The Lost Souls Dating Agency (11 page)

‘Sorry, I'm on a noisy road and I can hardly hear you,' I said loudly. I looked around for a quieter spot. ‘Hang on just a minute, I'll duck into this side street.'

I was impressed by my jogging. In no time I was halfway down the tree lined street. Now my heart was racing even faster.

‘What were you saying?' I said a little breathlessly into my phone.

‘I was wondering what you were doing for lunch tomorrow,' Will said smoothly.

‘Peanut butter sandwiches,' I said without thinking. Why did my brain turn to mush when I spoke to him?

He laughed. ‘Well I was hoping I could interest you in lunch by the river. I'm working at the National Gallery shop over the semester break. I could meet you there in my lunch hour?'

‘That sounds great!' I said quickly. Too quickly? ‘Much better than peanut butter sandwiches.' I grinned.

‘Well I haven't tried the sushi at this shop close to the gallery, so I can't guarantee it'll be better!' Will said good-naturedly. ‘I'll see you there around one.'

I think I floated the rest of the way to uni.

***

The next afternoon, at quarter to one, I stood outside the National Gallery of Victoria. I'm surprised I managed to get here on time at all. It took me ages to decide what to wear. In the end I wore my old favourite jeans, a black and white striped long sleeved top, mustard cardigan and my beloved red elephant pin. I looked exactly as I did every other day. So why was there a mountain of clothes strewn over my bed at home right now?

Exactly fifteen minutes later, I saw Will emerge from the sliding doors at the gallery entrance. His tall frame was encased in a perfectly tailored shirt and dark blue pants. His hair shone coppery blonde from the reflection of the gallery's display lights, so did his eyes, a deep blue. Why did he have to look so damned gorgeous? I wish I was sitting resplendent on a sofa, in a ball gown, sipping wine sophisticatedly, instead of in my jeans and silly elephant pin.

We walked down to Birrarung Marr Park and sat on the grass along the Yarra river. Will had brought some take-away sushi with him.

‘I hope you don't mind me taking liberties with the roll selection.' He smiled as he offered me some.

I didn't. Chicken teriyaki, salmon and avocado, crispy prawns. He had picked most of my favourites anyway.

We had been chatting for about ten minutes when I heard his phone ring.

‘Ignore it,' he said as he winked. ‘I'm just so popular you see.'

I giggled and shook my head. A second later his phone rang again. He frowned.

‘You can answer it if you like,' I said.

‘Why should I when I have a beautiful lady to talk to?' he smiled charmingly.

I felt my ears grow warmer.

When his phone rang a third time, he shook his head in frustration and took it out of his pocket to see who it was. His expression darkened.

‘I'm sorry, I'll have to answer this.' He looked apologetic.

‘Go ahead.' I smiled.

He answered his phone with a cranky hello. I heard a male voice on the other end say a few quick words.

‘What, right now?' Will said angrily. He paused as he listened. He looked into the distance, past some afternoon joggers. ‘Can't I come by later? I'm in the middle of something, plus I have to be back at work in an hour.' He looked at me quickly. I tried to smile serenely.

‘Really? Bloody hell. Okay, I'll be there in a bit. And by the way you owe me big time.' He hung up.

He turned to look at me with imploring eyes. ‘I'm going to have to cut our lunch date short. A friend needs my help…' He didn't elaborate any more.

‘Nothing serious I hope.' I was concerned.

‘Serious enough to take me away from your fine company.' He smiled with a slight grimace. Despite his making light of it, from his sombre expression I knew it was something concerning.

‘That's okay, you can make it up to me some other time,' I said congenially.

‘Oh I intend to!' He sprung to his feet and held out his hand for me. I clambered up and hit my head against his chest. We both laughed and he gave me a quick hug. I felt myself melt, but almost in an instant we drew apart.

He looked me straight in the eyes. ‘I'll call you soon.' He walked away hurriedly.

I considered his mysterious phone call. What could it have been?

I arrived at the warehouse on Monday morning, found it already open and heavy with the aromas of brewing tea and blueberry and white chocolate muffins. I had forgotten that I had asked Roxanne to start from today. I congratulated myself on my choice of receptionist.

‘Morning, Rox, those muffins smell good.' I sniffed the air hungrily.

