Coming Home to Wishington Bay. Maxine Morrey

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       Chapter 3

      In the past, my brother and his wife had made a variety of attempts to set me up on dates. Clearly, they considered my ability to choose men with about the same level of disillusionment as I did myself. Unfortunately, their choices for me also often left something to be desired, so perhaps it was a family trait. Although, thinking about it, Gigi had managed to choose a pretty wonderful man for herself, and Mum couldn’t have picked anyone who would have worshipped her more. Then there was Ned, my brother, who had a gorgeous, funny and very loving wife whom I adored. OK then, so it was just me with the crappy taste. Good to know.

      They hadn’t specifically said they were setting me up with anyone this time. They never did. A friend just always ‘happened’ to be free so they’d ‘invited him along’. I’m pretty sure they knew I didn’t believe a word of it but they continued to try. Which was sweet of them but I really had no interest in meeting anyone. By now I was completely fed up with my inability to find a decent man so it just seemed like the best plan was not to bother even attempting it.

      I’d come to this decision when my last relationship had ended spectacularly badly around eighteen months ago after I’d found out my boyfriend was ‘technically’ still seeing someone else. This revelation came about when his ‘technical’ other girlfriend walked in to the restaurant where the company Christmas do was being held. It wasn’t pretty. I’d walked out, head held high, and hadn’t crumpled until I was safe within the walls of my own flat.

      But the whole thing had hurt like hell because he’d been so wonderfully handsome and charming, and I’d really, really liked him. I’d trusted him and let him into my heart. It was something I’d been so careful about before but Paul had said all the right words, done all the right things, and I’d believed him. The error of that particular judgement had been painful in its proving and I had absolutely no intention of making a similar mistake ever again.

      ‘Four place settings,’ I said, unable to keep the sigh out of my voice as I picked up a fork from the table and began twirling it in my fingers.

      ‘Yeah. We’ve got a friend coming. I hope that’s all right,’ Ned said, concentrating on the deliciousness in the pan in front of him on the stove.

      ‘A friend,’ I said, putting the fork back and wandering over to where my brother was adding a touch more seasoning to the food.

      ‘Try that,’ he said, handing me the spoon. I did. It was, as always, beyond yummy. I made noises to this effect and Ned smiled. Glancing at me, he caught something in my expression. ‘Oh! No! No, I promise this time, it’s most definitely not a set-up. I’m pretty sure you’re not his type anyway. His last girlfriend was an absolute stunner.’ My brother was, as always, the epitome of tact. I whacked the spoon on his forearm.

      ‘Oww! What was that for?’

      ‘I imagine it was because you just insinuated that your sister isn’t beautiful.’ Carrie came into the kitchen, smiling, and gave me a big hug, her posture a little awkward as the large bump that was my niece or nephew came between us. ‘Which she totally is,’ she finished.

      Ned shrugged his shoulders and went back to stirring the food.

      ‘But he’s right on the other part. This isn’t a set-up. We had this planned before we knew you were coming down. It really is just four people having dinner. We kind of decided that maybe we weren’t so great at matchmaking after the last incident.’

      ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ I asked, an innocent look on my face.

      Carrie grinned. ‘Oh God, I know it was bad. But he seemed so normal and nice!’

      ‘He was. Sort of,’ I conceded. ‘He just was very, very … enthusiastic about his farm,’ I said, trying to find the right words. ‘More specifically the recipe for the manure that went into the muck spreader.’

      Carrie and Ned’s last attempt to set me up had been with a local farmer they’d met through the restaurant when he became one of their new organic suppliers. He was, as Carrie said, very nice but he had also, apparently, spent a long time perfecting the perfect recipe for poop and then spent what felt like an even longer time telling me about it – over dinner.

      Unfortunately, I did such a good job of being polite that he seemed to believe I was genuinely interested and insisted on driving me over to the farm to show me first hand. I really, really didn’t want to go but, apart from the manure obsession, he was a sweet man, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or sour the working relationship between him and my brother’s restaurant. Ned and Carrie had looked at me helplessly as I’d searched for an excuse in my momentarily blank brain. None of us had come up with one.

      It had taken me over a fortnight to get the smell out of my nostrils and had at the same time proved to everyone for future information that I most definitely wasn’t cut out to be a farmer’s wife. It was at least a week before I could even look at chocolate cake again but, as I wasn’t a quitter, I’d forced myself to beat that particular problem.

      The experience, however, had at last apparently confirmed to my brother and sister-in-law that they weren’t natural matchmakers. So at least something good had come of it. Even though they still owed me for a once-beautiful and hideously expensive pair of shoes that didn’t survive the ordeal.

      Carrie and I sat for a few minutes chatting, as we flicked through a fashion magazine and Carrie sighed at all the tiny waists.

      ‘Look at them!’ she cried.

      ‘Hon, they’re not home to a small human at the moment. You are.’

      Carrie gave another sigh. ‘There is that. Good point.’ She stroked her bump and smiled. I couldn’t help smiling along with her. For all her griping about the models, Carrie was exactly where she wanted to be. She and Ned had been trying for a baby for a while before it had actually happened, and they were incredibly excited about this new addition to the family. As was I. I couldn’t wait to be an auntie, and already had a tonne of boxes and bags of stuff that I just hadn’t been able to resist when I’d mooched around in town or on holidays. It was all stored back at the flat for now. I’d drive back up and get it when the baby arrived later this summer.

      Talking of new additions … I looked down at the small dog who had just wandered into the kitchen. His walk was a little wonky but his face was adorably cute in a mishmash of breeds way. From the looks of him, he was mostly sausage dog but СКАЧАТЬ