My Single Friend (9 page)

‘How did it go after we left today?’ asks Dominique keenly. ‘I’m dying to see Henry’s hair.’

‘And his new glasses,’ adds Erin.

‘Are you going to have a stream of women battering down your door?’ grins Dominique.

I pause and wonder how to break this to them gently. ‘This might not be as easy as we thought.’

Dominique narrows her eyes. ‘Why? What went wrong?’

‘Nothing went wrong as such,’ I reply. ‘It’s just . . . this sort of thing doesn’t come naturally to Henry.’

‘Tell us something we don’t know.’

‘I think he needs coaxing out of his shell.’

‘What are you trying to say, Lucy?’ asks Erin.

I sigh. ‘Look, it’s obvious Henry doesn’t feel comfortable with his new look yet.’

‘Didn’t Anton do a good job?’ asks Dominique.

‘Yes, he did,’ I stress. ‘Though I suspect Henry’s interpretation of his instructions weren’t what Anton had in mind. The annoying thing is he didn’t need to touch his hair after today.’

‘What about the glasses?’ asks Erin.

‘There are no glasses. None suited him.’

‘None?’

I shake my head. ‘But it’s not all bad news – he’s having contacts.’

‘Oh.’ Dominique perks up. ‘Well, that could be good. The Clark Kent effect.’

‘Perhaps.’ I bite my lip. ‘But don’t expect too much tonight. Seriously. If you’re hoping for Daniel Craig to walk in, you’ll be disappointed.’

‘We get the message,’ says Dominique. ‘Keep our expectations low. Story of my life.’

‘Good evening, ladies. Anyone care for a top-up?’

As we spin round, Henry is at the door with a bottle of chilled Chablis. The iPod shuffles to the opening bars of ‘Love Machine’ and I do a double-take.

‘Bloody
hell
!’ exclaims Dominique. Erin holds her hand over her mouth.

Henry has sorted out his hair – it now looks better than when he walked out of the salon – and ditched his glasses. This is the first time I’ve seen the whole combination. I’ve got to admit: he looks hot.

Henry heads to Dominique and pours wine into her glass, pretending not to notice that her jaw is skimming the floorboards.

‘You look lovely tonight – both of you,’ he grins. I snigger.

‘Henry,
you
look amazing. Daniel Craig?’ Dominique turns to me. ‘He should be coming to
us
for lessons.’

‘That’s very nice of you, Dominique,’ replies Henry. I know he’ll be thrilled with the compliment, but he maintains such an air of cool composure, you’d think people told him this every other day.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to see this.’ She plonks her glass on the table and stands up. She walks round Henry slowly, scrutinizing his appearance in the sort of detail a forensic scientist might examine a corpse.

‘The hair, the clothes, the bod. And look at you without glasses, sweetie.’ She grabs him by the chin. ‘Never mind finding a girlfriend . . . be mine, baby!’

‘Dominique, you’re making me nervous,’ Henry deadpans.

‘You look fantastic, Henry,’ beams Erin. ‘You must realize.’

‘I’ll take your word for it. I tried to look in the mirror, but without glasses it’s like examining an Impressionist painting.’

‘I can’t wait to get to work on your flirting lessons.’ Dominique claps her hands in glee.

‘Okay,’ he laughs. ‘But first let me change this music.’

Henry wanders to the iPod and puts on ‘Scouting for Girls’. I have no idea whether he knows it’s ‘Scouting for Girls’ – if what he says about his eyesight is true then it may just be luck that he hasn’t put on my
Teach Yourself Italian
.

‘Now,’ begins Dominique, ‘the first lesson needs to be about disregarding your inhibitions, Henry. Unleashing your inner sexuality.’

‘My what?’

‘Your
inner sexuality
.’ She says it so casually you’d think she was reading a shopping list.

Henry looks thoughtful. ‘I must confess my inner sexuality hasn’t had an airing lately.’

