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‘I think I’ve narrowed it down to three,’ said Helen, who’d spent all night on Pinterest. ‘Individual white fondant fancies with a silver new moon on top, a traditional round cake with dark blue icing and hand-painted constellations, or several layers with gold stars sprinkled on the sides. They might have their own ideas, of course.’
‘Oh, I love the fondant fancies,’ said Nikki. ‘But they’ll probably want a statement cake.’ She could picture Alec and Phoebe in front of a towering tier, their hands clasped over a cake knife. She could usually predict what people would go for, but sometimes they surprised her. She dropped the three images into her presentation document. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘In the meantime, girls,’ Helen was trying not to smile too much, ‘I think I’ve found a match. Someone I might actually have something in common with.’
Jess looked up from the magazine she’d been reading. ‘Who?’
‘Hang on.’ Helen tapped into the app to find Ralph’s profile. ‘Here we go. What do you think?’
She held up Ralph’s beaming, kindly face.
‘He looks adorable,’ said Nikki. ‘Like Richard Briers from The Good Life.’
‘He does a bit,’ Helen agreed.
Jess was scrutinising more heavily, scanning Ralph’s photos for clues.
‘Right,’ she said, ‘tell me everything you know about him and let’s do a deep dive.’
‘But do you think he looks nice?’
‘Yep. He looks very nice. But you need to do your due diligence.’ Jess grabbed the iPad. ‘Name. Where does he live? What’s he told you? What have you told him?’
‘What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?’
‘Yes, Mum. You have to be careful. I’m not letting you meet up with any old randomer.’ Jess frowned. ‘You haven’t met him yet, have you?’
‘No! We’ve just exchanged a few messages.’
‘Have you gone to WhatsApp yet?’
Ralph had suggested coming off the dating app and exchanging numbers. Helen felt a prickle of anxiety.
‘Yes, actually, as a matter of fact.’
‘Jess. Go easy.’ Nikki could see her mum was getting agitated by Jess’s interrogation. She felt caught in the middle. Jess was right to be protective, but Helen was capable of looking after herself and they shouldn’t patronise her.
‘It saves disappointment in the long run.’ Jess’s fingers were racing over the keys. ‘There’s always something people keep back, and it’s usually a deal-breaker. I should know.’ She grimaced. She had a chequered internet dating history littered with married men and bankrupts. ‘Give me his number. And do you know his address? Where he works? His wife’s name?’
Helen sighed. She knew Jess was probably right. She gave her as much information as she could from the few exchanges she’d had with Ralph so far.
Ten minutes later, Jess had an exacting profile of Ralph Potter accompanied by photographs of his flat, his late wife, his three children, the school he’d worked at, a summer concert he’d organised and his dog.
‘Ever considered a career with MI5?’ asked Nikki.
‘Who says I’m not already working for them?’ Jess flashed back.
‘How do you do this?’ asked Helen, intrigued.
‘There’s always a trail. You start with Facebook or LinkedIn or Instagram. I googled his phone number. Look – his number’s on the website of the local Twin Town Association. Along with his address. From there you check out the address on Zoopla and you can see his house. Local paper for obituaries – there’s his wife’s name, then you google her.’
‘You’re scary.’ Nikki couldn’t help admiring her.
‘If there’s something he’s hiding, I’ll find it.’
Helen crossed her arms, part fascinated, part horrified.
‘Well, I hope his kids haven’t done the same on me.’
