Page 66 of The Happiness Project

I pause, not sure whether I want to hear any more of this but also curious as to what on earth she can be up to. Not being a cat, I think I’m perfectly safe to let the curiosity win today.

‘Go on,’ I tell her cautiously.

‘It makes no sense to me,’ she says. ‘That Michael fellow being keen one minute and spooking you the next.’

‘Ghosting,’ I say, but she brushes it away with a ‘whatever’.

‘I saw the pictures from New Year and he looked really happy,’ she continues. ‘You all looked as if you were having a roaring time and I can’t believe that a man on his own doesn’t want a little more of that.’

She isn’t telling me anything I didn’t know or hadn’t thought.

‘We did have a good time but it happens, Mum,’ I tell her. ‘You might have looked at pictures of me and David and thought we were having a good time but neither of us really were.’

‘Anyone with half a brain could have seen that,’ replies Mum. ‘Not sure why it took you so long to figure it out.’

There’s tough love and there’s my mum’s love — which would have Bear Grylls crying in his coffee. I don’t mention that Patty had it figured out too. There’s always a bit of competitiveness between my mum and my friend as to who knows what’s best for me. Apparently, I have no clue.

‘Shall we get to the point?’ I ask, hoping to avoid a dissection of that particular failed attempt at a relationship.

‘Anyhow, as I said, it didn’t make sense to me and I decided I’d try to get to know him better and work it all out.’ She pauses and somewhere in the ether there’s a drumroll just for her. ‘So I followed him.’

‘You did what?’

‘I put him under surveillance to find out what on earth was going on,’ Mum repeats as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

‘When did you do all of this?’ I ask.

‘Last night and then today,’ she tells me. ‘Your dad came with me last night although he didn’t know why I was doing it. He thought he was just having a nice trip to the pub. Michael’s never met me or your dad so there was no danger of him recognising us, if that’s what you’re bothered about.’

There are many things that bother me about this situation and that was on the list but fairly low down. My mother being outed on one of her schemes would probably do her good.

‘Do you want to know my findings?’ she asks, pulling a little notebook from her handbag. I simply shrug and let her go ahead.

‘Nineteen hundred hours, suspect leaves his house and gets into a taxi,’ she begins. ‘I know he’s not a suspect but I wasn’t sure what else to call him.’

‘Wasn’t Dad suspicious that you were waiting outside someone’s house?’ I ask.

‘I told him I had my reasons,’ replies Mum. ‘He knows not to ask when I say that.’

This much I know. Throughout my life, when Mum has done something weird or wonderful and I’ve asked Dad about it, his weary reply has always been, ‘Oh, you know Mum — she has her reasons.’

She could probably be caught digging a body-sized hole in the garden and Dad would accept this explanation. I’m distracted for a moment wondering whether her having an affair falls into this category.

‘Are you okay?’ asks Mum, bringing me back to the present.

‘Yes,’ I tell her then ask the other question on my mind. ‘How did you know where he lived?’

‘He’s on Cross Road where you used to live and he has a cat with white paws that sits in the window,’ Mum says as if I’m crazy to ask. ‘I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I failed at the first hurdle.’

The cat often stayed at my house and Mum would definitely have recognised her, so I concede this. It’s a good point, well made.

‘We pursued the suspect to this pub, where he ordered a pint and a gin and tonic then sat over there by the window.’ Mum points out the seat in question.

‘So, he was meeting someone,’ I say. ‘And a G&T probably means it was a woman.’

‘Hold on there, Miss Marple,’ Mum tells me, wagging her finger. ‘Technically, the suspect was meeting someone and a woman entered the pub shortly afterwards.’

‘Did you recognise her?’ I ask.

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