The Armchair Bride by Mo Fanning Page B

has fallen by the wayside and needs our help to find the path back home.’
    Back home?
    ‘Is he looking for somewhere to stay? Only I don’t live in Birmingham any more. I’m in Manchester and I only have a small flat.’
    ‘I’m talking about the path back to His kingdom.’
    I feel my face glow red and thank God this exchange is taking place by phone. My shame is, for once, not shared.
    ‘You might well be asking what your part in this is,’ she says.
    ‘I did wonder.’
    ‘Well Sister Bernie would like to write to you and explain more. This poor fellow needs friends to prove the world isn’t all bad and if you agree to do this, you might help save a life. A precious life.’
    Sister Avis knows how to play me. We’ve never met and yet here I am about to befriend someone who could well be rotting on death row in some Texan jail, or someone with detailed plans to hack me into little pieces to feed wild dogs. I know I should politely but firmly refuse. But this is a nun and a very Irish sounding one - they tend to be the most holy and the most able to twist the screws when it comes to getting what they want.
    ‘OK,’ I say lamely.
    ‘Splendid. I’ll have Sister Bernie email you.’
    ‘Email?’
    ‘Don’t sound so surprised. We might be nuns, but that doesn’t mean we can’t switch on a computer. How else do you think I tracked you down? Sister Bernie found your details on the Internet. I gather you’re married to a famous lawyer.’
    I really should think twice about how much I give away in my on-line profile. I’ve read enough scare stories about identity theft. Any nutter can track me down. In fact, it sounds horribly like one has.
    She embarrasses me into parting not only with my email address but also my mobile phone number and promises to put Bernie in touch.

    They do say everything goes in threes and being a great believer in looking on the dark side whenever possible, I spend much of the day waiting for a third thunderbolt. By five-thirty, with a half hour left of my shift, I allow my guard to slip. Despite everything, it seems nothing else awful is going to happen that day.
    Bad move!
    ‘Lisa,’ Sharon says ‘There’s someone on the phone for you.’
    She does some sort of mime. Her hands go around her neck and I suspect I won’t want to hear from whoever it is, but what choice do I have? She’s just bawled my name across the office without covering the mouthpiece. I nod at her to put the call through.
    ‘Hello, am I speaking to Lisa Doyle?’
    I recognise the voice at once.
    ‘This is Audrey Hawkins. I’m calling about the other night.’
    I try to hide any fear in my voice. ‘Oh forget it. It really is none of my business.’
    ‘That is as may be, dear, but you left your umbrella at my house in your haste to leave. I ran out after you, but you’d taken off.’
    Relief. She’s ringing to return my umbrella!
    ‘It was only a cheap one,’ I say. ‘I’m always losing them.’
    ‘I see, but if we all took that attitude, where would we be? I’ll be coming into town next Tuesday to deal with some business. I can drop it in.’
    I can easily arrange to hide in the back office and have someone else deal with her.
    ‘We can go for a quick coffee,’ she says. ‘There’s something important I need to discuss with you. Shall we say eleven fifteen?’
    Shit, this isn’t good.
    ‘On Tuesday?’
    I desperately want to tell her I’m going to be busy, particularly between the hours of eleven and twelve. I’d sooner have a sinus wash than meet her for a coffee, quick or otherwise.
    The words won’t come out.
    ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘That’ll be lovely.’
    The line goes dead and I’ve no way of getting back in touch. Should I call Brian and ask him to put her off ? Would that make things worse?
    Sharon hands me her daily till receipts.
    ‘She sounded like she was in no mood for an argument.’
    ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ I say.
    ‘Fancy a quick drink next door?’
    ‘I