110 comments/ 76939 views/ 301 favorites The Case of the Sneaky Valentine By: ScattySue Welcome, dear reader, to my entry for the 2015 Valentine's Day Story Contest. By way of a warning, I have to say that this is a long story - the competition rules do not permit splitting it into multiple parts, so please forgive me and I hope you find it worth reading all the way to the end. I would add that there is a long build up before any sex, so please be patient. As this is a Contest entry, please take the trouble to cast your vote at the end. Feedback is also always very welcome. My thanks to Winterreisser for his diligent editing, encouragement and support and to Kat in her role as "Romance and Hotness Consultant" (Thanks also to the Anonymous improver of my Spanish who provided 'La Gata' in place of 'El Gato'.) I hope you enjoy the story. ================================================== CHAPTER 1 -- Mystery Tuesday 14 February I turn the card over, looking for any clues on the back but there is nothing there. I bite my lip, wondering. For the third year in a row a Valentine's Day card has found its way into my handbag somewhere between leaving home and arriving at work. The first year had been a surprise and I wondered if my partner, Roy, had unexpectedly and uncharacteristically decided to put some effort into our almost non-existent love. However, when he again came home late, very late from work with no flowers, chocolates or even a kind word, I decided that the card sender wasn't him. So, at thirty-two I had a secret admirer: how intriguing! At least, I hoped I had and that it wasn't a mistake and the card had been intended for someone else. The handwritten inscription read: The Case of the Sneaky Valentine "Certainly not; you're far too young to be the first and the wrong sex for the second!" she points out. "Shirley Holmes, then," I laugh. "Still, I'm not getting anywhere working out who gave it to me." "Perhaps you'll get another one next year," she suggests. "You'll have to be on the alert next February!" "I, er, actually received a card last year and the year before," I confess bashfully. "I was on the alert but the sneaky bugger still managed it!" "And they were all from the same person?" "It was all the same handwriting but this year's was a bit more, well, passionate. Nothing sexual or dirty just... yes, passionate." I conclude wistfully. "It sounds like they moved you, quite a lot." "They did. Would you like to see them? I could bring them to show you. From all you deduced about me, you're obviously much better at this sort of investigation than I am," I tell her. "Yes, please. Hey, why don't we meet after work tomorrow for a drink? Unless, I guess you need to get home to your girls, don't you?" "God, I haven't had an evening out in months!" I reply, "But unfortunately I'm afraid it's Parents' Evening at the school tomorrow." I hesitate, feeling a little awkward, "I could do Friday, unless you have a date already." She smiles sweetly at my words. "No, no date and nothing planned so yes, let's meet Friday. Bring the cards then and we can go to a nice little tapas bar I know." "That sounds lovely, but I'll need to ask Mum if she'll babysit." After arriving at Victoria we walk together to the building in which we both work. "Don't forget our night out on Friday. See you on the train tomorrow," she adds as we enter the foyer where we say goodbye. Friday 24 February Being able to get a seat next to Zoe turned out to be the high point of yesterday, as far as my working day was concerned. Patrick, my boss, was in a foul mood over a deal that fell through. He seemed determined to pin the blame on anyone but himself. He even tried to blame me, saying that I should have seen the problems whilst I was typing it all up! It was a relief to hear praise for Tina and Chloe at Parents' Evening, the only complaint being their ongoing tendency to pretend to be each other sometimes. Their class teacher and assistants aren't fooled but teachers who don't know them well can't tell them apart. Their classmates think it's a brilliant game, apparently. Words were had when I got home and promises extracted. I was also able to speak to Mum and she is very happy to baby sit the girls tonight. She was slightly disappointed that it was only a girls' night out but, as she said, "At least sitting in a bar you might meet someone interested in getting to know you; you'll never meet a man just going to work and sitting at home every evening!" "Yes, Mum, I know, but it has only been a couple of months since Roy finally went. The, well not exactly peace and quiet as he was rarely here, but the... tranquillity, I suppose, has been quite nice, to be honest." "Yes, dear, but you don't want to end up a lonely old spinster, do you?" Thanks for that, Mum, I thought. She seems to ignore the fact that I've never had much luck with men over the years, even at university. Patrick is little better today and his foul mood seems to have poisoned the whole office, with everyone grumpy and bickering. Even Lisa, the normally bright and bubbly young admin assistant, snaps at me when I ask her if some photocopying is completed. "Oh, so sorry, Sarah. I'll rush an' do it this instant," she replies sarcastically in her finest London accent. "I mean, it's not like I ain't got ten other fings to be doin'!" "Lisa! What's the matter with you?" I ask, shocked. She glares at me for a moment and then sags. "Sorry, Sarah, it's just everyone seems to be on me case today; it's doin' me 'ead in. I thought it's normally 'appier 'ere on a Friday." "I know. I think it's that lost order yesterday: Patrick's pissed off and he seems to be spreading it around. I'll be so glad when today's over!" I tell her earnestly. "Look, Sarah, some of us is going down the pub after work so, I know you don't like normally come out with us but, you know, after a day like today if you wanna come..." "Thanks for the offer but I'm already I'm meeting someone after work." "Oh? Is it a date with a guy now what's 'is name... Roy 'as gone?" she asks with sudden interest. "No, it's with a woman friend for a drink after work. I'm looking forward to it." "Hmm, you dark 'orse, you! Well, 'ave a good time and, look, I'll go and sort your photocopying now for you, okay?" "Thanks, Lisa," I reply, wondering what she meant by a dark horse. Now that five o'clock has finally arrived I find that I'm almost ridiculously happy and not just because this crappy day is over. This makes me realise that my social life has dwindled pretty well to nothing and that Mum might have a point: I do need to get out there if I'm to meet someone. It's just... I'm not sure I want another man in my life at the moment and I really don't want the emotional turmoil of starting a new relationship with a guy just now. As I exit the lift I see Zoe standing by the plant and water feature to the left of the foyer. This is actually the first time I've really looked at Zoe from a distance. Her short stature gives her quite a curvaceous figure that shows even through her clothing. As usual, black is the predominant colour: black boots with silver clasps and buckles, ripped black leggings below a green tartan mini skirt; a dark tee shirt on which I can partially see what I recognize as a biohazard symbol in lime green underneath the black leather jacket that she seems habitually to wear. I almost can't believe that this is the woman I'm going out for a drink with but somehow the Zoe inside doesn't match the stereotype I'd expected from the image she projects. When she sees me she smiles, the dimples popping in her cheeks and I find myself a little jealous of how cutely attractive she is. As and when I decide to go out looking for a boyfriend, she could be a mixed blessing as a companion: she will certainly attract attention but, quite likely, all the attention, leaving me in the shade. I hurry across the foyer, low heels tapping rapidly on the marble floor. "Hi, Zoe," I say as I reach her. She places her hand on my arm and to my surprise quickly cranes up to kiss my cheek. "Wotcha, Sarah, am I glad to see you." "Really?" I ask as we start walking out of the building and turn right. "Of course," she replies, "I've been looking forward to our girls' night anyway but after today I really need to unwind!" "Bad day for you too, huh? Join the club. What happened to you?" "One of the senior partners basically took the credit for three weeks of my hard work, claimed that all the important work, the concept and the like were all hers and that all I'd had to do was to, quote, 'colour in inside the lines!'" "What a bitch!" I commiserate. "I, er, assume you're not a 'Colouring-in Consultant', so what is your job, Zoe?" "No!" she laughs. "I'm an 'Art Director'... okay, that's a posh name for a designer, in my case a graphic designer. My 'colouring in' was a complete design on a new product range." "A range of what products?" I ask and I notice Zoe's cheeks colour slightly. