The Dating Game (6 page)

‘He’s Russian.  Sounds first generation and he’s just older
than you and no more.  That could be nice,’ Debbie winked at her friend
conspiratorially.  ‘Vladivostok.  Do you remember work wanted me to attend that
conference in Russia years ago, in the middle of nowhere?  I think the nearest
hotel chain was four hundred kilometres from it, in Vladivostok.  That’s all I
know about Vladivostok.’

Gill knew even less.

‘Oh, he’s tall, too.  I wonder if he’s ‘Dolph Lundgren in
Rocky
IV
playing the Russian boxer tall’, or if he’s a tall, slim thing?’

‘Who knows,’ Gill said noncommittally.

‘You share some interests and you could always try Zorbing!’
teased Debbie.

‘Yeah, because I wouldn’t feel sick doing that,’ Gill said
faintly.  An ex-boyfriend had once bought her a Zorbing session as a Christmas
present and she had been secretly delighted when the company had gone bust,
before she had the chance to use the voucher.

‘I wonder how good his English is, though,’ Debbie thought
out loud.

‘A lot of these boffins are used to speaking, reading and
writing English,’ Gill clarified.

‘Although it might be quite nice for him to be the strong,
silent type, if his English is limited.  Can’t imagine you’d need to be able to
talk to him much,’ Debbie winked at Gill again.

‘Will you stop that?  You’re making me nervous and it looks
like you’ve got a twitch.’

Just then their main courses arrived.  They smelled and
looked amazing.

Realising just how hungry they both still were, they tucked
in.  Between mouthfuls, Debbie managed to add, ‘He has my vote.’  She’d
uncovered the photo just after the waitress left and her eyes had gone out on
stalks.  ‘I think I like him even better than Charlie.’

And there was the difference in their tastes.  Gill did like
Anton, but she thought Charlie was more suitable.  Ronald was nobody under
sixty’s cup of tea.

‘Each to their own,’ Gill said.

They ate in silence for a few minutes then Debbie said,
slapping her right hand against her forehead.

‘I’m such an idiot.  I completely forgot to tell you, the
girls are meeting us later in Chrysalis.

‘What?’ said Gill.  ‘Have you told them?’

‘No, but
you’re
going to,’ she grinned at her friend
then shovelled another forkful of sea bass into her mouth.

After finishing their meal, the girls split the bill.

‘I can hardly move,’ groaned Debbie.

‘Sheer piggery.  I told you you shouldn’t have had the
meringue.’

‘I know, but it sounded so good and tasted even better. 
There’s an extra five pounds towards the bill to cover my dessert.’

‘Don’t be silly.  Put it away.’

‘No, I always eat more than you.’

‘I know, I’m used to it, but we’re still splitting the bill
fifty/fifty.’

‘Well, I’m buying the drinks then.’

Knowing there was no use arguing with her friend, Gill
closed her mouth.

‘That’s your taxi now,’ the waitress said.

Scraping back their chairs, they thanked her and left the
restaurant. 

‘That’s four eighty,’ said the driver, as he let them out on
Bath St.  Debbie handed him five pounds fifty. 

As it was mid-week, the pub was pretty quiet.  From Thursday
onwards, it would be really busy, since live bands played there.  They were
usually quite good, too.  Angela’s cousin had performed there recently and the
four girls had gone to cheer him on.

Debbie and Gill looked around to see if they could spot the
other two.  Debbie finally spied their friends in a corner by a large coat
stand which seemed to be in danger of toppling over and landing on them.  Gill
saw Angela eyeing it warily.  Lisa happened to glance up, noticed Debbie and
Gill, and pointed them out to Angela, as they approached the table.

‘Hiya, how’s it going?’ asked Gill.

