I finish my call and wish my new phone had an app that immediately gives the person on the other end an electric shock. It needs a button labelled zap them . After a moment I create a new file, label it vengeance , open it, and insert the name Cable West.
I collapse on the sofa and reassess my schedule, now knowing I have no partner for tonight‘s Regency-themed ball at Woolbury Manor. Cable’s excuse is so lame that I wonder if he has forgotten I have a degree in psychology. He promised to escort me tonight and now, with only hours to go, I am left like a wallflower. We have only known each other for a few weeks, and the relationship is casual, but that is no excuse for letting me down.
Cable is exactly who I require tonight to show Lyn that I don’t need help to improve my love life. He’s tall, bronzed, and amusing. An uncomplicated fun partner. That is as far as it goes. I pick the phone up again and scroll down the contacts. I hover over Stephen’s name and smile. He is the ship’s officer with whom I had a brief romantic liaison on my last holiday. Strangely, the attraction wasn’t quite as strong once I returned home, away from his dashing white uniform and the gorgeous Caribbean Sea. But we kept in touch through the occasional text. Pity he’s at present on the other side of the ocean; he would do nicely.
It’s not that I have been short of boyfriends since my divorce five years ago. But then cancer knocked me for six, and after surviving that I’m certainly not going to waste my life waiting for that illusive quality called love. If I ever find it—well, that would be wonderful—but it isn’t going to be with Cable or Stephen.
My finger continues to scroll down the list and I make a few more calls. Finally I toss the phone down as I can’t secure a date for this evening. How sad have I become? I sit and ponder the question as I study my huge bunny slippers; they look back at me with a well, at least you have us look in their glass eyes.
The phone buzzes into life. It’s Lyn. She is the reason behind tonight’s event, which I never really felt happy about attending. A Regency themed ball—I ask you! Just thinking about it makes me yawn.
“Hi Lyn,” I say over brightly, trying to compensate for the bad news I’m about to impart.
“What’s up?” she replies.
That’s how well she knows me. She is fully aware that I don’t do cheerful until at least eleven o’clock in the morning.
I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I can make it tonight, Lyn. I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.” I silently groan. That was almost as lame as Cable’s excuse.
The third degree begins. “Have you been vomiting?”
I consider my reply. “No.”
“What have you eaten this morning?”
Oh, give me strength. This woman is a substitute for Mother in the nag department.
“The usual,” I mutter.
“Has he stood you up?”
Bugger! She is such a know all.
I reply through clenched teeth, “No! Why do you say that?”
“Shona! You have a stomach like a dustbin; it copes with all sorts of rubbish. It’s a crime that you remain so thin.”
She has a point, but I’m not deterred by her scepticism.
“Cable phoned earlier to say he wasn’t well.”
“Really! Same complaint as you, or is he also lying?”
I scowl at the phone and implement my usual get out of a call tactic. “There’s someone at the door. I’ll get back to you later.” I end the call and put the phone on the coffee table. The last thing I need at the moment is an interrogation.
Seconds later the laptop on my desk pings with an incoming mail. It’s from Lyn. She is so fast on the keyboard it makes my eyes water. I click it open and read.
If that jerk Cable has let you down, just come on your own. It is the twenty-first century, you know, and you don’t want to throw up the chance of wearing that dress. Besides, I’m sure Henry has a couple of unattached friends coming.
Oh great. I feel like an
I collapse on the sofa and reassess my schedule, now knowing I have no partner for tonight‘s Regency-themed ball at Woolbury Manor. Cable’s excuse is so lame that I wonder if he has forgotten I have a degree in psychology. He promised to escort me tonight and now, with only hours to go, I am left like a wallflower. We have only known each other for a few weeks, and the relationship is casual, but that is no excuse for letting me down.
Cable is exactly who I require tonight to show Lyn that I don’t need help to improve my love life. He’s tall, bronzed, and amusing. An uncomplicated fun partner. That is as far as it goes. I pick the phone up again and scroll down the contacts. I hover over Stephen’s name and smile. He is the ship’s officer with whom I had a brief romantic liaison on my last holiday. Strangely, the attraction wasn’t quite as strong once I returned home, away from his dashing white uniform and the gorgeous Caribbean Sea. But we kept in touch through the occasional text. Pity he’s at present on the other side of the ocean; he would do nicely.
It’s not that I have been short of boyfriends since my divorce five years ago. But then cancer knocked me for six, and after surviving that I’m certainly not going to waste my life waiting for that illusive quality called love. If I ever find it—well, that would be wonderful—but it isn’t going to be with Cable or Stephen.
My finger continues to scroll down the list and I make a few more calls. Finally I toss the phone down as I can’t secure a date for this evening. How sad have I become? I sit and ponder the question as I study my huge bunny slippers; they look back at me with a well, at least you have us look in their glass eyes.
The phone buzzes into life. It’s Lyn. She is the reason behind tonight’s event, which I never really felt happy about attending. A Regency themed ball—I ask you! Just thinking about it makes me yawn.
“Hi Lyn,” I say over brightly, trying to compensate for the bad news I’m about to impart.
“What’s up?” she replies.
That’s how well she knows me. She is fully aware that I don’t do cheerful until at least eleven o’clock in the morning.
I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I can make it tonight, Lyn. I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.” I silently groan. That was almost as lame as Cable’s excuse.
The third degree begins. “Have you been vomiting?”
I consider my reply. “No.”
“What have you eaten this morning?”
Oh, give me strength. This woman is a substitute for Mother in the nag department.
“The usual,” I mutter.
“Has he stood you up?”
Bugger! She is such a know all.
I reply through clenched teeth, “No! Why do you say that?”
“Shona! You have a stomach like a dustbin; it copes with all sorts of rubbish. It’s a crime that you remain so thin.”
She has a point, but I’m not deterred by her scepticism.
“Cable phoned earlier to say he wasn’t well.”
“Really! Same complaint as you, or is he also lying?”
I scowl at the phone and implement my usual get out of a call tactic. “There’s someone at the door. I’ll get back to you later.” I end the call and put the phone on the coffee table. The last thing I need at the moment is an interrogation.
Seconds later the laptop on my desk pings with an incoming mail. It’s from Lyn. She is so fast on the keyboard it makes my eyes water. I click it open and read.
If that jerk Cable has let you down, just come on your own. It is the twenty-first century, you know, and you don’t want to throw up the chance of wearing that dress. Besides, I’m sure Henry has a couple of unattached friends coming.
Oh great. I feel like an
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