived and that was checking my Facebook. Last night I had taken myself to Harry’s old office, sat at his computer with a glass of wine and rebooted my search for Erin’s parents. I was still keen to bring them back together, and this morning there were a couple of profiles I wanted to take a closer look at.
Shutting the door to Harry’s office, I crept over to the old desktop and waited for the machine to fire up. When the familiar four-note melody sounded, I pressed the internet icon and loaded up Facebook. Going to the search bar, I entered the name Rosie Matthews and looked at the two profiles I thought might be her. Erin hadn’t given me much more to go on than her parents’ names and I had already looked through at least fifteen profiles and none of them had been right. I was getting so desperate I was tempted to ask Luke for help but I could only imagine what he would say. I could almost see the familiar eye roll and hear the pleading tone in his voice as he begged me to leave well alone.
I nearly had, but then last night I had found one Rosemary Matthews and another named Rosie that both lived in Bristol I wanted to look at them last night but Erin had made some big fuss about me watching a film with her, and there hadn’t been time. So now, as I clicked on the first one, I scanned the first profile. Although she lived in Bristol, she was apparently single and judging by the moronic stare she was giving the camera lens, I highly doubted she was clever enough to have become a solicitor.
Returning to the search bar, I clicked the next name down, and the moment the profile loaded I felt a shiver of excitement. The woman in the profile picture was the spitting image of Erin. With a bright smile, greying red hair and a glass of wine in front of her as she smiled confidently at the camera, I could see immediately where Erin got her self-esteem. This Rosie Matthews’ smile alone would have you believing you could do anything. Once again I felt a pang of sorrow that this magnificent-looking woman and her daughter were estranged. Quickly I scanned the rest of her profile. Although she didn’t say outright that she had a daughter called Erin she no longer spoke to, this Rosie Matthews did run a solicitor’s firm in Bristol, did advocacy work for a women’s refuge and her likes included several left-wing groups along with the Guardian. Oh, and her husband was Tom, just like Erin’s father.
My heart pounded. Should I message her? If so, what should I say? Decisively, I clicked on the send message icon and as I waited for a new page to load I thought about what to say. What was the best way of telling a woman, mother to mother, that their estranged daughter was living with them, had been through hell and back and wasn’t it about time they kissed and made up?
I rubbed my chin. No, even I wouldn’t be that insensitive. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, and then common sense prevailed. If Erin had been upset about me setting up a speed date, I wasn’t quite sure how she would take me trying to reunite her with her family, no matter how honourable my intentions. She had made no secret of the fact that was the one thing she hated – surprises. I didn’t want to keep this from her.
As the front door slammed shut, I logged out of my Facebook account, resolving to think about it all later.
*
‘Oww,’ I muttered under my breath as I hobbled up to one of the bar stools in Phil’s café.
Erin gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘Why don’t you sit down at one of the tables? You’ll be more comfortable.’
‘Because I can’t bend down,’ I hissed crossly, ‘That workout was agony, you should have warned me.’
‘I did try,’ she chuckled. ‘A personal trainer is not for the faint-hearted. What did he get you to do?’
I shuddered at the memory. It was more a case of what didn’t we do. From the moment Mike arrived, he promised he wouldn’t work me too hard. I thought that might mean a long chat about what I wanted to achieve followed by possibly one or two gentle exercises to get me in the mood. Not on your life! He had me doing star jumps, lunges and these horrible little bends called squats. After an hour I was begging for mercy and wondering if all this pain was really worth it. Given every part of my body felt as if it had been tortured, I decided once was enough and so after I gave Mike his money, I gave him his marching orders too.
‘Let’s just say it was more than I anticipated and I won’t be doing it again,’ I admitted, nursing the coffee Erin had presented me with the moment I arrived. ‘How are you getting on anyway?’
‘Really well I think,’ she replied. ‘It’s been nice to be busy.’
I glanced around the café and saw that aside from me and another man in the corner drinking a latte, it was quiet. I had hoped it would be busier than this when I caught the bus into town. I wanted a private word with Phil about Erin’s mother.
‘You didn’t have to check on me, though I appreciate the fact you did,’ she said, bending over the refrigerated counter and cutting off a large slice of what appeared to be a very jammy Bakewell tart. ‘Here you go. On me, just to say thanks for the support, you know, it means ever such a lot.’