‘Great.  We’re on our third cocktail already,’ slurred
Lisa.  She didn’t handle alcohol very well.  But Lisa’s motto was why put off
until tomorrow what you could do today and that usually meant enjoying
herself.  Who was to say she was wrong? Gill wondered, thinking of her
workload.  Plus Lisa always seemed to have some guy tagging along, when it
suited her. Girls’ nights out, however, were just that – no guys allowed.  Lisa
was never serious about guys.  She had no intention, even at thirty-five of
settling down.  She was having far too good a time for that.  She had numerous
‘boyfriends’ to call upon, as and when she wanted and if they needed something
more, she dropped them.  She’d circumvented tradition.  Men behaved like this
all the time, why not women? she said.  This way she had the run of her home. 
It wasn’t very large anyway.  As a beautician she didn’t make a great deal of
money, but she still owned a small, modern two bedroom flat in the suburbs, in
Robroyston.  She didn’t want to have her peace shattered every evening with
some guy rolling in from work, wanting dinner.  Or even if he shared household
tasks, she wouldn’t be able to do just as she pleased.  Lisa could always be
counted on to liven things up, but she also liked her own company.  She chose
when to meet people.  Tonight she was clearly in party mode, since she was on
cocktails.  Gill hugged her friend, who was as always immaculately turned out. 
Gill put it down partly to Lisa being a beauty therapist, but also just because
she was Lisa.  She liked to look good, but she wore too much makeup in Gill’s
opinion, and overdid it on the spray tan.  That was mainly due to work and
vanity.  Lisa was obsessed with her work to almost the same extent as Gill,
although Lisa could close the door on hers at five o’clock.  She read every
magazine aimed at beauty professionals that she could get her hands on.  Gill
kissed Angela on the cheek and sat down, as Debbie asked the girls if they
wanted another drink.

‘No.  We’re fine, thanks.  We’ve just got these,’ said
Angela. 

Lisa looked at her and then at Debbie as if to say, ‘speak
for yourself.’

Going into work hungover wasn’t quite as big a deal for Lisa
as for Angela.  You had to have your wits about you at all times dealing with
thirty teenagers, particularly those at the secondary school in which she
taught.

Debbie returned shortly afterwards with drinks for everyone,
except Angela.  She’d read Lisa’s tacit instruction to bring her another
cocktail. 

‘So, what’s the occasion?’ Lisa wanted to know.

Debbie looked at Gill and made a motion with her head of ‘go
on’.  Gill could have killed her. She hadn’t counted on telling the girls
tonight.  She hadn’t even fully considered what their response would be to the
dating agency, never mind the candidates’ profiles secreted in her briefcase.

Sighing, she decided to just blurt it out, glancing around
first to ensure no one was close enough to overhear, ‘I’ve joined a dating
agency.’

‘What!’ said Lisa, her jaw falling open in astonishment.

‘You’re joking!’ said Angela.

‘No, I’m serious,’ said Gill.

‘Oh, this is brilliant,’ said Lisa, as she wiped the table
with a napkin.  ‘So, are you on a website?’

‘No, it doesn’t work quite like that.  It’s a professional
dating agency.’

‘Oo-oh, a professional dating agency,’ Lisa mocked.

‘Stop taking the piss.’ Gill snapped.

‘But aren’t you afraid that it will just be full of saddos
and weirdos?’ Angela asked.

‘Far from,’ butted in Debbie.  ‘Show them the profiles,’ she
instructed Gill.

‘Profiles?  Oh, let’s see.’  She was more excited than a
child on Christmas morning.

Resigning herself to Lisa’s hilarity and fully expecting her
to ridicule them, Gill bent down and removed them once again from her
briefcase. 

Rather than go through the long, drawn-out process she’d
permitted with Debbie, she simply handed Lisa the three profiles and sent a
silent signal to Debbie not to comment.

‘Ooh, he’s nice, Lisa said, putting her index finger on
Charlie’s picture.  I like him.’

Angela agreed.  ‘I like his hair and those shoulders,’ she
said, as she read the blurb on him.  Lisa ignored the text completely, turning
instead to the second photo.  ‘Oh my God.  Who’s this ancient guy?’  Then
answering her own question, she said, ‘Ronald Fotheringham.  Christ.  Even his
name sounds old and decrepit.’

