A Swing at Love Read online

  After she’d taken a long, hot shower, and was lying with her feet up on the sofa, a glass of wine in reach, Tamsin grabbed her phone. She had to do something to quench this malaise, this uprising in her blood. She had to go on a date. Preferably a date with a happy ending, although Tamsin wasn’t really the type for that. She and Ellen had been going out for more than a month before Tamsin had allowed anything further to happen. She liked to be sure of her feelings, and the other person’s feelings as well. But tonight, she didn’t care about feelings. Tamsin was a woman in her prime, in good shape, with healthy urges. She hadn’t expected a trip with a dozen ladies in conservative golf outfits to trigger this need, but there she sat, finger poised over her phone screen, ready to open the app.

  She tapped and went into the search settings first. At least she wasn’t going to make the mistake again of looking for someone too young. She was just scrolling, anyway. Swiping left, until she felt compelled to swipe right. She adjusted the age selection to up to thirty-seven—wasn’t that a good compromise?—and the location selection to a twenty mile radius around Tynebury. Frankly, she wasn’t expecting anyone to come up. But, through the marvels of modern technology and humankind’s hunger for connection, Tamsin was presented with a surprising number of women seeking women.

  Now all that was left was finding someone who tickled her fancy. Her thumb was just beginning to cramp up from swiping left all the time, when she came across the face of an agreeable-looking woman. She had short brown hair, a warm gaze in her brown eyes, and a pleasant smile on her lips. Tamsin liked the look of her—and that was really what it was all about with a shallow app like this. Before she could change her mind, she swiped right and hoped for the best: a return right swipe.

  Now all she could do was wait.

  She glanced at Bramble, who was lying on the rug as though she’d promptly fallen over, and reached for her glass of wine. She’d barely taken a sip when her phone chimed with a notification.

  She picked it up again and saw it was from Tinder. Things were looking up.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Diane locked her car. She had managed to squeeze into the last available spot in the small carpark next to the Hare & Tortoise.

  Even though she only worked part time, the last two days since she’d got back from Portugal had been quite hectic. The fiscal year was ending and it was the busiest period of the year at Thompson & Associates. It seemed like all her clients had decided while she was away that they wanted some aspect of their accounts re-evaluated in view of the Brexit fallout, and that this needed to happen straight away.

  After two days of near constant meetings, Diane had decided to reward herself with a meal in her favourite gastropub in the next village.

  “Good evening, Mrs Thompson,” the maître d’ greeted her. “I’ve saved your favourite table for you.”

  He led her to a small table in the front corner of the room, next to a window that overlooked the pub entrance.

  “Thank you, David,” she said, as he handed her a menu. “I’ll have a gin and tonic right away, please. It’s been quite a day.”

  “Of course,” David said.

  Diane checked the blackboard on which the daily specials were listed and decided on the crispy sweetbreads.

  David promptly reappeared with her drink. Diane ordered her food and took a sip from the tall glass.

  “Ah.” She couldn’t help herself from sighing in contentment at the fresh taste in her mouth.

  Diane looked around the room. A few tables were occupied, but it was still quite early. The place would fill up soon enough.

  In the first couple of years after the divorce, Diane had not gone out to eat very often. She had of course been out with friends and with Timothy and Lucy, but it had taken a long time for her to get used to dining out on her own. These days, she quite enjoyed the tranquillity of it. She usually read a book or just observed the people around her.

  A movement outside caught the corner of her eye. Probably some diners arriving. The door to the restaurant opened and a young brown-haired woman walked in, followed by a familiar-looking figure.

  Tamsin.

  Diane had been so busy that she’d not really had time to think much about the pro, but seeing her now brought everything that had happened in Portugal back to the forefront of her mind.

  When they had said goodbye at the airport, Diane had brushed off what had happened the night before as insignificant, at least in front of Tamsin. She thought she’d done quite a convincing job of acting nonchalant, while inside, she had felt the exact opposite.

