The Dating Game (13 page)

Again Gill had that sensation that there was an undercurrent
between them.  Bora, Bora! He could bloomin’ well take her to Bora Bora any
day!

‘So, when you planning on going?’ Gill pushed her luck.

‘In a couple of months perhaps.  I’ll need to see how things
work out,’ he said.

Gill wondered if that meant whether he had a woman to take
with him or not.  There were definitely worse things in life than being on a
beach in French Polynesia with Charlie Prentice.

They had another couple of drinks.  Charlie had switched to
orange juice after his first few lager shandies. Gill gave him another tick for
this – sensible, not going over the limit, especially when he’d be spending
time with his daughter later.

When pressed, Charlie told Gill all about his passion for
cooking and how he often prepared dishes from the places around the world that
he had visited.  She almost expected him to suggest he cook for her one night,
but no invitation was forthcoming.  Fair enough.  They had just met.  She told
him how big a foodie she was, and of the restaurants she had frequented in
Glasgow, Edinburgh and the west of Scotland in general.  He keyed some of her
recommendations into his phone.

There was a brief pause in the conversation and then Charlie
said, ‘Oh God, I’m going to be late.  Gill, I’m really sorry.  I’ve had a
really nice time, but I’ve got to go.  Chloe will be waiting.’

He pulled on a leather jacket, which had been hanging over
his chair.  It was the first time Gill had noticed it; brown, distressed
leather.  She couldn’t help thinking of Tom Cruise in
Top Gun
, although
Charlie was blond and a good six inches taller.

Gill stood up and donned her trench coat, belting it loosely
at the waist.  He walked slightly ahead of her and held the door open to let
her pass through.

The rain bounced off the street.  They hesitated briefly
inside the entranceway.

‘My car’s just around the corner.  How did you get here?’ he
asked.

‘I took a taxi.  Ah, there’s one now,’ she said and flagged
it down.

‘It was really nice to meet you, Gill.  I had a really good
time,’ and Charlie kissed her briefly on both cheeks.

‘You too.’

He smiled at her and then walked towards his car.

What?  What!
  Gill thought.  He hadn’t mentioned
seeing her again and when he had kissed her cheek, he had smelled divine, but
he hadn’t tried to kiss her. 
What am I, his maiden aunt?
  Deflated, she
turned at the sound of the taxi horn beeping, reminding her of its presence.

Gill sat in the taxi, puzzling over what had just happened. 
Why didn’t he ask to see me again or for my number?  We were having a really
good time.

Suddenly, she remembered the e-mail from Sean.  Another
waste of space.  Yes, let’s see what he had to say for himself. 
This should
be good
, she thought venomously.

‘Hi Gill. I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry.  It
was my first arranged date and I was very nervous.  You were so lovely and I
was really enjoying your company and I blew it. I’m not some alcoholic for the
record, just someone who over-indulged and really regrets it. Would you ever
give me another chance?  It’ll be a dry date (for me) I promise.  Sorry again,
Sean.

Men!  I’ll never understand them – they’re all idiots
,
she thought, as she flung her phone back in her bag.

Sunday 11th September

Gill lay around for the rest of the day, moping and debating
whether to ring Debbie or one of the others and relate the latest sorry episode
with Charming Charlie as she had now nicknamed him, or of Shit-faced Sean’s
text.  In the end, she grabbed some popcorn and watched
Notting Hill
. 
Her favourite scene was Julia Roberts in the book shop, saying to Hugh Grant,
‘I’m
just a girl, standing in front of a guy, asking him to love her.’  How bloody
appropriate that was
, she thought angrily. 
But men are too stupid to
notice, or maybe they just don’t care
, she fumed.

When she’d devoured a third of a bag of popcorn, she felt
sick, so stopped.  She tapped out a message on her phone to Debbie, ‘Shit-faced
Sean has e-mailed me – here’s the e-mail.  What do you think?’

She lay back on the sofa cushions.  This dating lark was
exhausting, especially when it seemed to be going so well and then veered off
in another direction altogether without explanation.  Maybe she was better off
single.  Maybe she could just get a puppy if she wanted affection.  But puppies
needed care and attention.  Pity she was allergic to cats.  They freaked her
out, too.  There was something unnerving about their intelligence – she always
felt they knew more than they let on.

