3. Private Investigations prt 1

Geraldine realised with a shock as she pulled up in front of her garage that she had no recollection of her journey home or how she had driven there. She had to pull slightly over the road to get around a Telephone Company van that was pulled up on the side of the road. There was one of those stripy barriers up on the footpath, and a man sat working on some wires in the ground. He ignored her as he carried on testing the small wires in the large bundle that served the residences nearby. He didn’t know, and would not really have cared if he did, that the phone company van had jolted her back to the present.

‘Wow,’ she thought, ‘Edward is something else. That went even better than I could have hoped.’ She pressed the remote and after the garage door had opened, she eased her car into the garage, pressing the remote once more to secure the door behind her. Geraldine sat in her car thinking of the man with whom she had just had breakfast. What a strange thing to do for a first date. Not, she had to admit, that she really had much idea of what a first date should constitute these days. When she was younger a first date was probably the pictures to see a film, and with a bit of luck on the second date they would have progressed to the back row. But here we were in the twenty-first century and a first date seemed to naturally constitute a breakfast. ‘Good grief girl, get a grip,’ her mind instructed,’ it’s hardly a date, you had a bacon sandwich and a coffee in the Abbey coffee house. She went across to the alarm panel, dialled in the number to deactivate the house alarm, unlocked the internal door and went in.