With her own love life firmly back to square one, our heroine is off to investigate worrying claims about her mum’s . . .
Dear Diary
So, allow me to reintroduce myself to you: Molly Vincent, mother, daughter, ex-wife, ex-girlfriend, total love reject, paper engineer, college teacher and now private investigator.
Mum has gone to stay with my Auntie Jean for a bit until we can sort out the truth of “Bournemouthgate” – i.e. the woman who says that Eric, my mum’s fiancé, is a love rat. You know, like one of those men who target single women on holiday and fleece them of all their savings.
They’re usually a bit dodgy to look at, aren’t they? I mean, some women would suss them out in five minutes, but these women want to believe they’re genuine and they buck the trend. To be fair, the rats are usually about thirty years younger than the women they’re trying to relieve of their life savings, not in their eighties.
I would be really upset to think that Eric is one of them. He’s kind and he makes my mum really happy. But until I am totally sure what is going on, I’m glad Mum is away from him, and I know Auntie Jean will take good care of her.
Mum’s problems have been occupying my head so much that it’s taken me away from thinking about my own. I cannot believe that someone I thought of as really special could believe that I would cheat on him. Especially as he actually believed the words of my ex-husband, who he thought I’d cheated on him with, when he went to explain the truth of it all – go figure.
Keeping hold of your dignity is very hard, and I won’t lie and tell you I’ve slept better for it, because I really haven’t. I miss Joe more than I can say, and sometimes it makes me breathless with pain imagining him meeting someone else. I’ve tortured myself picturing them walking arm in arm, with lovely Stan, his dog.
Why can’t I meet someone who is just flaming normal, no baggage, no hang-ups? This dating lark isn’t for the faint-hearted. To think I am back at square one! I can understand why some people become hermits.
Luckily, I am finding both joy and respite in teaching my pupils at the college how to do paper engineering.
The principal came in for a nosy and said there was actually a waiting list for this class. Yes, me – and a waiting list. It’s brought the pleasure back to my craft, because selling my creations at fairs was beginning to be so much hard work it was taking the happiness out of it.
