THE HUSBAND HUNTERS

by LUCY LAING

  Kaz was a bit skeptical. ‘I went to have my fortune told once,’ she said. ‘She said I’d be married by the time I was twenty-five and have three children by the time I was thirty. She never mentioned anything about being so desperate that I’d have to form a club and get all my friends to find me a husband, because I’d been so crap at it myself.’

  ‘C’mon it will be fun,’ said Rach, absent-mindedly stroking her stomach. She had started to look a bit thick around the waist, but there was no definite bump yet, and she just looked a bit fatter. It would be weird seeing Rach with a bump. She said she couldn’t wait. ‘Then I will actually look pregnant and not just fat,’ she explained.

  ‘How are we going to find a fortune-teller?’ I asked. ‘The only ones I’ve seen were on Blackpool promenade, but there must be a few closer to home.’

  ‘My mum’s friend went to a good one in Manchester,’ said Tash. ‘She told her that she was going to meet someone tall dark and handsome. Her friend thought she was talking a load of rubbish as she was forty-five and still unmarried, but then the next day she was at some traffic lights and her car went into the back of the car in front. The guy, whose car she bashed, got out and he was as the fortune-teller predicted – tall dark and handsome. She is now married to him.’

  We all gaped in admiration.

  ‘I could do with a bit of good fortune, like that,’ I said.

  Tash said she would speak to her mum and get the fortune-teller’s number and ring up and make an appointment for us all.

  The next day Tash rang me excitedly. ‘The fortune-teller can fit us in at the weekend,’ she said. My stomach lurched with excitement and fear mixed together. I hoped that she would be able to see something in her crystal ball for me, and that it wouldn’t be just black. I desperately wanted her to see me in a long, white dress, standing at the altar with someone who looked suspiciously like Mr Darcy; but knowing my luck she would probably tell me that she couldn’t see anyone else in her crystal ball and that I should get used to my own company. I sighed as I put down the phone.

  ‘Having a bad day?’ came a voice from over my shoulder. It was Nick. He would never feel the need to look in a crystal ball – I doubt that he even looked in a mirror, judging by what he was wearing today. He had on a grey sweatshirt that looked like it was off the set of Fame or Flashdance, as it didn’t quite reach the top of his jeans.

  ‘Is that a cropped top you’re wearing?’ I asked incredulously. ‘Are you trying to make some misguided fashion statement? Did you know that cropped tops went out about two decades ago, and actually were only trendy if you were dancing in some American dance studio with a headband and leg warmers on.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nick. ‘I’m not trying to set a new trend; it’s my favourite sweatshirt which has shrunk in the wash. My mum usually does my washing, but she’s away on holiday and I put the wash on too hot.’

  ‘Your mum does your washing?’ I scoffed. ‘I can’t believe that you can’t even switch on a washing machine by yourself. I bet she irons your underpants too, doesn’t she?’

  ‘She would – but I don’t wear any!’ said Nick, laughing. I was speechless. Nick was going commando only a few feet away from me, and I’d never known. How gross was that.

  ‘I feel violated,’ I said, pushing my swivel chair as far away from him as I could. I couldn’t stop looking in fascination at his crotch, though. Quickly, I looked away, as Nick clocked me. He spent the rest of the afternoon swaggering around the office as if he was some model that we’d just booked. After a few hours, I couldn’t bear it.

  ‘Look – will you stop doing that?’ I snapped. ‘It’s making me feel quite sick.’

  Nick laughed as he turned around and gave me an exaggerated thrust of his crotch. ‘Did I hear you are going to see a fortune-teller?’ he said, coming up and sitting on the edge of my desk.

  I pushed him off. I didn’t want his commando backside all over my papers. ‘Yes, I am. I want to get a bit of direction in my life,’ I said. ‘I’m fed up of not knowing what's around the corner for me. If she can tell me what’s in the future, then I can spend years looking forward to it, knowing something great is going to happen.

  He picked up the round glass paperweight off his desk and whipped off his sweatshirt, wrapping it around his head like a turban. He started rubbing at the paperweight and peering in it, making mystical ‘oohing’ noises. I had to start laughing. Nick did look ridiculous.