Five minutes later, just when Gill had thrown the TV remote
across the room in disgust, the phone rang.  She hesitated, wondering if it was
either of her failed dates, then realised they didn’t have her number.  It was
Lisa.

‘So, how did it go with the surveyor?  Was he tasty?’

Slouching down into the sofa, curling her feet underneath
her, Gill poured out the whole exasperating tale.

‘Men are funny beasts,’ said Lisa after a long pause. 
‘He’ll probably be in touch.  He was probably just distracted with his
daughter.’

‘Hmm,’ said Gill, unconvinced.  ‘He said, ‘
It was nice to
meet you – goodbye
.’  Sounds pretty bloody definitive to me.’

‘Well, don’t get worked up about it.  If you aren’t for him,
you aren’t for him and he’s not for you.  You’re meeting another one on
Tuesday, aren’t you?’

‘Don’t remind me.  At the moment I feel like swearing off
men for life.’

‘There’s no point thinking like that.  Who’s up next?’

‘Gary.’

‘Which one’s Gary again?’

‘The engineer from Renfrewshire.’

‘What was his photo like?  You know I’m not that bothered
about his job, unless he has two sports cars and a stately home off Loch
Lomond.’

Lisa wasn’t as shallow as she liked to make out, but Gill
indulged her.

‘He’s the one that looked a bit like Liam Neeson.’

‘Oh yeah, remember him now.  Big nose.’

‘It wasn’t that big.’

‘It was bloody huge,’ Lisa was in her stride now.

‘Lise, you’re meant to be cheering me up,’ Gill reminded
her.

‘I am? Oh, sure, I am.  But you know what they say about big
noses?’

‘Well, here’s hoping,’ said Gill before Lisa could deliver
the punchline.

‘Aw, you’re spoiling my fun,’ wailed Lisa.

‘Fat chance of that happening.  So, who is the latest
victim, anyway?’

‘Charming, I’m sure,’ Lisa feigned offence.  ‘Daryl.  Met
him last night.  Fit.  PT instructor in the army.  Good stamina.’

‘Lisa, enough with the detail,’ Gill barked rather more
abruptly than intended.

‘Oh yeah, so, back to the matter in hand.  This Gary guy,
he’s not the tallest out of the bunch, is he?’

‘No, the others were six feet three and six feet one.  He’s
five eleven.’

‘Still.  He’s not short.  Even in reasonable heels, you
shouldn’t tower over him.  So, where are you meeting him?’

‘He said he’d let me know.  Tomorrow then, probably.’

‘Good stuff.  Right, love, I’m shattered, you can have too
much of a good thing, you know.’

‘Lisa, how many times do I need to tell you?  You’re meant
to be cheering me up, not telling me how great the sex you had last night was,
particularly when you know I haven’t had sex this year.’

‘Or last year,’ mumbled Lisa.

‘Yes, thanks for that.’

‘Oh, I forgot to say, Debbie mentioned that your wee Irish
guy got plastered.’

‘Yes, and he’s had the cheek to e-mail me begging
forgiveness.  I’ve just forwarded Debbie his e-mail to see what she thinks.’

‘Oh read it to me,’ begged Lisa.

‘I can’t.  It’s on my phone, and I’m talking to you on it.’

‘Oh well, tell me the gist of it.’

After relaying to Lisa more or less what Sean had said, Lisa
reached the conclusion that he should be given another chance.

‘C’mon, anyone could have had a bit too much.  It’s happened
to all of us.’

‘Yes, well, not on a first date.  That’s meant to be when
you make an impression.  He certainly made an impression.  Pity it was the
wrong one.’

‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’

‘I’m fed up giving everyone second, third and fourth
chances.  I need to start putting myself first.  Nobody else does.’

‘Except us.’

‘Well, naturally except you three.’

‘And Christopher and Sarah.’

‘Yes, yes and my parents – anyone who’s related to me.  They
don’t count.’

‘Oh that’s lovely!’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Yes, I do.  Right, listen to me, chill, take it easy
tomorrow and be refreshed for Tuesday and consider giving Sean another chance. 
Sexy Irishman, accent, cute.  Bit of a drinker.  He’s Irish, what do you
expect?’

