Free Remind Me Again Why I Need a Man by Claudia Carroll Page A

Yellow Pages in front of me. A bridal veil/headless groom doodle … ‘I’m well aware of how it sounds, but if I don’t do it now, I never will. Anyway, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s not like I’m ever going to see these people again.’
    â€˜Any idea of what Greg did after college?’
    â€˜Well, I did bump into Teri in the supermarket, years and years ago, and she said he’d gone to the States. Apparently he was working as the night manager of some flashy, posh hotel.’
    â€˜Nightwatchman, more like. So what will you do if he’s still abroad?’
    â€˜I don’t know. I’ll think of something.’
    â€˜Have you really thought this through?’
    â€˜Yes. I mean no. I mean … Well, I don’t have to meet up with him. I could just talk to him on the phone, couldn’t I? Probably a lot easier too. Less embarrassing.’
    â€˜Honey, I’ve had rectal examinations that were less embarrassing than what you’re about to do.’
    â€˜Well, I don’t expect to come out of this smelling like guest-room soap, but it’s worth a try.’
    â€˜So there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Great, because, if I’m honest, there’s nothing I want to do. It’s such fun being in the same century as you.’
    â€˜Hang up, I’ll call you straight back.’
    Jamie’s right, of course. It has, after all, been over twenty years. Greg Taylor could be in any part of the world, doing anything for all I know. He was always smart and ambitious when I knew him; when he left school, he was voted ‘Person most likely to do anything’. Happy, successful and married with a large family by now, most likely.
    Come on, I tell myself sternly. Concentrate, regroup. What’s my end goal?
A husband by the end of the year …
Yes, it’s a tall order on the universe, I know, but if this is what it’s going to take …
    I pick up the phone and dial.
    â€˜Good morning, Teri Taylor Design Consultants, how may I direct your call?’ A woman’s voice, bright and chirpy.
    â€˜Hi, I wonder if you can help me. I’d like to speak to Mrs Taylor please.’
Keep it cool and businesslike
, I tell myself.
Try not to sound like a mumbling stroke victim …
    â€˜Oh, I’m very sorry,’ says the woman, sounding like she really means it, ‘but Teri has retired. She does come into the showrooms to see us occasionally, but doesn’t actually work here any more. Can anyone else on our design team be of any help to you?’
    â€˜Well, it’s kind of personal really. Do you have an address where I can contact her?’
    â€˜You’re very welcome to contact her care of this address. I’ll make sure she gets it. Is she a friend of yours?’
    What the hell, I figure; I’ve absolutely nothing to lose by being honest. ‘Actually, it’s her son Greg that I’m trying to contact. We’ve known each other since our school days.’
    â€˜And you’re organizing a class reunion, are you?’
    Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?
‘Yes, it’s a kind of reunion. Of sorts. I don’t suppose by any chance you know what corner of the globe he’s in, do you?’
    â€˜Should be in Raheny by now.’
    â€˜What did you say?’ In all my imagined scenarios of where Greg Taylor could possibly be living and working now, Raheny didn’t figure at all.
    â€˜Yes, he’s driving our delivery van and he had some curtains to drop off for a client there. He should be back in the office very shortly, though. Can I get him to contact you?’

Chapter Six
The Man Who Speaks Amelia
    Great embarrassing places of our time where your mobile can go off.
1. While in a public loo.
    2. While driving the car with a motorbike cop right beside you.
    3. While in the middle of a crisis meeting with the