Page 33 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

‘You don’t get out much, do you?’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. No filter. Big mouth, too quick.

He inclined his head. ‘No, you’re right, I don’t. I’m... I guess you could say I’m a bit of a recluse. I get out to the gym, to exercise, to specialist libraries for my studies, but that’s all. The social life doesn’t suit me much.’

My heart thumped in my chest. ‘Girlfriend?’

He shook his head.

I raised an eyebrow.

‘I’ve had other priorities for a while. Since my last relationship ended, I mean.’

I didn’t press further. It was none of my business. That said, I was as curious as hell.

He swallowed, then reached up to rub a hand through his long, black hair. ‘Your aunt told me a lot about you. And now that I’ve met you, I can see she wasn’t exaggerating about your qualities.’ A blush spread over his face. It was cute. He was working hard to be nice and complementary. Maybe he thought he was going too far.

I didn’t mind. It had been a long time since anyone had shown an interest in me. But was that his intention?

My mind raced. I wanted to know. ‘How about you and I go to the National Gallery to view the artworks like you mentioned? We could make that a date?’ I smiled while my stomach turned somersaults.

His eyes widened. I’d caught him by surprise. Oh no. This would be awkward when he turns me down, with us sharing the same house.

‘I’d like that,’ he said, returning my smile. He was fidgeting again, tapping his fingertips on the tabletop.

‘Great.’ I beamed at him. ‘I think this could be the start of a—’

A flash of light blinded me. People at neighbouring tables turned in alarm. Was it an electrical fault? Something set alight in the kitchen?

When the bright spots in my eyes finally cleared, I opened them.

Raven was gone.

***

I WAS MORTIFIED AT his abrupt disappearance. What was going on? What did he mean by that? How did he vanish so suddenly?

I waited half an hour, but Raven didn’t return. Nor did he call. After a while, my patience ran out. I ordered another cup of tea and pulled my phone from my pocket.

It was six thirty here. That meant, in the New Zealand winter, it would be five thirty in the morning. Could I call Rachel at that time? I winced. She got up early for work, but that was too early to call.

I sipped my tea and fiddled with my phone for fifteen minutes before I video called her. It was an emergency, after all.

She answered. Eyes like slits peered out at me from under saggy lids. Her hair was all mussed up, and she wore a long-sleeved nightie. Not the image of the successful professional lawyer at the moment.

‘What’s happening, girlfriend?’ she said, a quiver of concern in her voice. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Sorry to call so early, Rach, but it’s an emergency.’

‘What? Is it the house? Is Terry being an arsehole? Couldn’t you have called me later in the morning?’

‘None of those things. It’s a date emergency.’

‘Did you say a date? You’ve only been there a few days. A job and a date. Go, girl.’ Rachel whistled. ‘What’s he like?’

‘At the moment, he’s MIA. That’s why I’m calling you. I want your advice. You’re much more in touch with the dating scene than I am.’ I hadn’t dated for two decades.

‘MIA? You mean he never showed up?’

‘It’s not that. We went to a café together, and things were going well—I’m sure they were—but then poof! He disappeared.’

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