‘Not like this, though, Lisa.  It was downright
embarrassing.’

‘Well, he’s obviously regretting it now and he must have liked
you, otherwise he could have just not contacted you.  He could simply have got
the agency to set him up with someone else.  That would have been a lot less
embarrassing for him.’

Gill pondered this for a second.  ‘I suppose.  I’ll think
about it, but I’m not promising anything.  The last thing I need in my life is
a perpetually drunken Irishman.’

‘And here was me thinking they were the best kind,’ said
Lisa, and Gill knew she was laughing.

‘Right, quit it, you.  I have things to do, so have to go.’

‘What things?’

‘Work things,’ said Gill in exasperation.

‘Boring.  Right, talk to you when you have better chat. 
Bye.’

‘Charming!  Beat it, talk to you on Wednesday,’ and Gill
replaced the receiver.

Monday disappeared as quickly as it had begun.  Gill didn’t
stop all day.  Debbie had replied mid-morning to say her phone had been dead
and she hadn’t seen Gill’s message until now. 
If you really liked him, give
him another chance.  If you weren’t sure before he got plastered, don’t
. 
Sage advice.

Gary e-mailed her at lunchtime, asking if he could meet her
in the Veni, Vidi, Vici bar in Hope Street at seven o’clock.  She knew it.  It
had just been recently refurbished and boasted an adjoining award-winning
restaurant, which specialised in seafood.  She hoped it didn’t come out of the
River Clyde.  She didn’t think a side order of shopping trolley would be
particularly appetising.  She replied to his e-mail, advising him that seven
was fine.

On Tuesday morning, as she prepared her clothes for that
evening, laying them out in her suit carrier, she decided she
would
give
Sean a second chance.  Not caring that it was six thirty, and half hoping her
e-mail alert would wake him, it was the least he deserved after all, she e-mailed
him. 
‘Sean, I had a good time up until the point when you fell down drunk. 
I believe in second chances, but not third.  I’m free Thursday, Gill.’

She didn’t care if she sounded judgmental.  She had every
right to be.  He’d shown her up in public.

‘So, how’s it all going then?’ Janice asked her.  Prior to
her second date with Anton, Gill had confided in Janice. 

‘You wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Try me.’

So Gill filled her in with all the details.

‘Exciting times.  My advice, enjoy it.  Soon enough you’ll
find one guy to settle down with and then there’ll be no variety.’

‘Thanks, Janice.’

‘Seriously, take it from one who knows.’

Dating was starting to cause Gill some wardrobe concerns,
although she was getting used to changing at work.  She didn’t really have
enough dressy clothes that were suitable for first dates.  Her wardrobe mainly
consisted of work suits and co-ordinates.  She’d found a sheer black top at the
back of a drawer, which she wore over a black camisole.  She pulled on a pair
of turquoise Capri pants and she was ready.

The taxi drew up right on time outside her office. Seven
minutes later, she stepped out onto the kerb in front of
Veni, Vidi, Vici
. 
She was beginning to get
déjà vu
.  Get glammed up, take taxi, approach
bar, find expectant male.  Taking a deep breath and hoping that this date would
run smoothly, she opened the door to the bar and went in.  Inside it was quite
dark, in contrast with the daylight in the street. Her eyes adjusted quickly
and glancing around, she didn’t see anyone who could be Gary.  A few lone males
propped up the bar, but they easily looked twenty and seventy respectively, so
surely she could rule them out?  Either that or he bore no resemblance to his
profile picture.  Taking one last look around, ensuring he definitely wasn’t
there, she approached the bar.

‘Hi.  Do you have any Sancerre?’

‘Yep, small or large glass?’

‘What’s small, 125ml or 175ml?’

‘It’s Glasgow, 175ml,’ joked the barman.

‘OK, 175ml is fine.’

‘Take a seat and I’ll bring it over.’

Gill chose a seat which served as the perfect lookout for
the entrance.  She checked her watch.  Five past seven.  Hmm…late.  She didn’t
like late.  Maybe he had a good reason, but it hadn’t created a good first
impression.  She checked her phone to see if he had e-mailed her. Nope.  But
there was a message from Anton.  She clicked on the e-mail and started
devouring it,

‘Hi Gill, I hope you are well.  I am
sorry I haven’t been in touch since last week, but as I said, I knew I’d be
really busy preparing for this trip.  Are you free on Saturday?  I’d love to
take you to dinner.  If so, I will also book a room for myself in Glasgow, so I
don’t have to rush home this time.  Anton.’

Gill felt positively light-headed.  She didn’t know how to
interpret his message, whether to take it at face value, or whether to read more
into it.  Was he hoping to sleep with her?  They’d barely kissed, but wow what
a kiss.  She knew what she wanted; to look fit and toned by the time she saw
him again, but she couldn’t exactly fit in ten sessions with a personal trainer
between now and then.  She didn’t even have time for one.  Distracted by
Anton’s message, willing it to reveal more of his thoughts and intentions, she
didn’t initially notice the man standing in front of her.

‘Gill?’ asked a tentative voice.

Raising her head, Gill saw a slightly less good-looking Liam
Neeson.  He looked almost the same age as Neeson, but Gill knew that he was
about sixty, so either Neeson was good for his age, or Gary had had a difficult
paper round.

‘Gary,’ she stood up to greet him, as she said his name.

He shook her hand, ‘It’s nice to meet you.  I’m so sorry I’m
late.  The train was cancelled and by then it was too late to take the car.’

‘No problem. You’re here now.’

‘Can I get you something to drink,’ he said, eyeing her
still full glass.

‘No, I just got one, thanks.’

‘OK, give me a second and I’ll be right back.’

As he stood at the bar, Gill observed him closely.  There
had been no spark. Maybe it was because he was late.  She hated tardiness and
OK, he had a reason, but he should have allowed for that.  She knew how
unreasonable she sounded. 
Give the poor man a chance. After all, he looks
like Liam Neeson.

Once Gary settled down with a drink and apologised again,
they relaxed a little.

‘So you’re on the rigs?’

‘Yes, two weeks on, two weeks off.  I love it, but it plays
havoc with my social life.’

‘I can imagine.  I actually interview engineers for the oil
and gas industry.’

‘Really?  Oh, of course, you work in Recruitment,’ it dawned
on Gary.

‘Yes, I started my own agency three years ago.’

‘That must be really rewarding.’

‘Yes, it is, but bloomin’ hard work!’

‘Difficult to switch off?’

‘Yes, it’s why I’m trying to hire another recruitment
consultant.  Interviews are Thursday and Friday, so fingers crossed.’

‘Hope it works out for you.’

‘Me too.’

‘So you like Zumba?’

Gill turned red.

‘Ah, you’ve not been to Zumba, have you?’

When he smiled, laughter lines appeared around his eyes and
he did look quite attractive. More open, friendly.

Gill reddened some more.  ‘Well, I was signed up for the
classes…’

‘But work got in the way?’

‘Yes.  It always does.’  She could have kicked herself, no
sooner the words were out of her mouth.

Ignoring her comment, Gary said, ‘So, if you don’t go to
Zumba, what do you do to relax?’

She could hardly say ‘watch Rupert Penry Jones in
Persuasion
,’
could she?  He’d think she was a right perv and he’d be right.

‘I go out with friends mainly, for dinner and drinks.’

‘It’s not a bad hobby,’ he said smiling at her. ‘So where’s
your favourite restaurant?’

She rattled off a few, saying it was difficult to choose
just one; it had to be one per cuisine. Gary laughed.  He completely agreed;
said he was no good at choosing just one of anything.  He needed to split
everything into categories.  Only thing he knew for sure was that his favourite
colour was blue.  Everything else was split by category.  She liked him, but
there was something missing.  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but, so
far, there was just no chemistry, no desire to jump over the table and straddle
him, and who wanted to settle for less than that?  Perhaps his category
divisions applied to women, too.  Maybe he needed a blonde, a brunette and a
redhead, or a doormat, an independent woman and someone who met him half way. 
Gill turned her attention back to him, as he told her how much he loved living
in Scotland, even though he spent half of it working on the rigs. Originally he
had worked in the central belt for a city firm, but the money on the rigs had
been too good to turn down, when he’d been made redundant from his last firm.