‘Henry,’ she breathes, leaning forward on the sofa, ‘there is a deeply sensual being desperate to break free from within you – ready to be unleashed upon womankind.’

‘Unleashed?’ He raises his eyebrows.

She nods. ‘And tonight is about helping you unleash it.’

‘Er, right.’

‘Don’t look so worried,’ she says. ‘You’re ready for this. I can see it – I can feel it. Goddamn it, I can
smell
it.’

‘That’ll be the pizza,’ he says.

‘No, it’s not that. Do you know what I’d compare you with? You are like a raging volcano, Henry – moments before eruption.’

‘What – several billion years old and full of gas?’

‘Er – I’d better check on that pizza,’ I say, and head for the kitchen before Dom catches me giggling.

Henry was top of the class at everything when we were growing up. But he’s not at Kingsfield Primary now, and tonight, as he perches on the sofa, his expression is confused. He’s plainly not following what’s going on.

‘Flirting Rule Number One,’ says Dominique, jabbing her biro onto the flip-chart we created from a stepladder and a roll of wallpaper, ‘is to feel good about yourself. Do you feel good about yourself, Henry?’

He takes a gulp of wine. ‘Fine.’

‘Fine, Henry? Fine?’ She could be auditioning for the part of the Drill Sergeant in
An Officer and a Gentleman
.

‘We don’t want you to feel
fine
. We want you to feel
on top of the world
. Feel good about yourself and others will feel good about you. Everyone loves being around a confident, charismatic person.’

‘Okay. Yep.’

‘You’ve got every reason to be confident, Henry – because you look wonderful,’ adds Erin encouragingly. ‘Keep reminding yourself how attractive you are. If you walk into a bar looking like this, you’ll be more gorgeous than most of the men in there.’

‘And better dressed,’ I add.

‘With a hairdo Edward Cullen would die for,’ adds Dominique.

‘God,’ says Henry, taken aback. ‘I look that good?’

‘Yes!’ we all reply.

‘If I’m that irresistible, can’t I go into a bar and wait for them to come to me?’

We laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ Henry frowns.

‘You’re not
that
irresistible,’ I tell him.

‘Oh,’ he says dejectedly.

‘No one’s that irresistible,’ clarifies Erin.

‘Oh,’ he says once more, perking up.

‘The fact is, love,’ Dominique continues, ‘women need a little encouragement. In fact, a lot of encouragement. I don’t know any woman who would hit on a bloke if he’d given absolutely no indication that he liked her.’

Erin and I look at her meaningfully and she shrugs, saying, ‘Okay,
I
would hit on a guy without that. But I’m an exception. Besides, I’m not Henry’s type.’

I detect a flash of relief in his eyes.

‘The point is,’ she continues, ‘you have to
engage
with a woman. To smile at her and say: “I like you, I think you’re hot. I want to talk to you, to get to know you better.” And you have to say all this to her . . .
without saying anything at all
.’

‘I have to pass her a note?’

I stifle a giggle.

‘You say all this
with your eyes
,’ says Dominique huskily.

‘My eyes,’ he repeats.

‘Your eyes,’ she breathes.

‘It’ll be a lot easier once your contacts are ready,’ I add reassuringly.

Henry crosses his arms. ‘Heathcliff might have been able to say it with his eyes. Or Lord Byron. Or Dirk Bogarde. But me? At the moment, I can’t even rely on my eyes to stop me falling over.’

‘Forget those dudes, Henry,’ says Dominique firmly. ‘We’re talking about
you
. Besides, it’s not just with your eyes. It’s with your whole body language – your smile, the way you hold yourself.’

‘The way I—’

‘Don’t worry,’ interrupts Erin. ‘We’re going to show you.’

‘Yes, we are,’ adds Dominique. ‘Lucy, where is that stool you used to have in the kitchen? We need to create a bar atmosphere.’

I go to the hall, dig out the stool from the cupboard and brush away enough cobwebs to knit an Aran jumper. When I return, Dominique is considering options for a stand-in bar. She takes the stool from me and places it in front of Henry’s piano, next to the one that’s already there.

