OK, you know her better than anybody, right? You know her likes and dislikes.”
“Well, sort of.” Nicks thought about her mum. Her mum was just…her mum. “She really hasn’t had many boyfriends, you know,” she admitted.
Coral gave her chin a scratch. “She married your dad, that’s a start.”
“My parents got divorced.”
“So you see–that’s a start! We’ll look for someone who is not like your dad.”
Nicks frowned. She thought her dad was kind, clever, funny and handsome. “Maybe we should try and find someone who Mum has something in common with–you know, like a shared hobby.”
“Good idea! So what are your mum’s hobbies, apart from the post office?”
“The post office is where she works, Coral–it’s not a hobby.” Nicks fell silent and chewed her bottom lip for a few thoughtful moments. “She does like genealogy.”
“That’s probably why she works at the post office,” replied Coral matter-of-factly. “What better place to collect stamps.”
“Duh! Genealogy is when you trace your family tree and make heritage scrapbooks and collect heirlooms and stuff,” explained Nicks.
“Oh right,” Coral was surprised. That all sounded much too like hard work. She was already thinking about other ideas. “Wouldn’t it be brilliant if we could contact your mum’s school sweetheart! You never know, maybe he’s single too?” Her eyes were misty with the possibility of it all. The only thing better than love was long-lost love.
“My dad was her school sweetheart,” harrumphed Nicks.
“Right–well there’s only one thing left to do then,” declared Coral hurriedly. “We have to find out what other things she’s into. That might give us a clue as to what kind of man we should find her. We have to go to your house and do some of our own investigating.
We may only get one crack at this, so Mr Perfect had better be Mr Perfect! We’ll flip through photo albums. We’ll dig in old shoeboxes and look under the bed. We’ll poke about in desk drawers and page through your mum’s recipe books. We’ll check her diary and even listen in on her phone calls. This is how we’ll find out about her hobbies and interests!” Coral was excited by the mystery of it all, but Nicks was still stuck at recipe books.
“What do recipes have to do with finding Mr Perfect?”
“That’s how we find out what her favourite foods are,” replied Coral with an isn’t-it-obvious face. “We need to know exactly what she likes and what she dislikes. What are her favourite things in the world? What are her hopes and dreams? But she must not find out what we’re up to.”
Nicks stared at her friend. When did getting her mum to fall in love turn into a top-secret spying operation? But then they were desperate. She shrugged.
Coral stood up, glanced about, and checked her wristwatch. “I’ve got a dentist appointment. My mum will kill me if I’m late. We’ll make contact at your house at say–oh-eleven-thirty-seven-a.m.”
“I have no idea what that means, Coral.”
Coral glanced about again, trying to contain her eagerness. “That means I’ll meet you at your house this morning at 37 minutes past 11,” she explained patiently to her friend, who obviously was not very good at this sort of thing. But Coral had always been a fan of James Bond’s films. She understood that they were now secret agents of love.
“Right, well, I’ll hang out here for a while longer,” replied Nicks.
“OK, fine.” Coral kept her voice low and hoarse. “And I’ll see you you-know-where at you-know-when. She winked and was gone.
Coral arrived at Nicks’s house at 20 minutes past 12 o’clock, but that was only because her mum had insisted on popping into the chemist after the dentist. But that was OK; it had worked out for the best in the end. Coral had spent that time in the fancy-dress shop three doors down from the chemist.
“Hey, Nicks!” she hissed as she hopped excitedly from one foot to the other. “Is your mum around?”
“She’s upstairs, but she’s leaving soon.”
Coral grinned. “Perfect! Look what I have for us.” She rattled a paper carrier bag printed with the words FANCY PANTS.
“Erm, a pair of fancy pants?” replied Nicks nervously. Her best friend was known to have some wild ideas.
Coral frowned. Her best friend could be odd at times. “Nope. I got us a pair of wigs.” She opened the bag and removed one blonde and one curly reddish-brown wig. “They’re for us, so that we can conduct our research without being noticed.”
“Without being noticed by who?” wondered Nicks out loud.
“By your mum, of course! She must not know what we’re up to, remember? And Sunday Harbour is a small town. So these will be perfect.” She passed Nicks the wig that was long and blonde.
“They would be perfect, I guess,” replied Nicks, “except have you noticed one thing?” She put the wig on her head.
Coral stared and blinked at her friend, who did not look very different at all. Nicks’s own hair was long and blonde too. So she whipped the wig from her friend’s head and handed her the wig that was reddish-brown and curly and a surprisingly good match to her own hair instead.
Nicks pressed this wig firmly on to her head and stared silently at Coral for a few moments. “There, now you’ll look like me and I’ll look like you. That should trick my mum.”
Coral made a ‘humph’ sort of sound through her nostrils. Nicks wasn’t being as grateful as Coral had imagined she’d be. Perhaps she should have got her the blue beehive–that would have shown her! But there wasn’t any time to think any more about that now as suddenly Nicks’s mum appeared at the door to the kitchen.
“Hello, Coral, dear,” she chimed sweetly as she reached for her car keys hanging on a hook.
Coral shoved the blonde wig under her top. “Hi, Mrs Waterman,” she replied.
“I do wish you’d call me Maggie,” replied Nicks’s mum. “What’s that under your top, Coral?”
“Oh, this?” Coral patted her round soft belly. “Too many treats,” she chuckled.
Maggie Waterman raised an eyebrow and made a face like she suspected something was up. But she didn’t ask any further questions and simply kissed the tops of the girls’ heads instead. “All right then, you two, be good, and I’ll see you later.” And then she was gone.
“I bet she’s off to meet someone about that new job she’s after,” growled Coral like it was an unforgivable offence.
“Actually she’s off to the post office,” replied Nicks, who was still holding the wig she’d hidden behind her back. “Now, where do we start?”
Coral stared around the kitchen. “We might as well start in here,” she suggested.
Nicks deposited the reddish-brown wig on the countertop. They had to learn everything possible about her mum if they were going to find the perfect Mr Perfect. And the decorative bowl on top of the microwave seemed like a good place to start. It wasn’t long before she held her hand in the air victoriously.
“Ticket stubs for the Sea Life Aquarium!” she announced, smiling. It had been a great day out–her mum did love the ocean and dolphins.
Coral grinned. “Brilliant–maybe Mr Perfect also loves fish and stuff!” She returned to her