My Secret Lover

there's enough to worry about, isn't there? L
     
    True. A
     
    I'm not a broody old maid, am I? L
    No. A
     
    Yes I am, actually. Michelle just
offered to let me adopt her baby. How sad is that?
    That's secret by the way, because she
hasn't told the father yet. L
     
    Declan? A
     
    How did you know? He doesn't even
know yet. L
     
    You mentioned him in Portugal. A
     
    That's where it happened. Even
Michelle can't get pregnant over the Internet, which is the only time they meet
in England. L
     
    What does the kilt think? A
     
    Haven't mentioned it yet. So might be
odd to talk about adoption first. He's not keen on Michelle anyway. L
     
    You haven't told him about you not
being able to have children? A
     
    Trouble is, it's never the right
time. You can't really put it in your Soul Mate ad, and if you mention it too
early in the relationship, it looks like you're getting ideas. By the time you
are serious enough, it's too late. It's become a question of trust, as in 'I
don't understand why you didn't trust me enough to tell me before!' but that's
usually a smokescreen so that they can bail out blamelessly. L
     
    No! A
     
    Take my word for it, there's nothing
less attractive than a barren woman. You'd think men would relish the
opportunity for limitless condom-free sex without responsibility, but it's cool
to be a dad. I blame David Beckham, actually, even though I think I love him.
    Anyway, my most attractive feature is
that I would make a wonderful mother. I know this because the love of my life
told me so before he finished with me after my operation. Being Canadian, he
wanted to be totally honest. To be fair, he did leave it until after my dad's
funeral. L
     
    Bastard! A
     
    What do you think about Michelle's
baby? Should I, or not? L
     
    I think you ought to talk to the
kilt. A
     
    You're right. Thanks, by the way. I
feel much better after a good cry. L
     
    You're welcome. AXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOOO
     
    What's OOOOOOOOOOOOO? L
     
    Hugs. AX

51
     
    I have to go to the bank to sort out
the fraud on my current account which was £2,000 overdrawn by the time they
alerted me to the fact I’d gone over my agreed limit, and is now £3,000
overdrawn because I didn’t open the white envelope with the bank manager’s
letter in it until the end of the week because it looked a bit serious.
    Someone is on a spending spree with
my card, which is peculiar because I haven’t actually lost it, but the
manageress says that it’s easy enough to make a new one if you’ve got all the
details and an imprint of the signature. Perhaps I let my card out of my sight when
paying in a restaurant, she suggests.
    I sign the declaration that the
statements I have made are true. I did not think it absolutely necessary to
tell her about the monthly direct debit to charity, which I notice has not yet
been claimed against my account. Their admin side probably isn’t what it might
be.
    The bank manager snips my card into
four pieces in a slightly vengeful way and tells me she will call me when my
new card is ready for collection.
     
    I don’t much like using the lifts in
the car park, because my mother has read in the local paper that there have
been muggings, but it’s late-night shopping and I had to go right up to the
tenth floor to find a space.
    At least, I think it was the tenth
floor.
    A car very similar to mine is parked
in the space where I remember parking it, but there are two lads about to get
in through the broken window.
    ‘I think that one’s mine,’ I say.
    The one on the driver’s side has a
rabbit-caught-in-headlights look of terror on his face that is slightly
familiar. The other one has snatched the key from my hand and is holding the
point of a knife to the spot where I visualize my right kidney is situated
before I’ve properly registered what’s going on.
    My first thought is that the chances
of the same person being the victim of a fraud and a mugging in the same week
must be so slim I should probably buy a lottery ticket. But since my card’s
just been cut up, I’ll only be able to do that if my assailants leave me with
enough cash.
    My second thought is that the youth
on the driver’s side is actually Wayne, Dean’s brother. And I think he
recognizes me too, because he says to his associate, ‘Don’t hurt her. She
taught me to read.’
    The grip on my arm relaxes.
    It’s actually one of the prouder
moments in my teaching career.
     
    None of us seem to know what to do
next.
    I’m sure Wayne