Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Slang Guide

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Coming Next

Also by Andie M. Long

About Andie

CURVE BALLS

Ball Games Book Six

by

Andie M. Long

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Copyright (c) 2017 by Andrea Long

All rights reserved.

Cover by Andie M. Long, photo from Adobe Stock.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my review team. Thank you to each and every one of you for taking the time to read my books and leave a review. It means more than you know.

Love, Andie xxx

Slang Guide

British/Yorkshire Slang Guide

Arse - idiot.

Bin - When ending a relationship, eg Ha ha you’ve been binned.

Banging - in this book ‘head is banging’ - bad headache.

Bog roll - toilet paper.

Bollocks - Oh shit/crap/rubbish

Buggered - tired, also can mean broken, eg god that tv’s buggered.

Carrier bag - a plastic bag to put shopping in.

Cat nap - a small sleep

Cream-crackered - (Knackered) - very tired usually physically

Faffing - messing about

Fuckhead- idiot

Gotcha - got you/caught you out

Knackered - tired

Mate - friend

Out like a light - when you go to sleep super fast.

Quid - one pound in UK money

Rat-arsed - very drunk.

Shitting me - kidding me

Smack - hit

Snozzle - nose

Sofa - couch

Three sheets to the wind - drunk.

Tits up - gone wrong

Trousers - pants. (In the UK pants are knickers/panties)

Shag - have sex.

Twat - a word for vagina, used to say a person is a despicable person.

Wee - urinate

Chapter One

Dora

Friday 3 February 2017

Mould. That’s what Tim talks to me about now. Not telling me I have a firm bottom, before patting me on it. Mould. Take this morning. Tim walked into the lounge and asked me in all seriousness, “How can you not notice that the bedroom windows need cleaning? Can you not see they are covered in mould?” I replied in my nicest voice. “I’ll wash them later Tim. It was on my list of housework for today.” He shook his head, the unspoken words of ‘you big fat liar’, hanging in the air and he went off to work. Later, I’ll quickly rub them over with a packet of antibacs like the OCD women do on the cleaning programmes. I’ll pretend to be one of them, ‘Ooh, I’m only happy if the whole house smells of bleach’.

I get up from the sofa and walk into the kitchen where I make a coffee then open my baking cupboard and take out a bar of chocolate from behind the flour. My congratulations to myself for not yelling at Tim that the reason I haven’t seen the mould on the windows is because I. Have. A. Fucking. Life. Also, there’s the fact I spend my time looking at my Kindle, not the window ledges, but I’d better not tell him that or he’ll give me even more chores to do while I’m at home.

Anyway, I digress. I need to spend as much time sitting on my backside as possible because it’s all about to change…

Firstly, I’m going to be a grandma. Me - a granny! I’ve wanted to be one for ages. I get to squeeze a lovely little baby and then hand it back. But when I’d imagined it, I thought it would be Cam who was the mother. My sensible child. Instead, it’s Lindsay having the baby, girlfriend of my son, Tyler. I love Lindsay to bits but she has no patience. Also, girls tend to reach out to their own mothers so I may not get a look in. So, I’m worrying. Worrying because Lindsay and Tyler have only just started living together, haven’t been a couple for that long and Tyler, is, well, Tyler. My gorgeous boy, newly released into the world of independence and now he’s going to be a parent himself.

Secondly, I’ve not had a period of my own this month, well for a few weeks now actually. This takes me back to our Christmas holiday and the fact that I haven’t yet had my coil replaced as I should have done. I’m booked into the doctors later this morning to find out what’s happening. So you see, I may as well eat all the chocolate in the cupboard if I’m going to get fat anyway. My baby would be due just after my grandchild’s birth. That’s just weird, isn’t it? I know it happens but, hey, let’s face it, I don’t look my age so I’ll be explaining to people all the time that no I haven’t had twins, one of them is my grandchild and then I’ll have to accept all their compliments and questions about what moisturiser I use, because they don’t believe I’m forty-seven. By this time the kids will be wailing and I’ll have to placate them with chocolate. Before you know it, I’ll have made them obese. Lindsay will scream that I’m not allowed to look after my grandchild anymore and the health visitor will be at my door telling me I’m an unfit mother.

God, I feel faint. I must stop stressing myself like this. It’s no good for the baby. Fuck, I’ll be fifty before my new baby is three years old. I wonder if Cam would like to adopt it? She’s too busy with her job to actually have one. Then I could babysit my own child that’s been adopted by my daughter.

I think I’d better stop watching Jeremy Kyle.

I wander upstairs and begin packing. It’s the minibreak to Liverpool with my sister this weekend. The one where she’s been foretold she’s going to meet the literary love of her life in the Waterstones below the apartment. I would normally throw two bottles of wine in my luggage for a girly weekend with Miranda, but I can’t drink, can I? I slam the case lid shut which isn’t as dramatic as it sounds as it’s lightweight material and basically just floats down. Twat.

At thirteen minutes to eleven, I set off for the doctors. It takes about ten minutes to drive there. Once in the surgery, I book in via the computerised system and it tells me there are three appointments before mine and a waiting time of approximately nine minutes. The system is a total lying bastard. Thirty-nine minutes later and I’m still sitting there growing my embryo. I’ll probably give birth before I’m seen.

“Miss Dora Evans.” The screen flashes my name and a recorded voice announces my appointment. “Dr Jones, Room Seven.”

I’ve been coming to this surgery for years. I remember being so excited when I was pregnant with Cam, and then Tyler. Now I feel like I’m being sentenced to death. I’m too old for a baby. Oh well, like it or not, a new life is in my stomach and I’ve been blessed and need to get on with it.

“Hi, Dora,” says Dr Jones, a middle-aged woman who’s been at the surgery all the time we’ve been registered. It’s like seeing an old, but distant friend. “What can I do for you today?”

“Well, I’m late getting my coil replaced and I think I might be pregnant.”

“Oh. Okay, Have you done a test?”

“No. I daren’t. I felt I needed to be among professionals when it was done as if I see a positive result I may need a psychiatric admission.”

“Come on, Dora,” she laughs. “It’s not that bad. Is it?”

“No.” I sigh. “But I’m mad with myself for not keeping my contraception up to date.”

“Right, well let’s get a test done. Can you go and wee into this cup for me and bring it back in?”

I sigh but go to the toilet just down the corridor and return with my specimen.

Dr Jones performs the test.

“Okay, so the good news, Dora, is that you are not pregnant. I can perform some bloods to check your levels, but these tests are very accurate these days, so you can be reassured that it’s highly unlikely.”

“Oh,” I say. “But I haven’t come on and I’ve always been so regular. I just assumed-”

“Have you been under any stress lately? That can delay things occasionally.”

“Well, I found out at Christmas that I was going to be a grandma.”

“Oh, congratulations. Cam?”

“Tyler. Well, Tyler’s girlfriend.”

“Tyler’s going to be a dad? I can see why you’re stressed.” Dr Jones chuckles.

“Quite.”

“Well, let’s get you booked in for those bloods. It doesn’t hurt to check. We’ll run your hormone levels while we’re at it. You’re forty-seven, Dora. It’s probably just one of those things and you’ll find your period will start any day now, but we have to explore the possibility that it could be the start of the menopause.”

“The what?” My ears refuse to listen.

“The men-”

“Sorry, I think I need my ears syringing, they must be full of wax.”

“Dora. It comes to us all. I’ve just got through my own.”

I sit back in my chair. “So I might be starting the menopause?”

Dr Jones nods. “You might.”

I take a deep breath. “Could you book me in to see that psychiatrist?”

Chapter Two

Tyler

“If Lindsay asks, I was looking at baby stuff in Mothercare all afternoon,” I tell Dylan, my future brother-in-law. My first pint of bitter goes down all too nicely.

“And I was working at the Bank. I didn’t take the day off without telling Cam so I could have a rest,” replies Dylan.

We’ve snuck out to a pub in Wentworth. Absolutely no chance were we staying in our own neighbourhood. Dylan’s becoming a good mate. I’d bumped into him yesterday lunchtime when I’d nipped out of Smiths for a Greggs sausage roll. The man looked half dead, so I’d asked him if he was okay. He said yeah, so I’d started to walk off and then he’d asked me if I fancied a beer today. Hence our secret mission. Us blokes aren’t known for talking but we both had women problems and I was currently finding out what our Cam was up to.

“It doesn’t seem right, me talking about your sister to you. You know, me saying I’m fed up.”

“Mate, I’m the very person you should be talking to. I know first-hand what it’s like living with her. I survived eighteen years of it. So, what’s she up to now?”

“It’s this bloody play centre.” Dylan takes a large swig of beer. “I’m fully aware it’s her business and if it goes ‘tits up’ as she keeps telling me, she’d lose all her savings, but she’s never home. It’s ridiculous. I work full-time and I have to come home and cook. She comes in late, eats, and is so tired she goes to bed and is out like a light until our alarm goes off and she repeats it all again. We barely speak, barely see each other. Since the engagement party, she’s made no inroads into sorting out our wedding. I think we should forget the whole thing. She’s obviously not interested.”

“Have you tried to tell her?”

We look at each other and burst out laughing.

“As if we tell women anything. We like our bollocks, right?” I state. Then I tilt my head at him, “Seriously though. It is time for the talk.”

“Oh God, no. Anything but the talk.”

The talk. The thing that makes a man quake in his boots. When he needs to say something important to a woman and he needs to be listened to. The one that goes something like this.

Man: Darling (always start with an endearment to sweeten them up).

Woman: Yes?

Man: It’s just a small thing but could you possibly fold my socks rather than leave them in a pile as sometimes one falls behind the sofa and I end up with a lot of odd socks.

Woman: Fine.

Man: Fuck, that was easier than I thought. (Goes to sit down.) Thirty minutes later: Hit by balls of socks to the head with a ‘will that do, fuckhead?’

“Rather you than me, mate.”

“I know. I’ve tried to think of another way around it, but there isn’t one. She’s got to slow down. Not only for my selfish reasons. She’s knackered. I’m scared she’s going to make herself ill, and her business won’t run itself, will it? She’s got Gemma, who’s amazing. She needs to use her more.”

“Beth’s there now as well, and my mum goes there occasionally too. There’s lots of help there.”

Dylan nods. “Exactly. She has reliable staff, but she won’t leave them to get on with it. Anyway, I’m fed up of being treated like shit. If she’s like this now, what will she be like in a few years? And will she want kids, or do they not fit in with her business plan? I need to know because not having kids is a deal-breaker for me.”

“Huh, I didn’t get a chance to think about making deals. My life’s moving that fast I make the Flash look like a sloth.”

“Christ. I wondered about that. You’re moving pretty fast for a bloke who still lived at home eleven months ago.”

“Dylan, I’m really stoked about having a kid. I am. I love Lindsay, but-”

“It’s too fast?”

I shake my head in agreement. “It’s way too fast. Me and Lindsay only got together at the end of March, when I was in my new place. By October my YouTube channel exploded and I was getting all those offers coming in – things I’m supposed to look at and deal with, when I’ve spent the last twenty-five years letting my mother do everything for me. December, I ask Linds to move in, and by this time she knows she’s pregnant, but hasn’t told me. She’s saving it for Christmas. So I celebrate my birthday and then it’s ‘oh, you’re going to be a dad.’ I feel like I’m spinning, mate.” I finish my pint.

“You’re sure you’re happy with all this? Not being swept along?” He asks me, his brow furrowed.

I thump on my chest for effect. “Inside, I feel happy. That’s what I’m going on. But I need, like, the superpower of freezing time so I can take a breath and have a think about what’s happened and what’s coming. Like, I’d like to get a house and get out of the rental. My lease is up next month, but I haven’t had chance to look into it because I don’t have a spare minute.”

“What’s happening with the book?”

“I don’t know. I need to get back to them, but I’ve had no time with working at Smiths, keeping the channels updated and then dealing with Lindsay, who’s constantly moaning she feels sick. She’s only having a baby; you’d think she was dying.”

“Well they do exaggerate, don’t they?”

“It gets me how they constantly moan about how busy they are and never see we’re just as busy.”

“Tell me about it. If I’d told Cam I’d had the day off, she’d have given me a list of jobs that needed doing in the house. So, I’ve not told her. I’ll just say I nipped out for a couple of quick pints after work.” He drinks up. “In fact, I’ll bet you anything she doesn’t even notice. She’ll waffle on about the play centre – I mean, it’s only a few kids running about. I have vast sums of money to manage every day. What if I’m so tired I give someone a million quid that’s not theirs? Does she ask about my day? No. She just moans that I’ve put my mug on the chair arm. Anyway, at some point, I need to talk to her, but not today. Today is about beer.”