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that," she smiles. "Turn right here. It's, um, a range of sex toys, you know, dildos, vibrators and the like, called Lady Loves. Not exactly high street but, well, trying to make them more mainstream." "Wow. Did you get any free samples?" I ask without thinking, saying the first thing I think of to try and cover my shyness at talking about sex toys. Zoe's cheeks are now almost as pink as her highlights. "I'll take that as a yes," I tease but I can feel my face colouring too. "Okay, yes, maybe," she admits grudgingly before changing the subject. "But enough about me; what do you do and why was your day so shitty?" "Well, you had it right in your story about me: I'm a PA to one of the senior account managers. My boss is being an arsehole over a contract the firm lost; apparently it's everybody's fault but his, even though he is, or was, the account director on that contract. He even blamed me for typing what he wrote and not changing it to something better!" "Somebody save us from bosses who are wankers!" she declares loudly and I cannot help the surprised look on my face. "Er, sorry, I didn't offend you then did I?" she asks as she touches my arm and indicates the door to the tapas bar, La Gata Rosa, and we enter, still talking, while I find myself hoping that this is not too expensive. "No, not really; it's just not a word I'd normally use out loud. They are wankers though!" I laugh at my daring. The bar is quiet; the only other patrons are three women around a table and two guys at the bar. Of course, it's early, only a little after five o'clock after all, and Zoe leads the way to two stools at the far end of the bar. "You know, you're not the sort of woman I'd normally go out with," Zoe confesses as we seat ourselves, "you're..." "Boringly dull and ordinary?" I suggest. "Sarah, you are certainly not boring and very definitely not dull or ordinary," she chuckles. "No, just a bit... mainstream, I guess." "Well, I can certainly say the same; I've never had a punk friend before! Is 'mainstream' really bad?" I ask. "No, I think I need more mainstream in my life. What about you; do you need more Goth Punk in your life? "I think there's certainly room for some. In fact, there're probably room for lots of new things in my life," I sigh. "You know, I've organized meetings or booked tables and tickets for my boss and his guests in all sorts of places but never actually been myself. For example, this is my first time in a Tapas Bar. I've never tried sushi either, never been in a hot air balloon, not run a marathon, never been to a West End show... there's an extensive list of things that would be new for me." "Well the next new thing will be a drink: what do you want?" "A red wi... no," I smile, "you order me something, please." "Do you drink beer?" Zoe asks. "No, I've never drunk it before." I reply, shaking my head. "What, never?" she asks incredulously. "Well, okay, I tried a sip of Dad's beer when I was about seventeen and I thought it tasted horrible so thereafter I always chose cider and, later on, wine." I admit. "Two beers it is then." She signals across to the bar woman. "Hello, Zoe, what would you like; the usual?" She has a slight accent that I cannot place "Yes please Marta, two of them." She moves off and returns with two bottles of beer, Spanish by the name on the labels. "Sarah, this is Marta," Zoe makes the introduction, "and Marta, meet Sarah." "So you are Zoe's new friend?" Marta asks. "Yes, I am," I reply, "we get the same train to work each day and we started talking and... I don't know why I'm telling you this." "Please, I like to know about my customers and when my customers have new friends, I am interested. Oh, if you want food it will have to be after six because Alex has gone out to buy things." I assume Alex is the chef but at that moment one of the women from the table comes to the bar and Marta moves off to serve her. I pick up the bottle of beer; the cold glass is slick with condensation. I'm about to ask for a glass when I see Zoe drink straight from the bottle so I do the same. The taste is very different from wine but, on this second tasting, I actually find it quite pleasant despite the slightly sour bitterness. I take another sip as Zoe looks at me quizzically. "It's nice, much nicer than I remember," I tell her, "and this is not only my first beer but also the first time I've drunk alcohol straight from a bottle... Mum and Dad always insisted on drinks being from cups or glasses when I was growing up, so this feels like I'm being naughty," I smile as I raise the bottle to her. "Well, here's to seeing how many things we can tick off your 'never done' list this evening; cheers!" Zoe clinks the neck of her bottle against mine in a toast. "In the meantime, did you bring those Valentine's cards?" "Oh yes," I tell her and fish them out of my handbag and place them in order on the bar. "There we are; exhibits A, B and C in 'The Case of the Sneaky Valentine'. Zoe studies each one, pointedly and carefully looking at the picture on the front before reading the inscription and examining the handwriting. "Hmm, the sender seems to be getting ever more passionate, don't they? You know, the handwriting is very feminine, almost girlish," she says after a while. "I thought that too... but it must be a guy disguising his handwriting, or maybe he got a girl to write it." "Hmm, it's an odd choice of handwriting style for a man to pick, especially for a Valentine's card. I mean, why not just print in capitals? And if he needs to disguise his writing, then he must think you'd recognise his normal handwriting... On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't a man at all!" she smiles mischievously. "What, you reckon that I got a, a lesbian woman who fancies me?" I don't know quite whether to laugh or be horrified at the idea so I end up with a nervous chuckle. "I don't..." Zoe grins at my expression. "What, another first: the first time a woman's fancied you?" "Yes, absolutely! I mean, I know some women do, you know, fancy other women but... well, why would they fancy me since I'm not a lesbian?" Zoe laughs at this. "Sarah, you're an attractive woman so there's no reason why a man or woman wouldn't fancy you. And they wouldn't know whether you're gay or not; you might be or you could be bisexual or maybe just interested in experimenting with a woman... I bet that's on your list of 'never done' things!" "Too right, and not one I've ever wanted to tick off either." I suddenly realise that I've finished the beer. "Same again?" I ask and Zoe nods. I call Marta and order two more beers. "So the idea of a woman card sender, a female 'Sneaky Valentine', upsets you whereas the thought that some bloke is getting close enough to you to put a card in your handbag doesn't worry you?" she asks. "Shit, I never thought of it like that," I reply, quite shocked. "I was just so touched to receive the cards that I didn't consider other, more... well, sinister possibilities." Marta returns with the beers and I immediately take a swig. While Zoe's comments flustered me, I'm more concerned about how I responded and that she'll think me horribly narrow minded and intolerant. "Zoe, look, I'm not really homophobic; I don't have a problem with people being gay or lesbian or whatever. I know two gay men, one in the in the office and the other is a neighbour. I don't know any lesbians, though so the idea of a woman fancying me was, well, disconcerting, I guess." "I bet you do know some gay women but you just don't know they're lesbians. You probably know more gay men than you realize too," she points out. "Sorry for disconcerting you though. Perhaps it's best to think of them as someone of indeterminate gender having a crush on you." "Good idea; someone with a crush is much less threatening. I'm sorry if I sound awfully narrow-minded. I don't mind what consenting adults get up to, really I don't. I wish them more luck, or perhaps more wisdom, in finding a partner than I had with that useless wanker Roy!" "Hey, you said 'wanker' again; go Sarah!" and we both laugh. A little while later, and on our third beers, Zoe orders tapas and we receive a large platter with a little of almost everything on the menu. "Zoe said you had not tried tapas ever, so now you get to try much of it," Marta explains as she hands us cutlery. "Enjoy!" We chat and eat and the bar becomes more and more crowded and noisy. I vaguely notice that women predominate amongst the clientele but this makes for a relaxed and hassle-free evening. The food is very good (as is a fourth bottle of beer) and I compliment Zoe on her choice of venue. "Thank you, I'm glad you like it. As you probably gathered I'm a bit of a regular. Now, before you have to dash off to your beautiful girls, have you ever tried tequila?" "Nope," I reply, "but I get the feeling that I'm going to." "That's the spirit," and she waves Marta over. Marta gives Zoe a suspicious look when she hears the order for four tequilas. "Be sure you don't have friend Sarah falling down drunk, Zoe," she warns but fetches the drinks anyway. Zoe explains the process. Salt on the web of skin between thumb and forefinger, lime held between finger and thumb then, go: lick the salt, swig the tequila down in one and then suck the lime. "Presumably, if you can't coordinate all of that then you know you're drunk!" I laugh. I watch Zoe drink hers, memorizing the routine. "Okay, here goes..." To be fair, coordination is not the problem but the bitter taste and alcohol kick almost choke me so I'm spluttering as I try to suck the lime. Zoe puts her arm around me and pats my back. "Wow, that's strong!" I wheeze. "Yeah, just a bit. What did you think?" "Well, next time I'll be ready for the kick so I'll give it one more try, but only after you drink your second one." Zoe again performs the ritual with grace and obvious enjoyment and then it's my turn once more. I take a few deep breaths to steady myself. Salt, tequila, lime. I bump the glass down on the bar and grin around the wedge of lime clamped between my teeth. I have not choked, but... "Not bad for a second go," says Zoe, "but your eyes are watering a little!" I slap her arm playfully. "Oi, you, I think I did very well. Right, what's the time?" I take out my phone and manage on the third attempt to get it the right way up and the screen on. Okay, half nine so I need to be heading home," I tell her. "Are you staying?" "Of course not; we're train buddies remember?" So we settle the bill (rather more than perhaps I should have spent) and stand up to leave and I find the room sways gently. "You know, I think I may be a little wobbly because of that tequila. How about you?" I ask. "You're just a lightweight!" she teases. "Come on, I'll make sure we get back to the station safely." She slips her arm through mine and steers me through the crowded bar. On the way it seems some of the women recognise Zoe and there are a few smiles, nods and hellos and even a wink. They are certainly a friendly crowd I think through the alcohol buzzing in my brain. The cold air outside revives me a little but we continue to walk arm in arm comfortably. At the station, however, we encounter surprisingly large crowds and find that there's been a derailment. We scan the departure boards but the news is not good. "You'll be alright," Zoe says, pointing at one board. "Look, fifteen minutes time from platform eight there's a train to Whiteton East; that's your town, surely." I