  She watched as David led Tamsin and her companion to a table in an alcove on the other side of the dining room. When they’d sat down, Diane had a partial view of Tamsin’s back, but she was facing the other woman, albeit from a safe distance. Tamsin had not yet seen Diane, or if she had, she was doing a good job at pretending she hadn’t.

  Diane wondered who the woman was. Tamsin had mentioned a sister in London, but this woman looked nothing like Tamsin. She was much shorter than Tamsin and had a broad face with wide features, whereas Tamsin’s face was longer and sharper.

  A date, then? The two women did not look as comfortable in each other’s presence as two people would who’d known each other a while. Maybe it was a first date. Not that Diane could remember how that felt.

  A little knot tied itself in Diane’s stomach at the thought that Tamsin might be on a date. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, at least that she could remember. Tamsin seemed to bring up a lot of unfamiliar feelings in Diane.

  The first time she had seen Lawrence with Debbie on his arm, it had caused turmoil inside her, of course. She’d been uncomfortable, sad, and angry most of all. But she hadn’t been jealous. She had not wanted to be in Debbie’s place, whereas now, all she could think was that she wished she was the one sitting across from Tamsin.

  The waiter arrived with her food and placed it in front of Diane. Her appetite seemed to have vanished, but she started taking a few small bites. The dish was delicious, but she couldn’t even bring herself to eat half of it.

  Diane took her book out from her bag and tried to focus on that instead of what was happening across the room, but she found her gaze wandering up and towards Tamsin’s table every few minutes.

  Tamsin’s companion was looking around the restaurant, seemingly not paying that much attention to what Tamsin was saying. Diane couldn’t imagine not hanging on every one of Tamsin’s words if she were the one sitting across from her.

  The woman’s gaze finally landed on Diane and Diane looked down quickly at her book. She did her best to keep reading, but again her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. When she glanced up next, she found Tamsin’s date staring straight at her. The woman leaned over towards Tamsin and said something, which caused Tamsin to turn around and lock eyes with Diane.

  Diane gave her a small wave and smile, trying hard to come across as normal as possible. Tamsin returned the wave and then turned back to her companion.

  What was Tamsin saying to her date about the lady who kept staring at them from the other side of the dining room? She’s a lady from the club I work at. Divorced a few years ago, but still alone. A bit sad really, she seems to have a bit of a crush on me.

  Diane gave her head a small shake. What had brought on that thought? Surely, she didn’t have a crush on a woman, let alone one fifteen years her junior.

  To distract her mind from its current train of thought, she attempted to eat more of the sweetbreads but gave up after a few bites. She pushed the plate away.

  As if by magic David appeared at her table. “Can I take this away, Mrs Thompson?”

  “Yes, please,” Diane said. “Tell the chef it was delicious, but I was not as hungry as I thought.”

  Diane washed her hands in the restaurant bathroom. She had quickly paid her bill after her plate had been taken away, skipping dessert or coffee, wanting to just head home.

  The door to the bathroom
opened. In the reflection of the mirror Diane saw Tamsin walk in and stop behind her.

  “Diane,” she said.

  When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, Diane turned around to face Tamsin, her hands dripping water onto the floor.

  “Tamsin, how nice to see you,” Diane said. “I see you’ve discovered one of the area’s hidden gastronomic secrets. This is the best place for a relaxed bite.” Stop babbling, she told herself.

  “Yes,” Tamsin replied, “it’s very nice. I, er…” She looked down at her feet. “Sarah chose it.”

  “Ah,” Diane said. “Sarah has excellent taste, then. Is she…” Diane didn’t know what she wanted to ask exactly.

  “We’re on a date. We met on Tinder.” Tamsin gave a small chuckle.

  “I see.” Diane looked around for the hand dryer to give herself something to do while she figured out what to say next. She inserted her hands into the machine and the noise of the blower drowned out all possibility for a conversation. When her hands were dry she turned around to find Tamsin standing in the exact same spot.