‘Is this a real date for you?’ Angela asked, astonished.

‘Yeah,’ admitted Gill.

‘Aren’t you a bit concerned the agency isn’t matching you
with like-minded people?’ she asked.

‘Well, to be fair, as you’ve all pointed out, Charlie is a
bit of all right.’

‘I suppose,’ conceded Angela.

‘Here’s the last one,’ said Debbie, handing it over.

‘Anton.  No, I don’t like the look of him,’ said Lisa. 
‘He’s all cheekbones, but there’s something about his eyes I don’t like.’

‘I disagree,’ said Angela. ‘I think he’s gorgeous, soulful
looking, tortured.’

‘Yeah, ‘cos tortured is a good thing,’ said Lisa sarcastically.

‘No, I think I know what Ang means,’ said Gill, ‘he looks
like he has a story to him.  I bet you he’s deep.’

‘Translate that as depressing,’ said Lisa.

‘The guy goes Zorbing for God’s sake,’ Ang said, ‘he’s
hardly unadventurous, even by your standards.’

‘Well, he doesn’t do anything for me,’ said Lisa, a tad
snippily.

‘He doesn’t need to do anything for
you
,’ Debbie and
Angela said in unison.  ‘It’s Gill he has to do something for,’ grinned Debbie.

‘Yes, Miss McFadden, what exactly would you like him to do?’

‘I don’t know,’ spluttered Gill.  ‘I haven’t even met him
yet.’

‘Ah, gotcha, said Debbie, ‘you said
yet
.  That means
you’ve decided to meet him.’

Thinking about it, Gill decided she had.  Charlie too.

‘I haven’t told the agency yet if they can go ahead with any
of these guys or not,’ said Gill.

‘Well, why not?’ asked Lisa, rearranging herself on her
chair to make herself more comfortable.

‘Cos I only received them today and I wanted to discuss them
with you lot first.’  It was only a tiny, white lie.  She had always intended
discussing them with Debbie.  ‘I’ll reply in the morning, saying they can go
ahead with Charlie and Anton.’

‘Oh, this is so exciting,’ said Lisa.

‘I hope they’re nice blokes,’ said Angela.  ‘You deserve
one.’

‘Well, I’m not intending to get hitched or anything,’ Gill
was keen to clarify.  ‘I’m just going to go on a few dates, see what happens,
find out if we like each other.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Lisa said. ‘We know you.  Within six months,
you’ll be a couple, doing coupley things and hardly having time for us.’

‘Oh c’mon, you know that’s not true,’ said Gill.

Debbie coughed,  ‘Well, it kind of is.  That’s what you do,
Gill.  You get all loved up and then get tunnel vision and we don’t see as much
of you.’

‘But this is different,’ said Gill, aggrieved that her
friends thought she would ditch them when some bloke came on the scene.

‘I know and we’re happy for you, should it come to anything
of course, but just don’t be all or nothing.  Find a happy medium this time,’
Angela said.

Gill knew her friends were right, but it would be easier in
any case.  She couldn’t dedicate a lot of time to a guy anyway; she had so much
to do running her company.  That hadn’t been a consideration last time around.

‘Anyway,’ Lisa shrieked, ‘more importantly, what are you
going to wear?  You can come by the salon beforehand, or I can come to yours
and make you your most be-a-yootiful.  Give you a complete makeover.’

‘Thanks, so what you’re telling me is I need an overhaul,’
Gill was a little offended.

‘No, of course not, but c’mon, this is what I’m good at. 
Emphasising your assets.  You don’t wear much makeup.  I can do your colours
for you properly and then apply makeup to suit. Nothing too heavy, I promise. 
Guide’s Honour.’

Gill strongly doubted Lisa’s Girl Guide credentials, but
thought better of saying so.

‘OK, I suppose, but it better be tasteful,’ she warned. 
‘And I best not be any shade of orange.’