We chink pint glasses together and change the topic to football.

Chapter Three

Dora

This year I started Four Weeks to Peace, Love and Happiness, the new self-help book by Tatiana Patrick, which Cam bought me for my birthday last month. It’s about not seeing fear, but seeing love instead. Not feeling resentments, but imagining it all with love. There are little exercises to do every day. I have to ensure that every time I feel resentment towards someone, I think love instead. I have to say it in my head: ‘Think love’. I feel all zen. I’m not worrying about this menopause thing. It demonstrates my age; I’m maturing like a fine wine. Seeing it with love. Yeah right, who am I kidding? I’m a fucking fermented grape. All wrinkled up. I pick up the book and throw it towards the kitchen door. It’s going in the bin. Fuck off, Tatiana, twenty-odd-year-old clueless bint. You have no idea, none, about what it feels like to be moving towards old age. I’m a has been. Tim won’t want me anymore. He’s going to start lusting after young, fertile women like his biology desires. I’ll just go and sit at the sodding bingo and have done with it.

Case in point: when we were younger, I wore a pinafore that Tim absolutely loved. He was all pervy towards me about it. I don’t know what it was about the piece, but he liked it on me. Last week I bought one similar from Primark. You know how clothes-fads circle back around? Well, I suppose you don’t if you’re fucking twenty. Anyway, I wore it and do you know what he said? It looked a bit daft.

In other words, I looked daft.

In other words, the pinafore no longer did it.

In other words, I no longer did it for him wearing the pinafore.

Case in point: I’m now old and fugly. You’ve heard that before, right? Fugly. Fucking ugly.

I go up to my wardrobe and pull out a thin scarf. When I was younger, my Nan used to wear these around her head. It’s rare you see them these days, but that’s how it was. I tie it around my head and under my chin. It covers up my highlighted, long blonde hair, and all I can see are the wrinkles on my face. My old, maybe menopausal face. Checking out my mini suitcase in the corner I perk up. At least now I know I’m not pregnant I can have wine! Feeling enthused, I jog down the stairs and grab a couple of bottles from the kitchen and jog back upstairs to add them to the case. I can hear my mother’s voice in my head as I do it, “No running with glass in your hand.” That reminds me, I’d better ring her in a minute. Remind her it’s mine and Miranda’s weekend away. I pick up the case to take it downstairs ready for the morning. It feels a bit heavy. I decide I’ll buy some wine there rather than drag it in the case with me. Hmm, might as well open one of these bottles now then.

“Hey, Mum. Thought I’d give you a ring as I’m off away for the weekend with our Mir.”

“Hey, Dora, love.”

I think I’m going deaf to boot and then I realise I still have the scarf on my head.

“Listen, don’t let your sister buy any more books. She’s got enough.”

This is a good time to keep my mouth shut that our apartment is above Waterstones.

“I’ll try, but you know what she’s like.”

We’ve saved up our £50 to spend and usually egg each other on to spend more.

“I hope she meets a bloke soon. That’s what she needs.”

I roll my eyes, thankful that my mother can’t see or she’d smack me around the ear. “She didn’t start any of this collecting nonsense until she married Peter. She’s been better off without him.”

“Well, I hope she meets a nice bloke soon. Like what you’ve got.”

“Yes, I’m very lucky.”

“That’s what she needs. A nice bloke with a huge dick.”

“Mother! She doesn’t need a man to be happy, and there are things you can buy for the other.”

“If women were meant to be without men and their appendages, we’d be born mute with our own penises.”

A pearl of advice from my mother there. Must remember to tell Mir that one. “Well anyway, we’re going to have a girly catch up and drink lots of wine.”

“Sounds fabulous. I’m going to watch The Full Monty with Maggie in town tomorrow afternoon. I hope there’s at least one bloke with a fit arse. I only see your father’s extremely saggy one now.”

There’s a visual I could have done without. I take a slug of wine.

“Well I’ve got to go, Tim’ll be home soon.”

“Gosh, yes, go make sure you’ve got his tea ready. He works hard that man.”

God help me. If phones still had cords I’d have hung myself with it by now.

“Yes, Mum. I’ll phone you next week, okay.”

Speaking of which? Where is Tim? He’s late home tonight.

Tim

Our Tyler called and said he was at the pub and did I want a quick pint. That’s all I can have with driving. Those two got a taxi there, and I guess I’m the taxi back. But it’s nice seeing my son. I miss him now he’s not at home, and I wanted to check he’s okay as that baby news must have hit him for six.

“So, Dad, if Mum asks, why are you late?”

“Well, ordinarily I keep nothing from your Mum because I don’t have a death wish, but seeing as it would lead to twenty questions about you, if she asks I was stuck in traffic due to an accident on the motorway.”

“Gotcha. That’s a good one.”

“So how are things then, son?”

“They’re alright, Dad. Just telling Dylan it’s all been a bit quick. I’ve enjoyed getting out and having a beer.”

“Well, why don’t we have a blokes night, like every Wednesday or something?” I ask. “Then we can have a bit of breathing space, let our hair down. Be men.” I make a kind of growling he-man noise.

“Sounds good to me,” says Dylan. “I don’t mind coming over to the Red Lion. It’ll make a change to being stuck in on my own. I can get a taxi back.”

“I could really do with it. Just one night a week where I can be without heavy conversations,” adds Tyler.

My son. I know he’ll be amazing. He just needs a little time to adjust to his circumstances. He’s had a lot happen all at once.

“Well, that’s settled then.” I declare.

“Well, yeah, once I’ve checked with Lindsay,” adds Ty.

“And I’ll need to ask Cam,” says Dylan.

I sigh. “Yeah, I’ll run it past Dora.”

“It’s going to be another socks conversation. If any of them say fine. It’s most definitely NOT fine. Take it from me,” says Ty. He fills us in on his socks example and me and Dylan nod. We’ve both heard the word fine. Mother and daughter know this word well.

“Why do big arguments come from simple things like socks?” I ask. “Sometimes I don’t get women.”

It’s like I was psychic…

“Hi love, I’m back.”

“You’re late. It’s not like you.”

“I know, traffic was terrible.”

“Well, your tea’s on. Won’t be long now.”

“What are we having?” I ask, slipping my coat off and getting ready to hang it in the hallway.

“I’ve bunged a couple of pizzas in the oven cos I’m knackered.”

“Oh yeah, what’ve you been doing?”

“Well, there were no large orders today, so Beth didn’t need me. I packed for the weekend; then I went to the doctors, where I found out, thank fuck, that I wasn’t pregnant.”

“Pregnant? You thought you were pregnant?” My soul thuds down to my feet. I’m going to pass out.

She shrugs. “I’d not had a period for a few weeks.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. I’m not pregnant. It might be the menopause.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” I put my coat away. “So? Pizzas? You said you’d had a really busy day? What else did you do?”

Oh dear. The beer has knocked my Dora radar askew. That’s quite a look on her face. I didn’t know eyes could go that narrow.

“I packed to go away and I went to the doctors, where I had the exhausting news that I had possibly started the menopause. Do you understand the mental fatigue from that news? No more babies of my own. I’m barren. I’m on my way down the hill into fugly old woman land. I even called in the newsagents and bought a bingo dabber. So, I thought, if-it’s-okay-with-you,” those words are pronounced with emphasis with a gap in between. This is not good. “We’d have pizza tonight.”

“Fair enough, love, I’ll go and get changed.” With that, I escape. Best not ask about the man’s night out until after her weekend away.

I can tell you straight, my other half is not in the menopause. She is most definitely suffering from pre-menstrual tension right now. Thank fuck she’s off to see her sister. She can put up with her evil. All I did was ask where my socks were…

“Dora?”

“Just a minute, hun, while I put my lippy on.”

She comes into the room. “Yes?”

I hold up some odd socks. “Do you know where the other ones to these are?”

She shrugs. “They’ll be in the wash. I’ve told you before, when I put washing in the machine I don’t check to see if your socks have their twin. I just put a load in. So they’ll come out with the next lot.”

“But these have been missing for a few weeks now.”

“Well, you put them in the washing basket, and I take them out, wash them, and put them in the pile, so they’re somewhere. You must be matching them wrong.”

“I’m not. You must have dropped them somewhere.”

“I haven’t.” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Well, where are they then?” I turn my palms up towards her.

Her jaw tightens. “I’ve told you, they’ll be in the wash.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you manage to lose my socks. It’s a gift.”

“Oh, who cares?”

“Sorry?”

Dora rolls her eyes at me. “Why are we having a massive conversation about socks? Who gives a fuck? Wear odd ones. Throw them away. Buy some more. Wait for the rest of the washing. I.Do.Not.Give. A. Fuck. About. Your. Socks.” She starts pacing. “I’m going away for a lovely weekend, and you start a fight about socks before I go. My probable menopause got approximately 3.6 seconds of your time versus your fucking socks which have taken up ten minutes of my life. You hear that? Ten minutes of my life wasted by Your. Fucking. Socks. We could have had a shag before I left. I could have read. I could have had an extra coffee, but no. Socks. Is this what my middle-age is? Laundry? Kill me now.”

She grabs the socks out of my hand.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to knot them together and hang myself.”

I snatch them off her. “Oh, is that the time? I’d better get you dropped off at the train station.”

“Shit.” Her face enthuses as she realises it’s time to set off. “Oh, I’m so excited.”

Just like that her personality has changed and pleasant Dora is here. She spends the car journey telling me how she’s in an apartment above Waterstones. I feel like saying. ‘I. Do. Not. Give. A. Fuck. About. Your. Books.’ But hey, in a few minutes I’m flying solo for the weekend. My music room and cans of beer await.

I give her a kiss as she leans over and then she’s out of the car, wheeling her suitcase into the train station, and I turn my radio up loud and sing all the way home.

Chapter Four

Beth

I’m being treated like a precious princess. Some people would find it suffocating, but I think it’s sweet. Anyway, I owe it to Leo to enjoy this pregnancy as much as I can, seeing as he missed out on the last one. I’m nine weeks pregnant now, and thankfully, I don’t have any morning sickness. If it wasn’t for the test stick showing a positive result and the rise in my sense of smell, I could imagine I’d dreamt the whole thing. The smells of the kitchen at work can be a little overwhelming at the moment, but the fact that I’m not feeling sick means I’ve been able to keep my, sorry, our secret so far.

Leo and I proposed to each other at Christmas and with us having the baby we’ve decided to arrange a secret wedding. I’m about to send out invites for what our family and friends believe is an engagement party. Then, when they turn up, they’ll discover it’s our wedding. It’s been really difficult not telling Cam. I’m bursting to tell her. She’s known most things about my life and been there throughout the joy and heartaches, but when it comes to Leo, there are some things I have to keep to myself.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Leo strolls into our bedroom carrying a wooden tray complete with a glass of milk, toast, and a bowl of fruit salad. He’s wearing only his lounge joggers. The waistband rides low. I stare at a six-pack and Malteser runners. I wish I had some Maltesers right now. I lick my lips.

“Where’s Trey?” I ask. Our almost four-year-old son is unusually quiet.

“He’s still fast asleep.”

“Confess. You’ve drugged him haven’t you because it’s Saturday.”

“He looks so peaceful.”

“Yeah, wait until he’s awake after his bumper sleep.”

“Hmm, well he’s not awake right now so how are you feeling?” Leo slides back the covers and gets in bed.

“I’m feeling hungry.”

“Yeah, well hurry up and finish that breakfast.” His hand slides across the sheets and then underneath my top where he strokes my skin, his fingers trail upwards until he cups one of my breasts in his hands.

I lift up the sheet and spy the bulge in his trousers.

“You know later?” I ask him.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Will you buy me a box of Maltesers?”

Leo gives me a quizzical look. “Anything my Baby Mama wants.”

“I promise it’ll be worth your while,” I inform him. Then I make light work of finishing my breakfast so that I can start eating Leo.

Chapter Five

Lindsay

“Bleuuurrrrrgggghhh.” Every morning is the bloody same. I lie down on the cold bathroom floor for a minute, letting my sweating, clammy body cool down and rest. I’m thirteen weeks pregnant. I thought this shit stopped at twelve?

“You alright, Linds?” Tyler hovers at the door.

I nod and he moves away. Of course I’m not fucking alright. I keep puking everything up. I’m sick at least five times a day at the moment. I’m knackered to the point I can barely keep my eyes open, and my skin has erupted as if I’m a teenager all over again. But if I say I’m not alright, he’ll come into the bathroom and hover there. I want to be left to throw up in peace.

After a few minutes, I get up from the floor and splash cold water on my face. Then I brush my teeth.

