Free Tuesdays at the Teacup Club by Vanessa Greene Page B

fallen for was The One, no question – the fact Jenny and Maggie had felt the same only confirmed it. Jenny’s
     glowing face, the look of love at first sight as she touched the cups, had made her smile in recognition. Nothing else would
     compare – but it wasn’t hers to use yet. As they’d agreed, Alison would keep looking for similar cups and if she was going
     to fill the new order she’d received that morning, she’d better find something soon.
    Alison knew that there had to be more genuine vintage cups that would delight her customers without breaking the bank, and
     Charlesworth’s charity shops were the natural place to start her search. Sophie and Holly would be at school all day, if Sophie
     didn’t get sent home for winding up her teachers again, that was; and Pete, well …
    Pete was a trouper. He was dropping the girls off now and wouldn’t be back till at least midday, with his arms full of Sainsbury’s
     bags, a half-smile on his face, trying tododge a rogue baguette threatening to poke him in the eye. With his dark eyebrows, untameable brown hair and gangly limbs,
     Pete was one of those grown-ups who’d never really stopped looking like a guitar-strumming teenager. He still played with
     his band when they got a local gig, and when he did, Alison caught a glimpse of the eighteen-year-old boy she’d first met.
     That day Pete had had sun-bleached stubble and tanned skin, just back from interrailing around Europe, and Maggie was wearing
     a T-shirt and cut-off shorts, sitting out with her friends on the green, enjoying her first summer after O levels. He’d brought
     his guitar over as dusk drew in and, smiling and half-drunk, played U2’s ‘With or Without You’.
    It was about six months ago, twenty-five years into their marriage, that her mind had started to regularly drift elsewhere
     when she and Pete made love. Last night, as he’d lain beside her, holding her in a loose embrace and beginning to snore softly,
     she had wondered whether this happened in all marriages, after decades together, or whether she should be doing something
     about it. Perhaps it was enough that they were still doing it?
    Her thoughts were never of other men. During the throes of passion, she’d think of grocery lists and dentist’s appointments,
     parents’ evenings and invoices. Did that mean there was nothing to feel guilty about, or – and this was what really nagged
     at her – was it somehow even worse?
    Anyway, she thought, drifting back to the present, Pete had the shopping under control, no one needed her right now and she
     could afford to take some time out of the studio and pop down to the high street. Her friend Jamie at the hospice charity
     shop would probably be able to help her in her search, and there were a couple of other errands she could run at the same
     time. She undid her apron and hung it over the chair.
    Standing at the hall mirror, tidying her hair and putting on a slick of red lipstick, she considered her reflection for a
     moment; not too bad for forty-two, she thought. She didn’t go in the sun much nowadays, and pilates kept her pretty toned.
     She heard George galloping down the corridor towards her. She ruffled his head and slipped a lead onto his broad leather collar,
     forgiving his earlier impulsiveness in an instant. She glanced first at her beloved red kitten heels – they’d look so perfect
     with the floral dress – then back to the dog. She opted instead for green battered DM boots; it was a look of sorts. ‘Join
     me on the hunt, George.’ She unbolted the door and with a backward glance down the hall saw the empty space where Pete’s briefcase
     used to be. When he had put it away in the hall cupboard at the start of the year, after his redundancy was confirmed, something
     in him – and perhaps also between them – had shifted.
    She climbed in to her battered Clio and started up theengine. Having two cars was an extravagance really, she supposed, now that