  “How’s the date going?” Diane asked.

  “Let’s just say I doubt there’ll be a second one.” Tamsin smiled wryly.

  “How come?” Diane asked with an unintended edge to her voice. “Is she too mature for your taste? I thought you liked them younger. At least that’s what you told me.” Diane couldn’t believe what had come out of her own mouth.

  The look of consternation on Tamsin’s face told Diane that she had definitely overstepped some kind of boundary.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That came out all wrong.”

  “Never mind.” Tamsin disappeared into one of the stalls.

  Diane heard the lock being secured forcefully. She stared at the door a few seconds longer before walking out of the bathroom and heading for the car park. She’d probably just ruined the first significant new friendship she’d made in years.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As soon as Tamsin had clocked Diane at the pub, as far as she was concerned, her date with Sarah had been over. The woman was nice enough and, just like Tamsin, loved doing up old furniture—and she only lived about ten miles from her.

  Many boxes had been ticked, and Tamsin had been willing to give the whole thing a chance, despite Sarah being quite a few years older than the women she was used to dating—or perhaps even because of that. Then Sarah had mentioned the lady staring at them from across the restaurant. Diane sat there, alone at a table, looking her usual elegant self, perfectly styled, holding her cutlery in just the right way, and Tamsin had been transported back to Portugal. After that, try as she might, she’d been unable to focus her attention on Sarah.

  After saying a polite goodbye to Sarah, Tamsin let Bramble out of the house for a bit of a run in the garden, before sinking down into one of the patio chairs to consider her options.

  First on the agenda would be admitting to herself that she was attracted to Diane. She’d felt it so clearly in the pub, maybe because of the contrast with her feelings for her date. Every time Tamsin had come up with a question to further the conversation with Sarah, she’d wished she could have asked Diane instead. Diane, who was sitting only a few tables away from her, whose gaze Tamsin could feel burning into the back of her head.

  “I’m attracted to her,” Tamsin whispered. Bramble didn’t look up. Darkness was falling and she was too busy eyeing the bats flying overhead. Tamsin leaned back in her chair and inhaled a lungful of fresh air. She could do that here in Tynebury. The air was clean and the streets were quiet. Bramble was no longer confined to a mostly indoor life, only broken up by two walks a day. Tamsin could have a good life here as well. She liked the club, the people, the village.

  She liked Diane.

  She could try to deny it all she wanted, but all the signs were there. The flutter in her chest when she’d caught sight of her. The almost irrepressible desire to send her a text message right there and then. The images of her graceful face drifting in and out of Tamsin’s mind willy-nilly. And then Diane had gone and said something so unexpected, so baffling, that Tamsin had been given no other choice but to hide in the toilet cubicle. But she didn’t really know Diane. They’d shared a few glasses of wine in Portugal, but so what? Clearly, the woman had a bit of a mean streak.

  Tamsin whistled for Bramble to come to her. It was getting chilly and she was sick of thinking about Diane. Tamsin could like her all she wanted—there was no way she was getting involved with someone like that. And until proven otherwise, the woman was heterosexual. Tamsin should focus on that. And she was fifty-four, for crying out loud. And a member of the golf club. At least Diane’s father wasn’t club president, but in this case, that was not an advantage. Tamsin had learned her lesson.

  Bramble sped up to her at high speed then slid to a stop. She lay panting at Tamsin’s feet, so that Tamsin could scratch her behind the ears. Diane probably wasn’t a dog person, either. She looked far too polished for that.

  “Come on then.” Tamsin rose and Bramble followed her. “Time for bed.”

  As she walked into the cottage, she vowed to put Diane Thompson out of her head and, this time, she’d do it without the help of Tinder.

