Facebook's Lost Love (2 page)

“Thank heavens for Facebook, Connie,” Melanie
beamed when she returned home. “If not for it I would never have
seen Justin again.”

“Not liking what I hear, Mel. Sounds like
you’re attracted to him again.”

“Don’t be silly, it was just an innocuous
visit. I could never leave Paul for him. It’s just that the kids
are almost grown up and live separate lives anyway. Life in England
seems more interesting.”

Despite her protests, Melanie found herself
thinking constantly of Justin, and how much happier her life could
be away from Paul’s violence and their sanitised, pampered world.
The endless rounds of cocktail parties, charity balls and gossiping
about who was having the latest nip and tuck was boring. Air
kissing crinkly socialites to ensure remaining on the Miami party
A-list used to amuse her but was now irritating.

Life in the more mundane, cooler climate of
Kent in the United Kingdom was far more appealing.

When three months later Justin invited her
over to attend a friend’s wedding in Bromley, Melanie jumped at the
chance. Her excuse this time was that her elderly mother was sick,
which wasn’t a total lie. After ensuring that his wife was telling
the truth, Paul gave his permission like a commanding officer would
a cadet.

The two-week stay was even better than the
first one. Shopping trips to London, long walks on the Sussex Downs
and visits to the Globe Theatre for Shakespearian nights convinced
Melanie that Justin was her real life James Bond. After all, money
wasn’t everything. Happiness of the heart should triumph over a
bulging bank balance, she reasoned.

Adultery is not something a respectable
middle-aged woman takes lightly but after much soul searching she
slept with Justin on her last night’s stay. The experience in his
splendid house was wonderful.

“I’m leaving Mr Perfect for an even more
perfect man, my real-life James Bond,” Melanie told Connie.

“You’re crazy girl. Paul will cut you off
financially if you divorce. I know I said you’ll get half, but he
is slippery and could afford the best lawyers to wriggle out of
paying your full worth. That’s if you live long enough to get to
the courts, what with his volatile temper.”

“I’ll take my chances. Justin will provide. I
can be a hygienist again. There’s loads of well-paid work in
London. Dentistry is one of the few industries not badly hit by the
recession. My kids will be confused and horrified at first but
they’ll come round. Being with Justin is my final hope of true
happiness.”

Connie begged Melanie to reconsider but her
mind was made up. Seeing how much fun Facebook friends were having
through being with those they really loved, was the biggest lure
for Melanie.

“He’s got a lovely, big house too, Connie. I
won’t be down-sizing too much.”

“You’re moving too fast, darling. Take it
easy.”

Not wanting to raise Paul’s suspicions again.
Melanie packed discreetly and left on the day he went to New York
for a convention. As it was holiday time, her kids were still in
bed when she left mid-morning. She kissed them all bye without
explaining the situation. Everyone would soon find out anyway.

At Miami Airport Melanie phoned Connie to say
goodbye but the phone went straight to voicemail which was
unusual.

A beaming Justin was at Gatwick in customary
James Bond attire. He greeted her warmly but on the way home he
wasn’t very talkative.

“As we’re starting out a new life together,
I’ve got to explain something to you, Mel.”

Alarm bells started ringing. Nervous about
making such a rash move in the first place, she wanted
reassurances, not problems.

“The house you stayed with me at, it’s not
really mine, it’s my brother’s. He’s a property developer who was
away with his family in Dubai. I was just house sitting. The
vintage Aston Martin is his too. I encouraged him to buy it as an
investment. They came back last week. I’ve bought a property nearby
and done it up. It’s really nice. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Okay. What’s it like? As good as or better
than your brother’s?”

“Oh, much better. You’ll see.”

Justin would not reveal any details of
location or size. By now they were driving through the leafy,
up-market part of Orpington. Melanie hoped one of the properties
favoured by wealthy commuters would be Justin’s. He drove past them
all. She had visions of living in a Bond style mansion, giant
bubble baths, Martinis on hand, a fleet of Aston Martins outside.
But he drove past all the really desirable homes.

Her sinking heart reached rock bottom when he
pulled up at the address.

“Welcome to our own little paradise,
Mel.”

They were parked outside 43 Oakhampton
Avenue.

******

As they entered the suite of New York’s
Waldorf Astoria Hotel, Connie wrapped her arms around Paul Reardon
and kissed him tenderly.

“I feel so guilty, Connie. Mel would never go
behind my back like this.”

Connie kissed him again, more passionately
this time.

“You’re right, Paul. I’m sure she
wouldn’t.”