peer up. "Oh yes, that's the smaller station in the town on the stopping line; Whiteton Town is on the mainline." I continue looking and realise what's happened, "It looks like it's the mainline that's affected so there're no trains for your station at the moment. Look, why don't we get the train on platform eight and see where we go from there." "Good idea," agrees Zoe and we begin walking to the platform, "maybe I can get a cab or something from the station." "I'd offer you a lift but, well, two tequilas too many, at least," I tell her regretfully. "That's very kind, Sarah, but a cab will be fine." We board the train and manage, amazingly, to find two seats. The journey is every bit as slow as we feared so I phone Mum and apologise that I'll be home late, explaining about the train problems. The Case of the Sneaky Valentine "Not to worry, Sarah love; the girls are all tucked up in bed, so they are, and I'm sure I can find something to watch on the telly. Did you have a good evening?" I tell her we did and briefly where we'd gone, before saying goodbye. The journey is uneventful, if slow, and eventually the train arrives at Whiteton East where we alight. It's a fair walk home and even further into the centre of the town to get a taxi. I point this out to Zoe and conclude by asking, "Why don't you come home with me? You can either phone for a taxi from there or, well, there's a spare bed you can crash on and I'll drive you home tomorrow." "That's very sweet of you, Sarah but if I can call a cab from your house then that will be enough. Of course, if you can make me a cup of tea while I wait then I'll love you forever." "I don't know whether I should feel offend that my personality alone isn't worthy of your love or," I hesitate, trying to work out the end of the sentence through the alcohol befuddling me, "or whether to call you a, a slut for giving eternal love just for a cup of tea," I laugh. "Don't be offended, Sarah, but I am a complete whore when it comes to cups of tea being made for me," she joins in my laughter. "You should see what I'll do for a cooked breakfast!" I'm tempted to say, 'Stay the night and give me a chance to find out in the morning,' but suddenly this conversation has become rather uncomfortable. At first I don't understand why and then I realize: the first time a friend cooked me breakfast it was my then boyfriend, after I spent the night with him for the first time. Zoe couldn't possibly know this so she's not suggesting anything but I'm glad that in the dark the slight colouring of my cheeks won't be noticeable. I am reminded again of Zoe's idiosyncratic appearance when we arrive home; I don't think the look of surprise and alarm on Mum's face could have been any greater had I walked in holding the hand of a gorilla! Not that Zoe and I are holding hands, of course, but you get the idea. Zoe, however, is all smiles and charm and joins in thanking Mum for babysitting, even thanking her for letting her daughter out to play this evening. The three of us chat for a short while as I make two mugs of tea and I can see that when Zoe says that she a designer working in advertising, Mum relaxes a little; Zoe's appearance is obviously down to her being what Mum calls 'an arty type' and not, as she'd obviously been worrying, because Zoe is a born-again Satanist! With Mum gone it's nearly half-past eleven and I dig out the cab firm's phone number and Zoe calls them. Her face falls. "What's up?" I ask and she puts her thumb over the phone's microphone. "They're saying that they're very busy and it'll be an hour to an hour and a half wait for a cab. Do you mind me being here that long?" "That's ridiculous! Zoe, stay here tonight. Tell them that they're wankers and to stuff their cab!" "Thank you, but I think I'll make other arrangements," Zoe says into the phone, trying not to laugh, before hanging up. "You know, you don't have to go from never saying 'wanker' to saying it at every opportunity," she tells me, still chuckling. "Anyway, thanks Sarah, this really is good of you." "It's no problem, really, and I think Tina and Chloe will be interested to meet you tomorrow morning. I'm afraid it won't be much of a lie in tomorrow as the girls tend to be up quite early. Come on, let's make up the spare bed, find you some nightwear and there must be a new toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet." Saturday 25 February The girls are unexpectedly civilized as I wake naturally and open my eyes to see that it's gone eight thirty in the morning. Normally I would have been woken long before now by shrieks or by two hyperactive girls bouncing onto the bed but all is calm and peaceful. Worryingly calm and peaceful and the Mummy Node of my brain immediately cuts in, providing images of what two unsupervised ten year olds might be up to; images sufficiently scary to propel me instantly out of bed. On the landing I hear voices from down stairs and laughter. I descend the stairs and the sounds are coming from behind the closed living room door. I open the door quietly to see Tina and Chloe seated either side of Zoe, who is also sat cross-legged on the floor in her over-sized borrowed nightie, as the three of them play one of the Lego Harry Potter games on the PlayStation games console. The twins both laugh as Zoe's character is blasted into lots of Lego bits by a spell and Zoe laughs too, saying, "Okay Chloe smarty-knickers, you show me how to get past him!" As I watch I feel a lump in my throat and tears welling in my eyes. I can't remember seeing Roy just sit and play games with the girls since, well, almost ever. Yet here is Zoe, a woman I've known for just a week and a stranger to them, in the midst of their play, knowing their names already and making them laugh. I swallow hard and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, fighting back the incipient tears and take a deep, steadying breath. "Well good morning, early birds," I say with a slightly forced brightness, "you three girls certainly seem to be having fun." Three pairs of eyes swing round in surprise and three mischievous grins appear, the cheekiest of which is Zoe's. "I bumped into Tina on the landing as I was coming back from the bathroom," Zoe tells me, "I explained who I was and the next thing I knew I was being dragged down to play on the PlayStation." "You said you were like an expert, Zoe, but Tina and me are miles better; you keep getting smashed!" says Chloe. "Yeah," agrees Tina, "and you just had to ask Chloe how to get past Snape, and that's peasy!" "Okay girls, calm down." I tell them. "Would you like a cup of tea Zoe? Okay. What about you two: do you both want hot chocolate?" Tina and Chloe chorus "Yes please, Mum!" in harmony and Zoe shyly raises her hand. "Can I have a hot chocolate too, please, Mummy Sarah?" she asks in a little girl voice that makes Chloe, Tina and me laugh. "Zoe, as someone who granted me an extra hour of sleep on a Saturday, you can have whatever you like," I promise her and head out to the kitchen. When I return the game has recommenced, though Zoe still seems to being regularly blasted, much to the continuing enjoyment of the twins. She glances round at me and winks and, suddenly, her character becomes a superhero, leaping and spinning, dodging and casting spells. Tina and Chloe stare dumfounded and I realize that she has just been pretending to be hopeless at the game. "Well girls," I say to Chloe and Tina, "it looks like you've taught Zoe to be a Harry Potter super wizard! Come on, here's your hot chocolate." I sit on the sofa and Zoe joins me while Tina and Chloe sit on the floor by the coffee table. "So Zoe, anything you'd like to confess to Chloe and Tina?" "Yeah, um, Tina, Chloe, I, er, have played quite a lot of console games over the years. It's what happens when you have two older brothers, I guess, and I never wanted to let them beat me." Zoe grins at me then smiles at the girls. "I have a little sister too; she has blonde hair like you both." "So you were like just pretending to be shi..." Tina glances at me and I raise an eyebrow, "to be rubbish at the game?" "Well, I was a bit rusty at first, so I wasn't pretending much then but, yes, I was later; it made you laugh though, didn't it?" "I knew you couldn't really be so rubbish," Chloe insists, "but I think you're fun, Zoe." And Tina nods in agreement. "I think you've got a couple of young fans," I tell Zoe quietly as the twins head back to the PlayStation, "and you are amazing with them; it's like you've known them for ages." I'm in danger of welling up again at the contrast between Zoe and the useless wanker Roy. "I've several nephews and nieces so I've done quite a lot of babysitting. I enjoy being with kids and, oh Sarah, your girls are just lovely. I can't believe that... no, sorry, I mustn't." "What? Roy?" She nods reluctantly. "Yeah, others have asked how he could leave them. But the truth is he left us long before he finally walked away. You've played more with Chloe and Tina this morning than he did in the last five or more years." I cannot help the tears in my eyes as I look at the girls playing. "I'm so sorry: you and Tina and Chloe deserve so much better." Zoe's voice is quiet but earnest. "Ah well, at least we've got each other... and my parents are very good with helping us," I turn to look at Zoe and give her a small smile, "and we all have you as a friend as well now." Zoe smiles bashfully. "Right, breakfast time; who wants a bacon sandwich?" I ask and get takers all round. With everyone fed, washed and dressed I drive Zoe home as promised. It's nearly half an hour's drive to Ravensborough and Zoe's flat. As she prepares to get out of the car she hugs and kisses each of us and there's a sadness to see her walk away and wave as she reaches the door to her building. As I put the car in gear, preparing to drive away, Tina asks, "Mum, how did you get to have such a cool friend?" "Not just cool, waaay cool!" clarifies Chloe. "We just got talking on the train," I tell them, "but yes, she is cool, isn't she?" Tuesday 28 February I had quite a few questions from Mum when I arrived home last night, all about Zoe. She seemed ridiculously concerned about my having her as a friend and, of