The Case of the Sneaky Valentine

"Nothing so far; I'm obviously no Miss Marple or Sherlock Holmes."

"Certainly not; you're far too young to be the first and the wrong sex for the second!" she points out.

"Shirley Holmes, then," I laugh. "Still, I'm not getting anywhere working out who gave it to me."

"Perhaps you'll get another one next year," she suggests. "You'll have to be on the alert next February!"

"I, er, actually received a card last year and the year before," I confess bashfully. "I was on the alert but the sneaky bugger still managed it!"

"And they were all from the same person?"

"It was all the same handwriting but this year's was a bit more, well, passionate. Nothing sexual or dirty just... yes, passionate." I conclude wistfully.

"It sounds like they moved you, quite a lot."

"They did. Would you like to see them? I could bring them to show you. From all you deduced about me, you're obviously much better at this sort of investigation than I am," I tell her.

"Yes, please. Hey, why don't we meet after work tomorrow for a drink? Unless, I guess you need to get home to your girls, don't you?"

"God, I haven't had an evening out in months!" I reply, "But unfortunately I'm afraid it's Parents' Evening at the school tomorrow." I hesitate, feeling a little awkward, "I could do Friday, unless you have a date already." She smiles sweetly at my words.

"No, no date and nothing planned so yes, let's meet Friday. Bring the cards then and we can go to a nice little tapas bar I know."

"That sounds lovely, but I'll need to ask Mum if she'll babysit."

After arriving at Victoria we walk together to the building in which we both work. "Don't forget our night out on Friday. See you on the train tomorrow," she adds as we enter the foyer where we say goodbye.

Friday 24 February

Being able to get a seat next to Zoe turned out to be the high point of yesterday, as far as my working day was concerned. Patrick, my boss, was in a foul mood over a deal that fell through. He seemed determined to pin the blame on anyone but himself. He even tried to blame me, saying that I should have seen the problems whilst I was typing it all up!

It was a relief to hear praise for Tina and Chloe at Parents' Evening, the only complaint being their ongoing tendency to pretend to be each other sometimes. Their class teacher and assistants aren't fooled but teachers who don't know them well can't tell them apart. Their classmates think it's a brilliant game, apparently. Words were had when I got home and promises extracted.

I was also able to speak to Mum and she is very happy to babysit the girls tonight. She was slightly disappointed that it was only a girls' night out but, as she said, "At least sitting in a bar you might meet someone interested in getting to know you; you'll never meet a man just going to work and sitting at home every evening!"

"Yes, Mum, I know, but it has only been a couple of months since Roy finally went. The, well not exactly peace and quiet as he was rarely here, but the... tranquillity, I suppose, has been quite nice, to be honest."

"Yes, dear, but you don't want to end up a lonely old spinster, do you?" Thanks for that, Mum, I thought. She seems to ignore the fact that I've never had much luck with men over the years, even at university.

Patrick is little better today and his foul mood seems to have poisoned the whole office, with everyone grumpy and bickering. Even Lisa, the normally bright and bubbly young admin assistant, snaps at me when I ask her if some photocopying is completed. "Oh, so sorry, Sarah. I'll rush an' do it this instant," she replies sarcastically in her finest London accent. "I mean, it's not like I ain't got ten other fings to be doin'!"

"Lisa! What's the matter with you?" I ask, shocked. She glares at me for a moment and then sags.

"Sorry, Sarah, it's just everyone seems to be on me case today; it's doin' me 'ead in. I thought it's normally 'appier 'ere on a Friday."

"I know. I think it's that lost order yesterday: Patrick's pissed off and he seems to be spreading it around. I'll be so glad when today's over!" I tell her earnestly.

"Look, Sarah, some of us is going down the pub after work so, I know you don't like normally come out with us but, you know, after a day like today if you wanna come..."

"Thanks for the offer but I'm already I'm meeting someone after work."

"Oh? Is it a date with a guy now what's 'is name... Roy 'as gone?" she asks with sudden interest.

"No, it's with a woman friend for a drink after work. I'm looking forward to it."

"Hmm, you dark 'orse, you! Well, 'ave a good time and, look, I'll go and sort your photocopying now for you, okay?"

"Thanks, Lisa," I reply, wondering what she meant by a dark horse.

