Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,27

I can drown my sorrows with her.

Ten minutes later, I am pulling into our driveway, the gravel crunching underneath my tyres.

In contrast to our grandiose home, Cassie lives in a one-bedroom flat in a red-brick block in Southwater. She moved there the year before Dale, then aged seventeen, left home and joined the army. On the rare occasion he returns to his mum’s, he sleeps on the sofa.

Sometimes I feel embarrassed that our circumstances are so different, but Cassie doesn’t seem to mind. Neither of us have said anything. We just focus on what we have in common, which is a lot. Laughter, failed marriages, kids and our shared childhoods.

‘Didn’t go well, then?’ Cassie says as I walk into the living room. She switches the television off.

‘Nope. He doesn’t look anything like his profile picture, and we didn’t really have anything in common.’

‘Oh.’

I peel back my trench coat and let it drop onto the sofa.

‘That dress is a stunner, Lydia. Where did you get it?’

I evade the question. I don’t need Cassie to know that I spent close to her monthly wage on this one dress. ‘I’m through with internet dating,’ I say, taking the full glass of wine she proffers me.

‘You can’t give up after one date. You deserve happiness.’

‘I’m going to get us some more wine and let the kids know I’m home,’ I say.

‘Sure.’

They are both in their rooms. Mia is talking to someone on her phone. She glares at me when I walk in.

‘Did you knock?’ she hisses, throwing a contemptuous snarl. My girl is hurting, so I let it go.

‘I’ll be downstairs with Cassie.’

‘Whatever,’ she says, turning her back to me.

Oliver is playing on his laptop. Some computer game that I don’t understand.

‘I’ll come and switch your light off at 10 p.m.’ I get no response.

Back downstairs, Cassie sits with her bare feet curled under her on my cream designer sofa. She’s wearing cropped leggings and a bright blue oversized shirt, which matches the colour of her eyes. Her short spikey hair is currently dyed the hue of redcurrants. It’s not my favourite of hair colours. I preferred the silvery white she sported last month. I top up her wine glass and pour myself a large one. I sit on the armchair opposite her.

‘Perhaps I just need to be by myself for a couple of years,’ I muse.

‘Bollocks to that!’

10

The problem with internet dating is it becomes a bit addictive, that draw to find the perfect one. I may have told Cassie that I’m not interested in having a new relationship, but it’s hard to ignore the likes that pop up on my phone with great regularity. So here I am, at my desk, idly browsing through 4everlove.com when I should be checking through our PR agency’s monthly report. A notification pings through and I pause to study his profile. He has messy dark brown hair, blue eyes and a rakish grin. But best of all, we are a 100% match.

I read his profile. He’s a management consultant, lives in Sussex but travels a lot. He’s been single for four years, looking to commit, and loves travelling. I can’t believe he hasn’t already been swept up.

I click the like button, and a few moments later, he messages me. My heart is thumping. Is this guy for real?

How could I not say hello when we’ve got a 100% match! I’m Patrick, on the train to Manchester for a boring business trip. If you could choose to be stuck on the train with some famous people, who would you choose?

Hi Patrick. I’m Lydia.

He messages again before I can reply.

PS - I’d choose Oprah, Michelle Obama, the Dalai Lama (clichéd but I do want to meet him), James Redfield and Scarlett Johansson! You look like her :)

My stomach does a little leap. I am sure that none of the men I know would have even heard of James Redfield. His book, The Celestine Prophecy, was a game changer for me. Obviously, I wouldn’t choose Scarlett Johansson, but I’d probably choose the others.

Great choices but sadly I don’t look like Johansson! I’d choose Martha Stewart (I’m into crafting!) Michelle Obama, the Dalai Lama and James Redfield too. And Pierce Brosnan for some eye candy!

Damn, can’t compete with Brosnan.

What do you do?

I’m a management consultant – systems etc. Not glamorous, and frustratingly requires a fair bit of UK travel. And you?

I run a crafting business.

That’s interesting. Both my parents had their own businesses. I’m fine going in and telling companies