course, the fact that she and Dad had been right about Roy was used to justify why I should listen to her. If she'd seen Zoe and the girls together on Saturday then she'd know that the concern was completely misplaced. I did apologise for being so late back, pointing out that I had left as planned at nine thirty and my late return was entirely down to the trains. I also assured her that I wasn't about to turn punk and get my hair dyed green or anything, though I didn't dare tell her that seeing Zoe's short hairstyle did have me wondering about trying something different myself. Like the girls I've always worn my hair long, usually tied back into a loose ponytail for convenience; maybe a short bob cut might make a change and it would certainly make it easier to care for. Perhaps Mum is worried that my having a close female friend will mean that I confide in her less. Zoe and I aren't on that heart-to-heart sharing level of friendship yet and may never be although, if I'm honest, I think it's only a matter of time as we do seem to get on very well together. Such musings occupy my mind as I walk to the station and see, with a sinking feeling, that the platform is crowded. Sure enough the ticket collector (are they still called that? They don't collect tickets anymore, now that it's all automatic barriers) confirms that the previous train was cancelled. Being a regular does have one advantage: you know exactly where to stand on the platform so that when the train arrives, the doors are in front of you. As a result, and despite the extra passengers waiting, I am second onto the train. I can see immediately that there is no chance of a seat but to my surprise Zoe pops up beside me. "I knew we wouldn't both be able to sit today so I decided to stand," she explains and we start chatting. The carriage is crowded as the train pulls away and after the next station it is completely packed to the doors, meaning that Zoe and I are squeezed together. Her shoulder presses against my boob and her hip against my thigh while behind me what feels like a handbag rests in the small of my back, pushing me forward. "I'm sorry," I apologise to Zoe. "Hey, no problem; it's not your fault and I can think of lots of people worse than my train buddy to have squashed against me," and we fall into discussing the perils of being pressed up against the regular passengers, starting with the obvious; Body Odour Boy, a.k.a. Stinky Pete, and the risk of suffocation. "Loud iPod Guy," I suggest, "and the chance of being deafened." "The Makeup Woman," replies Zoe, "and being splattered with foundation and mascara." "Mrs Knitting, eye lost through knitting needle-related accident," I say, upping the silliness. "Gordon the Golfer, impaled on his giant umbrella," is Zoe's next suggestion and I realize she means Mr Umbrella. "Aging Hippy resulting in patchouli poisoning," I tell her. "That's cheating, Sarah: he doesn't smell of patchouli and I don't think it's poisonous anyway," Zoe points out. "Okay, Mr and Mrs Cycling and ending up as part of a threesome!" She grins at her idea but even more at the shock she sees on my face. I can't help glancing round to see if we've been overheard but no one seems to have reacted. "That's cheating too, Zoe: you couldn't have sex squashed together like this," I whisper and she looks at me, raising an eyebrow as if to say 'Really?' and I blush. "You're so sweet and innocent, Sarah!" and she tickles my ribs, making me flinch. "Okay, maybe there are things you could do..." I concede, trying to fight down the deepening blush flushing my cheeks. "Perhaps I should have suggested Vanilla Dimple Girl and the risk of death by embarrassment!" I tell her. "You love me really," she retorts and I can't but smile at her. Just then the train sways sharply and I'm jabbed painfully by an elbow. "I hope it's not like this on Thursday: I'll have the Tina and Chloe with me." "Really? Why's that?" Zoe asks with interest. "It's 'Take Your Daughter, or Son, to Work Day' and their school is encouraging all the Year Six parents to take part. I don't know how I'm going to get any work done with both of them with me, but there we are." "Um, Sarah, feel free to say no but, I, er, I could have one of them at work with me, if you'd like." "Could you, I mean would you be happy to do that, really?" I ask. "I'd love to, really I would." "The girls would love it, I'm sure; they think you're 'waaay cool', they told me. Um, you're not still working on the sex toy thing are you?" "No, it a range of cereal bars now," she laughs. "Oh good, that's okay then. It would be brilliant if you would. The only problem will be that they'll both want to be with you rather than me," I tell her ruefully. "Okay, well they can swap over at lunchtime: half a day with you and half a day with me. I doubt anyone will even notice the changeover." I feel so happy with her offer that I could hug her, if we weren't so crushed. Instead I bend and kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Zoe. I just wish you could be there when I tell them so you can see how excited they'll be." "Just warn them that while it's advertising they won't see TV adverts or anything being made. Jake, one of the copywriters, brought his niece in last year and she complained about that the whole time she was in the office." "Well, whatever it is they can see or do there, it has to be more exciting than insurance!" I assure her. Just then the conductor announces that we're about to arrive at Victoria and I can feel the wave of relief passing through the carriage. Wednesday 29 February I've always hated working on the 29 February: an extra day of work for no pay! However, this has just changed: the email I've just received confirms that I, along with my colleagues, will actually be getting a bonus this year. I look across to Maria, one of the other PAs and she smiles and gives me a thumbs-up, obviously looking at the same email. It won't be a fortune but I'll definitely be less strapped for cash; maybe I can stop feeling guilty about that evening out with Zoe. Thursday 1 March On the way to the station I feel like one of those people you see in the park being dragged along by the dogs they are supposed to be walking. In my case it's two excited ten year old girls doing the dragging and I think I must have set a new speed record for getting to the station. Tickets bought, we stand on the platform in my usual spot and, fortunately, all the services seem to be running and on time. Boarding the train we find the carriage is surprisingly empty, so much so that Zoe has a seat free next to her and one across the aisle. Chloe and Tina pile into the seat by the window next to Zoe whilst I sit across the aisle, having checked that she is happy to have the girls squeezed in next to her. "Yeah, no problem," she says before asking them, "So, have you decided who's going to be with me this morning?" and I laugh. "Tina tried to claim the right as Chloe's big sister, she's the eldest by nineteen minutes, but Chloe wasn't having any of that so they said that you'd have to choose," I explain. "Oh no, no, no, I'm not going there!" Zoe replies smiling. "You two can toss a coin for it..." she pulls a purse from her jacket and takes out a ten pence piece. "Right, Chloe heads and Tina tails; ready?" They both nod and Zoe flips the coin, catches it and slaps it onto the back of her other hand. The girls stare expectantly as she lifts her hand. "And iiiit's tails! So Tina: morning or afternoon?" "Morning please, Zoe," she says excitedly while Chloe looks sullen. "Hey, Chloe, don't be a grumpy pants!" says Zoe, "You'll have just as much fun and you can look forwards to it when you're doing the boring," she catches my eye, "I mean the very interesting and, er, important, work with your Mum in the morning." "I am going to try and make it at least a bit interesting," I protest, poking Zoe's arm. "It's not my fault if their Mum's mundane job as a PA can't compete with her friend's glamorous job in advertising." "Sorry, Sarah", "Sorry Mum", "Soz Mum," all three of them apologise at the same time. "You've got my mobile number on your phone in case there's any problem, haven't you?" I check with Zoe and she nods. "Can you just text me to let me know how they're doing mid-morning and mid-afternoon?" I whisper. "Of course I will but I'm sure they're going to be fine." She reaches over and squeezes my hand reassuringly. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ It's late afternoon as I look at my phone and re-read the text from Zoe: The Case of the Sneaky Valentine We are first down, but only just, and a few minutes later we're heading to a pizza and pasta restaurant not far from Victoria Station. The girls bound along in front as Zoe and I walk and talk. Zoe is full of praise for the girls but also has a surprising piece of news. "Karen's a photographer we regularly use and she was in the office today and saw Tina and Chloe and, well, at first she didn't realize they were twins but when she did she asked if they, or rather you, would ever consider letting them be models in adverts? Here, she gave me her card if you wanted to talk to her." She passes me the business card which I study. "Well, that was unexpected! I don't quite know what to think. I know the girls are very pretty but modelling seems, well, kind of sleazy." "It's really not that kind of modelling," Zoe reassures me. "It was more, say, where you have someone in a picture with the product being advertised." "That's a relief! Even so, I'll have to think about it. What would you do, Zoe?" "Well, I'm not their Mum, but if I were I would definitely consider it. It can be an interesting experience and it can pay quite well, though I'd probably put it aside for them for the future, to help with university perhaps." I look at her, surprised by her unexpectedly thoughtful and practical response. "You're full of surprises, you are. You'd make a great mum, you know," I tell her. "I think that's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me," she says, obviously touched. "I'd love to be a mum one day; people I've said that to, even my parents, are surprised when I tell them." "Well..." I reply carefully, "I suppose your style is a