  ‘I see something in here,’ he said, looking at me from under his sweatshirt turban. ‘Oh yes, there’s definitely something here. I can see really good fortune – it’s a tall, dark, handsome stranger who is about to sweep you off your feet.’ Despite myself, I felt a frisson of excitement. ‘Hang on a minute, no – it’s just a squashed fly on the bottom,’ he added, grinning at me.

  ‘I can see an idiot who thinks he’s so funny, when he’s just a berk in a ridiculously-cropped sweatshirt, who’s about have a horrible ‘paperweight through the side of the head’ accident,’ I snapped, grabbing the paperweight and slamming it down on my desk. ‘You’ll be sorry when I get told that I’m going to win the lottery and live a fantastic life, and you will turn into some saddo who tries to get younger and younger women to make him still feel young, and everyone laughs at him wearing a g-string on the beach.’

  Nick laughed. ‘That sounds like quite a good life to me,’ he said. ‘I’ll be up for that.’

  I woke up on Saturday morning feeling ridiculously excited. We were going to see the fortune-teller that afternoon. Kaz picked me up at 2 pm and we set off for the fortune-teller’s house.

  ‘What’s her name?’ I asked excitedly.

  ‘It’s Jane. Jane Watts,’ replied Tash.

  I couldn’t help feeling mildly disappointed. I’d expected something a bit more magical than that – something like Rose Lee or Madam Esmeralda. Jane Watts sounded like she was going to serve you a nice cup of tea, at the local cafe. Still, she had been recommended by Tash’s mum, so she should be good.

  A few minutes later we turned into a well-manicured cul-de-sac. All the semi-detached bungalows looked identical. It looked like something out of Stepford Wives. I half expected all the men to come out their front doors at the same time, get into identical-looking cars and drive off at the same time. We pulled up outside number 41 and got out. I must admit, I didn’t feel the shiver of excitement that I’d expected. Perhaps I should have insisted that we all go to Blackpool pier after all.

  Kaz knocked on the door. I was so disappointed, that I expected Jane Watts to open the door dressed in a twin set and pearls, with her perfectly-coiffured hair in waves, but when she opened the door, I was pleasantly surprised. She was dressed in an orangey-brown kaftan and had jet-black hair. She even had thick, black eyeliner on. Now things were looking better. I cheered up a bit then, and followed the others as we all trooped into her living room. There was a big table in the middle, with five chairs set out around it.

  ‘Would anyone like a cup of tea?’ she asked, as we all sat down around the table. I shook my head. I didn’t want Jane Watts suddenly to go back to being the tea-lady at the cafe. None of the others wanted a drink either, so she sat down. She had lit some tiny little candles around the room and an incense stick was burning. If I didn’t look out the window and see the other perfectly-manicured lawns on the opposite side of the road, I could almost imagine I was in a little wooden hut on Blackpool pier.

  ‘Can you all take off an item and give it to me,’ instructed Jane. She pointed at me. ‘Give me your ring, dear.’ I was wearing a big amber ring on my right hand, so I pulled it off my finger and gave it to her. She laid it down on the table, and looked at Kaz. ‘Your scarf,’ she instructed. Kaz obediently unwound her scarf from round her neck and gave it to Jane. Rach took her hair bobble out of her ponytail and handed that over, and Tash unclipped her gold necklace from around her neck.

  Jane closed her eyes, and picked up our things one by one, rubbing her hands through Kaz’s scarf,
turning my amber ring over in her fingers, touching Tash’s necklace and rubbing at Rach’s hair bobble. I caught Tash’s eye and tried not to giggle.

  Jane's eyes snapped open and looked straight at me. ‘You have been hurt recently,’ she said slowly, still stroking my amber ring. ‘It was something that you had set your heart on, and it was taken away.’

  I thought of Paul Hardman. I was impressed that Jane had managed to pick up that vibe from my ring.

  Jane suddenly looked puzzled and looked around at us all. ‘I’m feeling that something or someone is missing,’ she said. ‘Are you all here?’

  She must be talking about Soph.

  ‘Yes, there would have been someone else, but she’s not here today,’ I said.

  ‘I feel a great sadness coming from this ring about this person,’ went on Jane. ‘There has been a division and it’s not been resolved.’

  I pictured Soph and Paul together, their arms wrapped around each other. ‘You’re damn right it hasn’t been resolved,’ I wanted to shout out to Jane.

  ‘You must see if you can try and mend this divide. Put it back together,’ she added. ‘Over my dead body,’ I thought – and I knew the other girls would feel the same.

  ‘You must,’ went on Jane. ‘There is no happiness for any of you, if this bit of jigsaw remains missing.’ She looked round at each of us. Well, that was great. We were being told that we would all remain lonely and husbandless if we didn’t make up with Soph. It would be a big price to pay to get a husband. How desperate were we all to get up that aisle? Enough to climb down and invite Soph back into the club?

  Jane looked at me. ‘I’m feeling something strange from this ring,’ she said. ‘I can see bees, lots of them, and it will be the start of happiness for you, Bee.’

  That was strange. Perhaps I was going to marry a beekeeper or something. That sounded all right; a beekeeper would probably have his own farm and lots of land. Quite promising, I thought, cheered up by the prospect of marrying a wealthy landowner.

  Jane turned to Kaz, running her scarf through her fingers.

  ‘I can see money in your life,’ she said. Kaz’s eyes started to gleam and she leaned forwards enthusiastically. ‘You won’t be able to see it at first, but be patient – it will come.’ Kaz looked a bit disappointed. I think she thought she was going to be told she was going to win the lottery next week. I was about to butt in and ask Jane if she could see the lottery numbers for us, and then I could run out and buy a ticket, but she had already picked up Tash’s necklace. I’ve never bought a lottery ticket since someone told me that you stand more chance of being struck by lightning twice, than of winning the lottery. As I haven’t even been struck once – even though I’ve ridden my horse out in lots of thunderstorms – I’ve never thought there was much point in buying a lottery ticket. Jane was running Tash’s necklace through her fingers.

  ‘I see great sadness here,’ she said. ‘I see two children – but they aren’t yours. I can see a schoolgirl too, running. Does that mean anything to you?’

  Tash gulped. I watched her with interest. Was Tash going to confess all and admit to Jane Watts that – yes, she had been a sluttish schoolgirl and had run off with her geography teacher for thirty days of wild sex in a bed and breakfast? Tash shook her head. I thought not. It wasn’t the most admirable thing to own up to.

  ‘I’m sure this schoolgirl is you, Tash,’ Jane said, closing her eyes as if to try and see a better picture. ‘You are running from something and I don’t know what.’

  She moved on and picked up Rach’s hair bobble. Her eyes flew open and she looked directly at Rach. ‘You’re pregnant aren’t you?’ she asked, looking at Rach’s stomach. Rach smiled.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she said, admiringly. ‘I can’t believe you knew that.’ I couldn't either. Rach’s bump wasn’t showing and she had a baggy black jumper on so you couldn’t even see her thick waist.

  ‘I can see a healthy baby, everything will be fine,’ Jane added; ‘but I can feel you here Tash, and you too, Bee. Are you going to be birthing partners?’

  ‘No, only Bee is,’ Rach replied, firmly.

  ‘I can definitely see you both here. It’s not in a hospital, but I can see you both with the baby,’ said Jane. Rach looked a bit horrified at this.

  ‘I thought I’d told you to lock Tash away somewhere, when I went into labour,’ she hissed at me.

  ‘It hasn’t even happened yet,’ I hissed back. ‘Don’t worry – I won’t let Tash anywhere near you, when it happens.’ Rach still hadn’t forgotten about Tash boasting that she could deliver a baby, after watching a single episode of Casualty.

  Jane laid all our items back down on the table.‘That’s all I can see for now,’ she said. ‘I would usually see more, but I think that it’s because you are missing your fifth friend. If she comes back, then everything will move on for all of you. It is vital that you make it up with her, if you all want a happy future.’

  ‘Great, not only has bloody Soph wrecked my life, but all yours, too.’ I grumbled to the girls, as we walked back towards Kaz’s car. ‘If none of you can find happiness without her being involved, then I may have to make it up with her.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Tash. ‘You shouldn’t have to be the one who goes crawling to her, Bee. She made off with your man, and as far as I’m concerned – she’s history. You don’t go around doing things like that to your friends. It’s downright sneaky.’