Now that five o'clock has finally arrived I find that I'm almost ridiculously happy and not just because this crappy day is over. This makes me realise that my social life has dwindled pretty well to nothing and that Mum might have a point: I do need to get out there if I'm to meet someone. It's just... I'm not sure I want another man in my life at the moment and I really don't want the emotional turmoil of starting a new relationship with a guy just now.

As I exit the lift I see Zoe standing by the plant and water feature to the left of the foyer. This is actually the first time I've really looked at Zoe from a distance. Her short stature gives her quite a curvaceous figure that shows even through her clothing. As usual, black is the predominant colour: black boots with silver clasps and buckles, ripped black leggings below a green tartan mini skirt; a dark tee shirt on which I can partially see what I recognise as a biohazard symbol in lime green underneath the black leather jacket that she seems habitually to wear. I almost can't believe that this is the woman I'm going out for a drink with but somehow the Zoe inside doesn't match the stereotype I'd expected from the image she projects.

When she sees me she smiles, the dimples popping in her cheeks and I find myself a little jealous of how cutely attractive she is. As and when I decide to go out looking for a boyfriend, she could be a mixed blessing as a companion: she will certainly attract attention but, quite likely, all the attention, leaving me in the shade.

I hurry across the foyer, low heels tapping rapidly on the marble floor. "Hi, Zoe," I say as I reach her.

She places her hand on my arm and to my surprise quickly cranes up to kiss my cheek. "Wotcha, Sarah, am I glad to see you."

"Really?" I ask as we start walking out of the building and turn right.

"Of course," she replies, "I've been looking forward to our girls' night anyway but after today I really need to unwind!"

"Bad day for you too, huh? Join the club. What happened to you?"

"One of the senior partners basically took the credit for three weeks of my hard work, claimed that all the important work, the concept and the like were all hers and that all I'd had to do was to, quote, 'colour in inside the lines!'"

"What a bitch!" I commiserate. "I, er, assume you're not a 'Colouring-in Consultant', so what is your job, Zoe?"

"No!" she laughs. "I'm an 'Art Director'... okay, that's a posh name for a designer, in my case a graphic designer. My 'colouring in' was a complete design on a new product range."

"A range of what products?" I ask and I notice Zoe's cheeks colour slightly.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that," she smiles. "Turn right here. It's, um, a range of sex toys, you know, dildos, vibrators and the like, called Lady Loves. Not exactly high street but, well, trying to make them more mainstream."

"Wow. Did you get any free samples?" I ask without thinking, saying the first thing I think of to try and cover my shyness at talking about sex toys. Zoe's cheeks are now almost as pink as her highlights. "I'll take that as a yes," I tease but I can feel my face colouring too.

"Okay, yes, maybe," she admits grudgingly before changing the subject. "But enough about me; what do you do and why was your day so shitty?"

"Well, you had it right in your story about me: I'm a PA to one of the senior account managers. My boss is being an arsehole over a contract the firm lost; apparently, it's everybody's fault but his, even though he is, or was, the account director on that contract. He even blamed me for typing what he wrote and not changing it to something better!"

"Somebody save us from bosses who are wankers!" she declares loudly and I cannot help the surprised look on my face. "Er, sorry, I didn't offend you then did I?" she asks as she touches my arm and indicates the door to the tapas bar, La Gata Rosa, and we enter, still talking, while I find myself hoping that this is not too expensive.

"No, not really; it's just not a word I'd normally use out loud. They are wankers, though!" I laugh at my daring. The bar is quiet; the only other patrons are three women around a table and two guys at the bar. Of course, it's early, only a little after five o'clock after all, and Zoe leads the way to two stools at the far end of the bar.

"You know, you're not the sort of woman I'd normally go out with," Zoe confesses as we seat ourselves, "you're..."

"Boringly dull and ordinary?" I suggest.

"Sarah, you are certainly not boring and very definitely not dull or ordinary," she chuckles. "No, just a bit... mainstream, I guess."

"Well, I can certainly say the same; I've never had a punk friend before! Is 'mainstream' really bad?" I ask.

"No, I think I need more mainstream in my life. What about you; do you need more Goth Punk in your life?

"I think there's certainly room for some. In fact, there's probably room for lots of new things in my life," I sigh. "You know, I've organized meetings or booked tables and tickets for my boss and his guests in all sorts of places but never actually been myself. For example, this is my first time in a Tapas Bar. I've never tried sushi either, never been in a hot air balloon, not run a marathon, never been to a West End show... there's an extensive list of things that would be new for me."