bit against you; you don't see many Goth-punk mummies. The girls think you're über cool, so they'd think a Goth-punk mum would be brilliant, I expect." "Well, you're nice and slim, and you've a lovely, youthful face so, yes: a bit of eyeliner and mascara; some black lipstick; cut, dye and highlight your hair and you could pull it off. We'd have to work on your wardrobe a bit, mind." I burst out laughing at the idea, though I do wonder what it would be like to walk into a room with Zoe dressed and made-up similarly; the image is unexpectedly exciting. "My Mum would have a fit!" I tell her. "She already thinks that you're unsuitable for me as a friend; you'd think I was about fourteen sometimes, the way she talks." "I'm not sure that parents ever fully accept that their children are grownups. Or maybe it's just overprotective love; you don't want your kids doing things you think are mistakes, however old they are." "Well, I've made my share of mistakes, but at least they were my mistakes. Roy was definitely a mistake but then, without him, I wouldn't have the girls..." "And they are wonderful and absolutely not a mistake," Zoe concludes for me, and I feel an upsurge of real warmth and affection for this woman. "Here we are. Tina, Chloe, come here and let your Mum and me go in first so we can get a table. Good girls." I'm impressed: Zoe seems to be a natural at parenting as, amazingly, the girls immediately do as they're told. The restaurant is quiet at this time: too late for lunch and a little early for most office staff to dine. The girls are excited as we don't dine out often and the finally settle on sharing a large Quattro Stagioni pizza on the basis it has lots of different toppings. Zoe and I discover that we enjoy a shared love of spicy food as I opt for Penne al'arrabiata con pollo while Zoe selects a pizza with the ominous sounding name of il Vesuvio! The girls tease her about being careful not to erupt after eating it. As we receive the starters, I take the girls' hands and they take Zoe's and she looks a little confused. "As we share this meal we are happy that we are together and will always be there for each other," the three of us say together. "That was very sweet," remarks Zoe afterwards, "but what was it, a prayer?" "Sort of, I guess. I started it with the girls when they were younger and Roy not being there was upsetting them. It's become a sort of tradition now at our evening meals." "And we're like super happy that you're with us, Zoe," Tina tells her, making her smile. As we eat I notice Chloe showing Tina a piece of paper as they whisper together. "What's that?" I ask as I hear a soft sigh of 'Oh dear' from Zoe. "Mum, did you know that Zoe is an archer, just like Katniss in 'The Hunger Games' and she's like really good! Zoe, show Mum that photo on your phone, go on!" Chloe begs. Reluctantly Zoe takes out her phone and calls up a photo: it shows her smiling happily, giving a thumbs up and wearing some weird thing across her chest. She is standing next to what is obviously an archery target in which half a dozen identical arrows can be seen, all stuck into the yellow circle at the centre. "Six arrows in the yellow bull's eye," I observe, "and all shot by you I assume, Zoe. I guess that must be hard to do." "Muuum," Chloe protests, "Zoe fired those arrows from like seventy metres away! That's like, miles!" "Hang on, I'm trying to picture what seventy metres looks like... good grief, it's almost three times the length of the local swimming pool! Now I really am impressed," I tell Zoe. "It's called a 'six gold end'," Zoe explains with a mixture of pride and bashfulness. "You shoot six arrows before going to score and collect them and that's called an 'end'." "And it's not called a 'bull's eye' but a 'gold'!" insists Chloe, and Zoe smiles. "That's right, well remembered, but you don't 'fire' arrows, you shoot them. It's guns you fire," Zoe points out. "I'm just amazed you can even see the target, let alone hit the centre six times in a row at that distance." I tell her. "But Mum, look at this," Tina now passes the piece of paper across and I look to see it is a leaflet. The Case of the Sneaky Valentine A look of sorrow crosses Zoe's face. "Sarah, I'm not the person you want to help you attract men. I'm even worse than you at relationships with guys: I'm completely hopeless and haven't had a boyfriend since I was a teenager!" "Are you happy, being on your own?" I ask. "Well, I'd love to, well, fall in love with someone, I really would. I guess I'm happier on my own than being with someone I didn't completely love and who didn't completely love me back. Anyway, I'm not on my own: I have friends, including special friends like you... your daughters too." "Yeah, I guess I feel a bit like that too. The trouble is how do you find someone to love and to love you back? It's not likely that they're going to suddenly walk into your life, is it?" "They might do. Or you might find that's it's someone whose been in your life for a while but you've not noticed them or thought about them in that way." "What, like a bloke you've known at work for years?" "Yeah, I guess it could be a bloke like that. Right, is it another beer or have we reached... tequila time?" she asks, finishing in a high pitched, mock Spanish accent. "Are you going to let me get away with not drinking tequila this evening?" "Um, let me think... NO!" she declares loudly and laughing. I hold up my hands. "Okay, then let tequila time begin -- but not go on too long, please?" In the end I have four tequilas to Zoe's five, though she's still soberer than me and I am noticeably more unsteady than last week; so much so that I must lean on her for stability. My arm resting across her shoulder and hers wrapped around my waist feel very comfortable. The journey home is uneventful and, as I feared, far too brief to allow any appreciable sobering up. Also as feared, Mum is more than a little disappointed with the state of her daughter and, despite the sterling work of Tina and Chloe in promoting her, Zoe also falls out of favour. Mum has a distinctly sour look on her face as she bids us goodnight. Zoe and I flop on the sofa, my legs on her lap as she massages my feet. "Mmm that feels good, Zoe dear. Where did you learn to do that?" "Trial and error and what I think would feel good to me. It's a good principle in many pleasure-related things," she informs me suggestively. "I shall have to bear that in mind the next time I have someone to pleasure!" I reply smiling but then sigh. "A pity there's no one to hand." It vaguely occurs to me that the alcohol has done away with my normal inhibitions in what I say. "Yes, a real pity." We chat for a while longer as I try to drink enough water to stave off a hangover in the morning. However, alcohol induced sleepiness is rapidly overcoming me and as I start to nod Zoe tells me that it's time for us to turn in. Saturday 10 March I awaken very late and with a sore head and a queasy stomach. "God, I fuckin' hate tequila!" I moan out loud as I try to sit up and fail. Eventually, I roll out of bed and stagger to the bathroom to pee, to check that I don't really need to throw up, to drink water and to take paracetamol. Ten minutes later I push open the sitting room door to see Zoe once again sat between my daughters. As they had promised, they are watching the DVD of 'The Hunger Games'. I walk over and get Chloe to budge up so I can join them. I reach over and squeeze Zoe's shoulder. "Morning," I say quietly, "how's your head?" "Fine," she replies brightly and glances at me before grinning broadly, "I can see that yours isn't!" "As I said when I woke up: I fuc... flipping hate tequila!" "Mum! You were going to say the 'F' word!" Chloe declares, shocked. "Maybe," I admit irritably, "but I didn't, did I?" "Yeah, but you might as well have done," Chloe insists. "Hey, Chloe, give your Mum a break," Zoe intervenes, placing her hand on Chloe's head. "Let's pause this and I'll go and make some hot chocolate for you two and some tea for your Mum, okay?" she looks at me. "Thanks Zoe, but I'll do it," I tell her. "No, you stay here and give these girls a cuddle. I promise not to destroy your kitchen," she smiles. God, this woman is such a lovely, kind friend and I feel my mood lighten. By the time she comes back with a mug of tea and two big cups of hot chocolate the smell of bacon is emanating from the kitchen. "When I opened the fridge the bacon practically begged me to start cooking it," she explains. Tina claps her hands as she and Chloe laugh. The morning passes easily and increasingly happily as my hangover passes. In the afternoon I ask if Zoe wants me to take her home and she looks a little disappointed. "Okay; I guess you want time with just the three of you," Zoe replies, looking down. "Hey, Zoe, no!" I slip my hand under her chin and raise her head as I would Tina or Chloe. "I'd love you to stay but I didn't want you to feel, well, obliged or trapped here." "Sarah, I'd never feel that with you. Why would I?" "I don't know; perhaps because you're a super cool Goth-punk girl while I'm a single mum in her mid-thirties with two ten year old girls!" "A single mum who's pretty cool too and who is my... my very good friend," she replies and there's something in the intensity with which she says this that makes me swallow hard and feel a little... strange. "Really?" I ask. "I'm very glad you're my friend too," I smile at her as the strange feeling passes. "So, is your bowling as good as your console gaming?" "Bowling?" she asks, confused. "Yes, you know: ten pin bowling?" I say, slowly whilst miming bowling a ball. "Yes, I know what it is! It was just an unexpected question, that's all. And my bowling's not bad; good enough to beat you, I bet!" she reaches up and tweaks my nose. I hear a laugh from the doorway and turn to see Tina. "Are we going bowling?" she asks excitedly and I say yes. She skips over and puts her arms round both of us. "I love you guys!" she says and Zoe and I smile at each other. I'm going to enjoy the rest of the day, I know. I'm also going to do my damnedest to beat Zoe... Sunday 11 March The girls are awake at silly o'clock and I have to threaten them with not taking them to the Open Day to get them back into bed. I doubt that they sleep much but I manage to doze some more. I awake feeling all tingly and sensual but don't do anything about it; the risk of one or both of the twins walking in on me is too great, unfortunately. I wonder if Zoe is awake and whether, being single too, she ever feels the same tingle. I immediately feel embarrassed for thinking about her like that. I get up and am instantly joined by the girls who've obviously been on a hair trigger waiting for Zoe or me to get up. I shush them and we go downstairs where I put the kettle on and start making toast for breakfast. It is not long however before Zoe wanders in. She is tousled from sleep and free of makeup; she looks at me and smiles, her dimples appearing. She is, quite simply, gorgeous: cute, beautiful, warm, friendly and lovely. And she's become my best and closest friend. There, I've admitted it. We sit around munching toast and drinking tea or milk as Zoe tells us that she needs to be at the archery club at nine o'clock to help set up. "I'll need to pop back to my flat to change and collect my bow and stuff so if you could then drop me at the club there's a coffee shop nearby." "Okay. We could bring you a coffee when we come to the have-a-go, if you like." "I'm glad you offered: it saves me from asking," she smiles. "A skinny, double-shot cappuccino, please." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The day is dry, not too cold but overcast as we get out of the car at the Ravensborough Archery Club and look around. Now we're here, the girls have calmed down a bit but are still excited. There are a number of people around, mostly Club members by the look of it as I peer around, searching. Zoe sees us first and waves: over her Archery Club shirt she's wearing the peculiar chest thing that I saw in the picture of her six gold end. Seeing another woman Club member pulling on a bow I realize what it is: it's to protect her boob from the bow string. We go over to a marquee they have set up and, after handing her the promised coffee, I have to fill in a series of forms for Tina, Chloe and myself; after that Zoe takes us to collect equipment. "I definitely want one of those boob protectors you're wearing," I tell her and she smiles as the girls giggle. Why do kids always find adults saying slightly rude things so funny? "It's called a chest guard, Sarah. Yeah, I can find you one, though the bows you'll be using are very low draw weight, so they can't hurt that much. However, you'll each need a bracer, that's an arm guard, and a tab," she hands us each an oddly shaped piece of leather with holes in it. "This protects your fingers when you draw the string." Suitably kitted out, she takes us to collect bows and arrows. She claims that they're light to pull but the three of us find them a challenge until Zoe comes to help us. She stands behind me and corrects the way I stand, her hands pressing and pulling me gently. "Now, when you draw the bow try to engage and use the trapezius muscles here," she runs her fingers down my back between my shoulder blades and spine. Her touch feels lovely and makes me shiver slightly, though the guidance also helps with my drawing the bow. We shoot (not 'fire' I remember) and collect the arrows. Despite the targets being only ten metres away, most of the arrows miss completely. However, as we shoot more we do improve until we all manage to hit with all six arrows. Chloe proves particularly good at this but we all enjoy it. We take a break, more for needing a rest than there being a long queue of people. Zoe shows us her bow, an impressively high-tech version of the bows that the twins and I are using with extra things sticking out and a sight for aiming. "Wow, Zoe, that looks amazing!" exclaims Chloe. Even I'm intrigued enough to want to pick it up. "May I?" I ask. "Sure, but if you draw it don't release the string without an arrow as that can damage the bow, okay?" I nod and try to remember how to stand correctly; once more it is Zoe's gentle but confident touch that corrects my posture. She is so close that her soft vanilla scent is perceptible even here in the outdoors. I try to pull the string and manage to haul it halfway before giving up. "Good grief, you can't possibly be able to pull this thing!" I complain to Zoe. She grins and winks at Chloe and Tina. "Just watch me," she tells us before taking the bow and walking up to stand before a target. She fits an arrow on the string, raises the bow and, seemingly without effort, pulls the string all the way back to her chin and lets it go: the arrow slams into the gold, burying itself deeply into the target. She does this again and again until six arrows are clustered in a neat group. The girls clap in appreciation and Zoe turns and gives a little bow. When it's time to collect the arrows the girls run over to hug her, telling her how amazing that was, before we walk to the target with her. Tempted as I am, I don't hug her but I do share my amazement, "I can't believe how easy you made that look!" "It's just practice and developing the right muscles. My bow's not really that heavy to draw, not compared to some that the guys use." She lowers her voice slightly, "Sarah, I think that Chloe and possibly Tina are going to ask about doing the Beginners' Course." "Why am I'm not surprised? I suppose the relevant questions are: when is it, how long does it last and how much does it cost?" "And the answers are that it's on Saturday mornings for six weeks starting the week after next and it costs thirty pounds each, so ninety pounds for the three of you." "Do I have to do it with them?" I ask. "No, Sarah, you don't. However, they'll need a parent here and three hours learning to shoot is much more fun than three hours standing around watching others learn to shoot." "A good point and well made," I admit. "That's quite a lot to spend so I need to make sure that they're really keen. Who does the teaching on the course?" "Myself, Martin and Chris, why?" "Oh, no reason... unless perhaps their complete hero worship of a certain Goth-punk archer might influence the desire of two ten-year-old twins to take part!" I suggest and she laughs. "Hmmm, you think? And what about their Mum?" "Oh, she's easily influenced by her daughters," Zoe looks a little disappointed, so I continue, "but she also thinks that the Goth-punk archer with the dimples is pretty damn marvellous too, so, yes, if the girls want to learn I'd certainly like to be taught by you." Zoe's beaming smile tells me that's what she wanted to hear. "Actually, Sarah, I should have told you that the first thing Chloe asked me was whether I ran the Beginners' Course," Zoe informs me. Sure enough, after another bout of shooting, Chloe says to me, "Muuum, you know how you're always saying that Tina and I should do, like, more sport?" "Am I?" I ask, innocently and I can see Zoe smiling out of the corner of my eye. "I know I tell you not to spend your lives sat on your bums in front of the telly or on the PlayStation; I'm not sure that means you should do more sport necessarily." "Okay... but doing sport would get us off our bums, wouldn't it? You agree, don't you Zoe?" Chloe looks to Zoe for support but Zoe just smiles and holds up her hands, not wanting to be included in the argument. "Ah, so you want to join the Whiteton Running Club, do you?" I tease. "Mum! You know Chloe isn't talking about running!" Tina is using her Little Miss Sensible voice and Zoe is trying not to laugh. "Okay, so it's not running. What sport did you have in mind, Chloe?" I ask. "It's archery Mum, obviously!" Chloe replies as if I'm a bit simple. "Alright, I deserved that for teasing you. So do you both want to do the beginners' course and are you determined to see it through?" I ask Tina and she nods. "And I think you should do it too," Tina tells me, "that way it'll be like a family thing," and she looks from me to Zoe. I nod. "Then I'll book us up for the course starting in two weeks," I say and the girls hug me and then Zoe. Several hours later -- and ninety pounds from my bonus spent -- we are heading back to Zoe's flat where we find she has had a beef and ale casserole slow cooking all day for us. It is delicious and Zoe serves it with baked potatoes followed by ice cream. As night falls and much as I'd like to stay, a day in the open air followed by a wonderful meal has the girls nodding with tiredness. We take them down to the car and put them in, closing the car door. I turn and Zoe is standing very close. I feel her hands on my waist as she looks up at me. I bend forward and our lips brush... and hesitate, touching ever so gently. Imperceptibly, almost as if drawn by some force between us, our lips press harder. I feel her lips open slightly beneath mine... I pull back, shocked not only by what happened but also by how closely it echoed my dream of a week ago. "No... I'm sorry Zoe, I don't know what came over me." I get in the car and drive, unable to look back. Monday 12 March I deliberately board another carriage for I cannot face Zoe this morning. I don't know why I kissed her like that and I'm so embarrassed. God only knows what she thinks of me. As I sit on the train my phone rings: it is Zoe, but I bounce the call. A text follows shortly after: The Case of the Sneaky Valentine "Yup, see you there, train buddy." Wednesday 14 March Unlike yesterday, I actually get to sit today and next to Zoe too. After a few minutes I notice a man looking at me and he looks away each time I look towards him. I try to think if I have seen him before but I'm not sure. He is so ordinary that there is nothing to make him stand out or attract my attention, unless extreme blandness can be considered a distinguishing feature. "Zoe," I whisper, "don't look immediately but there's a guy over there in a grey suit who keeps staring at me." She manages a casual glance around the carriage as the train pulls into the next station. "Ah, I guess you mean Mr Norman Dull of Blandford, a Civil Servant and six times winner of Britain's Most Boring Human Award." I had forgotten Zoe's penchant for not only naming fellow passengers but creating little life histories for them. "Yes, that's him" I giggle. "He must