The Missing Piece - Catherine Miller Page 0,78

sense, but I think it wins out this time. I think we need to try and find out some more.’

‘Didn’t the police rule out that Nancy ever existed?’

‘They confirmed that Clive had never been married. I’m not sure if that means she never existed.’ I stop the tap to save the washing-up bowl from overflowing, our whispers no longer muffled by the sound of running water.

‘Would you be happy for me to see if I can find anything out?’ Tess asks. ‘My uncle Gary works in genealogy and he might be able to discover a thing or two.’

‘If they didn’t locate a marriage record, I doubt you’ll find anything. But I guess that’s less harmful than triggering anything Clive’s brain might be hiding from him. I’d suggest looking into deaths. Maybe we can find out what happened to Nancy.’

There is a creak of floorboards from the stairs and we both respond by returning to our tasks, our cheeks flushing.

‘Good morning. More than one early bird today I see. I thought I could hear chirping.’

‘Morning, Clive,’ I say, taking his jovial manner to mean he hadn’t overheard what the chirping was about.

‘I’ve just been filling in Keisha on the speed-dating idea and she thinks it’s great. She can’t wait for our event,’ Tess says.

I can’t?

‘Oh, that’s great. I was worried you’d think I was meddling. I only came up with it with your best interests at heart,’ Clive says, before starting to help with wiping up.

‘It’s very kind of you.’ I’m not completely sure what he’s on about. I just hope he will think the same of our meddling if he ever finds out.

40

Clive

Clive was enjoying his role as organiser of the speed-dating event. If nothing else, these few weeks in limbo had given him a number of varied new hobbies and pastimes to enjoy.

Tess had managed to convince him that being open to email as well as written applications would make the event more popular, especially in the age bracket they were aiming for. That had seemed to be a good move as so far only one applicant had used ‘snail mail’ as Tess liked to call it. For this event, they’d opted for a twenty-five to forty age range. Clive had requested people send in their particulars (age and so forth) and a paragraph about what makes them happy. The answers had included spending time with family, lying in a field staring up at the sky and eating a whole tray of doughnuts, and were giving him lots of ideas for how to spend his time. In the email inbox they’d set up especially, he had enough male applicants already. He was two short on females and had had several enquiries about whether they were going to do events for other age groups.

It hadn’t all been down to the newspaper ad and the posters that he’d put up locally. Some of the interest had come from the Facebook event page that Tess had set up. Between them they’d done very well and Clive was currently on Tess’s computer narrowing down who should be picked. Even though it should have been first come, first served, he was attempting to play Cupid by selecting applicants who he thought Keisha would be compatible with. Although, did he want to be accurate in his selections if really he wanted to set her up with George? Not that he’d convinced the lad to join in yet. He’d not seen him, George working flat out on his days off to help pack up the house for Clive.

By the time Clive had finished the administration, he had seven male candidates for the speed dating, and five females, not including Keisha. If they weren’t able to get any more women on board, they could always make one of the stops a date with a cake. After all, no one wanted to cram in a slice of cake with a new date watching.

In a moment of distraction, Clive typed ‘new allotment holder’ in the search bar like the internet might somehow hold the answer. Of course all it brought up were practical guides on how to start up the hobby. He deleted the words and wished he could get rid of the niggling idea that was still lingering.

To rid himself of those thoughts, he decided to call George.

‘How’s it going, lad?’

‘We’re getting there gradually. You’ve got so much stuff! How long have you lived here?’

Clive had to think. It was another one of those facts that should be

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