"Well the next new thing will be a drink: what do you want?"

"A red wi... no," I smile, "you order me something, please."

"Do you drink beer?" Zoe asks.

"No, I've never drunk it before," I reply, shaking my head.

"What, never?" she asks incredulously.

"Well, okay, I tried a sip of Dad's beer when I was about seventeen and I thought it tasted horrible so thereafter I always chose cider and, later on, wine," I admit.

"Two beers it is then." She signals across to the barwoman.

"Hello, Zoe, what would you like; the usual?" She has a slight accent that I cannot place

"Yes please Marta, two of them." She moves off and returns with two bottles of beer, Spanish by the name on the labels. "Sarah, this is Marta," Zoe makes the introduction, "and Marta, meet Sarah."

"So you are Zoe's new friend?" Marta asks.

"Yes, I am," I reply, "we get the same train to work each day and we started talking and... I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Please, I like to know about my customers and when my customers have new friends, I am interested. Oh, if you want food it will have to be after six because Alex has gone out to buy things." I assume Alex is the chef but at that moment one of the women from the table comes to the bar and Marta moves off to serve her. I pick up the bottle of beer; the cold glass is slick with condensation. I'm about to ask for a glass when I see Zoe drink straight from the bottle so I do the same. The taste is very different from wine but, on this second tasting, I actually find it quite pleasant despite the slightly sour bitterness. I take another sip as Zoe looks at me quizzically.

"It's nice, much nicer than I remember," I tell her, "and this is not only my first beer but also the first time I've drunk alcohol straight from a bottle... Mum and Dad always insisted on drinks being from cups or glasses when I was growing up, so this feels like I'm being naughty," I smile as I raise the bottle to her.

"Well, here's to seeing how many things we can tick off your 'never done' list this evening; cheers!" Zoe clinks the neck of her bottle against mine in a toast. "In the meantime, did you bring those Valentine's cards?"

"Oh yes," I tell her and fish them out of my handbag and place them in order on the bar. "There we are; exhibits A, B and C in 'The Case of the Sneaky Valentine'. Zoe studies each one, pointedly and carefully looking at the picture on the front before reading the inscription and examining the handwriting.

"Hmm, the sender seems to be getting ever more passionate, don't they? You know, the handwriting is very feminine, almost girlish," she says after a while.

"I thought that too... but it must be a guy disguising his handwriting, or maybe he got a girl to write it."

"Hmm, it's an odd choice of handwriting style for a man to pick, especially for a Valentine's card. I mean, why not just print in capitals? And if he needs to disguise his writing, then he must think you'd recognise his normal handwriting... On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't a man at all!" she smiles mischievously.

"What, you reckon that I got a, a lesbian woman who fancies me?" I don't know quite whether to laugh or be horrified at the idea so I end up with a nervous chuckle. "I don't..." Zoe grins at my expression.

"What, another first: the first time a woman's fancied you?"

"Yes, absolutely! I mean, I know some women do, you know, fancy other women but... well, why would they fancy me since I'm not a lesbian?" Zoe laughs at this.

"Sarah, you're an attractive woman so there's no reason why a man or woman wouldn't fancy you. And they wouldn't know whether you're gay or not; you might be or you could be bisexual or maybe just interested in experimenting with a woman... I bet that's on your list of 'never done' things!"

"Too right, and not one I've ever wanted to tick off either." I suddenly realise that I've finished the beer. "Same again?" I ask and Zoe nods. I call Marta and order two more beers.

"So the idea of a woman card sender, a female 'Sneaky Valentine', upsets you whereas the thought that some bloke is getting close enough to you to put a card in your handbag doesn't worry you?" she asks.

"Shit, I never thought of it like that," I reply, quite shocked. "I was just so touched to receive the cards that I didn't consider other, more... well, sinister possibilities." Marta returns with the beers and I immediately take a swig. While Zoe's comments flustered me, I'm more concerned about how I responded and that she'll think me horribly narrow-minded and intolerant. "Zoe, look, I'm not really homophobic; I don't have a problem with people being gay or lesbian or whatever. I know two gay men, one in the in the office and the other is a neighbour. I don't know any lesbians, though so the idea of a woman fancying me was, well, disconcerting, I guess."