be a regular then?" "I think he must be; I first saw him, um, a little after Christmas I think, though he's so... nondescript it's easy not to notice him." "Too right; this is the first time I've noticed him. Do think..?" "What, him as your Sneaky Valentine? Hmm, so it's Norman, by day a tediously dull man but by night an impassioned love poet and would-be Valentine? A bit of a mismatch, don't you think?" "More of a mismatch than, say, a Goth punk girl who, it turns out, is actually a kind, loving woman, who's fantastic with kids, a wonderful friend and a fantastic archer?" I smile. "Oh yes, definitely more of a mismatch than that!" she laughs. "I'm going to keep an eye on him anyway," I say and then add, "Oh shit I hope it's not him. Life with Roy was boring enough and I've just started having some fun again." Zoe looks at me and gives a shy smile. "Do you mean..." "Yes, I mean doing things with you, and when I'm not being a Muppet and overreacting to... things." "At least we worked it out," she answers, contentedly. Friday 16 March "As we share this meal we are happy that we are together and will always be there for each other," we all say, hand-in-hand, before tucking into sausages, mashed potatoes and baked beans; real comfort food on this cold evening. Almost immediately I know something's going on between Chloe and Tina; almost no one else would notice the subtle looks and nods but I do. Mum would too and I suspect that Zoe might as she seems very in tune with the pair of them. "Okay, what is it?" I finally ask. Embarrassed silence follows. "Look, both of you, if you've done something wrong then it's much better..." "We've not done anything wrong!" protests Chloe in an injured tone. "Tina wants to ask you something." I see Tina look daggers at Chloe and guess that Chloe has just stitched Tina up. I try to make it easy for Tina. "Tina, you can always ask me anything, even something that your sister's too cowardly to ask," I look at Chloe who looks indignant and is about to say something but decides better of it. I turn back to Tina with an encouraging look. "Mum, um, we wanted to ask... are, like, many women lesbians?" I hope the shock doesn't show on my face because all I can think is where the fuck did that question come from and, more importantly, why? I immediately worry that it's either something I've done (did they see me kiss Zoe on the lips?) or that they're about to tell me that they think they're both gay. Hang on, they're not yet eleven: they can't possibly know their sexuality, can they? Shit, shit, shit: I'm not ready for this. "So, um, you know about lesbians then?" "Well, yes," says Tina, "doesn't everyone? I mean there are like women pop stars and actors and, like, famous women who are gay and, anyway, Lucy Owens asked about people being like, gay when we were doing Sex Education at school." "Oh, yes, I, I see," I stutter. My daughters haven't the shyness about sex that I had when I was a girl and that I still have to some degree. "I, well I don't know, Tina. I've heard it said that one in ten people are gay but I don't know if that's accurate or true." I am pleased that I manage to keep my voice steady and my tone neutral. "Why do you ask?" "Um, we like saw two women kissing in a car today as we arrived at school. You know, like, proper kissing not just the friend kissing like you and Zoe do sometimes when we say goodbye." Well, that's a relief, I think to myself. "Yeah," Chloe suddenly finds her voice, "kissing like you see on films and telly when it's a man and a woman going to make love," she grins. "Yes, I get the picture, Chloe," I tell her. "Well, we could look it up on the Internet if you want a figure but you seem to know that some women love other women just as some men love men, so why do you want to know how common it is? Was it someone you recognised in the car?" I ask on impulse. The matching blushes tell me that, as Zoe might say, I've hit the gold. "Miss Drake," Tina murmurs. "What, your teacher?" I cannot keep the surprise out of my voice and both girls nod. "And she was kissing her... girlfriend, in the school?" "No, Mum, of course not!" Chloe replies. "Tina said: she was in a car on the street like before we get to school. We saw them from behind but we're sure it was Miss Drake. She got out the car after but she didn't see us." "Okay, I see," I tell them. "Well, Miss Drake's relationships are really her business, aren't they? However, how do you feel about Miss Drake being gay and are you going to tell her what you saw?" "We don't mind about that, you know, her having like, a girlfriend. We did think about talking to her but... she might, like, think we were spying on her," complains Tina. "Mum, I'm scared she might find out that we know and then be upset with us." I think for a minute. I'm not sure that Tina's worries are justified but then since when were ten year olds particularly logical? I'm sure I wasn't when I was ten... actually, being honest with myself, I'm still not, as I'm sure Zoe would agree. "Okay then, how about I write Miss Drake a note and explain what you've told me?" The girls drop into what I think of as twin-talk for a moment, that slightly weird twin communication mode or private language where nods, gestures and odd words seem to carry whole sentences of meaning, and that they normally only use when the two of them are alone. At the end they agree to my proposal. "But you've got to say we weren't spying," insists Chloe. "And that we're happy she's got a girlfriend," adds Tina. "Okay, I'll do my best and, yes, you can read it before I seal it up. Okay?" Happy smiles and relaxed girls, at last. "Now, can we finish eating before the food goes completely cold?" Monday 19 March I've just begun the walk home from the station when my phone rings. I look at the display and the number is unrecognised, which is unusual, but it also starts 07... that I think means that it is from another mobile phone, which is even more intriguing. I answer and the caller replies, "Hello, Ms James? It's Penny Drake here, Chloe's and Tina's teacher. You, er, wrote a note to me this morning..." "Oh yes," I reply, "I hope it didn't upset you, Miss Drake." "I, er, think Penny will be fine in the circumstances. No, it didn't upset me; I'm more concerned about upsetting Tina and Chloe, Ms James. I'm annoyed with myself too for being so careless." "Penny, I'm Sarah," I tell her, feeling that I have to match her informality. "I don't think they were upset at all, more... interested and intrigued, I suppose: Tina's question to begin with was, 'How many women are lesbians?' I don't suppose you know the answer to that?" I hear her laughing, "I'm tempted to reply, 'Not enough!' Sorry, I don't mean to be flippant or offensive." Though her reply makes me blush slightly I cannot help a little laugh. "No, I'm not offended; it's a good comeback," I tell her, envying the confidence she must have to give such a reply, "although it's not an answer I'd tell the twins. As I said in my note, they didn't seem to mind you being gay; they were more concerned that you'd be upset that they had found out." "It's not their fault, it's mine. I wouldn't normally have been kissing in a car at that time of day or so close to school, really I wouldn't. However, last Friday my car had broken down and Rachel, my partner, or girlfriend if you prefer, gave me a lift that morning and, well, we were just saying goodbye." I sigh; it has been a very long time since I had someone to kiss goodbye before going to work. "I understand; when you're in love..." "You have to do these things!" she finishes the sentence for me and then it's her turn to sigh. "The trouble is, it does somewhat force the issue of saying something about Rachel and me at school and, oh dear, I was hoping for a bit more time. I only came out to my parents two weeks ago and, well..." "Not good?" I hazard. "No, it wasn't. Let's just say that rebuilding the relationship is a work in progress. I'm terribly sorry; here I am spilling out all my problems to you." "Don't worry, I'm happy to listen," I reassure her, and I really am, perhaps because I recognise the simple need to open up to someone when things are difficult. "Look, the girls have promised not to say anything and I'll tell them that we've chatted. Is there anything I should say to them?" "Tell them thank you from me and that they're very good girls for being so discreet; most kids wouldn't be. I'm going to talk to the head tomorrow morning to ask her how I should handle this, so they shouldn't have to keep this quiet for too much longer. Thank you Sarah: for listening to me wittering on and if the girls bring you any more questions or if you're concerned at all then just give me a call, okay?" "Thank you, though listening to you was no problem," I tell her, "and good luck with the meeting tomorrow." "Thanks. I'd better go, bye." "Goodbye," I reply and end the call. I wished her good luck but I cannot imagine how difficult saying to someone 'I'm a lesbian' must be: how do you cope if they recoil in fear or disgust and tell you that they cannot be your friend or, if it's your parents, being rejected and told that you're perverted? I know what one or two girls went through when I was at school, with the teasing and bullying and how hurt they were. Things might be a bit better now but there still seems to be so much judgement and condemnation. How does anyone dare to come out as gay? I decide that I might need to take up Penny's offer of being able to call her if the girls have more questions and save her number onto my phone just in case. Tuesday 20 March Now that I've had a reply from Penny Drake and told Tina and Chloe how grateful Miss Drake was to them, I feel happy to tell Zoe about what happened. Zoe thinks her reply to 'How many women are lesbians?' was brilliantly funny. "I think it's very sweet," Zoe tells me at the end of my story. "What, Penny Drake having a girlfriend?" "Well, I'm always for people finding love in their life, but I was actually thinking of the way Tina and Chloe responded. It was very kind and thoughtful, not to mention accepting." "You sound surprised," I reply quietly, my head close to hers. "Is that because of the way I reacted to your