The Real Deal

Sometimes it takes a close call to make you realise what you have is real

- S BEE

‘A FAREWELL gift, Tammy.” Gav in handed me a small parcel.

Today was our very last date, but I brushed back the tears and carefully unwrapped it.

The blue velvet box contained a pair of glittering star-shaped earrings. Were they diamonds?

“Wow. They’re so elegant! Thank you.”

“They’re the real deal. So take good care of them.” He kissed me on the cheek and quietly left the luxury hotel room.

I then deleted his number from my phone. I’d used a female name as cover – Gina.

I hadn’t been looking for an affair. I’d met Gavin through my work. I was a mystery shopper where I had to pose as a customer and write reviews of hotels and bars. I could be sent anywhere at any time. I’d be at home, watching a soap with a cuppa, and my phone would ring. Then I’d pack up and drive to a venue miles away . . .

The no-strings affair had been fun, but after three months, Gavin wanted out. That was fine by me.

Although I’d become fond of the good-looking, wealthy company director, I felt relieved. I’d had enough of sneaking about and lying to my husband, Matt.

I guessed the reason I’d felt attracted to another guy was because Matt was a warehouse worker and was so penny-pinching!

There was no sun-soaked fortnight holiday abroad for us – we made do with staying in a tatty, damp B&B for a week. He insisted on buying the economy range of groceries and we never dined out (unless you counted a home-made sandwich, scoffed on a park bench).

So I found myself in a dilemma. How the heck could I explain away this expensive, new jewellery?