  ‘Yes, but if Soph’s history, then none of us have a future,’ said Rach, looking worried. ‘Do you think you could forgive her?’ she asked, looking anxiously at me.

  I didn’t want to have my friends’ unhappy futures resting on my shoulders. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I said, magnanimously, climbing into the car. ‘She’s been punished enough.’

  It was true. Soph had only been seen a few times down at the stable yard since she had run off with Paul. She had tried to talk to Tash the first time, and Tash had walked away. I had to hand it to Tash – she was as loyal as a dog when it came to her friends, and she had hated seeing me so hurt by what Soph did. I wasn’t quite ready to forgive Soph yet, but I’d promised the girls that I would think about it.

  ‘Do you know any beekeepers?’ Nick asked me curiously, when I recounted the whole fortune-teller episode to him on Monday morning. I had told him about the swarm of bees she had seen around me.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ I said, racking my brains. ‘I don’t think beekeepers would go out in the bars in Manchester, so unless I’m going to bump into one by accident, then I don’t know where I’m going to meet him.’

  My future beekeeping husband was the hot topic of conversation at the next meeting. All the girls were really excited about the thought of me meeting a handsome, rich beekeeper.

  ‘I’ve googled beekeeping on the internet,’ said Tash, excitedly. ‘And I found the Cheshire Beekeepers’ Association. I think you should join it, Bee – it’s your destiny,’ she added dramatically.

  ‘How I can I join a beekeeping group, if I don’t own a single bee?’ I said worriedly.

  ‘You could catch a couple,’ said Rach, ‘then you could keep them in a glass tank. If you had to go to a meeting, you could always buy some supermarket honey, scoop it into a bowl, and take it along, pretending your bees have made it.’

  ‘Oh, great,’ I said, ‘then I’d be exposed for passing off Sainsbury’s honey as my own and I’ll be thrown out of the Association, and no beekeeper will want anything more to do with me.’

  ‘Okay, perhaps don’t pretend they’ve made any honey, but you could catch a couple,’ Tash said. ‘They like sandwiches and fizzy drinks, so we could leave some outside on the table and then you could pounce on them with a glass, to catch them.’

  ‘Isn’t it wasps that land on sandwiches?’ pointed out Kaz. ‘Bees usually just go for flowers. Bee will have to sit in her mum’s garden and try and catch some when they land on the flowers.’

  This sounded a bit dangerous to me. I’ve never ca
ptured a bee before. What if I got horribly stung, and then had anaphylactic shock and couldn’t breathe.

  ‘Well, at least you would die in a good cause,’ pointed out Tash. ‘She died in a quest for love. We could carve it on your headstone.’

  I didn’t like the sound of this. I was beginning to wish the sodding fortune-teller had never mentioned anything about bees. It was turning out to be hard, dangerous work.

  ‘I’m sure my uncle used to have a beehive,’ chipped in Rach. ‘I’ll call him and see if he still has all the gear. One of those hats with a net all around it, and a big net on a stick, too. You can wear that, Bee – then you won’t get stung.’

  ‘I can’t prance around my mum’s garden dressed in a beekeeper’s hat and waving a big net,’ I said, crossly. ‘People will think I’m mad.’

  ‘Your mum’s garden is completely secluded,’ said Rach. ‘No-one will see you. You will be able to get a few bees, and then you can join the Association – simple as that.’

  It didn’t sound very simple to me. It was all right for the girls to breezily tell me to catch a few bees, whilst they were sitting at home, cosily watching Eastenders. I looked at Rach pleadingly.

  ‘Don’t ask me for help,’ she said, patting her bump, which was now beginning to show nicely. She was now four months’ pregnant, and in the last week, Rach suddenly didn’t look fat anymore, she had the definite beginnings of a bump. ‘I can’t go leaping around your mum’s garden, Bee,’ she pointed out. ‘Anything could happen. I’ve got to take it easy.’

  ‘So, it’s all decided,’ interrupted Tash. ‘Bee has got to join this bee club, if she wants to find her dream man. The only way to do that is to catch some bees – and that's final.’ She turned to Kaz, dismissing my horrendous mission as though it was merely a stroll in the park. ‘How are you getting on with Adam? Have you seen him again?’