‘Help yourself to one! I could lie and say I baked them this morning, but I just stopped by Verb on my way here.' I wondered if the librarian ate anywhere other than that cafe. It might be the books — words — verb connection.

‘Grrfhanks.' My mouth was already full of muffin. I smiled at Roxanne's ability to thwart the magical non-detector spell for muffin procurement. I was glad to share her need for delicious food.

‘By the way, I took a message this morning from a gentleman who called about his daughter. I've left details on a note at your desk.'

I gulped. ‘What? I didn't get any calls on my phone.' I looked at my mobile phone to make sure and immediately felt silly. Roxanne could not have answered the phone in my pocket.

‘Oh I answered the telephone in your office. I hope you don't mind, but there is no line out here for me to answer.' Roxanne looked around the smaller office room.

‘We have a telephone?' I walked quickly into my office and saw an old 1950s style push button phone, made completely out of bright red melamine.

‘Where the hell did that come from?' I squawked.

‘I thought you had bought one for the office. It was there when I arrived this morning.' Roxanne looked worried.

‘I definitely did not do that.' I walked to the phone and lifted the receiver. There was no dial tone. Peculiar.

‘I hope I did the right thing.' Roxanne looked at me anxiously.

‘That's fine, Rox, you're employed to answer phones. And here's one to answer.' I gestured sweepingly at it. ‘I just wish things wouldn't materialise out of thin air in my office. I had just gotten used to The Mythical Weekly's appearance.'

I lifted the receiver again and placed it gingerly to my ear. Still no dial tone. Most peculiar.

I looked at the note Roxanne had left on my desk. The phone call had been from a Mr Singh, enquiring about arranging a match for his daughter. There were no other details.

Before I had a chance to ask Roxanne why there was no contact number for Mr Singh, the phone rang again. It made me jump with its shrill high-pitched ring.

‘Hello?' I answered inquisitively. Roxanne watched me closely.

‘Is that Ms Shalini Gupta?' a male voice asked. He pronounced my name faultlessly.

‘Yes, that's me.'

‘I rang earlier about my daughter. I left a message with your secretary. Why haven't you called me back?' The man sounded annoyed.

‘I just got into the office, Mr Singh. I only just received your message.' I didn't know what else to say.

‘Lateness is not an excuse. Anyway, when can I make an appointment to see you?'

‘I-I'm free this afternoon,' I stammered.

‘Fine, I will come at two p.m. sharp. Goodbye.' He didn't wait for me to confirm if the time suited me.

I replaced the receiver on the phone. After a second I lifted it again, still no dial tone. How had Mr Singh managed to call with no dial tone? Also, since I didn't know my own phone number, how had Mr Singh managed to get it?

‘Roxanne, I think we need to brew another pot of tea. This needs serious thinking.' We pondered the phone mystery the rest of the morning. We concluded that Mr Singh must be some kind of supernatural, perhaps he arranged for the phone? It would explain him contacting Lost Souls. But why?

***

It was nearing two in the afternoon and I sat patiently at my desk, reading the news on my laptop. I could hear Roxanne in the adjacent room nervously shuffling papers.

At one minute to two p.m., I heard the door open, the sound of footsteps and then it shut again. A gruff voice said, ‘I am here for an appointment with Ms Gupta.'

‘Right this way,' Roxanne said clearly. She appeared at the doorway. ‘I have your two o'clock appointment, Ms Gupta,' she said professionally.

In walked a short, broad man, wearing a long white cotton shirt and linen pants. He had sandals on his feet. They were well made, but casual. I stood up and smiled, and pointed to the seat on the other side of my desk. ‘Please sit down, Mr Singh.'

‘Thank you.' He seemed to be permanently grumpy. He had furrow lines on his forehead. He sat down heavily.

‘Now, how can I help you?'

‘As I said over the phone in my first message,' he turned around to look at Roxanne, who quickly left the room, ‘I have come about my daughter, Jaya. She is nearly twenty-two and still no hope of finding a husband. I am becoming desperate! So I have come to your agency.'

Desperate at twenty-two? Wow.

I didn't notice any outward signs of the supernatural about him. I wondered what he was.

‘Well, Mr Singh, do you know about the particular clientele we offer matchmaking services to?'

