Take a Chance on Me. Fiona Harper

room at Foster’s and saved you from another year of sitting in the corner writing doleful little poems you wouldn’t let anybody read.’

      Serena gasped in horror. ‘My poetry was never doleful! Rambling and self-indulgent, maybe, but never doleful.’

      ‘Whatever. You needed a little livening up.’

      ‘You certainly did that!’

      ‘What did Prudence and her gang call us again?’

      Serena clapped her hands and grinned. ‘The freaky twins!’

      ‘Joined at the hip for evermore!’ yelled Cassie, punching the air.

      ‘Until you met Steve, anyway. I should be cross, but he’s such a sweetie I forgave you ten seconds after I met him.’

      Cassie stared off into space and her streetwise demeanour melted. ‘He is rather wonderful …’

      ‘Do you remember what your parents said when you told them about him?’

      ‘Do I? They totally freaked! I can still hear my father—’ She dropped her voice an octave to a low rumble. ‘Cassandra. You’re only nineteen. You’re far too young to understand what marrying into the establishment means.’

      They both collapsed in a heap of giggles.

      Serena sighed and wiped a finger under her eye. ‘At least they came round in the end. They practically fall over themselves now to tell their friends that their son-in-law runs an inner city project for underprivileged kids.’

      ‘Ah, yes, but the dog collar still makes them squirm.’

      ‘And you love it.’

      Cassie giggled into her coffee mug.

      ‘You’re a minx, Cassie Morton.’

      ‘It’s why you love me.’

      ‘No, I love you because you’re the best friend anyone could ever have.’ All traces of laughter left her voice and she fixed Cassie with a solemn stare. ‘You’re right. You did save me that last year at Foster’s. It would have been hell without you. I owe you big-time.’

      Cassie’s eyes sparkled. ‘And I know a way you can repay me.’

      Serena slumped on the kitchen table in defeat. ‘Go on. Pass me the carrot cake, and I’ll tell you everything.’

      Cassie just smiled, cut a thick wedge of cake, and plopped it on a chipped willow pattern plate. Serena dragged it across the table towards her, dipped her finger in the cream cheese icing and tried to think of where to start.

      She almost didn’t want to share this with Cass, which was a first. Not that she thought she would jinx it if she talked about Jake, but because it all seemed too precious. She wanted to keep all the memories locked up inside her. She’d have to tell Cass something, though, or she’d get the thumbscrews out.

      ‘He’s definitely in the running for Mr Right. We’ve had dinners and picnics and been to the ballet. I always thought there was more to a date than standing in the back of a smoky pub watching my other half play pool. It’s like being Cinderella …’

      ‘You’ve got it bad!’

      She stared at the carrot cake, but didn’t take a bite, her appetite arrested by the thoughts swirling round her head. ‘Do you think so? Is this what really falling in love feels like?’

      ‘Well, that depends. How do you feel?’

      She sighed. ‘He’s all I can think about. When I’m not with him I’ve got butterflies thinking about the next time we’ll meet, and when we’re together I get butterflies just because I’m with him! He makes me feel special. For the first time I think I’ve met a man who likes me. Not Michael Dove’s daughter, but me.’

      Cassie put her coffee down and cocked her head on one side.

      ‘So, have you …?’

      ‘Have I what?’

      ‘You know.’

      She took a large bite of cake and shook her head. Chewing and swallowing was a great way to stall, but regrettably her mouth was soon free again. ‘You know I vowed it would take a ring on my finger as a guarantee of intentions before … that. I’ve been foolish too many times in the past where men are concerned. My creep-radar is completely defunct.’

      Cassie nodded. ‘I know. Every loser carrying a guitar pick was the one.’

      ‘You’d think I’d know better, wouldn’t you? I mean, I’ve been around musicians all my life. I know exactly how reliable they are. But there’s something about arty types I can’t resist. I’ve tried to fight it, but every time I end up getting hit with a sucker-punch and I’m totally gone.’

      ‘Knocked out and down for the count. It’s never pretty,’ said Cassie, screwing up her face.

      Serena rested her chin on her hand and stared out of the window. ‘I’ve tried to analyse it. It just doesn’t make sense. The best I’ve come up with is that it’s something to do with those wild imaginations that make every day a surprise, that passion for life—’

      ‘The attention span of a gnat,’ added Cassie, finishing with a huge bite of cake.

      ‘You’re so right. And that’s why I’ve sworn off men like that.’

      Cassie mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. ‘And why I’m doing the vetting from now on.’

      Serena sat back in her chair and wondered if the reason she fell so hard and fast was simpler than she allowed herself to believe. Maybe her childhood had left her so desperate for someone to love that she grabbed anything that vaguely resembled the real thing with both hands. Of course it was invariably a mirage—looked good at the time, but ultimately left her feeling dry and unsatisfied.

      That was why she was pacing herself this time, taking it slow. Jake was different from anybody else she’d been out with, but it was still early days. She wanted him to be the one, but it was too early to tell.

      She took another bite of cake. The ever-present butterflies did a little waltz as she imagined the fireworks that could happen once ‘Prince Charming’ had been well and truly stamped on Jake’s forehead.

      Jake couldn’t walk past the painting without having a third go at getting it straight. He nudged the left corner a little. There. He took three steps back and tipped his head slightly.

      Blast! It had looked better before he’d started messing around with it.

      It was just that he wanted everything right. Tonight he was cooking Serena dinner, playing on home turf—a departure from his normal routine. Now he had the money to enjoy such luxuries, he liked to wine and dine his girlfriends at good restaurants. They seemed to appreciate it too.

      The perfectionist side of his nature urged him to pull out all the stops when he took a woman out, and his competitive spirit made him want to do that little bit better than the next guy. Even if his relationships didn’t last, he wanted his old flames to remember him as the perfect gentleman. It was a little vain, perhaps, but he liked to think at least one or two of his ex-girlfriends thought of him occasionally and let out a little if only sigh.

      He lifted his hand to tap the frame again, but pulled it back before it made contact. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t usually this jumpy before a date. Perhaps it was because Serena was so totally different from the type of woman he was normally attracted to.

      Ever since he’d had hormones in enough quantities to notice girls, he’d pined after cool, sophisticated types. Like the girls from St Bernadette’s, the exclusive private school only a mile or so from Ellwood Green.

      It had never seemed odd to him that such a bastion of old money was so close to his home. The