Now I’m starving and really fancy some cheesy wotsits. This is ridiculous. Pregnancy is ridiculous.

I bang my chest on my way through the bathroom door and I want to cry. My breasts are so painful. They feel hard as rocks. I have to keep my bra on all the time as I think I’d pass out if they swung loose.

I stand next to my bed. Get dressed, or go back to bed? Sod it. It’s not a work day. Bed it is. I crawl under the covers and I’m out in seconds.

When I wake, two more hours have passed. Sitting up in bed I realise I feel so much better for that extra sleep. I reckon I could eat some breakfast now. I wrap myself in my dressing gown and make my way downstairs.

I walk through to the lounge, where Tyler is, for a change (heavy sarcasm here!), on the computer, no doubt making edits to his latest video.

“Hey, Linds, you lazy lump. Feeling better?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

I walk through to the kitchen and open the fridge. There’s no milk.

“Tyler.”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s the milk?”

His voice booms back. “I was really thirsty last night. I drank it.”

I sigh and sit at the kitchen table with my head in my hands. I can’t do this. I can’t have a baby. I already have one sitting in the living room. How am I going to juggle a baby, a job and Tyler? I love the man to bits but a fully functioning adult he isn’t.

I put my head around the living room door. “Could you go and get some more?”

“Yeah. If you write me a list, I’ll do the supermarket run later. Just need to edit this right now. Only there are people waiting for it.”

People. The fans of his channels on YouTube. I can’t complain because it’s his side job. He’s making money from paid advertising links and has been asked to write a book. It’s money for our future. Plus he’s still working full-time at Smiths. But what about this person who’s waiting? Standing here growing a baby and wanting a drink of milk? It’s easier to go myself. I head upstairs, quickly dress and then coat on and bag in hand, I head to the corner shop for a pint of milk. The brisk February air hits me as I stroll down the street and my resentment towards Ty fades as I breathe in the cool air and feel more awake. We’ll get there. I just need to get him organised. Something his mother tried for twenty-five years, but I push that thought to the back of my mind as I walk into the shop.

I pick up two separate two-pint plastic bottles of milk. I’m going to write my name on one so that I know there’s milk when I want some. I spot a Twix and realise at that moment I’d kill someone to eat one. There’s a multipack of ten fingers so I decide I may as well go for that as it’s better value. I can’t wait, so I open the packet, take out a finger and start to eat it as I wait near the till to pay.

The assistant deals with the people in front of me and then it’s my turn.

“Afternoon.”

“Afternoon. Just these please.”

Why do we say things like that? Isn’t it obvious? I’d have asked for something else otherwise.

I start to feel a bit lightheaded and clammy. Oh God, no. Not in the corner shop.

I look around for a receptacle should I need one. I can’t spot anything I could buy, like a bucket.

“Can I have a carrier bag please?” I ask quickly.

Then I clamp my mouth shut.

“Yes love, I’m putting your shopping in one. No charge here like the bloody supermarkets.”

I shake my head, trying to explain what I mean with my eyes. It doesn’t work.

“You don’t want your shopping packing?”

It’s no use. I pick up the bowl on the counter where customers are asked to leave spare change for charity and I vomit into it. The assistant looks at me in horror.

“I’m sorry. Pregnant” I tell him. I throw a five-pound note at him, grab my shopping and run from the shop all the way back home.

I march into the lounge, red-faced and panting and throw the remaining Twix at Tyler. “Here. I don’t want them.”

“Oh, thanks love. I was getting a bit peckish.”

“This.” I wave one of the milk cartons around, “Is my milk. If you touch it, I will kill you.”

“Erm, okay. Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I wave my hand in the air. I see Tyler’s eyes widen. “I threw up on the corner shop counter in front of the assistant. I now hate bloody Twix.” My voice climbs higher with every word. “I had to buy my own milk.”

Tyler jumps to his feet and grabbing my shoulders, steers me towards the sofa. “Sit down, Linds. I told you I’d do the shopping. Now, I’ll get you a glass of your milk.”

I look at the plastic bottle now in his hand and my stomach lurches. “Can I have a glass of water instead?”

I hate being pregnant.

Tyler

It’s teatime, and once again Lindsay is asleep, this time on the sofa. It’s like she’s been invaded by an alien. I honestly don’t know what to do to help her. She gets hungry, eats, pukes, then eats again. She can’t eat something fast enough, and then three seconds later she can’t stand it, (usually after throwing it up). There’s so much food in the house that she’s bought and now won’t eat that I’ll probably match her pound for pound weight gain wise at this rate. She can’t keep her eyes open. I don’t know how she’s going to manage to keep working if this doesn’t stop soon. She says she keeps having to dash off the shop floor. In the meantime, I can’t work all the hours I do and try to run a YouTube business. Dylan’s right. I need an assistant. So I phone home.

“Hey, Dad. Is Mum there?”

“No, son. She’s in Liverpool with your Auntie Miranda.”

“Oh, course she is. When is she back?”

“She’s hoping to be back for lunch tomorrow. We’re going over to the Red Lion at two for a late lunch, if her train’s on time.”

“You okay if me and Linds join you? Depending on how she is?”

“Course, son. Everything alright?”

“She can’t stop being sick.”

“Let me have a think. What was it your mum had. Erm, ginger biscuits. Ginger biscuits and ginger ale. Get her some of those, it might help. Something plain too like a rich tea.”

“It’s worth a shot. Thanks, Dad.”

“So what do you want your mum for? Was that it, pregnancy advice?”

“No. Dylan suggested I ask her to help me sort my business out.”

“Ooh. A project for her. Good. She might stop gibbering on about being past it. It’ll give her something new to get enthusiastic about. See you at two tomorrow. I’ll be in the pub whether your mum’s train makes it or not.”

“Thanks, Dad. See you then.”

So I can’t do anything about my business until tomorrow when hopefully I can get my mum on board. In the meantime, I glance at my messages. Some people are really angry that I haven’t replied to them. Do they think I have nothing else to do?

I head up to the spare room which is set up with lighting and recording equipment, and I record a VLOG. Then I edit it and upload it to see what happens.

I title it Bewildered Baby Daddy.

Hi all. Tyler here.

Little update. As you know my girlfriend Linds and I are having a baby. Well, it’s kind of hit us for six. She’s falling asleep everywhere and keeps being sick and I, well, I’ll be honest. I have no idea what to do. My Dad has suggested ginger biscuits and ginger ale for her. Does anyone out there have any advice for this Bewildered Baby Daddy? In six months time, there’s going to be a baby here. I’ve got to admit to you guys. I’m clueless. I don’t want to be, but I am. So please, any advice, send it my way. Only, and this is important. I might not be able to thank you for it straight away. My life is chaos at the moment, and I’m looking at getting some help with my mail and everything so I can answer you guys, but Linds and the baby come first. So bear with me. Thanks all.

I sign off and sit back. I’ve got to get organised. Everyone will be expecting me to fail. I can hear it now. ‘Tyler, a dad - he can’t even look after himself’. I’m going to prove everyone wrong. It’s time for Tyler Turner, Bewildered Baby Daddy, to learn about pregnancy and babies. Not sure when I’m going to fit it in though. I start by going downstairs, picking up a throw blanket and covering Lindsay. Then I grab the shopping list pinned to the noticeboard and head to the supermarket. I purchase ginger biscuits, ginger ale, rich teas. I buy a pregnancy magazine so I can read up on my new study subject. I also buy a computer one so I can hide the pregnancy one inside. I don’t want Lindsay pinching it before I’ve read it.

My phone keeps pinging with notifications. I glance through quickly. There are tons of suggestions: soda water, sniff lemons if feel sick, eat little and often, eat dry toast in bed before you get up, drink ginger tea. I make sure I purchase everything recommended, and then I head back home.

When I get back, Lindsay is awake and curled up on the sofa watching Salvage Hunters.

“Sorry, I’m useless, Ty.”

“You’re not useless.” I go to kiss her but Jesus her breath is vile. “You’re growing a baby. Listen,” I hedge carefully. “I read in a newspaper that you must make sure to brush your teeth after you’re sick as it can damage your teeth.” It sounds true, whether or not it is I have no idea.

“Oh yeah. I bet it’s the acid. I’ll go and do them now,” she agrees.

“I’ll make you some toast and get you a drink of soda water. I’ve heard it helps.”

“That’ll be great. I’ll just go freshen up.”

When she comes back, her snacks are on the table. “You relax on the sofa, and I’ll go and have my tea in the kitchen. I got myself a pizza. Only the smell might get to you. I’ll be back in fifteen or so.” I kiss her forehead. She smells nice now, all minty from the toothpaste, and fresh, from where she’s washed her face.

“Thanks so much, Ty.”

“No problem, Linds.”

While I eat my pizza, I start reading the baby magazine. There is an article on morning sickness. It says if you feel really bad with sickness to take the day off and look after yourself, so I’ll see how she is Monday morning. I don’t realise I’ve been reading the magazine for an hour. Shit. Lindsay will think I’ve gone upstairs to the computer or something, not that I’ve been fascinated looking at how you bath a baby.

I hide the magazine back between the pages of my computer magazine and dash to the living room, but I needn’t have worried. The toast is gone, the drink is drunk, and Lindsay is asleep on the sofa again.

Chapter Six

Dora

I told Tim my train was an hour earlier than it actually was because I got an offer from the train company. It only cost six quid more to travel first class. This meant that on arrival at the train station, I went straight into the first class lounge where a kindly gentleman – who appeared to be in his sixties – made me a coffee and gave me a small muffin. There’s water for me to take on the train and lots of little buns and fruit. Yes, I guess I’ve paid for it with the extra six quid but it’s nice, and I can’t wait to be in the first class part of the train. I’ve not travelled first before.

I sit and read my Kindle while keeping an eye on my watch. With ten minutes to go, I visit the ladies, and then say goodbye to the gentleman.

The first class carriage is so nice. The places are set with proper china cups. I take my seat at a table. I’m on an aisle seat, so my view out of the window is obscured by two fellow passengers heads. Across from me is a woman who I’d put in her mid-fifties.

I take out my Kindle and begin to read. As the train gets going, our attendant comes over with tea and coffee and asks if we’d like to order lunch. I say no because I’ve already bought myself my ‘train food’. I always nip in M&S and have a prawn sandwich, cheese tasters and a lemon-flavoured water. It’s like a ritual. For some reason, me and Miranda always end up having tea in Pizza Express too. It’s one of our things.

I soon discover that I am not from the same breed of people who reside in first class. Everyone has a newspaper. One of those massive things that doesn’t fit on the table properly. It would appear you fold it up, take a pen out of your pocket or bag, and do the crossword. For this, you have to adjust your glasses on your nose and tilt your head to look studious. I’m mindful to not let anyone read my screen while Christian is using the spreader bar on Anastasia. I’m doing a re-read because the film comes out next Friday. I can’t fucking wait. My uncomfortable feeling lasts until a bloke at the other side of the carriage begins to text, his keys beeping with every letter. The woman across from me catches my eye, and we raise an eyebrow at each other. I am accepted. I refuse to eat my lunch on the train as I’m not losing my status now, so I fill up on mini muffins and a couple of packets of kettle chips that are part of the first class package.

I can’t wait to meet my sister. Not only are we buying books, but we’re going to hit the shops. Retail therapy, nothing finer. It’s a funny thing, my relationship with my sister. When we get together we have a good time, but we can’t see or speak to each other too often, or we get on each other’s nerves. We’re very different, with only reading as our main thing in common. I wonder if it’s because she’s so many years younger than I am.

When we arrive, I’m happy to depart the stuffy first class, and meet Miranda on the station platform. We make our way on foot for the ten-minute walk through Liverpool Centre to our apartment. We’ve only been walking a few minutes when I spot Iron Man, or rather a bloke dressed as Iron Man. He’s charging a pound a photo. “Mir, take my photo,” I beg, clutching onto her arm.

She rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding me? I want to get to the apartment. I’m knackered. I didn’t finish work until late last night, and then the cats never stopped miaowing.”

“I want my photo taken with Iron Man. I have a thing for sexy superheroes.” My lip pouts.

“I bet the bloke under that costume is ugly as sin,” she retorts.

“Don’t spoil my fun. Come on, it’s a laugh. Take my photo.” I wander up to Iron Man, who’s posing with a few children.

“Can I have my photo taken with you, Iron Man?” I ask.

“Sure,” comes a deep, manly voice. Ooh. Nice surprise.

He puts his arm around me. He’s all warm. I pretend it really is Robert Downey Jnr. Miranda shakes her head but takes the photo.

