Chapter 1

“Brian is bringing his friend from work with him this afternoon,” Mrs Reeves told her daughter, Shelly.

Shelly raised her brow in question. “Oh, that’s nice for him ... is there any particular reason why I might need this information though?”

Her mum sighed impatiently. “Well, I just thought that maybe...”

“Mother, do you actually know anything about this man? Is he tall or short? Is he nice, or cruel ... is he young or old ... is he single, even?”

Mrs Reeves shrugged her shoulders. “Well, if he is Brian’s friend, then he must be...”

“Have you met many of Brian’s friends?”

“Well ... no...”

Shelly reached out suddenly and kissed her mum on the cheek.

“I love you dearly mother, but please do not try to fix me up.”

Her mum looked unhappily at her. “I just hate to see you looking so dejected.”

“Annoyed,” Shelly corrected bitterly. “Annoyed with myself for being such a blind silly fool, but more annoyed with ... him, for being the cheating two timing, lying, manipulative rat that he was!”

She was of course referring to her recently ex-boyfriend – Malcolm who she had been living with for the past eight months – in blind rose coloured denial of what he was actually like; until she had come home early from work one morning, to find her ‘loving’ boyfriend, in the arms of another woman, and had been forced to face the truth.

“Look, mum; I have only just come home, it’s only been a few weeks, and I am still feeling a little bit raw about it all, the last thing that I want to do, is to go steam rolling back into another relationship.”

“So, don’t!” her mum snapped suddenly. “Don’t think in terms of relationships for a change, and just aim for having a good time for a bit ... have an affair – with no strings attached!”

“Mother!”

“You take things much too seriously Shelly – you always have, and look where it gets you!”

Shelly took a leisurely shower, refusing to admit to herself that she was dawdling just so that she would not have to face her mum again anytime soon. To say that her mother’s comment had hit a nerve was an understatement and a half.

“I’ve made you a cup of coffee, and left it on your dressing table!” her mum rapped on the bathroom door.

Shelly gave a sigh and switched off the water, before wrapping a towel around her wet hair, and then a second larger towel around her wet body.

“Thanks mum, I’ll be right out!”

“That would be useful, because then I might have time for a bath!”

She smiled to herself at the wryness in her mum’s tone, and as she heard the tread of her parent’s feet on the stairway, she gave a little sigh and then she gathered up her bits and swept out of the room.

“Bathroom’s free!” she yelled as she shot across the small landing and into her bedroom.

She perched on the padded stool, in front of her dressing table and regarded her expression in the vanity mirror.

Even with her hair wrapped in that towel, she still looked pretty, with her clear ivory complexion, a little pink now from the steam of the shower. Her lips were full and she had that cute strawberry shape to them when she pouted, as she was at that moment.

Her hair when dry was long and thick and fell in soft golden waves, but her eyes were her most complimented feature. They were big, and a deep, smoky dark blue colour that always drew a comment – usually with a reference to ‘bedroom eyes’, or some such nonsense.

She had planned to dress casually, in jeans and a simple sweater, but in a sudden mood of impatience she threw them back on to the bed, and burrowed through her wardrobe looking for her little black dress.

The party was to begin at two, it was her aunt and uncles thirtieth wedding anniversary and although it was starting at two o’clock, it would most certainly go on into the evening – well into the evening.

She paired the little black dress, with her knee length turquoise jacket, and some chunky turquoise costume jewellery, and stepped back to check her reflection.

The dress was smart enough to carry her through to the evening, but the brighter turquoise, would be suitable for the afternoon.

She picked up a little velvet pouch and put her gold pendant, and some gold and crystal, dangling earrings into it, and then slipped it into her handbag. Later she would shed the chunky turquoise and replace it with the more elegant gold.

Her high heeled sandals would suit for both afternoon and evening, and hopefully she would be able to sit down at times, and so give her feet a rest.

She had put her make up on before dressing, and so now she slipped her cosmetic bag into her handbag, along with her phone, her keys, a comb, and her purse.

Uncle Pete would be picking them up at about half past one, and glancing at her watch she saw she had a good three quarters of an hour to kill.

She heard the bathroom door open and then a moment later, her mum’s hairdryer, sounded.

Shelly gave her a few minutes and then went and knocked on her door.

“Are you decent?” she called lightly.

“Yes, come on in.”

Her mum was sitting on her bed, and was just finishing drying her hair. She stopped when Shelly entered though and a pleased smile lit up her face. “Oh you do look nice!” she sighed happily.

“Thank you ... I was wondering if you wanted me to curl your hair for you?”

“Oh would, you? That would be so good of you ... I can never get it right myself.”

Shelly made short work of her mum’s shoulder length, ash blond hair, and after styling and spraying it, she ran her fingers through it a few times, to lift it and give it some bounce.

Shelly waited downstairs whilst her mum finished getting ready, and as she waited she sat staring at the photograph on the fire place.

It was of her mum and dad, when they had celebrated their silver wedding anniversary. Shelly felt a lump in her throat, they had looked so happy in that picture, taken five years ago – they had been so happy. None of them had known then, just how quickly the cancer would take him away from them all.