‘You’ll look great,’ Lisa assured her.

The girls spent the rest of the evening discussing how
dressy Gill should be and whether they had anything appropriate to lend her to
wear. 

Before long it was last orders.  Getting into two taxis on
Bath St, the girls went their separate ways home.

Next day Gill was pretty hungover and she rose later than
usual.  Her head throbbed and she didn’t want to take any painkillers before
eating anything.  When she got to work, she would beg Janice to run across the
road to the café and get her a muffin.  She was thankful that the car was in
town.  The walk to the bus stop had done her good and she needed the fresh
air.  She didn’t even care that it was raining.

She’d e-mailed Caroline Morgan from Happy Ever After last
night around midnight from her phone, confirming she would meet Charlie and
Anton.  What was she like?  Caroline Morgan would probably be dissolving in
fits of mirth, seeing how desperate Gill was, replying to a dating agency
e-mail at midnight.  She probably realised it had been sent after a few drinks,
whether for courage or celebration.  In any case, this morning, Gill felt more
than a little mortified.

Janice arrived not long after Gill.

‘You look rough.  Good night?’ she asked Gill.

Janice didn’t mince her words.

‘Yes, but I’m feeling a touch delicate this morning,’
admitted Gill woefully.  ‘Would you be an angel and get us some supplies from
the café, please?  I could murder a blueberry muffin and a
latte
.’

Although they had a perfectly good
cafetière
in the
office, sometimes Gill just needed a professionally prepared
latte
.

‘Coming right up.  Can’t have you going around like that all
day.  You’ll scare people.  Go and put some makeup on,’ and with that Janice
dug into the piggy bank Gill kept for their café jaunts and upended eight pound
coins into her palm.  As Janice headed over to the café to fetch their
elevenses, even if they’d be long gone by nine thirty, Gill pulled out her
compact and examined her face.  ‘Ugh.’  She didn’t like what she saw.  Never
mind a caffeinated
latte
; she should probably be drinking five litres of
water to rehydrate her skin. That’s what Lisa would tell her.  Lisa might drink
like a fish, but she always had a pint glass of water beside her, which she
sipped alternately to her cocktail/wine/spirit.  Unzipping the make-up bag she
kept in the office for emergencies, of which this was one, Gill slowly applied
foundation then concealer to the enormous bags under her eyes and flicked her
mascara wand briefly over her eyelashes.  Janice was right.  She didn’t need to
feel like crap and
look
like crap.  Gill got up and walked over to the
oval mirror which stood at one end of her office.  A slightly improved version
of her stared back.

There, that was better.  She had to laugh at Janice’s
forthrightness.  Janice looked like a less well-dressed, more eccentric version
of the crazy girl, Alice Springs Horton in
The Vicar of Dibley
.  Their
tastes differed greatly, but all that mattered to Gill was having an efficient,
reliable and honest receptionist, and Janice fitted the bill perfectly.

When Janice returned with their snacks, Gill thanked her and
both of them returned to their desks.

When she’d finished her muffin, Gill felt considerably more
human.  Turning her attentions once more to business, she short-listed
candidates to call for the recently advertised technical position, and started
to sort through the CVs of those who had applied for the SRC role within her
own firm.  There were so many.  She thought maybe a woman would be best, but
then some MDs and CEOs only wanted to deal with a man.  Unfair, she knew, but
it happened.  If she hired a man, then they would be able to address those
gaps.  Part of her was relieved at taking on an additional member of staff, but
another part felt sad as, since the agency opened, it had always been only her
and Janice.  At least the eleven o’clock meeting had been worthwhile.  The chap
seemed just right for the technical role they’d been asked to fill.  Plus the
appointment hadn’t overrun; a welcome bonus.  By the end of the morning, Gill
felt back to her old self, all traces of hangover gone.  How much was down to
positive, mental attitude and how much to the two aspirin she had taken, she
would never know.