“Thanks, Mir.”

“You’d never think you were the older sister. You act about twelve.”

I stick my tongue out at her to prove her point.

We continue walking towards Waterstones. “Hey, your new husband could be in there.” I wink.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? I thought you were absolutely sure. Brenda’s confirmed this literary love of your life, has she not?”

“Brenda disappeared with the church collection plate. No one’s seen her since January 6th.”

“She must have had an epiphany that her future looked rich,” I quip.

“It’s not funny, the church roof can’t be repaired now. We don’t have enough saved.”

I sigh as we walk around the corner of the store and see the buzzers to the apartments. There are four apartments over the third and fourth floors of the building. The first two floors being the bookshop.

We check in at the reception and then make our way to the apartment. I love opening the door of a hotel or apartment for the first time. It’s so exciting to glimpse the new place that’s home for the next day or so. We’re not disappointed. There’s a lounge with a small offshoot kitchen. The window of the lounge faces the same way as the front of the bookstore, looking out over the main shopping area. There’s one bedroom for us to share that has two single beds, and a very clean, modern bathroom with a shower.

Not fancying my prawn sandwich now it’s been in my bag for hours, I eat my cheese tasters and then we set off to spend our book money.

It’s so cool only having to stroll downstairs and round the corner. It’s a fairly large store over two floors. The smell of books and coffee hits as we walk through the door. “How are we doing this?” I ask my sister.

“Erotica and paranormal from upstairs first?” she queries. “Then Young Adult/New Adult and A-Z of fiction?”

I nod. “Then we’ll sit and review purchases and go for coffee.”

“We can have one back in our flat. It’s only up there.” Miranda points upwards.

“Oh yeah. Good idea. Right, let’s check out the staff and see if your new lover is here.”

There’s a really young bloke stacking books on shelves. He can only be around eighteen, so at twenty years younger than Miranda we both shake our heads. Other than that the staff are all female, except for the one other guy on the counter. He’s thin, with greasy hair and a large nose.

“Brenda’s fucked up,” I tell Miranda.

“Looks like it.” She sighs.

So we start our new book quest. Over the next hour, Miranda ends up with eleven potential purchases, and I have eight. This is where we take a seat in the corner and look through first our own books and then each other’s. “Oh this one sounds good,” I tell Mir. It’s a book about girls trapped in a cellar. “Well you put that one on your pile then, and I can read it after you.” I raise an eyebrow, but she doesn’t notice. She does this does our Mir. She always has more books picked out than me and then she’ll try and pass a few on to my pile so I buy them and she borrows them. It does sound good though so I move it to my pile.

Eventually, we make our way to the counter to purchase our books. This brings us up close and personal with the greasy haired man whose name badge declares him to be called Victor. He can’t stop sniffling. Up close I see that he has a stain, no doubt from his lunch, on his shirt. Someone had mustard on their sandwich I think. Thank God I’m served by a female assistant who looks clean.

I hear Miranda start to engage Victor in conversation. “Gosh, your cold sounds bad.”

“It’s an allergy.”

“Oh right.”

“I’m allergic to books I think. I only get like this at work.”

Allergic to books? He’d die of anaphylactic shock in Miranda’s then with her collection of 900+. Allergic to books? Poor fucker.

“Right. Oh. So I guess you don’t spend your spare time in libraries then?” She giggles. “Sorry, you probably don’t have any spare time. After work you’ll be with your wife and children won’t you?”

“I’m divorced,” he tells her. I cannot believe she is sounding him out.

“Gosh, me too. What a coincidence.”

My purchases are bagged up and handed to me, and I pay. Then I close the gap between myself and Miranda and elbow her in the side. “Are you nearly done, Mir, because I’m getting ready for that coffee.”

“Yes. Of course. This is my sister,” she tells Victor. “In case you were wondering.”

He fixes her with a strange look.

She collects her books and then walks towards the door. “Hang on a minute,” she tells me. “I’ve forgotten something.”

“I’ll be looking at these notebooks while you’re faffing about,” I tell her.

When I turn back, she has a packet of tissues in her hand, and I watch with my jaw dropped while she takes them to the counter and hands them to Victor.

“Okay, we can go now,” she tells me.

“All that messing about to give him a tissue.”

“I didn’t only give him tissues. I put my business card inside. It says ring me if you fancy a drink on it.”

“Are you shitting me? Seriously?” I drag her out of the shop. “Miranda, Brenda was a charlatan. I set this minibreak up based on what she told you. There’s no love of your life in this store.”

“Perhaps what Brenda said and what you did is all fate?”

“Well, then how do you know it’s not the young one you’re supposed to be with. Perhaps you’ll be his Mrs Robinson?”

“God, no. He’s younger than my nephew. Just no. Ew.”

“But Victor?”

“He could be very nice. He’ll not sniff if I keep him away from paper. His hair can be washed, and his shirt changed. There’s not much I can do about his nose but no one’s perfect.”

“Well for your sake I hope he has a dick as large as his snozzle. Anyway, what happened to your love for the lifeguard at the swimming baths? It’s almost Valentine’s day.”

“I’ve been trying to get his attention for years. He’s not interested. He smiles at me and watches that I don’t drown. That’s it. I’ve given up on him.”

“You’ve given up altogether if that’s what you’re taking a chance on.” I point back to the store, where Victor has just wiped across the underneath of his nose with his fingers before picking up his next customer’s purchase.

I shudder. “Do not let him anywhere near your paperbacks,” I warn her.

We take our books back to our apartment where we read all the blurbs again. Miranda yawns. “God, late shifts are no good for me, I’m shattered.”

“I could do with a cat nap before we shop til we drop. Shall we have half an hour?”

“Yeah. That’d be good.”

I curl up on the sofa, resting my head on a cushion. “This is lumpy. I’m going to get in the bed.”

“I’m going to put my pj's on and chill,” says Mir.

We each put on our pj's, climb into the single beds and close our eyes.

I open my eyes, lost for a moment as to where I am. The room is dark though some light comes through the window from outside. I remember I’m in Liverpool. As it’s February, it goes dark at around four in the afternoon, so I reckon we’ve had a good hour’s kip.

“Mir,” I shout across to her bed.

There’s an incomprehensible groan.

“Wakey, wakey.”

I turn my head to my bedside table and pick up my mobile phone - it’s 7:05 PM.

“Fuck. Fuckety-fuckety-shit,” I shout.

Mir sits up fast. “What’s up?”

“It’s gone seven. We need to get ready quick and hit the shopping centre. I bet it closes at nine.”

We leap out of bed as if our pyjama bottoms have been set alight, wash our faces, brush our teeth and still yawning and feeling rather dead, we leave the apartment and cross the road to the shopping centre. Everything apart from the food hall is closed.

“What the fuck. Meadowhall stays open til eight or nine. What’s going on?” I ask.

I see an assistant from a clothes shop come past me. “Excuse me?” I ask her. “Are there any stores still open?”

“No, everything closes at seven on a Saturday. Back open at midday tomorrow.”

“Midday?” My face falls. “I’m going home at midday.”

I stand shell-shocked at the side of Miranda. “Mir. No shopping. Tim will think we didn’t meet and that I’m cheating on him if I don’t go home with any shopping bags.”

Mir also looks like she’s been hit in the face with a wet fish.

“I was going to look for a new dress for my date.”

“He’s not rung you yet.”

“He will. You’ve seen him, and you’ve seen me.”

I laugh. “Yes, you’re right. He’s definitely punching above his weight. All eight stone of it.”

“He was rather thin,” She agrees.

“Don’t take him out in a strong wind, you’ll lose him.” I guffaw. “So, what now?” I ask my sister.

“Pizza Express and a large bottle of wine?” she replies.

We high five and go find the restaurant.

One bottle becomes two, and we make our way back to the apartment three sheets to the wind, putting the world to rights. I’ve told Mir I might be in the menopause.

“Well, you don’t want any more kids and periods aren’t anything women want to keep, so think of the good side. You’ll be done with all that crap. You’ve always done everything before me, so it’s only fair you get the menopause first.”

I stick my tongue out at her again. It’s always annoyed her that I was the first to get boobs, a boyfriend, have a kid. “It’s the beginning of the end though, isn’t it? It signifies old age. I’m for the knackers yard.”

“You’re going to be a grandma, and I’ve not even had one child yet.” Miranda cackles. “That’s actually quite hilarious. When me and Vic have ours, it’ll be around the same age as your grandkid.”

I ignore her deluded comments, but it hits a nerve. I shouldn’t moan so much. Miranda may never get to have a kid. But yes, starting early means I’m a grandma before she’s even a mum. How does that make any sense? I look younger than she does.

In the apartment we change back into our pjs and lounge about on our beds, not being the slightest bit tired after our afternoon naps. Mir’s phone buzzes with a text.

She grabs her phone off the side and reads. A triumphant grin appears on her face.

“He’s asked me to meet him for a coffee in the morning.”

“Oh, Mir, please turn him down. You can do so much better.”

“Well if that’s the case, where are they, sis?”

I shrug.

“Exactly. So I’m going to take a chance on a bloke I’d never in a million years have gone for before. I’ve nothing to lose. The worst that can happen is it’s boring, in which case I’ll make my excuses and leave.”

“Fair enough. I’ll hang around in the back of the coffee shop, like a bouncer. To make sure you’re okay.”

Mir guffaws. It’s lovely to see a huge smile on her face.

“You’ll do no such thing. He’s seen you before. That’ll kill the date before it starts if he’s looking over his shoulder. I can imagine it now, you doing neck slicing actions and the ‘my eyes are on you’ signal.”

My sister knows me too well.

“I’m meeting him at ten. At the coffee shop down the street from here. I’m texting him now to say I’ve to be back by half eleven to get my belongings and get home.

“Ooh, so half an hour of gossip before we leave.”

“Yes. You’ll know all the gossip before you go home.”

I high five her, leaning over the bed. I lose my equilibrium and fall out of bed and down the space in the middle of the two beds. I’m trapped, but I can’t move for giggling, and Mir can’t help me for rolling around with laughter.

“God, I do love our weekends away, sis,” she tells me.

“Me too,” I mumble from the floor.

The next morning Miranda is up and about at nine, whereas I turn over and try to go back to sleep, my head is banging from last night’s wine and my neck is hurting from my fall out of bed. Mir blasts into the room leaving a coffee on my bedside table.

“You’re far too perky this morning,” I grumble.

“I’m nervous. I have a date.”

I slowly sit myself up and lean back against the headboard. “I can’t believe you chatted up the Waterstones assistant based on Brenda’s prediction. You’re cracked.”

“I know. I mean fancy me acting far out, given my very quiet and unassuming mother and sister, who are ssoooooo shy.” She rolls her eyes.

“Our mother has a lot to answer for.” I smile.

“Do you remember when she squirted that couple on the bus with her best perfume?” Mir asks.

“I sure do.” I cringe. “They smelled. What about when she stuck that bloke who’d sat too near to us in the restaurant with a kebab stick?”

We start giggling.

Mir looks at her watch. “Shit, it’s ten to. I’m off. Wish me luck. You can get your stuff packed while I’m out and do a sweep, make sure I don’t leave my coat behind like I almost did the last time we were away.”

She comes over and kisses me on the cheek and then dashes out of the apartment.

I lean over to grab my Kindle. An hour in bed in total peace and quiet - reading, and drinking my coffee. Then I’ll get up and quickly shower and pack. This is what minibreaks are all about. I sigh with contentment and start to read.

Miranda

I know I’m crazy. Almost certifiable, but I absolutely vowed to myself, made a resolution, that I would give different men a whirl at the dating game. I’ve watched The Undateables. I’ve thought of applying myself. Yes, he wasn’t God’s Gift to Women, but neither am I God’s Gift to Men. I’m an obsessive collector of things: DVDs, books and now cats. The cat thing worries me. That I’m heading towards being the old woman with fifty cats who’s found dead, half-eaten by her pets.

I walk into the coffee shop. My heart is pounding. Have I made a huge mistake?

Then I see him.

Well, I think it’s him.

His hair is blonde and not greasy. He’s looking at a newspaper, there’s no sniffling in sight, and he has on a navy blue t-shirt and jeans. He is rather skinny. He looks up as if he’s detected my gaze and raises a hand shyly. I make my way over.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” he says back. “Take a seat and I’ll get you a coffee. What would you like? Plus choose a bun. It’s on me.”

“You’re not sniffling,” I remark. “Why do you work in a bookstore if you’re allergic?”

He laughs, and his face lights up. I see he has really nice green eyes. “I may have been lying about that. I’m recovering from flu followed by a really heavy cold. I’m going to eat around four buns as I need to fatten myself up a bit, I’ve lost loads of weight.”

