Free Falling in Love Again by Sophie King Page A

anyone’s aura at the first meeting. It was a pity that only a handful had turned up. Still, if she had helped them, it was worth it. The question was, had she done any good? She wouldn’t know until the next one – providing they came back.
    ‘A box of books, sir? Yes, that will go in the ‘Under A Tenner’ column.’
    That was Sandra’s call – maybe she might ring about the books herself. You could find some great bargains in the paper. Hang on. Her line was going now. ‘A multi-waste dispenser. £3. Well, yes, you might get someone.’
    ‘Why do punters go to the effort of waiting in for strangers to look at their stuff just to get three quid?’ demanded Sandra when she’d finished.
    ‘Because they’re lonely?’
    ‘Maybe.’ Sandra, whose own social life bleeped incessantly from her mobile, checked her mascara in the small pocket mirror she kept on her desk. ‘By the way, my neighbour said her daughter went to your group.’
    Karen had been wondering if Sandra would mention this.
    ‘What’s her story then?’
    ‘I’m sorry.’ She pretended to fiddle with her screen.
    ‘Go on!’
    ‘I can’t betray confidences.’
    ‘Auditioning to be the next Denise Robertson are we?’
    The phone flashed, indicating another call. ‘I’ll get it,’ said Sandra, stuffing the last bit of Kit Kat down her. Karen nodded, grateful for the interruption. She’d say this much for the so-called credit crunch: it didn’t stop people from buying and selling stuff. Far from it! She’d got a few bargains herself, this way.
    Take Orlando and Jemima. Well how could she have resisted? ‘ Two cats in need of new home. Owner emigrating. ’ They’d settled in beautifully despite Oscar’s initial hisses and Adam’s disapproval.
    ‘If they had a child in the ‘For Sale’column, you’d have it!’ he would say, giving her a cuddle. Well of course she would. A soft heart. That’s what she had. A soft heart that had got her into trouble more times than it should have done. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gone out with half the men she had done since Paul. All they had to do was tell her their sob story and before she knew it, she’d agreed to have that dinner or sometimes lunch, just because she didn’t want to hurt their feelings.
    ‘That’s as far as it goes,’ she’d exclaimed to  Adam when he had once accused her of ‘putting herself around’. ‘How dare you? And I don’t sleep with them either if that’s what you’re suggesting.’
    Adam had gone quiet then, realising he had overstepped the respect mark. ‘I’m just saying, Mum, that you need to be careful.’
    And she was. It was true that she hadn’t slept with any of them. But it was nice to have the odd kiss and cuddle provided it didn’t go any further.
    ‘Four Georgian chairs and matching table, only ten years old,’ she could hear Sandra saying seriously.
    Waving her hands to attract her colleague’s attention, she mouthed ‘mock-Georgian’ but Sandra just frowned. Never mind. She’d get her to change it later. She and Paul had owned a rather nice Georgian armoire but it had had to go along with the other things. Still, she’d learned to see it as cathartic: a letting go of the past and an embracing of the future. Only occasionally did she feel a small wince when she thought of the old house with its chestnut tree, especially now it was conker season. But a house, she reminded herself, was only a home when you were with the right person.
    Here we go again! Another flashing light . . . A child’s paddling pool! Not the right time of the year to sell but it might be perfect for Josh next summer.
    At last! A quiet lull. Sandra was on the phone which meant Karen could take a quick look at her ad which had come out for the fourth week running. (The fourth week was always free.) She’d changed the wording this time so it looked a bit fresher. Might get a few more readers ringing in.
    The ‘How To Survive Divorce’ Club
    Feeling low after a