Page 38 of A Clean Sweep

Grabbing a quick cup of tea, Tabitha returned to the screen and switched to possible candidates for her mum.

She had no idea really how Emily would describe herself on a dating site but she’d tried to be as accurate as possible.

Her mum was both attractive and smart, with a great sense of humour.

She’d seen how men would look at her when they were out together.

Not so long ago a thirty-something guy had asked if they were sisters!

Emily had laughed and asked if he’d been to SpecSavers recently.

Self-deprecation was another of her characteristics, not necessarily the best one when it came to meeting men.

Scanning the available photos Tabitha was grabbed by a distinguished-looking gent who was into rock climbing, fine dining and wanted to meet a lady ‘who makes me laugh but isn’t afraid to poke fun at herself.

Nobody’s perfect – least of all me – but I believe there’s someone out there to share life’s journey with.

Bumps and all.’ Ooh, promising, she thought.

If things don’t work out with Emily’s current squeeze then …

Tabitha accidentally hit the forward key and another image filled the screen.

Hang on a sec, didn’t he look rather familiar?

She squinted at the photo. It was a bit blurry and dark.

She peered closer. Oh shit. Oh no. It couldn’t be, could it?

She hastily read through the accompanying profile .

‘My name is Martin and I’m looking for love. Who isn’t? I’m keen on cooking, movies and romantic weekends in the countryside. Looks are less important than being on the same wavelength. I just want to meet someone who I can share things with and who feels like the missing half of me.’

Tabitha could feel herself shaking with a mixture of disbelief and rage.

Calm down, she told herself. Perhaps this was an ancient profile and he’d simply neglected to take it down.

She checked the date when it was posted.

Less than two weeks ago. Right, officially a complete and utter cheating bastard.

Martin – aka Miroslaw – was doing the dirty on the lovely Meryl.

Which one was his real name? Maybe neither.

Perhaps he had a long list of fake identities which he used to attract unsuspecting women.

But why? What was his motive? Was he just a serial philanderer who notched up conquests and moved on?

Or was there something more sinister going on?

She felt genuinely devastated for her boss and good friend.

Meryl had a heart of gold and always saw the best in people and was forever performing little acts of kindness.

Like knocking a few pounds off the price of an item in the shop if she suspected the customer was struggling to gather together change in their purse.

Or, more recently, arranging a surprise birthday party for a woman she barely knew but had felt desperately sorry for.

She would be crushed to discover the man she was seeing was a two-faced liar with a hidden agenda.

Tabitha really, really didn’t want to be the bearer of such horrible news.

But she knew she couldn’t keep her stomach-churning discovery to herself.

That would be cruel and unfair. She prayed that it wouldn’t be a case of shooting the messenger.

That Meryl would ultimately be grateful and glad to see the back of Miroslaw/Martin/whatever else the slimy toad called himself.

Meryl had also woken early after a disturbed night of tossing and turning.

Forsaking her fennel tea for an eye-opening double espresso she turned on her computer.

Accessing her e-banking details she clicked on her private savings account.

Current balance just over ￡25,000. Gosh, that was more than she thought.

She'd set it up in such a way that a fixed sum from her current account was transferred over each month.

Plus, she'd had a couple of wins on the National Lottery in the past couple of years.

Instead of blowing the money on holidays or clothes she'd salted it away too.

There'd never been a grand plan as to what to do with the money, or when to dip into it.

Perhaps if she was nearer sixty and still alone she would splurge it on a fabulous cruise or as a down payment on a little holiday pad in France.

The Little Shop of Treasures was never going to make her a millionaire but it allowed her to live a comfortable life and she'd sensibly built up a private pension pot to ensure her later years were equally secure.

Now that she'd met someone who really cared for her, her fears of ending up a lonely old pensioner had faded significantly.

She closed her eyes and envisaged a golden sunset, walking hand in hand on a sandy beach with Miroslaw.

Which might well be in jeopardy if he couldn't repay his creditors.

If he lost the business would he stay here or flee to his native Poland?

That thought filled Meryl with horror, and she felt panic take a grip.

If there was any way she could ease his financial burden then she would do it.

Downstairs in the shop Meryl set about preparing for opening at nine. Tabitha had rung half an hour before. Full of apologies, she pleaded a bad headache but insisted she would be in for the afternoon shift, despite Meryl's insistence she take the day off .

'So, how was last night?' she’d asked, but not in her usual teasing tone. Poor girl, she was obviously in a lot of pain.

'It was lovely! Miroslaw really appreciated my cooking. I'll tell you more later but – please – stay home if you don't feel any better.'

A handful of customers drifted in and out during the first hour.

One sale in particular – of a set of hand-painted wine glasses and matching decanter – made the till ring with delight as they were one of the more expensive items on the shelves.