“Ah.”

“I’ve learned a lesson about living on my own. Man cannot survive on fast food. No vitamins. The flu and cold were a double whammy. Hit me for six. Anyway, what would you like?”

I ask for a latte and a chocolate twist, and he goes to get them.

Over the course of the next hour, I find he’s recently divorced, loves his job surrounded by books as he adores reading, and has a pet cat, which his wife didn’t wish to keep when they separated.

We share divorce stories. He’s really, really nice. Yes, he has a large nose but to be honest, it suits him. It adds elegance to his face.

“So do you usually hand blokes tissues and your business card? Is that your modus operandi?”

I blush.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

I confess about Brenda and how I’d decided to just throw caution to the wind.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” he says.

“Me too.”

“Do you have time for another coffee?” he asks.

I check my watch. It’s eleven. The first hour has passed so quickly.

“Yes, a quick one.”

“Quickies can be good,” he says and winks.

I blush again.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist it.” He smirks and goes to get our coffees.

I get my phone and send a quick text to Dora who I see has left me two messages asking if I’m still alive.

“He’s lovely.” I send back.

“Hurry up back.” She replies. “I’m bursting here.”

I turn my phone ringer down and put it away in my bag. She’ll have to wait. I’m enjoying myself.

Vic returns. “Well, if you knew where she was I’d send this Brenda a bunch of flowers as a thank you.”

“Really?” I smile.

“Yep. So put me out of my misery. Will you come out with me again? For dinner. I really need fattening up after this virus, so you’d be helping me.” He smirks.

“Well, I couldn’t turn down assisting a man in his hour of need.”

“Fantastic. I’ll text you.”

“That’ll be lovely. Well, I must go and say goodbye to my sister and get myself back home.”

He stands up at the same time. “I’ll walk you out.”

I follow him out of the coffee shop.

“Well, see you soon,” I say.

“I’ll text you later.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

The skin on the back of my neck tingles.

“Speak soon.” I give him a little wave as I walk towards the apartment.

“Oh my god, look at your face, you’re swooning,” yells Dora.

“Yes, well I’ll never judge a book by its cover again that’s for sure.”

“Are you seeing him again?”

“Might be.” I wink.

“Oh my God. I did it again. I am such a matchmaker,” Gasps Dora.

“Erm, what?”

“Well, when that Brenda made her crap up, I booked this minibreak so it seemed it might come true, and now you’ve got a date. I’m bloody awesome.”

I step back and shake my head. She did book the apartment above Waterstones, so I’ll let it ride, although I don’t recall her encouraging me with Vic.

“Come on, grab your cases. Let’s get to the train station,” I tell her.

I want to get home and daydream about Vic.

Chapter Seven

Tim

Where is my other half? Please get here soon, Dora, before I top myself.

I’m in the Red Lion with Cam, Dylan, Tyler and Lindsay.

Lindsay isn’t eating. In fact, she keeps sitting and gipping, then running to the loo. She’s putting me off my roast. Tyler seems anxious, is constantly fidgeting and isn’t eating his own meal as he keeps checking on his partner.

Cam and Dylan have just had a spat in the middle of the pub, because apparently neither appreciates the other one or what they do. So Cam is eating noisily, stabbing her fork into the plate and Dylan has gone mute.

Why did they come? I’d have been happier on my own with a pint and my lunch.

Then she’s here. She bursts into the pub like a hurricane and after almost knocking several customers off their seats with her small suitcase she plops into the chair next to me, after kissing my cheek.

“I’m famished.”

“Well, go get your carvery; we’re still eating as you can see, so you’ve made good time. How was it?”

“Really good. Mir met a bloke. She’s smitten already.”

“What? You only set off yesterday morning. How’d that happen?”

“Let me grab my dinner, and I’ll fill you in.”

Dora brings us up to date…

“So, she came back this morning looking all smug and loved up!”

“Huh, well once she realises she’s not appreciated that’ll wear off,” declares Cam.

“Yeah, once she can’t be bothered to come home to see him, he’ll get fed up,” retorts Dylan.

Dora looks at the pair of them. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Dylan says I have to cut down on my hours at Kid Zone.”

“I actually said you were working too hard and I never got to see you. I suggested you let Gemma do a bit more.”

“Well, forgive me for wanting to run my own business.”

Dylan stands up, his dinner half-eaten. “Excuse me, all of you,” he says. Then he turns to my daughter. “Cam, go run your business. It’s obviously more important to you than I am.”

“Where are you going?” she demands.

“I’m going home. I’ve been working all week myself, and I’m knackered.”

“But I’m not ready yet.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I’m doing what you do and putting myself first. I’m going home and going back to bed for the afternoon. You please yourself. I know Sunday’s your day off but go to Kid Zone if you like. You have been lately, so why should this Sunday be any different? I’m done.”

Cam looks panicked. “What do you mean you’re done?”

“I’m done asking you to spend time with me. Go marry Kid Zone.”

With that, he walks out of the pub.

Cam sits in silence with her head down staring at the table. Then she bursts into noisy sobs.

Dora turns to me. “I’m going to take her to ours and see if I can get to the bottom of this. I’ll grab a sandwich later.” She looks longingly at her cooked lunch then stands up.

“Okay, love.”

Tyler walks over from the direction of the toilets. “Hey, Dad. I’m going to take Lindsay home. Sorry, but she’s really sick again today.”

“No problem, son. You take care of your girl.”

Within five minutes I’m all alone. I go to the bar and order another pint and a treacle sponge pudding.

Peace at last. I make the most of it before I return home to see what’s happening with my daughter.

Dora

I’m trying to play it cool. It’s like being back in time. Dylan used to make her cry when she was at school with him. I’ve been round his parents house before now threatening to beat his head in, but this time I have a feeling it might be my girl who’s causing the trouble.

I sit her on the sofa and hand her a kitchen roll. We only have tissues when one of us is full of the cold. Then I run out to the shop for those with the nice oils that stop your nose feeling like it’s been sandpapered. The rest of the time, bog roll or kitchen roll suffices. With how much she’s crying I reckoned the double-strength was required.

“It’s all going wrong, Mum.”

She starts again with noisy sobbing. I wait it out because she needs the release.

Finally, she calms down enough to talk. As she blows her nose, I fetch her a glass of water. She takes a sip.

“So what’s going on?”

“I’ve been spending every hour I can at Kid Zone. Apart from Gemma and the kitchen staff, the other girls don’t really pull their weight, even though I’ve asked them. I’m trying to do everything. It’s helped since Beth took over the kitchen so I’ve not had that to supervise but the rest of it, it’s never ending. I’m on the floor all day and then when we close I have to go into the office to do paperwork. I’ve been popping in on Sundays. Dylan’s lost it with me. He told me he wanted me to take another day off in the week, so I had two days off like him. I said I couldn’t, but he thinks I just won’t. We’re no further forward with our wedding, so he thinks I don’t want to marry him. He keeps telling me he works full-time too and he’s not being appreciated. That he gets home and has to cook and I walk in late, eat it and go to bed. That I’m too tired to ask him how he is. It’s true, but Mum all my savings are tied up in that business. I can’t let it go under.

“Why haven’t you told me this before, Cam? I could have helped.”

“With what? I’ve got staff, it’s just some of them are useless.”

“Well, that’s what I can help with, sweetheart. Let me come and see what’s happening at Kid Zone and we’ll look at what can be done, hey?”

She nods her head. “Thank you. I do want to have two days off. It’s just I feel I can’t trust them.”

“But you do have Gemma. She can take on some of the responsibility.”

“I know, but she’s having a really hard time lately. Her mum’s been getting aggressive, and Gemma’s had to deal with services. She’s had to change her shifts around a lot.”

“Poor Gemma. Look, love, Beth’s needing me less and less since she started using your kitchens as she has the Kid Zone staff, so I’ll come in and see what I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Mum, but it’s going to take a miracle for me to be able to leave that place in someone else’s hands.”

“Well, Mum’s are miracle makers, haven’t you worked that out yet?” I stroke her cheek. She’ll always be my baby girl.

She smiles.

“That’s better. A smile on my beautiful girl’s face. Now, the wedding. Do you want to sort things out with Dylan? Are you sure he’s the one?”

“God, yes. What if he finishes things with me, Mum? I couldn’t stand it.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

“The man loves you. That’s why he’s giving you so much grief. The time to worry is when he stops caring. Now, you need to go home and tell him everything you’ve told me about the business. Tell him you’ve heard him, his points are valid and that you’re working on it and should be able to have your days off back within the next couple of weeks.”

“But what if that’s not true?”

“It will be true, Cam, because if I can’t sort those girls out — which let’s face it is unlikely — I’ll work there myself so you can have the day off.”

She kisses my cheek. “Mum you are one in a million.”

“I’m the best there is, don’t you forget it. Now, you also need to start planning this wedding. I’ll come in tomorrow to see what’s happening at Kid Zone. If we get organised enough, you can have this weekend off to visit some venues.”

“But, Mum, I don’t have time to look for venues.”

I wave her concerns off. “I’ve been to loads of weddings around here. Most of my friends have been married twice now. I’ll ring up three venues from your office tomorrow and make arrangements for you to visit. Now go home, make nice with Dylan and then shag his brains out so he can’t think straight.”

“Mother!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be there when you get there. What time’s that?”

“I’ve been arriving at six-thirty.”

“I’ll see you at seven-thirty. Do not arrive any earlier than that.”

“But I’m used to waking up at that time,” she protests.

“Shag Dylan again. He’ll have the face on less if you’re late home.”

She rolls her eyes at me. I ruffle the hair on top of her head. “You’ll always be my baby you know? Now, come on. I’ll drive you home.”

Chapter Eight

Dylan

I’m embarrassed about my behaviour in the pub, but on the other hand, I’ve had enough. I walk through the door of our home and slump on the sofa, defeated. I place my head in my hands. I don’t know what I’m going to do. What’s going to happen? I love Cam with all my heart, and the thought that I might not be enough for her is devastating. I feel my eyes tear up. Fuck, don’t start crying. Anyway, I reckon this is it. When she comes home, she might just tell me that we’re done. I guess the clues have been there all along. She’s not made any inroads towards getting a wedding date sorted. I’m a fool. What on earth am I going to do?

After an hour of moping on the sofa, I hear a car pull up outside. It’s Dora’s. Oh please don’t let her mother come and tear a strip off me. I can’t take it. I hover at the window and watch as Dora folds her arms around Cam, hugging her tightly. She looks over Cam’s shoulder straight at me and makes a thumbs-up sign. Really? Is there still hope?

I move to the doorway and open the door to let Cam in. She looks up at me, her eyes are red and puffy and she’s fighting to breathe, she’s so upset.

“I’m so sorry, Dylan.”

I pull her into my arms. “We’ll work things out,” I tell her.

She tells me the whole story about Kid Zone and how she’s been struggling.

I sigh heavily. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

“I’ve been so exhausted. I’ve just wanted to sleep.”

“So your mum’s going to try to help?”

She nods. “Yeah. Not sure what she’s going to do but anything’s worth a try.” She takes hold of my hand. “Listen. She’s insisted I take next weekend off and tomorrow she’s going to arrange for us to visit some wedding venues.”

I put my hand over hers. “That can wait until you get Kid Zone sorted.”

A tear slips from her eye.“No, it really can’t, Dylan. By next weekend, I want us to have a date fixed. I love you. I want to be Mrs Ball.”

I wipe the tears from her eyes and place my hand behind her neck, bring her closer to me and fix my mouth on hers. I kiss her gently, tenderly, letting her know how much I love her, through touch alone. She sits up and wraps her arms around me, and it’s not long before the fire between us ignites. We strip each other of our clothes quickly. My hand sweeps down her bare chest, cupping a breast. She groans, arching back, her nipple hardening beneath the tweaking of my fingers. My fingers leave her breast and trail down her stomach, dipping between her thighs until they stroke at her clit. Cam moans, moving her own hand until she clasps my girth in her palm, fingers holding me tightly. She runs her hand up and down my shaft as I continue to tease her clit and then slide a finger inside her, followed by another. She fucks my fingers as I fuck her hand.

“Enough, I need you.” I pull out of her hand and push her back on the sofa. Then I tease her, rubbing my dick in her wetness.

“Dylan, please,” she begs.

I push inside her, I can’t get enough. She lifts her hips up to meet me, and as we fuck, we give it our all, telling the other through passion how much we mean to each other. As we come, mine just after Cam’s, we’re hot, sweaty, panting and spent. I pull her into my arms.

“In future, we tell each other everything, okay?”