‘Yes of course, why do you think I am here?'

‘So can I ask what you are?' I tried to be as delicate as I could.

‘My clan is descendent from Bahadur Singh, of the ancient Ragosh family,' he said pompously.

I looked at him blankly.

‘We are wolves, Ms Gupta,' he testily explained.

‘You're a family of werewolves?' I blurted.

‘Not necessarily. Our pack is wolf and my form is the wolf. My wife's form is a tigress, she is descendent from the Sher-Shah dynasty,' he said this proudly. ‘My daughter Jaya,' he hesitated, ‘she has recently started turning into a kangaroo.' He seemed self-conscious mentioning this.

This was way too much to take in.

Mr Singh continued, ‘I say recently because when she was a child she used to turn into a little wolf. But in the last two years, she has been turning into a bloody kangaroo. Who has ever heard of a were-kangaroo I ask you?' His bulbous eyes doubled in size.

Not me, that's for sure. I remained silent. Mr Singh resumed, ‘I blame Australia. I came here twenty years ago to give my family a better chance. You know how badly were-animals are treated in India? So much superstition, tsk.' He pounded his finger on my desk. ‘I am an educated man, Ms Gupta, I could not stand by and see my family suffer and hide and live in fear because of who we are. So I came here. But now, look at the consequence. My daughter turns into a jumping animal and she refuses to listen to me! Yes, it's high time she was married.'

I merely nodded. A were-kangaroo with glowing red eyes and sharp pointy teeth was the image that kept flashing in my head. I tried not to laugh. ‘Mr Singh, that's a very brave decision, bringing your family here.' He appeared placated when I said that. I composed myself for my next question. ‘Can I ask why your daughter isn't here to have a say in who she wants to marry?'

‘Bah, sentimental nonsense, this choosing and love stuff.' Mr Singh sat back in his chair. ‘I have no time for it. Besides, marriage is not about whom she wants to be with, but who her family decide is best for her.'

I'd heard this view about marriage before, it was nonetheless confronting to hear it from him.

‘Mr Singh, marriage is a serious undertaking, surely your daughter needs a say in who she spends the rest of her life with,' I said forcefully.

‘Ms Gupta, Jaya is the light of my life.' His face softened tenderly. ‘I have watched her grow since she was big enough to fit in my two hands. Her mother and I know her every mood, her likes and dislikes, her strengths and her shortcomings. How can I do anything except what is best for her?'

I looked at the earnest man sitting across my desk. He was hard to refuse.

‘Okay, Mr Singh, I will help you find a partner for your daughter.'

‘Good. Now what are your charges?' In the blink of an eye, the tenderness from his voice was gone.

I spent the rest of the afternoon discussing Jaya with Mr Singh. I wanted to meet with her as soon as possible.

Mr Singh was hesitant. ‘I can tell you everything you need to know,' he said. ‘She doesn't need to be here.'

I insisted and explained it was part of my “client assessment procedure”. A procedure I had only just come up with. Mr Singh nodded, impressed by my professional sounding words. I mainly wanted to know if the girl truly wanted marriage. I would hate to be a part of anything forced.

At the end of the day, we shook hands amicably. But before I bid him farewell, I had one last question.

‘Mr Singh, how did you get my phone number?'

‘Your advertisement in The Mythical Weekly. I knew how to contact you,' he replied with a shrug.

I was astonished to hear this. I distinctly remember being annoyed at the newspaper for neglecting to publish my contact details. He added, ‘Also I heard that a vampire from Albion was pleased with the results from your agency. Usually I stay out of vampire business — spiteful creatures — but it piqued my interest. I've never heard of a supernatural matchmaking agency before.'

Good old Victor!

Before I could say anything further, Mr Singh hurried out of my office. I followed him to the door. He nodded at Roxanne on his way out. She gazed at him and me in wonder as he shut the door.

‘So now you're telling me werewolves are real?' Megan sniggered the next day when we walked to class at uni. ‘First vampires, and now werewolves. Let's see, what else goes boo in the night?'

‘Stop it. I'm serious! He was so funny. Very tender about his daughter one minute and all shrewd and businesslike the next. I can't wait to meet her, his daughter that is. It sounds like a fascinating case.'