By one o’clock, Gill’s stomach was rumbling again. 
Stretching like a cat, shaking out the stiffness from her limbs, she decided
she needed some fresh air.  She’d go across to the café and get their lunch.

Janice was happy that Gill was going out, as the weather was
blustery and miserable.  They chatted briefly, catching up on the morning, then
after taking Janice’s order, Gill ran across the road to the café, which was
thankfully less busy than usual due to the inclement weather.

Back at her desk, sandwich unwrapped; Gill took the opportunity
to check her personal e-mails.

8:42 - Caroline Morgan
–
Thanks for your confirmation. I have contacted the two gentlemen. 
If they are interested, they will be in touch directly by e-mail.  Regards, CM.

Fair enough
, thought Gill.  Hopefully she didn’t have
to wait too long.  She felt a bit tense, now that it was all actually
happening, and would rather hear back as soon as possible.

She knew it was too early to have already received a reply
from Charlie or Anton, but just in case, she scrolled down.  Damn, this was
going to become more addictive than watching an item you’d bid for on eBay. 
There it was –

12:41 - Anton Sidorov

Excitedly, Gill clicked on the e-mail and started to read.

‘Dear Gill.  I hope you are well.  I am
glad you would like to meet me.  Your profile was very interesting and I hope
this is OK to say, but you are also very pretty.  Can you advise when you are
free to meet?  I am happy to let you choose the venue.

Regards, Anton.’

She read it a couple of times to see if she had missed
anything, but no, it seemed pretty clear. He was leaving the ball in her
court.  She also thought it sweet of him to say she hoped it was OK to say she
was pretty.  Absolutely.  She’d be more worried if he thought she was a total
dog!  Pretty was good.

She pulled out her mobile and texted Debbie.

Anton got in touch.  He wants to meet and for me to
choose when/where.  What do you think?

Not usually an indecisive person, Gill’s inability to choose
decent men had sapped her confidence over anything to do with the opposite
sex.  Unless it was work-related, she behaved like a gibbering idiot in front of
them.  She was too transparent.  She had always been the same.  She had never
understood why it wasn’t advisable to divulge everything about yourself to
someone, once you were both sure that you really liked each other.  The need to
keep a little something back would never occur to her.  For that reason, she
wasn’t good at keeping men guessing and her friends despaired of her.  This
time she wanted it to be different.

Five minutes later she received a reply from Debbie,
‘somewhere centrally located in town, either one night after work, for a quick
drink, or Sat lunchtime.  No food, just drinks.’

As Gill digested the contents of Debbie’s text, ideas for
venues swirled around her head.  Chrysalis was out.  Too noisy.  They’d want
somewhere they could talk.  Tempo and Each To Their Own were out for the same
reason.  She discounted a few others, as either not being central enough, or
being too noisy, before finally, punching the air.  She had it! 
Chez
Molinières
.  It was central, relatively quiet and upmarket, and it had the
little private area off the main bar, too.  The only problem was you couldn’t
be guaranteed a table.  She wondered how to fix that.  No matter.  She’d come
up with a solution before then.  She checked her calendar and saw that the
following week she had no late meetings on Monday.  Today was Thursday.  That
was OK, wasn’t it?  That didn’t look too keen.  Four days.  Not a weekend. 
That way he wouldn’t know that her only plans this weekend were to visit her
brother and his family, apart from doing housework and skimming through
candidate CVs.  Before she could change her mind, she typed,

‘Dear Anton.  Nice to hear from you.  How
about Monday at Chez Molinières, just off Buchanan St, in Glasgow, for a
drink?  7pm?’

She stopped herself from putting if that suited him.  If it
didn’t, he could tell her.  This way she would come across as more self-assured
and she would be the one in control.

She tempered that with, ‘
I look forward to hearing from
you, Gill
.’

After pressing Send, she sat back in her chair, with a
self-satisfied grin on her face.  She’d done it.  She’d taken a positive step. 
Reaching for her mobile, she texted Debbie the news.