“Yes,” she says, still short of breath. “Dylan, I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you too, Mrs Ball to be.”

She smiles and we nap, wrapped up in each other.

Before I doze, my final thoughts are thank fuck for that. I can’t imagine a life without her in it.

Chapter Nine

Cam

My mum comes bustling through the door at seven-thirty with a massive grin on her face. Oh god, what’s she up to?

Her eyes narrow when she sees me. “What time did you get here?”

“Ten minutes ago because traffic was light so you can calm your pants. I took your advice and used the time for other things, which we will not discuss any further.”

“Good girl,” she says and sits down at a table, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s not very warm is it?”

“It’ll get there soon. The heating’s on a timer, and so, of course, I don’t switch it on until I have to because the space is so darn big. Heating bills are a pain in my arse. Anyway, what was the huge smile when you came in?”

“I came on. I don’t think I’m in the menopause after all. I think it was flights and stress messing my cycle around.”

“You must be the first woman in the universe ecstatic that she has her period.”

“I’m over the moon, instead of over the hill.”

“Coffee?”

“Cup of tea please, love, if I can. Then I thought you could tell me what’s what.”

I make us both a drink and join her at the table. “Okay, the staff will start arriving at eight.”

“Okay, well I thought we’d make it look today as if I’m hanging around bored, rather than being here to shove a firework up their arses.”

“Mother!”

“They’ll act their usual selves that way, and I can have a nosey at what they’re up to. Then I’ll think up a plan of action. You can tell me what you do and what everyone’s roles are, and that’ll help me see where you can make some changes.”

“You’re going to love this, aren’t you? Your eyes are all sparkly, like when you start a new project.”

“Project Firework. What do you think?” My mum winks.

“I think I’d better get cracking in getting this place ready for opening.”

At just after eight Beth walks in. “Morning, you two.”

“My baking is in the kitchen waiting for you, Beth,” my mum tells her.

“Thanks, Dora.” Beth looks studious. “I need to have a chat with you about the business later next week. I’m changing things a bit.”

“I assumed you wouldn’t need me for much longer with all this here.” Mum looks a little glum.

“Now, don’t be jumping to conclusions, Dora. I might be going for world domination. All will be revealed, but at the moment my energies are concentrated on this.” She puts her hand in her bag and pulls out two pink envelopes, handing one over to each of us. We both tear them open.

You are invited to celebrate the engagement of

Miss Beth Woods and Mr Leo Coleman

6pm sharp

Tuesday 14 February 2017

Rother Hotel

RSVP

“I already asked Gemma, and she’ll close up that day so you can definitely come. I want my best friend and my business associate and second mum there. Here,” she gets another invite out and gives it to Mum, “Can you see that Tyler and Lindsay get this?”

“Course, love. How exciting. Bit of a surprise this. Not giving us much notice are you?” says Mum.

“I know! We were just chatting about it, and the idea came up. I rang a couple of hotels thinking they’d be booked solid, but Rother had a cancellation five minutes before my call.”

“Meant to be then,” says my mum though she’s looking at Beth quizzically. Beth doesn’t notice.

“So what’s the dress code?” I ask.

“Well, it’s a hotel so why don’t we all get dressed up? There aren’t many excuses to buy a nice new dress are there? I’m looking forward to treating myself. And, Dora, guess what?”

“More surprises? God, you’re like Cilla Black today. Will there be a long-lost relative coming through the door in a minute?”

Beth looks confused.

“It’s a TV programme from years ago. She forgets we aren’t as old as her.” I tell her.

My mum narrows her eyes at me. “Cruel. Children can be so cruel. Sorry, Beth, what’s your other news?”

“I’m going to buy a Valentine’s dressing up outfit. You’ve inspired me.”

“Oh my God, no,” I say. “Don’t encourage her with that line of thinking. She’ll talk about her and my dad again. Some visuals you can’t get out of your mind.”

Beth giggles.

“Do you know what, Beth. It’s fabulous to see you looking so happy,” my mum tells her.

“I really am,” Beth replies. “And I’m finally learning to enjoy the moments, not fear what might be around corners.”

“I’ll drink to that,” says mum and she has a swig of her tea.

A couple of my staff come through the door and frivolity over, it’s time for work.

Dora

Beth’s up to something. That woman is a control freak. I’ve known her since she was a little girl and unless she’s had a personality transplant or a knock to the head, there’s something fishy going on. Anyway, I’ll have to put it to the back of my mind for now as I need to work out what’s happening here. There’s one thing I’ve discovered. Cam has no confidence in some of her staff, and either does their tasks for them or redoes them when they aren’t done the right way. It’s a double-edged sword. They’ve given up because what’s the point if she changes things. She’s got to let some of that perfectionism go. There are two other girls who are permanently chatting and not keeping an eye on the children properly. Yes, I know that’s primarily the parent's job, but they’re supposed to be checking that food isn’t taken into the ball pools, etc. It causes a hell of a lot of work when food or drink is dropped in there. I see them look busy when Cam is around, then the minute her back is turned they’re chatting again.

She’s out of the office again when a party is on, making sure everything’s okay. The staff should be able to do this without her. She has got to cut them some slack and get those other two off their backsides.

My phone rings. It’s my boy.

“Hey sweetheart. Everything okay?” My first thoughts are always about the baby now.

“Yeah, fine. Lindsay felt a bit easier today. Not as nauseous.”

“Oh, let’s hope it’s finally waning.”

“Yep. Mum, I need to ask you a huge favour.”

“Oh, okay, go ahead.”

“I’m in a mess with my emails and paperwork. I reckon if it’s sorted out I could leave Smiths and concentrate on my YouTube career, but there’s too much for me to get my head around while I’m running about after Lindsay. I’m cracking under the pressure, Mum. I’ve too much on.”

“Oh, Tyler. Why didn’t you say earlier? Do you want me to come round and look after Lindsay for a bit? Only I’m with Cam at the moment, but I could pop by later?”

“I was hoping you’d help me with the emails and paperwork. Like, be my PA a bit. If you get me organised I’d be able to pay you for the hours you do.”

I trace circles on the table with my fingernail. “I don’t want paying, love, you’re my son. I’ll come by at teatime and look over things, see what needs doing. I’ll pop to the supermarket on the way and make tea for everyone.”

“Mum, that’d be brilliant. We’ll both be home around six.”

“Great. I’ll see you then. Don’t worry son, we’ll get you sorted.”

“Mum, you’re amazing.”

“Yeah, don’t you forget it.”

“Never.”

We end the call, and I text Tim.

Dora: Tim, love, you’ll need to get your own tea. I’m going from Kid Zone to Tyler’s to help him with some business stuff and make them their tea.

I get a message back a minute or so later.

Tim: Thought these kids had moved out? They’re more trouble now than they were when they were little! See you later. I’ll have my tea at the Red Lion.

I bet you will, I think. Two courses for £7.99 at the moment and that includes a pint.

Cam listens as I tell her my observations. Then she sighs.

“So basically I’m my own worst enemy?”

“Well you’ve a couple of bone idles, but yes. Like I say, most of them aren’t bothering because you correct everything. You have got to learn to delegate.”

She sighs.

“I’ll be interested to see what you’re like when Gemma’s in. Exactly how much do you give your Deputy to do?”

She casts her eyes downward. “Not as much as I probably should.”

“Well, at least we have a starting point you can work off. You need to call a staff meeting. Admit your faults. Apologise and then say it’s going to be different. Get some staff training done and then back the hell off, I advise. “Then if the bone idles remain the same, I’ll sort them out.”

“Mum, you have to be very careful with employment laws. They’ll sue me if you step out of line with them.”

“Oh, I won’t step out of line,” I say. “I’ll just treat them like naughty children, something I have experience of with my once diva daughter and little terror, Tyler.”

“We were a handful at times.” Cam smiles.

“Yeah, but you grew out of it all fast enough. Both you and Ty make me and your dad very proud. However, I don’t want a daughter with exhaustion other than if she’s had too much sex, so get yourself sorted.”

“I’ll think everything over tonight,” she says. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Yes, I want to see what the place is like when Gemma is here.” I pick up my bag. “It’s been fab spending the day with you today, seeing my businesswoman daughter at work in her empire.”

Cam smiles. “Thanks, Mum.”

“I mean it. Now I’m off to the supermarket and then to Tyler’s. He wants me to look at some of his emails. Says he’s too many.”

“I think Ty’s really struggling, what with his full-time job, the computer stuff and Linds being so poorly with the baby.”

“Yes, well, I said I’d have a quick look, see if there’s anything I can help him with.”

“What’s Dad doing then?”

“Going to the pub. Don’t you be too late home either.”

“I won’t. I’ll make sure I’m out of here by nine.”

“Your hours are too long Cam. Something else to try to work around with Gemma. If you split the shifts properly between you, you can let her close up more.”

She shrugs. “I always worry it’s not been done properly.”

I make a theatrical groan. “How many times has Gemma locked up for you, and it’s all been okay?”

She bites her lip.

“At least once a week for eighteen months right?”

“Right,” she admits.

“So that’s at least seventy times. You’ve got to let this go a bit, love.”

She sighs. “You’re right. I will try. I’ve a lot to think about tonight.”

“Well do that instead of thinking of England,” I quip.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ve told you, no more discussion of my sex life, Mother.”

I laugh, grab my bag, kiss her cheek and leave the building saying night to any of the staff I see on my way out.

Chapter Ten

Dora

“Jesus, Tyler. 5,432 emails.”

“I know Mum, and that’s only from the last few weeks. I can’t keep up. A lot of them will be nonsense, but I don’t have time to find out. There are business opportunities in there, but I can’t tell what’s spam, people who want to rip me off, or genuine offers. I’m going to lose this book deal if I don’t get myself organised soon.”

“Ty, are you willing to give me your passwords so I can sort these out? We’ll set you up a separate personal email and let this be your business email. I can do some tomorrow while I’m at Kid Zone and keep working through it. I can use my own computer.”

“Yeah, no worries Mum, that’d be sick.” He goes to write his details down for me.

I put them in my purse. We’ve eaten. Lindsay says she’s only felt sick once today and hasn’t been physically sick, so hopefully, that’s finally on it’s way out. She’s fallen asleep on the sofa. I could bloody well join her. I’ve been up since six-thirty, and it’s now twenty-two minutes past nine.

“Right. I’d better get back to your Dad. I’m looking forward to a nice soak in the tub and then bed.”

Famous last words as the phone rings and my world tilts on its axis.

“Mum.”

“Cam, what’s wrong?”

“Dylan was with Dad in the pub. Dad got bad chest pains. They phoned for an ambulance. They’ve taken him to A&E at the General.”

I feel the blood drain out of my face. Not Tim. He’s still young for goodness sake. He can’t have a heart attack.

“I’m on my way, Cam. I’ll see you shortly.”

“What’s up, Mum, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I tell my son his Dad’s been taken to hospital. He wakes Lindsay to tell her where we are going. She looks worried and wants to come, but we tell her to wait at home. Then Ty drives me to the hospital in my car, as thankfully, I never took him off my insurance. It’s the longest journey of my life, and all I can think is Tim, please don’t die.

“Indigestion?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Indi-bloody-gestion?”

Tim looks at me shame-faced. “I had a fry-up at breakfast. Then I had a McDonalds for lunch, and then I went to the pub for tea where I had two pints to drink and ate gammon, egg and chips, followed by a jam roly-poly.”

“Well, you may as well stay here then cos at some point you’re going to have a heart attack,” I bellow.

“I know.” Tim looks shame-faced. “It’s been a wake-up call. I thought I was on my way out. The doctors told me how much damage I’ll do to my body if I carry on.” His shoulders slump, and he pouts like a kid who didn’t get what he wants for Christmas. “I just thought I’d have a day of treating myself.”

“Treating yourself to a trip to hospital. Great plan there,” I snap. Then I burst into tears. I fling my arms around him, almost knocking him over. “I thought you were going to die, Tim. I couldn’t bear it. Please stop eating crap and stay alive.”

“I’ll do my best,” he says, putting his arm around me and kissing my cheek.

“Sorry, kids.” He looks at Cam and Tyler, contrite.

“We’re just glad you don’t have anything seriously wrong with you,” says Cam. “Right, me and Dylan are off. I’ll understand if you don’t want to come in tomorrow, Mum.”

“No, no. I’ll be in. It’ll be fine. I might come in for nine though. Make sure your Dad’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I just needed some Gaviscon. Sound as a pound now.”

I huff out a huge breath. “Okay. So let’s drop Tyler back home and then we’ll get back and relax, Tim. You’ve still had a shock, and so have I.”

