Preface to Murder by M Morris (best books to read for success .txt) 📗

‘Trust me, mate,’ said Ryan. ‘Just don’t go there.’

‘Should I say that I work for the police?’

‘I’d leave it out. You can always own up to it later if the relationship starts to get serious.’

‘Own up to it?’ said Jake. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s a big part of my life. Isn’t it important to be completely honest from the start?’

‘Blimey, if everybody’s description was a hundred per cent accurate, we’d all still be single. Listen, think of this more like a marketing pitch than the bare truth. The trick is not to give too much away. It’s better to be enigmatic.’

Jake had his doubts, but he followed Ryan’s advice and within minutes his online profile was surfing the internet, in search of true love.

*

Marion Badeaux was in many ways different to Ffion. Where Ffion’s hair was short, blonde, and clipped strictly into shape, Marion wore hers long in a heavy untamed mass of chestnut curls. Ffion’s skin was pale in hue, whereas Marion’s face and arms carried with them the sun-drenched heat of Southern France. Ffion’s slender build also contrasted markedly with Marion’s generous curves, and while Ffion liked to run long-distance and practise Taekwondo, Marion had a Gallic contempt for all forms of exercise. But while there were obvious differences, the two women shared many similarities too. They were both outsiders, for one thing.

Ffion had earned her outcast status while growing up bisexual in a small Welsh mining community, while Marion had been born into a conservative Catholic family in Toulouse, resulting in bitter rejection by her parents when she had come out as gay. They had both found Oxford to be a much more welcoming city than the places they had been born.

Unlike Ffion, who had dated both women and men – most recently, Jake – Marion had only ever been interested in girls. She’d known from a very young age that she never wanted to be with a man. And while Ffion had enjoyed only a very small number of tentative, short-lived relationships, Marion had been out with many girls, enjoying wild, ardent romances both in France and in England.

All this Ffion had learned on her very first date with Marion.

Marion, it had to be said, was very free with her opinions and her confidences. It was one of the things that Ffion loved most about her. When they were together there was none of the stilted conversation and awkwardness that had dogged her relationship with Jake. Words flowed effortlessly between them, and there were so many things that didn’t even need to be said. They understood each other, wordlessly, and she could simply relax and be happy.

Dating a guy, by contrast, was a minefield of complications and difficulties. Ffion recalled her first tortuous exchanges with Jake, dancing around each other, uncertain who might make the first move, if either of them. It had taken her ages simply to admit to him that she was bisexual. Marion hadn’t been at all surprised when she had told her about their messy break-up. ‘This Jake sounds to me like every other man. They are all the same. Devils. Snakes. Men cannot be trusted. All women know this, so why do they deceive themselves?’

Ffion smiled to herself. Marion’s views on men were unduly harsh perhaps, but it was hard to disagree with her when she spoke so passionately, and with such a colourful French accent. Her voice was sultry and seductive, and Ffion could happily listen to it all day. She thought of Jake’s downbeat northern vowels, and of the deep rumbling gravel of his voice. Sometimes his thick Yorkshire accent had been like a foreign language.

‘So, what are we eating?’ asked Marion. Ffion had brought her to one of her favourite restaurants in Oxford, the Al-Shami in Walton Crescent, famous for its Lebanese cuisine.

‘The vegetarian specials are good,’ said Ffion. She was particularly fond of the artichokes and vegetables served in a delicious sauce.

Marion tossed back her long hair. ‘For me, I am too hungry. I need meat. A mixed grill, I think. Kafta, kebab, chicken and lamb.’

Some things hadn’t changed so much. Jake liked his meat too. But he was less adventurous than Marion. Curries were his favourite, and fish and chips, and of course his mother’s Yorkshire puddings, which he had once described to Ffion in great detail. Vegetables had been more of a challenge for him, unless they were clearly identifiable as peas or carrots. Her thoughts lingered on Jake a little longer, and she recalled his great height, his ginger hair and full beard, his broad shoulders and strong hands. They had shared some good times together, as well as some awkward moments. Ffion was glad that they had patched up their differences after the break-up and were back on friendly terms. Jake was a nice guy and she hoped that he would soon find someone as nice as Marion.

They placed their orders with the waiter, then Marion reached her hands across the table to enclose Ffion’s. ‘This was a good place to come. Thank you for bringing me here tonight.’

‘I’m glad you like it,’ said Ffion. It was good to be sharing the places that she loved with the new love of her life. Marion wasn’t into everything that Ffion liked – motorbikes, for instance, or running, or herbal tea – but there was plenty of time to win her over. For now, it was enough that they could talk so easily and that they could be themselves in each other’s company.

‘What shall we do later? Dancing? A nightclub? It’s Saturday night.’

Ffion laughed at Marion’s enthusiasm. ‘We haven’t even eaten yet.’

‘You are right,’ said Marion. ‘But I want us to make the most of every moment together. Time