The rest either browsed and left or picked up small knick-knacks and greetings cards.

The shop was empty when the doorbell chimed and in walked Miroslaw.

Her heart leapt at the sight of him, then dropped when she saw how exhausted and drawn he looked.

There was a visible layer of stubble on his chin and his shirt was clearly un-ironed.

'Oh, Miroslaw! You look done in, my poor darling. Look, I'll pop up my "Back in fifteen minutes" sign and we can have a cuppa out the back.' He smiled gratefully and followed her through.

'Listen, my beautiful Meryl. I should never have burdened you with my problems last night. It was selfish and unfair. I have done much thinking and … I think it best I go away for some time. If I sell my car – no, not that divine leather-seated Range Rover! – and a few other things I can perhaps keep the wolves from the door. But not for long. I have acquaintances in my own country who might be able to offer me some work …’

Before he could continue, Meryl had taken his hand and squeezed it tight.

'Look at me, Miroslaw. I've been thinking too and … here's the thing. I have some savings put away and I'd like you to have them. No, please don't argue. My mind's made up. It's only ￡25,000 but if it helps— ’

She wasn't allowed to finish her sentence.

Miroslaw had enveloped her in a gigantic hug, sniffing loudly.

With a voice dripping in emotion he whispered, 'You would really do that for me ?

You are truly an angel sent from heaven.

I count my lucky stars every day that I met someone as wonderful as you.

Thank you. And I promise I will pay back every penny as soon as I can. '

Needing to get back and reopen the shop, Meryl told Miroslaw to email her his bank details immediately so she could arrange to transfer the money into his account.

'I'll try to do it this afternoon when Tabitha comes in to work, tomorrow at the latest. I just hope it's enough,' she said, kissing him goodbye at the door.

'It is more than I could have dreamed of, just as you are, my beautiful Meryl,' he replied huskily.

If she'd been exaggerating her headache earlier, Tabitha could feel the beginnings of a full-blown one now as she entered the shop.

Meryl was tending to a customer and radiating joie de vivre in that way only a woman in love can.

Damn, bugger and blast. She was totally dreading this.

It would be like slamming the cage door on an abandoned puppy who'd been convinced adoption was on the cards.

Right now, she could cheerfully throttle Miroslaw/Martin and take the murder charge on the chin.

'Hi Tabbie! Are you feeling better? You still look a bit pale, are you sure you should be here?

' Meryl eyed her with sympathy, Tabitha deliberately looking down in case she blurted out her bad tidings on the spot.

She needed to psyche herself up, choose a moment.

Not that there would ever be a good moment to say what she had to say.

'I'm fine, honestly. Had another snooze and popped some pills, so fit and ready for action. What would you like me to do first?'

As Tabitha got stuck into more box unpacking and shelf rearranging, she decided that her news about Tom could wait.

Her misery at discovering Meryl's newfound love was a treacherous cad – she loved that old-fashioned word, but hated that she had to use it – far outweighed her feelings about her ex-boyfriend.

Besides, who knew what his game was? She'd read plenty of stories about women being physically assaulted or fleeced by men they'd believed were the loves of their lives.

'Sweetie, can you hold the fort for a little while? I just need to pop upstairs and deal with something on the computer. Won't be long.'

Tabitha nodded as Meryl bounded up the stairs to her flat. The spring in her step reminded Tabitha of a graceful gazelle in a David Attenborough documentary. Completely unaware that a salivating lion was about to tear her world apart.

There were no customers. Tabitha shifted some old stock to the side and began placing tree-shaped ring holders into an empty glass cabinet.

A cold trickle of unease ran down her spine.

She didn't know why, but she sensed something was terribly wrong.

Swiftly turning the shop sign to "closed", she belted up the stairs, taking them two by two.

Reaching the flat she burst in, a surprised Meryl looking up from her desktop.

'What's up, Tabbie? Are you feeling poorly again? I'll be there in a minute, I just have to …’ Meryl hesitated, fingers poised over the keyboard. She took a deep breath, then gestured for Tabitha to take a seat.

'The thing is – oh, I was going to tell you all this later – last night was lovely but I discovered something.'

Tabitha held her own breath. Perhaps she already knew and was contacting the police or something? Although being a cheating, lying scumbag wasn't yet a criminal offence, sadly.

Meryl continued, 'Poor, poor Miroslaw has been having financial problems. He was in bits last night when he told me. He could lose his business and everything! Anyway, I decided I was going to loan him some money, just to tide him over. I'm just transferring it right now and—’

' Stop right there !' shrieked Tabitha in true banshee fashion. A startled Meryl slid backwards in her wheeled chair, eyes agog like a petrified possum. 'Do not touch the computer! Step away from the keyboard, now !'