Jessica Gilmore - His Reluctant Cinderella

Clara put the list down onto the one clear part of the counter and mock glared at her father. ‘It would save us both a lot of time if you let me email it to you.’

‘Email me,’ he scoffed as he pulled a selection of dressed salads out of the cavernous fridge. ‘I’ll be up making bread at six. When do I have time to read emails? Hungry?’

‘For your pastry? Always. I’ll be back in a moment.’ She shook her head at him. Clara was always nagging her father to get more high tech, to get a website, engage on social media. The delicatessen was doing well, more than well, but with just a little marketing spur she didn’t see why it couldn’t do better, expand into neighbouring towns. The problem was her father liked to do everything himself.

Pot, kettle, she thought with a grin as she tore herself away from the kitchen and walked into the main room of the house where the sitting and dining room had been knocked through to create one big family space.

A large oak table dominated the back and Clara felt the usual lift in her heart when she spotted a small dark head bowed over a half-completed gothic Lego castle. This was what made it all worthwhile: the long hours, the repetitive work, the nights in alone.

‘Impressive,’ she said. ‘Good day, sweetie?’

The head lifted, revealing a large pair of dark brown eyes. ‘Mummy! You’re late again.’

And just like that the happiness became swirled with guilt even though the comment hadn’t been accusatory. The matter-of-factness was worse. Summer didn’t expect her to be on time: she hardly ever was.

‘Sorry, Sunshine. How was school?’

‘Fine.’

Of course it was; everything was fine. Unless it was awesome, the ultimate accolade.

‘I’m just going to eat and then we’ll head home. Have you finished your homework?’

‘Of course,’ her daughter replied with quiet dignity before breaking into a most undignified grin as Clara walked around the table and gathered her in close for a long moment. Summer was getting taller, her head close to Clara’s shoulders, the baby plumpness replaced by sharp bones and long limbs, but she still gave the most satisfying cuddles. Clara breathed her daughter in, steadying herself with the familiar scent of shampoo, fresh air and sweetness before releasing her reluctantly.

‘I’ll be no more than ten minutes,’ she promised. ‘We might have time for a quick half-hour’s TV. Your turn to choose. Okay?’

It was like being a child herself, sitting at the kitchen table with a plate full of her father’s trial runs whilst he quietly measured, stirred and tasted and her mother bustled from one room to the other whilst relating a long and very involved story about a dimly remembered school friend of Clara’s who was, evidently, getting married. According to her mother the entire single population of Hopeford was currently entering wedlock, leaving Clara as the sole spinster of the parish.

Clara knew her mother was proud of her—but she also knew she would give a great deal to see her married. Or dating.

Heck, her mother would probably be more relieved than shocked if she spent every Saturday night cruising the local nightspots for casual sex.

Not that there were any real local nightspots other than a couple of pubs and even if she wanted to indulge the pickings were slim. A grin curved her lips at the thought of strutting into her local and coming onto any of the regulars. They’d probably call her parents in concern that she’d been taken ill!

‘Clara.’ The insistence in her mother’s voice was a definite sign that she had moved on from a discussion of Lucy Taylor’s appalling taste in bridesmaids’ dresses and wanted her attention.

‘Sorry, Mum. Miles away.’

‘I was just thinking, why not leave Summer here with us tonight so you can go out?’ Clara repressed a sigh. It was as she had feared. All this talk of weddings had addled her mother’s brain.

‘Go out?’

‘Your cousin is back home for a couple of weeks. I know she’s planning to go to The Swan tonight. It would be lovely if you joined her.’

For just one moment Clara experienced a rare shock of envy. That had once been her plan, a job and a life away from the well-meaning but prying eyes of her hometown.

‘I’ve got a lot of work to do—I’ve promised Summer some time before bed but then I must spend a fun couple of hours with the timetables.’ She attempted a smile. It wasn’t that she minded working all hours but it didn’t sound very glamorous.

‘Come on, love,’ her mother urged. ‘You never get to go out. Just one drink.’

It would be so easy to give in. Put the computer away for the evening, go out and get all the gossip about her cousin Maddie’s impossibly exciting life as a stylist on a popular reality show. But duty called. She had to remain firm.

She couldn’t just drop everything for an unscheduled night out. No, it was absolutely impossible.

* * *

‘I’ve been thinking.’ Clara wound her hand around the half-pint glass, pointedly avoiding her cousin’s eyes. ‘Maybe it’s time I should consider internet dating.’

Clara knew she was fairly stubborn. Unfortunately it was a trait she had inherited from her mother and passed down to her daughter. United they were a formidable team and when her dad had added his gentle voice to theirs she had been quite outgunned.

Clara had been sent out for fun whether she liked it or not.

And now she was out, she was beginning to wonder again whether her mother might be right about more than Clara’s need for a night off.

‘Internet dating?’ Maddie squealed at a pitch that could cause serious discomfort to dogs. ‘Any dating would be a good start. Isn’t there anyone closer to home though? I have stories about internet disasters that would make your hair curl. I know you, one disaster and you’ll give the whole thing up. And there will be a disaster.’ She nodded sagely. ‘There always is.’

‘Nope. I went to school with, babysat for, employed or have been employed by every single man I know in a ten-mile radius without a single spark. And this way I can profile them first, make sure they’re suitable.’

‘ If they tell you the truth,’ Maddie said darkly. ‘Don’t contact anyone without clearing them with me first. I know the language they use.’

Clara laughed, trying to quell the unease Maddie’s words conjured up. How would she know who to trust? It had been such a long time ago—and she’d got it horribly wrong then. It wasn’t just her pride at stake now; there was Summer too. She’d messed up so badly with Summer’s own father, any new man in their lives had to be perfect. Her daughter deserved the best. ‘I promise, you get first approval.’

‘Ooh, we could have a look now.’ Maddie had pulled out her phone and was jabbing away at the screen. ‘What are you looking for?’

‘Sensible, hardworking with good values.’ It didn’t take Clara long to think. These things counted for far more than the tilt of a mouth or a warm glint in a pair of navy-blue eyes.

‘Very exciting. Any speciality? I have accounts with Uniformly Single, Farmers for You, Country Ladies and Gents and Parents Need Love Too. We could see who is available locally! So, hot fireman, beefy farmer or a fabulous father?’

‘They are not all real accounts.’ Clara stared at Maddie’s phone in disbelief. ‘I thought you were happy with Olly.’

‘I am , but he’s an actor. First whiff of success and he’ll be off. There’s no harm in keeping my accounts open and having the occasional peep.’

‘Isn’t there anyone, you know, normal?’ This was a bad idea. What had she been thinking, mentioning it to Maddie? She’d meant to do some research first. Approach the whole thing in a sensible businesslike way.