suggestion of a woman being the Sneaky Valentine?" I ask, smiling. "Okay, maybe a bit," she smiles back. "Are you still keeping an eye on Norman Dull?" "I've decided something, actually," I tell her and she looks at me questioningly. "I've decided I don't care who it is; there's no bloke on this train that I want to fancy me. I just don't want the whole dating game thing, I want..." "Just want to have fun?" "Sounds good to me! Yeah, like the song, 'Girls just wanna have fun!'" "So what about Friday, wanna come out and have fun?" she asks, but I hesitate. "It's very tempting, Zoe, but it's the first day of the Archery course on Saturday and the girls are going to be manic with excitement. I really can't ask Mum to deal with that or I'll use up all my baby sitting credits for the rest of the year. Sorry." "Hey, it's fine; I understand... just a bit disappointed, that's all." "Zoe, you're very welcome to come over for dinner, if you'd like." I say. "Of course, that would mean putting up with the hyper-twins, but you seem to have coped so far. Actually, you seem to have been the cause of a fair amount of the over-excitement, now I come to think about it." She grins and those wonderfully cute dimples appear. "Are you saying I'm a bad influence?" "Almost certainly yes," I tell her, "But I honestly wouldn't change you for the world," I finish, too softly for her to hear. Thursday 22 March I see Norman Dull is still staring at me when he thinks I can't see him. A few weeks ago that would have interested, intrigued, maybe even excited me to feel I might know who sent the Valentine's cards. Okay, in Norman's case probably 'excited' is the wrong word. However, now I just find it annoying and just a bit creepy. Zoe was right: I should have been more worried about a man getting close enough to put the cards in my handbag. Saturday 24 March Okay, so this isn't a new experience for me; I have been to Indian restaurants before but given that Zoe is insisting on ordering for us, I'm sure the dishes tonight will be new to me. For Chloe and Tina, of course, it is completely new. "It's very good of you to take us all out," I tell her and the girls echo this sentiment. "Hey, you fed me Friday night and I earn a very good salary, which is more than enough to be able to afford to treat my three favourite girls!" she laughs. Just then the poppadums and chutneys arrive with our drinks and it is Zoe who reaches out to take my hand and Chloe's before Chloe and I take Tina's hands. "As we share this meal we are happy that we are together and will always be there for each other," all four of us say quietly together as I look intently at Zoe. I am deeply touched by her joining with us in our little ritual. However, a tiny part of me feels that I should object to her being part of the rite, that it comes from a time when it felt as if it was the twins and me against the world and she wasn't part of that. And yet... why object to her desire to be my friend and also Tina's and Chloe's friend, to her wanting to be part of our family? I squeeze her hand and see from the looks on their faces that the twins also noticed what she did. We begin eating the poppadums, or 'giant crisps' as Chloe calls them. The girls like them together with the mango chutney, mint raita and onion salad but complain loudly about the spiciness of the lime pickle; I taste it too and it is as stupidly hot as I remember. Zoe turns and whispers to me, "You don't mind me starting off and joining in with your little prayer do you?" "It um, was a bit strange having a fourth person. Zoe, I don't mind but those words have meant a lot to the three of us over the years so..." "So I shouldn't say them if I don't mean them?" she asks and I nod. "Then I'm okay then." I have to think for a moment then realize she's just told me that she does mean them. That's good, I think but then start to wonder what our little promise means between two adult, single women, particularly the 'always being there for each other'. Still, I'm very happy spending time with her. "So, how are the three of you feeing after your first full lesson? Still enjoying archery so far?" "There's so much to remember," Tina complains, "Holding the bow properly, using, like, the right muscles, pulling back properly... and my arrow kept like falling off the arrow rest!" "Zoe told you why that happens," Chloe tells her. "Stop pinching like the arrow between your fingers on the string!" "That is right," says Zoe, "I always just rest my top finger on the arrow and keep my middle finger low. Don't worry; I'll help you next time, Tina. And what about you, Mummy Sarah: did you enjoy it?" "Do you know I really did; I've not done any sport since I was at school so it made a real change. I was getting all my arrows on the target at the end too, which was even better." I tell her. "Did you shoot this afternoon after we left?" I ask Zoe. "Yes, a Warwick round," she sees our bemused expressions. "It's one of the set rounds in archery; we cover them towards the end of the course. A 'Warwick' round is one of the shortest rounds to shoot as it's only four dozen arrows in all, two dozen at sixty yards and two dozen at fifty yards." "So it must be 'shortest' as in 'fewest arrows', because sixty yards is a long way," I say and Zoe nods. "How did it go?" "Meh, okay but nothing like my best. That's where archery can be frustrating; you get some days when nothing quite works. Other days everything just clicks and you're hitting the gold almost every time, or so it seems. Ah, the starters are coming: onion bhajis, samosas and vegetable pakora. I didn't get us each one of every item or we'd be too full so we'll need to share if you want to try a bit of everything." Tasting, sharing and commenting make for a friendly, enjoyable meal, and Zoe continues the same principle for the main course where there are several dishes to try. At the end we are all very full and Zoe and I have discovered that the girls have an unexpected liking for spicy Indian food. "If I ever feel hungry again then I'd choose Indian!" declares Chloe. As we leave the restaurant and head back towards the car Zoe links her arm through mine and I feel Tina take my other hand, while a glance shows that Chloe has done the same with Zoe. I feel a warm upsurge of affection for the three of them, for us all as, well, a family almost. "Come back with us tonight, Zoe," I say, moved by these feelings. "Okay," she replied happily and at that moment I could have hugged her. Tuesday 27 March When I arrive home Tina intercepts me before I've even had time to remove my coat. "Granny's, like, pretty upset with you, Mum," she informs me, "well, you and Zoe, really." "Why, what have I done?" I ask. "I think she thinks..." "Ah, Sarah love, you're back," Mum walks out of the kitchen. "Go on Tina, I'm sure you've some homework to finish," Mum says, sending Tina away. "I need a cup of tea, would you like one too, Mum?" I ask. "Yes please, dear, but I really must talk with you, so I must." I enter the kitchen and start making two mugs of tea as I receive the talking to. "Sarah, your father and I are very concerned with the amount of time you're spending with this Zoe woman. The girls talk about her all the time and how she's teaching you archery and taking you out for meals, or staying here almost every night... it's not right you know." "Well, apart from the fact that she's hardly here 'almost every night', I have to ask why is it 'not right'? Zoe is my friend and we get on well and she's brilliant with the girls." I school myself to patience, knowing how much Mum does to help us. "Yes, but don't you see, she's a woman..." "Yes, I had noticed," the flippant reply slips out. "Don't you get sarcastic with me, Sarah. I'm sure you know what I mean." "Yes, Mum, I fear that I do. Look, if you saw Zoe with the girls you'd understand a bit more: she really is fantastic with them. I know she's not a father figure but, frankly, given the last so-called father in their lives, that's no bad thing! Mum, seriously, she is not my secret lesbian lover just a wonderfully kind woman who is a very good friend. I know her looks are against her but you know from meeting her that she's not some psychopathic satanist." "But look, why all this staying over? I have lots of friends, so I do, but I don't sleep at their houses. Can't you see how it must look to the neighbours?" The Case of the Sneaky Valentine "Mum, you have Dad with you. Do you know how lonely it can be here, night after night on my own after the girls have gone to bed? It's lovely just to have someone to chat with, even just to watch the telly with." I hold up my hand, "I know what you're going to say, that I should go out, find a man, start dating... but, Mum, I'm not ready for that, not by a long way. I know not all men are like Roy, but some are and some are worse! In the meantime, let me, and Chloe and Tina, be with Zoe when we want to, alright?" Mum seems somewhat mollified but I add one last thing, "As for what the neighbours think, they can just bloody well mind their own business!" "But what if one of them asks me about you and, and Zoe?" "Tell them the truth: she is a friend of the family, and despite the pink, spiky hair, the makeup and punk clothes, she is a thoroughly decent and lovely human being!" I open my handbag and take out an envelope that I hand to Mum. "Here, open that. I mentioned to Zoe that your Women's Institute group is holding a tea party and she produced that as a leaflet for the event." Mum opens the envelope and pulls out the leaflet inside, a simple, elegant design with the details of the Charity Tea Party that Mum is helping to organize. "I didn't ask her to design that, she just went ahead and did it. She even found out the details from the Internet so she could get it all correct. Like I say, she's lovely." "I, I'm sorry, Sarah. I just get worried about you and my granddaughters, so I do. Would you thank Zoe for me, for this?" "Er, you could thank her in person, if on Friday..." "You'd like me to look after the girls so you can go out with her, I expect? Alright, I'll do it for you... but Sarah, do be careful, love." Friday 30 March It a little after four o'clock when I receive a text from Zoe: