Take My Advice

Coffee Break Tale

You need to find yourself a decent man,” Sandra began. “That library chap with the shy smile seems nice.” I stifled a sigh. Ever since I’d moved into this new house, I’d been forced to put up with Sandra. Sandra’s my much older flatmate. But Sandra Maxwell isn’t just any old flatmate.

In the 1980s, she’d begun working for a popular woman’s magazine’s problem page. She’d then become a famous agony aunt name after appearing on a radio discussion programme.

Sandra had a warm and welcoming personality, so it wasn’t really surprising when she made the easy switch from radio to TV, where she hosted a morning show’s phone-in slot.

She’d written a host of ‘How to’ advice books, and... goodness, Sandra’s told me so much about her career, I could write her biography!

“Mark’s got red hair and freckles. He’s not my type,” I said.

Sandra folded her matronly arms. “I know you like bad boys, Louise, but you need to give Mark a chance. Greg’s no good for you.”

I turned to her. Sandra was quite an intimidating figure, with a hank of dyed pink hair, a heavy kaftan and big, serious looking spectacles.

“This is the second time you’ve told me what I need. I’m sorry Sandra, but you’re not my mum. I’m getting a bit fed-up of it.”

I had a date with my fella tonight, and I wanted to get ready. Greg was drop-dead gorgeous – a muscly biker with deep brown eyes and a cheeky grin. We’d met while I was out and about, interviewing folk for stories. I’m a local reporter.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll leave you to mull things over,” Sandra sniffed, and disappeared off in the huff.

No doubt she was thinking up ideas for her new book.

Later, I wondered if Sandra had a point about me liking bad boys. Greg had texted me – he’d cancelled our date yet again.

‘Three strikes and you’re out’ was the current dating advice given in the magazine column Sandra used to write. Greg had more than three strikes. This was the fifth.

Sandra would say it was high time I deleted his number. I didn’t feel ready to do that, but I did switch my mobile off.

I scrubbed my face, snuggled on the sofa and picked up my recent library book. When I’d confessed that I loved reading detective stories, Mark had suggested that I give this new author a try.

I was soon hooked – until Sandra appeared at my shoulder.

“At least the gripping storyline keeps my mind off Greg,” I said.

She came back with, “And it’ll give you an excuse to talk to Mark again.”

I rolled my eyes. “OK, Sandra.”

Meet Sat night?” Greg texted. My heart leapt – yet then I hesitated. Sandra’s words haunted me. “Everything OK?” Mark asked. It was a week later. I’d taken my book back, and I was just about to tell Mark how much I’d enjoyed it when Greg’s text had come in.

I spun around and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Sandra lurking outside. What on earth was she doing here?

“Got to dash,” I said. Mark looked disappointed. Had he been hoping for a chat, I wondered, as I joined Sandra.

“Of course he was hoping for a chat!” Sandra hissed. “How do you know?” I asked. “I know about these things. Look Louise, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Greg is seeing two other women besides you.”

My spirits sank. I didn’t ask how Sandra knew these things – after all, there was no point in challenging a ghost.

I slumped on a nearby bench. I’d developed the clairvoyant gift when I was a teenager. Most of the time, it was blessing, but sometimes, it felt like a curse.

“Being a ghost doesn’t stop me from doing my job,” Sandra went on. “Now, here’s the deal. If you go back in and tell Mark how much you enjoyed that novel, I won’t disturb you again.”

I didn’t need telling twice. Then I heard, “Oh, and you can start writing my biography, too!”