As she placed the tart on a plate and slid it towards me with a fork, I felt a flash of guilt. ‘I can’t take this.’
‘Nonsense.’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve earned it! In more ways than one this morning.’
I slipped her a small smile and eyed the tart. It looked delicious and in all honesty, I had worked up quite an appetite. ‘Is Phil around?’ I asked, forking off a small piece and savouring the delicious almond scent. ‘Don’t tell me he’s left you running the show all by yourself on your first day.’
‘He’s just nipped upstairs to sort out something to do with one of the suppliers,’ she explained, flashing a smile as a customer walked in. ‘Do you want me to get him?’
I shook my head and devoured a mouthful of tart. ‘I think I’ve more than enough to keep me going until the boss arrives.’
Just then I saw a pair of feet and some rather stout legs appear on the stairs behind Erin.
‘Ah, Phil.’ I smiled as his head and body emerged. ‘I was hoping for a word.’
Setting a pile of paperwork down on the counter, he exchanged a mock nervous glance with Erin. ‘What have I done?’ he deadpanned.
‘Don’t ask me,’ Erin said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Are you all right if I take my break now?’
Phil looked around the café wryly. ‘Well, I mean we are rushed off our feet…’
As he trailed off, Erin kissed his cheek and tore off her apron in one swift movement. I laughed at their easiness together. They were almost like father and daughter and it was lovely to see how affectionate they were with one another.
Saying goodbye to Erin, I indicated my plate to Phil and raised my eyebrows. ‘I’m actually here to arrest you for crimes against waistlines,’ I sighed. ‘This Bakewell is delicious.’
‘It’s Ginger’s.’ Phil smiled ruefully. ‘She’s a wonder in the kitchen.’
‘I must ask her for the recipe,’ I groaned, patting my stomach.
‘Is that why you’re here, Lyddie? Only I heard you were trying to rebuild the body beautiful this morning,’ he teased, slipping another coffee my way.
I smiled gratefully. ‘I insist on paying for this. You’ll be bankrupt if you carry on being this generous. But no, Ginger’s recipe book is not why I’m here. I want your advice.’
‘Again? I’ll need to start charging,’ he teased. ‘What is it this time?’
‘Do you have a laptop?’ I asked. ‘I need to show you something.’
Perplexed, Phil nodded and reached down under the counter for an ancient-looking computer that looked as though its predecessor had been an abacus. Walking around the counter to join me, he lifted the lid, pressed a few buttons and brought the social media site I wanted to show him to life.
‘Have you found Jack?’ he asked excitedly as I clicked onto my own profile. ‘Is that what this is about?’
‘Sadly, no. We seem to have hit a bit of a dead end. But what I did want to show you was this.’
Pushing the computer back towards Phil, he gasped in shock as he saw who I had found. ‘This is Erin’s mother. What are you doing with this?’
‘I want to reunite them,’ I said baldly. ‘As I keep saying, Phil, life is just too short and this family should be talking to one another.’
‘But, Lydia,’ Phil said beseechingly, unable to take his eyes from the screen, ‘you can’t go messing about in Erin’s affairs. Yes, I agree it’s ridiculous. But Erin is our friend and it is merely our job to support her not interfere. She told me she didn’t really want to go speed dating tomorrow night but you’ve made her.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Erin’s over all that now. Phil, what I want to know is do you really think it’s a terrible idea if I contact her?’
Phil said nothing and instead peered at the screen. Running his eyes across Rosie’s image he suddenly sighed. ‘Erin is the spitting image of her mother, isn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ I said sadly. ‘And frankly as a mother, if my child had been through everything Erin has then, estrangement or no estrangement, I would want to know. Look, I’ve written her this note, and wanted your opinion before I sent it to her through the messaging service.’
Delving into my handbook I pulled out a handwritten sheet I had laboured over and passed it to Phil. As he placed his glasses on his nose and read it through, I was astonished to see tears pool at his eyes.
‘Well?’ I demanded. ‘Do you think I should send it.’
Phil clasped my hand. ‘It’s a beautiful letter Lydia. And I think that we both know that it doesn’t matter what I say, you’ll send that note. All I can say to you is be prepared for the consequences.’