  The next morning, Tamsin had planned to do some accounting, but as soon as she sat at her desk and cast a glance over the folder where she kept her receipts, her heart sank. Being a golf pro meant being a freelancer, which brought with it the only aspect of her job she truly despised: administration. Tamsin revelled in giving a pupil a crucial tip on how to hit the golf ball a few yards further, on how to get their putting more precise. She delighted in being out there for a round of golf on her own—just her against the course. Getting her accounts in order didn’t have anything to do with that, yet it was a critical part of how she made a living.

  Maxine, her accountant in Croydon, had sent her a bunch of spreadsheets and a summary of her accounts, so she could have a go at filing her quarterly VAT return herself, but Tamsin had only to look at the green colour of the Excel logo for her stomach to twist. Green was her favourite colour, yet this particular hue made her want to look away in disgust.

  Tamsin had never been able to trace back her acute dislike of anything mathematical. Her sister was the same, even though their mother’s job as a risk analyst at an insurance company had been awash with numbers and calculations and complicated arithmetic. She and Eve both took after their much more artistic father, who made furniture out of any piece of wood he could lay his hands on.

  Tamsin glanced at the picture of her mother on the mantle next to her desk. She looked her radiant, buoyant self in it. She had died almost eight years ago but when Tamsin looked at that picture and stared into her mother’s soulful brown eyes, to Tamsin, it felt like she’d only passed eight days ago. The grief could still hit her like that, mercilessly and with such impact, and Tamsin knew it would always be like that. As long as she lived, she would miss her mum.

  If only she could call and ask for her mother’s help with the accounts. Her mum would have been all over it. Tamsin could still so easily picture her, sitting at one end of the dining table, a bunch of papers spread out in front of her. Every Sunday evening, without fault, she filled in a notebook with the amounts they’d spent that week. She kept a budget so meticulously and with such zeal, Tamsin often wondered why none of that had rubbed off on her. But she and her sister had always hated maths and their mother had never been able to stop herself from helping them with their homework. Come to think of it, their mum was the reason she and Eve couldn’t do a complicated calculation even if their life depended on it.

  “Thanks, Mum,” Tamsin said to her picture. They’d often teased her about it. Even when she’d been so sick, her body so weakened by the chemo, her brain shot to pieces, they’d still tell her stories of how when they were younger they’d been unable to calculate the correct change to get back when they were sent to the shop.

  She toyed with the idea of just mailing the folder t
o Maxine and letting her sort it all out. Or she could drive up, make a quick visit to her sister and enjoy a bite to eat in London. But this quarter’s deadline was looming, and Tamsin had been way too lax about it. To be honest, she’d skilfully buried her head in the sand every time she’d caught a glimpse of the folder, and had, once again, excelled at putting it out of her mind.

  Why was it so easy to forget about this while other thoughts were so incredibly persistent? Because there it was again. Diane. The local accountant. Her business card burning a hole in Tamsin’s purse. Hiring Diane as her accountant would not help towards getting the woman off her mind. So far, Tamsin had only seen her in a leisurely environment, but what would she look like in the office? The big boss of her own company. Tamsin had no trouble picturing Diane, head high, shoulders back, delegating tasks and reigning supreme over her accountancy empire. Tamsin had to chuckle at the thought.

  She rose and walked to the window. A magpie flew low over the lawn. Bramble, who was lazing on a blanket near the window, lifted her head a fraction, only to promptly put it back down again.

  When her phone started ringing, Tamsin was relieved to be pulled from her tailspin of thoughts. She hoped it would be someone wanting to book a lesson, even if it meant having to do more accounting.

  She picked up her phone from the desk. Speak of the devil.

  “Hi, Diane,” she said, stopping the glee she was feeling from seeping into her voice.

  “Tamsin.” Diane sounded matter-of-fact.

  “What can I do for you?” Glee was quickly making way for something else. But maybe this was the universe making a decision for her, Tamsin thought. She needed a new accountant and, just like that, she was on the phone with one. She just needed to ignore the fact that said accountant was Diane, whom, she had definitively concluded last night, she was hopelessly attracted to.