We make our way back to our respective houses.

Tim

God, I feel a dick. The pain was excruciating though, and when it didn’t go off, Dylan insisted on phoning that advice line thing who said to phone an ambulance. Leaving the Red Lion by ambulance. I’ll be the talk of the pub. Good job I’m cutting down on food. I don’t want to show my face in there again – well at least until Sunday, can’t miss out on their Yorkshire puddings.

Now Dora’s going through the cupboards throwing out anything too fattening. She’s announced that she’ll be stepping back from baking as she believes Beth is going to use the Kid Zone staff anyway and that it came at a good time because I’ve been addicted to junk food ever since she started. I don’t usually go mad like today, but she forgot to do my pack-up with going to Cam’s place, so I went all out and had what I fancied. Never again.

“I’m making your pack-up,” Dora yells. “There’ll be salad on your sandwich and snack vegetables.”

Oh God, please don’t tell me I’ve become a project.

“I’ve put a biscuit in,” she adds. “You’ve got to start living the 80/20 way.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

She comes back into the living room and snuggles up next to me on the sofa, filling me in about the kids and their businesses.

“So I’m not going to have a minute between the two of them,” she adds.

Thank god for the kids, I think. They’ve given me a lucky escape from diet books, cos for once Dora’s too busy.

Dora

I’m in the tub with Soap and Glory bubbles up to my neck. Fucking love their stuff. Smells gorgeous. What a day. I’m absolutely cream-crackered. There’s no wonder Cam’s buggered every night if she works until nine, and she’s been working even later than that. Definitely need to get her sorted. Plus Tyler. Goodness knows what potential earnings he’s missing out on. I’ve a vague idea how YouTube works because I looked up that Pewdiepie bloke to see what all the fuss was about. I still don’t entirely get it to be honest. But people watch it, and others pay to sponsor. If there’s a chance that Ty can work from home that’s got to be great. He’ll be there for the baby.

I keep having cold shivers over tonight and thinking about when I thought Tim might be at death’s door. Fucking hell. I’m taking my potential menopause scandal (and yes if you haven’t worked it out by now, I can have a bath on my period, same as you can swim, yeah?) and his potential heart scandal as warnings that we aren’t getting any younger. We need to look after ourselves a bit. I go to the gym, but Tim’s job is quite sedentary. He golfs occasionally, but he needs to do more. Perhaps we could do something together? An evening walk or go swimming or something. I’ll have to have a think about it. I think Cam thought I wanted a late start to look after her dad. That was partly true, but he’s off to work. What I really want to do is to call into Paperchase and get some shiny new notepads and folders so I can get a good start on Ty’s business plan. Gosh, look at me. I’m like that Hotel Inspector who goes in the crappy hotels and advises them what to do and then they are brilliant afterwards. What could I call myself? Ooh, I know, I’m a Self-Employment Business Inspector. When Beth wants to chat I might ask her if she wants me to cast my eyes on her business plan. I’ll get an extra notepad and folder just in case.

Tuesday 7 February 2017

I turn up to Kid Zone armed with my shiny new office supplies. Of course, I couldn’t resist a matching backpack to put them all in, plus a matching laptop case. Self-Employment Business Inspectors need to look the part.

“Morning, Cam.” I smile at my daughter.

“Mother.” Her forehead creases, “When did you get glasses? You didn’t say.”

“They’re plain glass,” I whisper. “But they look the part, don’t they? Do you think I look businesslike?”

I’m dressed in a grey pinstripe suit and black blouse. My hair is up in a bun, and then I have my glasses on. I used the therapist in Lucifer for my business look inspiration.

“Mum. Mum.”

Shit, I’d gone in a daydream about me, Tom Ellis, and that piano he plays. Why’s it on a fucking season break?

“Sorry, love. I’ll go through to your office if that’s okay and leave my stuff in there.”

“Sure.”

“Hi, Dora.” Gemma, Cam’s Deputy Manager comes over to see me.

“Hey Gem. How’s things?”

“They’ve been better, but no one else has a job where they can play with balls all day, right? So I’ll be okay.” She winks.

I make a note to ask her about her mum later. This morning Cam’s decided to have one-to-ones with all the staff. I’m going to sit in on them with her. She decided it was better to do that than to have a group scenario, given that she needs her staff in the centre.

The one-to-ones go on all day. I soon realise that I’ll have to look at Tyler’s stuff after tea as I’ve no way of getting to it while I’m here. For the most part, they go well. Cam apologises for being too much of a control freak (but in better terminology than I can say) and the staff look energised and excited thinking of being able to play more of a part in the organisation. One girl, Susan, seems especially bright and motivated and I suggest afterwards that Cam gives her some training as a third in command, in case Cam or Gemma need time off. Cam writes down lots of notes on her laptop as she goes along and I write things down in my brand new notebook with white and gold stripes on it, using my matching pen. I start writing staff’s names down and their potential roles. Do you know, they say television isn’t educational, but I learnt all this from shows like Hotel Inspector and some where they make-over restaurants, so I beg to differ.

No, there are only two young ladies who don’t seem all that interested. In fact, they sit in front of Cam like they’re her boss, saying no to any training she offers them. That they’re fine as they are. It’s that mentality that you get from some who are new to work, that sense of entitlement. After they’ve both had their one-to-one, I ask, “How did you end up with those two?”

Cam runs her hand through her hair. “Huh, Tia wasn’t like that at her interview, and when she started, she was as enthusiastic as the others. She told me her friend Adele was looking for a job. She seemed okay, and with Tia being a good worker, I employed her. Then they went like that. They’re like bloody Patty and Selma off the Simpsons now.”

“Leave them to me,” I tell her. “Do you have their CVs handy?”

A little research shows me that the two friends both have qualifications in computer use and passed their maths and English exams.

“Is there a chance you could use a little help with paperwork sometimes?” I ask Cam. “Maybe responding to emails and sorting mail? Just even an hour a day or so.”

“Yes, definitely, that would help me out a lot.”

“Leave it with me,” I say. I remove my jacket and pull my blouse out from being tucked into my trousers. Then I take off and put away my fake glasses and pull my hair out of its bun. “What are you up to now, Mother?”

“Seen Chloe do it in Lucifer. You dress for the clientele you’re trying to infiltrate.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll be looking at the next week's shifts while you do your,” she waves her hand, “infiltrating.”

I walk out towards the two girls who are chatting at the corner of the play centre. They spring apart when they see me and look busy. Too late, little fuckers.

I stand next to Tia and stretch. “Thank god that’s over. Though obviously we still need to decide which of you will get the office promotion.”

“Pardon?” says Tia.

“Oh didn’t she mention it? Cam wants someone to help her in the office for an hour a day. Oh God.” I put my hand across my mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Please don’t tell her I told you, Tia. She’ll kill me.”

“I won’t say anything, Mrs Turner.”

I don’t bother correcting her that I’m actually Miss Evans.

“Well, it’s between you and Adele,” I whisper. “I guess the best girl will win. Good luck.”

I walk away. I know exactly who the problem is and if my judgement is correct, Tia will start to behave again.

I ask Gemma for a cup of tea and to come and sit with me.

“Susan?” I ask. “Can you cover for Gem ten minutes while I just have a chat with her?”

“Sure.”

Gemma takes a seat next to me. “So, what’s happening with your mum?”

Gemma sits back and sighs. “She’s getting aggressive at times. Throwing things.”

I frown. “Have you been hurt?”

She shakes her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just worrying.”

“What have the doctors said?”

“She’s an appointment with the consultant in a couple of weeks. Hopefully they’ll be able to explain what’s happening.”

“Okay. Well, you know where I am if you need me, Gemma.”

She wells up, “Thank you, Dora.”

In only an hour the change with Tia and Adele is remarkable. I can see Tia actively avoiding engaging in conversation with her friend, and she’s working hard. In response, Adele keeps looking at Tia with suspicion and for the last ten minutes has worked harder than she has yesterday and the rest of today put-together. I smirk and get ready to go home. Beth comes out of the kitchen and smiles at me. “Had a good day, Dora?”

“It’s been really interesting,” I tell her.

“Well, see you tomorrow,” she says.

“Okay, love.”

When she’s gone, I get my phone out and research the contact number for, and then phone, the Rother Hotel.

“Rother Hotel. How can I help you?”

“Ah, good evening. I’ve lost an invitation that was sent to me for a booking made for next Wednesday. Could you remind me whether the event is at six or seven pm please?”

“Certainly, Madam. What name is it under please?”

“It’s under Coleman or Woods.”

“Just a moment.”

I tap my fingers on the table.

“Ah, yes here we are. The wedding ceremony is at 6.30pm, with the meal afterwards commencing from 7.00pm.”

“That’s amazing, thank you. I didn’t want to ask them personally as it’s a bit embarrassing saying you’ve forgotten when someone’s wedding is, but I’m just getting so forgetful in my old age.”

“No problem at all. The Rother Hotel looks forward to seeing you then. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, that will be all.” Then I hesitate, “actually…”

They’ll let me in to put rose petals on the bed in their hotel room and jokey handcuffs etc, as long as I’m fully supervised by a member of staff. The hotel themselves put a bottle of champagne on ice in the room for them after the ceremony which is nice. Nothing like a good scheming!

My phone rings just after I finish the call. It’s Miranda.

“Hello, Mir.”

“Mum’s just told me about Tim. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, he had indigestion. I, however, need to book into the hairdressers to cover the new grey hairs he’s put on my head.”

“Oh, thank God for that, Mum had me thinking he was at death’s door.”

“Well, I told her he was absolutely fine but it wouldn’t be a mother story without a touch of the dramatics would it? Anyway, have you heard from Vic?”

“We’ve been out every night since Sunday.”

“Oh Mir, don’t go mad. You’ve not shagged him yet have you?”

“Not yet. Tonight’s the night. Can’t bloody wait.”

“Oh my God. You’re seeing him again tonight?”

“ Yep. He’s booked a luxury hotel trip for us as well for Valentine’s day.”

“Please, please tell me you’ll be a bit sensible about all this. What if you go so fast it all burns out?”

“And what if it doesn’t? I dated Peter for five years before we got married and look where that got me. If this goes tits up, well I’ll have been tits up too, bloody enjoying myself.”

“So your pussies at home are being neglected for your own?”

“They’re fine. I don’t leave them that long each evening, and the neighbour’s going to look after them on my night out next week. She’s been married fifteen years, said ‘what Valentine’s day’, when I asked her.”

“Yes, it does get a little like that. I always make an effort though.”

“What are you doing this year?”

“Ah, that’d be telling. I think Tim will remember this one for a while though, let’s put it that way.”

“Cracker dressing up outfit then?”

“I certainly have.”

“Right I’m off, need to get ready for my date. Glad to hear Tim’s not turning up his toes.”

“Ring me next Wednesday night, or I’ll ring you. Trade Valentine’s stories.”

“You’re on.”

I get home, and after making a lasagne, with a side salad and new potatoes for our tea, I sit in the lounge and start to go through Tyler’s emails. I make folders and move things that need following up into the different categories.

“Fucking hell,” I exclaim.

“What’s up?” asks Tim.

“Tyler has a lot and I mean a lot of people wanting to team up with him, gain interviews, co-promote. There is so much here he’s been missing, with him being so busy. Obviously, I need to check what’s legit, but Tim, he’s a real success story. Who’d have thought our Ty would actually make something from all that sitting at home on his computer.”

“Well, he said he would. It’s just we didn’t actually believe he was capable.”

“I can’t believe it,” I say, yawning. “Well, that’s enough for today. I’ll work on the emails some more at Kid Zone the next few days, but I reckon he is going to be able to pack in that job of his. Tyler Turner, YouTube sensation it says on this email here.” I beam with pride. The boy done good.

For the rest of the week, I work through his emails in between helping Cam at Kid Zone. By Friday morning Tia is given the small promotion that includes her helping in the office. By Friday afternoon, following an altercation where Adele calls Tia a cow before storming out of Kid Zone, we’re down one lazy staff member and can look for another that might like to work. I give my neighbour a call as I know her daughter Tara is looking for part-time work to fit around having her own toddler.

Tyler has Friday off this week as he’s down to work the Saturday shift, so he calls into Kid Zone just after three. Gemma sends him into the office.

He gives me a hug and a kiss. I love that about him. He’s never grown up thinking he can’t be affectionate towards his mother.

“How’ve you got on?”

“Ty, you have some important business decisions to make, and then I’m going to set you up with some appointments. Your days working at Smiths are numbered looking at what I have here.” I show him all the printed out copies of emails that he needs to make decisions on. I have things cross-referenced on a spreadsheet with links to the relevant emails. I’m very proud of my Self-Employment Business Inspector skills. They should put me on TV. Perhaps Ty can make me a channel? Scratch that, that’s stealing the son’s thunder. No YouTube for me.

