Great Aunt Mary was dying, but that still didn't prevent her from summoning Sara to her bedside. She was a force of nature, and not one that Sara thought she could deny. Certainly not now.
For someone who was -- apparently -- at death's door, she looked surprisingly healthy, or at least as healthy as anyone who has turned 100 can expect to look. And when she took Sara's hand in hers, her grip forced a smile out of both of them.
"Your parents are going to be the death of me. The pair of them are completely useless. Sad, depressing... boring. And I'm worried that's what you're going to become."
"But, Great Aunt..."
"No. I won't hear it. So this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to have a bet with you. And even though I won't be around to see if you actually do it, God help me I will haunt you every day of your life if you cheat me!"
xXx
Five days later she received the call she had been dreading. Great Aunt Mary had passed away that morning. But nothing quite prepared her for the envelope that she received the day after.
The envelope was a pale blue, and smelled faintly of Jasmine. The address was written in a crabbed hand, just well enough to allow the postman to deliver it.
And inside was the strangest letter she had ever received.
"Dearest Sara" it began, "I promised you a bet, so I suppose I had better deliver. By the time you were born I was in my fifties, and you probably only ever remember me as an elderly annoying relative. But in my day I was quite the thing. If you don't believe me, look at the photo -- but please do wait until I have finished this first. I'm worried that you are going to wake up one day and realise that you are the fifty year old that I was when I first saw you, but without having the pleasures that I've enjoyed. But it isn't too late for you. You're 48 now, so here is what you are going to do.
I bet you my whole estate that you can transform yourself into the amazing, vibrant, loved woman I know you can be before you are fifty.
Go and find yourself a man, or a whole bunch of them, or a girl for all I care. But bring the photos to prove it to my grave on your 50th birthday. Do that and you can have everything. If you can't then, well then give it all away. Cats or something.
But I'm betting on you. Go out. Be wild.
Mary x"
And there, slipped between the pages of the letter was a photo. The black and white portrait had clearly been posed in a studio somewhere. The young lady in it must have been about 20, and had been in the WRENs judging by the hat she was wearing. There wasn't a lot more to go on as she was only wearing the hat.
xXx
So how do you start out on an adventure like this?
Sara's initial thoughts were about people at her work. But they were all, without a shadow of a doubt, either happily married or exceptionally boring. And Sara was worried they would say the same about her. She certainly didn't think she could imagine kissing any of them, never mind anything else.
Reluctantly she opened her laptop. Maybe there was someone out there who was a bit more exciting? And someone who didn't already know her. And who didn't live down the street.
Four days and three sites later Sara was about to throw her laptop across the room. Dick pics or flakes. Or both. She was reaching the end of her patience, and no she did not want to send nudes to HungBoy57.
This needed a new approach. Perhaps a better search might suggest something?
Her search engine was suggesting a beta-test of a new AI engine. It couldn't be worse than HungBoy57. Who clearly wasn't.
What would happen,
she thought,
if I just wrote out Great Aunt Mary's letter? Would it come up with something? Come to think of it, it could interpret pictures.
She would type in the letter, and scan in the photo, and see what happened.
Sara was a little nervous when she had finished. But what was the worst that could happen? Her hand shook slightly as she moved the cursor to the search button, but she clicked anyway.
Two seconds later the result was back, but it wasn't at all what she had expected. Just an address and a date:
37 A Lucknow Street,
Leeds
27th December, 4pm.
"Well." Said Sara "It looks like I have a date".
xXx
The problem with blind dates, other than not having any idea who might be on the other end, is security. Sara wasn't about to head to a stranger's home without checking things out, but it turned out (after a serious session on Google Streetview and a physical visit) that 37 A Lucknow Street was a photography studio run by a young, and fairly talented woman photographer.
Sara was still nervous, but at least felt that this was public enough to be safe for a first meeting.
She wasn't quite sure what to wear, but jeans and a blouse seemed safe enough, so at 350pm she walked into the shop...
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
"Ah, hiya, I'm Vivienne. You must be Sara, I've got you and Simon booked in for 4pm, so if you can just give me a minute"
"Simon?"
"Yes, is he not with you? Look why don't you look through some of my photos. And if you want there's even a book of old photos I inherited with the shop over there, although I should warn you some of them are a bit risqué!"
Sara had seen some of Vivienne's work online, pastoral scenes, a few family shots, but the vintage photos sounded fun.
As she flicked through the book she quickly came to the section that Vivienne had warned her about. A series of nudes from the second world war. All pretty demure by modern standards, and probably designed to be sent out to sweethearts in the forces. And there she was, her Great Aunt, almost winking out of the pages at her.
Suddenly she felt embarrassed and slammed the book shut, just as the door to the shop swept open and a tall man stepped in.
"Hi there," said Vivienne, "You must be Simon"
"That's me, but I'm not sure quite what..."
"Oh don't worry, I've done lots of shoots like this! We'll take our time getting you two comfortable in the back. Just go with the flow and I will make you look amazing!"
Sara looked at Simon. This must be her blind date, although he seemed as confused as she was. Still, not bad.
"Simon?" she said holding out her hand.
"Yes, and you are?"
