Page 5 of Teacakes & Tangos
But there was more pain to come.
On the day I should have been walking down the aisle, I found out from a ‘friend’ that Les had been seeing someone behind my back for the past three months. And when I’d tackled him, it turned out to be true. Even worse, he’d asked his new woman to move to Paris with him, and she’d agreed!
I’d been completely off men ever since.
It was only recently that Dad had started suggesting I should think about getting back into the dating game.
He kept emphasising that kindness and caring were so important in a partner – which was clearly a reflection of how he’d viewed my relationship with Les. In other words, he hadn’tthought Les was particularly kindorcaring – and with the benefit of hindsight, I’d definitely come round to his way of thinking.
Les was never going to be the love of my life. I knew that now.
But that didn’t mean I had to rush out and find someone ‘kind and caring’ to take his place.
I might have told Dad I’d investigate the dating apps.
But deep down, I knew it was never going to happen...
*****
I was feeling in good spirits as I caught the bus home later.
The interview seemed to have gone well, and as I walked into our close, I was already leaping ahead in my mind and planning what my contribution to the household budget would be when I got the job.
But as I got nearer the house, all thoughts of mortgage payments vanished from my mind.
The garage didn’t look right.
And when I peered closer, I realised that the door was slightly ajar at the bottom.
What on earth . . .?
The garage hadn’t been opened for years, and my knees felt weak with dread as I paused beside it for a moment, trying to gather the strength to look inside.
Taking a breath, I bent down and took hold of the handle, and the door creaked loudly as I pulled it up.
Shock lurched in my chest as I stared inside.
Where Mum’s beloved red Triumph should have been standing, there was now just an empty space...
CHAPTER TWO
My heart was thudding in my ears.
Someone had broken into the garage and stolen Mum’s car!
I scrambled in my bag for my phone to call the police, my imagination running wild.
Had we been targeted?
Did someone know about the car being in there?
Or had it just been an opportunistic thief, breaking into the garage and finding treasure? But how had they managed to get the car started to drive it away?
A thought struck me and my heart sank. I paused, phone in my hand, feeling sick.
How was Dad going to feel about this?
He’d bedevastated . . .
