Page 30 of The Start of Something Wonderful

‘It’s early days yet, hon. Never say never. Mr Darcy may be just around the corner.’

‘I’d forgotten what a minefield the dating game is. All that wondering what to wear, what to say,trying to be someone you’re not; I’m getting too old for all of that. Besides, I’m focused on my career now. Enough of me. What about you?’

The ensuing silence is charged with emotional intensity. Wendy and I are so close on so many levels, just like the sisters we longed for as little girls, yet the door to one area of her life is firmly barred to me. Sometimes, like now, I give it a gentlepush, in the hope that it may open a fraction.

‘Wendy, it’s been seven years. Steve wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone.’

‘I know, I know,’ she says, a slight tremor in her voice.

Wendy was a supernumerary hostess on her first flight to Mombasa. Steve was a photographer and painter, on an assignment for a wildlife magazine. The moment their eyes met over the crushedCoke cans and empty nut packets of Wendy’s drinks trolley, they were smitten. They shared the same humour, love of sport and travel. He encouraged her to paint. She taught him to ride horses. Before long they were living together, and finally, thirteen years into their relationship, they decided to tie the knot in a private ceremony in the place where they had met.

A chill still goes throughme when I remember the night I got the call, telling me that Steve had drowned in a windsurfing accident. How could he have? He was a strong swimmer. There had to be some mistake. But the tidal currents can be strong and unpredictable in that part of the world, and when Wendy saw him waving to her on the shore, she had no idea he’d run into difficulty.

She says she’s grateful to have knownsuch tender, respectful, kind, mutually supportive love just once in her life, as some people – even married people – don’t ever experience that.

And that’s the only kind of love I would like: not to settle for someone because time is running out, but the type of soulmate love Wendy and Steve shared; someone who’s my friend first, my equal, and accepts me for me and doesn’t set out to changeme. But I know that kind of love is hard to find, so if it never comes my way, that’s okay, because I’d rather be on my own and look after me, instead of trying to rescue and fix the man in my life, which can be, quite frankly, exhausting.

‘Is there any truth in the rumour that you went on a date with a certain LA fitness trainer?’ I venture.

‘Might be,’ says Wendy coyly. ‘But don’t getexcited. He’s just for fun – not husband material, before you ask.’

‘And? Are you seeing him again?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘When?’

‘I’ve got a three-day LA next Thursday.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Randy.’

‘Randy. That’s very … American. Attractive?’

‘Yeees … in a kind of Action-Man-doll way.’

‘You mean he has bendy arms and legs?’

‘Naturally.Andswivelling head.’

‘Chiselledcheekbones? Dimpled smile? Designer scar on his left cheek?’

‘Yep.’

‘Muscular torso?’

‘Of course. This model also comes equipped with detachable designer shades.’

‘Fuzzy, GI haircut?’

‘Andplastic, moulded pants.’

‘So, not detachable then?’ I quip, choking on a Pringle.

‘Absolutely not!’

---