We spend a couple of hours going through them and making some phone calls. The future is looking bright for my son.

“Will you stay as my PA for now, Mum? It’s really helping having you manage my emails.”

“Of course. It shouldn’t take as long now. But don’t call me your PA okay? I’m your Self-Employment Business Inspector.”

“I’ll call you SEBI for short, it’s easier.”

Trust him.

“So, SEBI, will you help me organise getting myself to these appointments and remind me to make the calls? In fact, will you come with me, especially to sort out that book deal?”

“Of course. That is what a SEBI is for.”

“And you have time for that?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Cool. Thanks, Mum, this is epic. I can’t wait to tell Linds.”

“How is Lindsay?”

“No more puking and starting to eat for England.”

“Glad to hear it. She’ll be able to go to Beth’s party on Tuesday then hopefully.”

“Yes, thank goodness. She was getting moody about looking and feeling like shit, while everyone else would be all dressed up.”

“Well, tell her I’ll see her then.” I kiss my son’s cheek.

I get up and grab my bag and coat and go to see Cam. “I’m off, love, you don’t need me here the rest of the day. I’ll help fill in until you get a replacement for Fuckface.”

“Mother!”

I wink at her and walk out with Tyler, and then I hit the shops for things for Valentine’s day.

Chapter Eleven

Tuesday 14 February 2017

Tim

My other half does scrub up well, and I’m not looking too bad myself, I consider, as I look in the full-length mirror on the top of the stairs. I’m wearing the suit I bought while I was in my Alpha phase, might as well get some value out of it. Dora’s in a pale blue dress that comes down to just past her knees. It seems to radiate in her eyes. She looks lovely.

“Gorgeous lady. You look amazing and your dress is nice, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

“All in good time.” She smirks. “Let’s get over to the hotel.”

She’s told me that it’s Beth’s secret wedding. Bless her. I’m so glad she’s finally found happiness. She’s a lovely girl. I’ve managed to persuade Dora not to cover their bed in rose petals given that they may not like them and that could potentially ruin their evening. Instead, she’s just going to add the naughty cuffs and leave some massage oil and things like that. Much better idea. Her even better idea is that for our Valentine’s day gift, Dora booked a room in the same hotel — making sure it was far away from the honeymooner's suite as that could prove rather uncomfortable. We’re just about to set off, having decided to get there for about four, so that we can relax and unwind in our room before we go meet everybody. I wanted to get ready when we were there, but Dora said she wanted us to go relax in the bar area, that there was plenty of time for lounging in the room tomorrow. She’s booked us a late checkout for the Wednesday. Of course as is usual with Dora’s last minute plans I had to book a day’s annual leave at short notice. She’s very predictable at being unpredictable is my other half.

“Have we finally got everything?” I ask her.

“Yes, an ‘engagement’ present, a present for Trey, and our case. I think that’s it. Do you want to put everything in the car?”

“Will do.” Not long after that, we’re on our way.

We enter our room. It’s massive. I walk around it, taking in the larger than usual sized bed. There’s a sofa facing a television. I walk into the bathroom, and the bath fits two people and can be used as a jacuzzi. “Bloody hell, Dora, how much did this cost?” I shout, and then I walk outside the room.

I stand stock still.

My partner is on one knee in the middle of the room.

“Tim. Come here.”

I walk towards her, and she grabs hold of my hand.

“I know we signed a post-it and I know we’ve had an interesting history on the erm, marriage and proposal front, but you gave me a scare last week, and it made me realise that I want to be your wife. I want to be Mrs Turner if you’ll let me. I love you, Tim. I know it’s only a piece of paper, and that was what the post-it note represented, but I want you to call me wife and when you die I want to be a widow, and I’m not sure I’d be called that if we weren’t wed.” Dora’s face falls. “Oh dear, I knew I should have written it, not winged it.”

I go down on my own knees in front of her.

“Dora, one question. Do you own and have you read a book called How to be a wife?”

“No.” Her eyes light up in that manic ‘ooh when can I buy that’ way.

“Do you promise not to? Ever?”

She pouts. “Okay.”

“Then yes, I’d love to marry you. Now can we christen this bed and get back dressed again afterwards?”

She looks at her watch. “Erm, no because we’re getting married in thirteen minutes.”

I have a wife. A wife no one is to know about yet because we have agreed that it’s Beth and Leo’s day. We don’t have rings yet, using two old signet rings we had when they were fashionable, to get wed, as Dora didn’t want to buy the wrong size for me and wanted me to be there so we could choose together. More like boss me around, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So now we’re canoodling and waiting in our room for wedding number two. She still won’t let us shag. My balls might burst during Beth’s ceremony. Fancy trying to explain that away as confetti. I shake my head, trying to rid it of X-rated thoughts.

We go to the bar to meet everyone for Beth and Leo’s do.

Cam and Dylan are waiting and look happy thank goodness.

After hugs, Cam asks us to sit. “We have a venue!” she says. “We went Sunday and put down a deposit. It’s a hotel in Derbyshire called Manor Oak. The grounds are beautiful. So the date of our wedding is Saturday 7 July 2018.”

“Oh, congratulations you two.” Dora flings her arms around them both. “We’re so happy for you.”

“I’m not going to say anything to Beth today though,” adds Cam. “With it being her engagement. It’d look like I was trying to upstage her.”

“We get that. Yes, best to keep it quiet,” I say, hugging Cam and shaking Dylan’s hand.

“You alright, mate?” Dylan whispers to me. “It doesn’t remind you too much of Dora turning you down?”

“Oh no. We sorted that and moved past it. Everything’s fine. That was clearly fated to be yours and Cam’s day.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“Thanks, Dylan.” He’s going to be a great son-in-law.

Tyler and Lindsay arrive next. Lindsay looks so much better, there’s actual colour in her cheeks. We make the usual introductions, and Tyler announces he has finally signed a two-book deal for fun tomes called How Nerds can get a Girlfriend and a book called The Bewildered Baby Daddy. Plus, his mother has helped him get two extra sponsors so far. “I handed in my notice at Smith’s this morning. I talked to Donna, and she said if it didn’t work out, she’d make sure there was a job for me there, so I’m going for it.”

We do a bro fist. I find it all a bit weird but it’s the way to communicate these days.

Beth’s parents and a whole host of other people arrive, and eventually, we’re just waiting for the couple themselves.

Chapter Twelve

Cam

It was such a relief to get the venue booked. It’s going to be a while before the changes begin to make a huge difference at Kid Zone, but it’s already eased up enough for Dylan and I to not feel the strain as much and as my mother rightly advised, keeping him topped up with shags means his moaning is a different kind.

I look round at my family. They look so happy right now. It’s nice to see.

Then I turn around and see my best friend and her fiancé.

She’s wearing a wedding dress.

My mouth falls open.

She looks stunning. Her hair has been curled into ringlets that cascade down her shoulders. She has a simple tiara on her head which is catching the lights in the restaurant, its gems twinkling. Her face is beautifully made up. Her dress is a bohemian style chiffon with a rounded waistline. Its drop waist is accentuated by a belt styled with chiffon flowers. There are more flowers to the shoulder of the dress. It’s simple, and on my tall, slim best friend, it’s phenomenal. She could be a catwalk model. However, instead, she is a nervous but excited looking bride. My eyes go to Trey next. He’s holding his mum’s hand and is dressed in a little grey suit with a waistcoat and white shirt. He looks so cute. His dad is dressed the same. He looks over to Beth.

“So, as you can see, you aren’t actually at our engagement party. You’re at our wedding. If you could follow us, we’ll take you through to the room where the ceremony is being held.”

She looks at me and smiles apprehensively. We’d talked about a possible double-wedding at one time. “You look lovely.” I mouth, and she smiles.

Then we all follow and watch as Beth becomes Mrs Leo Coleman.

From there we move through to the restaurant for a sit-down meal. My mum and dad are especially loved up today. They keep looking and nudging each other and giggling. I hope me and Dylan are like them after so long together.

We sit and listen to Leo’s speech. It brings tears to our eyes. They are so very much in love.

Then Beth stands.

“Well, thank you all for attending our special day. We have another couple of surprises for you all, but it’s Trey who is going to announce these.”

Beth helps Trey stand up on a chair.

“Okay so first. Trey can you shout out, what is your last name being changed to?”

“Cole-man” Trey shouts out.

“Ah, that’s lovely,” I say to my mum who is sitting at my right-hand side. She rubs her eye with a table napkin.

“Okay, now you have a poster to hold up next don’t you? Let’s show everyone,” says Beth.

Trey holds up a large piece of card on which it says, ‘I’m going to be a big brother’.

“Oh my God,” I gasp. I can’t wait to get over to my best friend and hug the living daylights out of her.

The speeches over and the food eaten, we sit back and relax in our seats before the music and dancing are due to start. I had to hold back from blubbering when I spoke to Beth. She told me how she’d phoned and managed to book last minute due to someone else’s wedding unfortunately not working out. Apparently, it’s common on Valentine’s as brides book in and grooms back out.

I take a sip of my wine. It’s going down a little too well, and I’m glad Dylan agreed to drive home. My sneaky parents have booked a room so they can get rat-arsed and stay over! My Mum’s phone rings.

“Mir. Thought we were speaking tomorrow night? I’m at Beth’s wedding.”

My mum scrunches her face up.

“You’re what? You only started dating the other week. Mir, that’s bloody crazy. Have you googled him to make sure he’s not one of these men who weds vulnerable women and then kills them?”

There’s shouting from the other end.

“I am happy for you. I’m just shocked. You usually go out with someone for more than a fortnight before you agree to marry them.”

What? My auntie is getting married after two weeks?

“No you haven’t finally beaten me on something, Tim and I are already married.”

“What?” I shout in my Mum’s direction as my Dad turns to face her in horror.

The music starts, and the DJ makes an announcement. “Well, what a surprise hey, who’d have thought they’d have got married today, huh? Welcome to the floor, and congratulations to the new Mr & Mrs Coleman.”

We all make our way to the edge of the floor to watch the first dance. Beth and Leo light up the dancefloor and Trey dances in the middle of them, stealing the show.

I glance over at my parents, the picture of innocence.

My parents married? After all these years? Talk about throwing us kids a curve ball!

THE END

Coming Next

BIRTHING BALLS

Beth’s pregnancy is textbook perfect.

In contrast, Lindsay is having a nightmare.

While Lindsay struggles, Tyler, The Bewildered Baby Daddy, gathers material for his next book.

Will he survive Lindsay’s short temper to see its publication?

Cam throws Tim and Dora a wedding reception that brings back fond memories for her and Dylan.

There are new experiences ahead for the Turner family and friends.

Due October 2017

***

Releasing 15 May 2017

MInE

Pre-order now: http://getbook.at/MINEsuspense

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34511337-mine

Melissa:

I had my life all planned out, but in the blink of an eye it was gone. I lost my baby, my husband, my happy ever after.

So I made another plan…

Destroy the man who ruined it all. Edward Bonham. With his perfect wife and perfect life. Why should he be allowed to keep everything I’ve been denied?

Years have passed; they think they're safe. They think no one remembers. They think all is forgiven. But I will never forgive, I will never forget, and one day, retribution will be MInE.

An 18+ read with dark scenes.

Genre: Dark suspense.

Also by Andie M. Long

THE ALPHA SERIES

The Alphabet Game: Amazon: http://getbook.at/alphabetgame

The Alphabet Wedding: Amazon: http://getbook.at/alphabetwedding

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The Baby Game: Amazon: http://getBook.at/BabyGame

The Alpha Series Boxset: Amazon: http://getbook.at/Alphaseriesboxset

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Snow Balls (Book Two): Amazon: http://getbook.at/AmazonSnowBalls2

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Balls Fore (Book Four): Amazon: http://getbook.at/BallsFore

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THE VILLAGE PEOPLE SERIES

(Co-written with DH Sidebottom)

The Bunk Up (Book One): Amazon: http://getbook.at/bunkup

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About Andie

Andie M. Long is author of The Alpha series which includes Amazon Number One Erotic Thriller The Alphabet Game; Co-writer of the Amazon Number One Erotic Romance/Adult fiction bestseller The Bunk Up with DH Sidebottom and The Ball Games series, amongst others.

She lives in Sheffield with her son and long suffering partner.

When not being partner, mother, employee or writer she can usually be found on Facebook or walking her whippet, Bella.

Andie will be signing in Newcastle 2017 and York 2018.

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