‘That works,’ she says. ‘Now, on you go, Lucy.’

‘What?’

‘On you go. I need you to sit at the bar with your wine.’

‘Why?’

‘So that Henry can try and seduce you.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

She doesn’t blink. ‘Come
on
. It’s only for the purposes of the exercise.’

‘Why doesn’t Erin do it instead?’

‘Oh no,’ frowns Erin. ‘I don’t know Henry as well as you do. He’ll relax more with you.’

‘But—’

‘Come on, no buts,’ says Dominique, guiding me to the stool. I am soon propping up the piano, glass in hand – and feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

‘I have always hated role-playing,’ I mutter. ‘Besides, look at me – I’d never sit at a bar like some desperate floozy primed to pounce on the first bloke that appears.’

‘You make that sound like a bad thing,’ says Dominique.

‘Very funny,’ I reply. ‘I feel weird, Dom. Henry and I are
friends
. I don’t want him staring into my eyes and giving me gooey body language.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. All you’re trying to do is help him.’

I sigh. ‘I suppose so.’

Henry enters the room looking as if he’s suffering the sort of stage fright that could expedite a beta-blocker addiction.

‘Right, Henry.’ Dominique claps her hands. ‘Off you go.’

He nods and walks tentatively to my side. ‘Um . . . do you mind if I join you?’

‘Remember what I told you,’ coaches Dominique. ‘
Smile with your eyes
. Think Travolta in
Saturday Night Fever
. Connery as 007. And remember: you’re irresistible.’

‘Oh God,’ I groan. Henry frowns. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter. ‘Um, no problem, take a seat.’

‘Now,’ Dominique puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him onto the stool. ‘Turn your body towards her, like that. Yes, that’s lovely. She can see your fantastic biceps now.’

Henry pulls a face like he’s just been served eyeball soup.

‘Now, you need to think of an opening line to engage her in conversation.’

‘Right.’

‘But make sure it’s not corny.’

‘“Do you come here often” is out then?’ he asks.

‘Try to be yourself,’ says Erin. ‘You don’t need to come up with something that feels alien. Say something that comes naturally to you.’

‘That’s good advice,’ adds Dom.

‘Ummm.’ Henry chews the side of his mouth. ‘Ummm.’

‘You need to say it soon, though – before she gets up and disappears,’ adds Dominique.

‘Right, yes. Um . . .’

‘Come on, Henry.’

‘Um . . .’

‘Anything!’

‘Right!’ He turns to me decisively. ‘Do you know much about biochemical parasitology?’

I burst out laughing.

‘Come on, I was only joking,’ Henry grins at Dominique as she looks close to fainting.

‘Nevertheless, I’m changing Flirting Rule Number One: no matter how tempted you are,
never
attempt a chat-up line about infectious diseases.’

By two-thirty in the morning, Erin is slurring her words, I’m almost asleep and Henry has performed more than a GCSE drama student. Dominique meanwhile has decided she’s bored of teaching flirting and wants to move on to the fine art of
cunnilingus
.

‘Woah! Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here?’ Henry asks. ‘It’s only three hours since we covered open-ended questions. Oral sex feels a bit ambitious.’

‘Nonsense,’ replies Dominique. ‘Henry, look like you do tonight and act as I’ve told you, and it’ll be no time before you’ve got a good woman between the sheets.’

Henry flashes me a sceptical look.

‘I mean it,’ she insists. ‘You don’t want to get her there with your scintillating conversation and inviting smile only for her to discover you don’t know what to do.’

‘Who wants another drink?’ I say, hoping they’ll go home.

‘Oh, I’m going to order a cab.’ Erin attempts to stand up, but falls back into the chair.

‘You’re welcome to stay,’ offers Henry. ‘We can make up the sofa-bed for you.’

Erin looks up with a drunken smile. ‘You’ll make someone a great boyfriend some day.’

‘I hope so, Erin,’ he whispers. ‘I really do.’