"I bet you do know some gay women but you just don't know they're lesbians. You probably know more gay men than you realize too," she points out. "Sorry for disconcerting you, though. Perhaps it's best to think of them as someone of indeterminate gender having a crush on you."

"Good idea; someone with a crush is much less threatening. I'm sorry if I sound awfully narrow-minded. I don't mind what consenting adults get up to, really I don't. I wish them more luck, or perhaps more wisdom, in finding a partner than I had with that useless wanker Roy!"

"Hey, you said 'wanker' again; go Sarah!" and we both laugh.

A little while later, and on our third beers, Zoe orders tapas and we receive a large platter with a little of almost everything on the menu. "Zoe said you had not tried tapas ever, so now you get to try much of it," Marta explains as she hands us cutlery. "Enjoy!"

We chat and eat and the bar becomes more and more crowded and noisy. I vaguely notice that women predominate amongst the clientele but this makes for a relaxed and hassle-free evening. The food is very good (as is a fourth bottle of beer) and I compliment Zoe on her choice of venue.

"Thank you, I'm glad you like it. As you probably gathered I'm a bit of a regular. Now, before you have to dash off to your beautiful girls, have you ever tried tequila?"

"Nope," I reply, "but I get the feeling that I'm going to."

"That's the spirit," and she waves Marta over. Marta gives Zoe a suspicious look when she hears the order for four tequilas.

"Be sure you don't have friend Sarah falling down drunk, Zoe," she warns but fetches the drinks anyway.

Zoe explains the process. Salt on the web of skin between thumb and forefinger, lime held between finger and thumb then, go: lick the salt, swig the tequila down in one and then suck the lime.

"Presumably, if you can't coordinate all of that then you know you're drunk!" I laugh. I watch Zoe drink hers, memorizing the routine. "Okay, here goes..." To be fair, coordination is not the problem but the bitter taste and alcohol kick almost choke me so I'm spluttering as I try to suck the lime. Zoe puts her arm around me and pats my back. "Wow, that's strong!" I wheeze.

"Yeah, just a bit. What did you think?"

"Well, next time I'll be ready for the kick so I'll give it one more try, but only after you drink your second one." Zoe again performs the ritual with grace and obvious enjoyment and then it's my turn once more. I take a few deep breaths to steady myself. Salt, tequila, lime. I bump the glass down on the bar and grin around the wedge of lime clamped between my teeth. I have not choked, but...

"Not bad for a second go," says Zoe, "but your eyes are watering a little!" I slap her arm playfully.

"Oi, you, I think I did very well. Right, what's the time?" I take out my phone and manage on the third attempt to get it the right way up and the screen on. Okay, half nine so I need to be heading home," I tell her. "Are you staying?"

"Of course not; we're train buddies remember?" So we settle the bill (rather more than perhaps I should have spent) and stand up to leave and I find the room sways gently.

"You know, I think I may be a little wobbly because of that tequila. How about you?" I ask.

"You're just a lightweight!" she teases. "Come on, I'll make sure we get back to the station safely." She slips her arm through mine and steers me through the crowded bar. On the way, it seems some of the women recognise Zoe and there are a few smiles, nods and hellos and even a wink. They are certainly a friendly crowd I think through the alcohol buzzing in my brain.

The cold air outside revives me a little but we continue to walk arm in arm comfortably. At the station, however, we encounter surprisingly large crowds and find that there's been a derailment. We scan the departure boards but the news is not good. "You'll be alright," Zoe says, pointing at one board. "Look, fifteen minutes time from platform eight there's a train to Whiteton East; that's your town, surely." I peer up.

"Oh yes, that's the smaller station in the town on the stopping line; Whiteton Town is on the mainline." I continue looking and realise what's happened, "It looks like it's the mainline that's affected so there're no trains for your station at the moment. Look, why don't we get the train on platform eight and see where we go from there."

"Good idea," agrees Zoe and we begin walking to the platform, "maybe I can get a cab or something from the station."

"I'd offer you a lift but, well, two tequilas too many, at least," I tell her regretfully.

"That's very kind, Sarah, but a cab will be fine." We board the train and manage, amazingly, to find two seats. The journey is every bit as slow as we feared so I phone Mum and apologise that I'll be home late, explaining about the train problems.