Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating (15 page)

Irritably Audrey noticed that the only remaining empty seat was between Alice and Wendy. Reluctantly she wedged herself between them.

Standing at the head of the room and dressed in a dashing grey suit that made his silver hair shine, Ernie skilfully called the room to quiet.

‘Right, well, thank you for giving up a precious afternoon in the office . . .’ (There was a cheer from the minions.) ‘There’s not too much on the agenda today, so we’ll keep it short. Obviously the topic on everyone’s lips is the forthcoming DIPS ball . . .’ (another cheer) ‘. . . so without further ado, I’d like to hand you over to Sheryl Toogood, who’s doing a marvellous job of organizing this year’s event.’

There was a hearty thunder of clapping and Sheryl stood up. Audrey rolled her eyes. Sheryl was wearing a baby-pink suit with an offensively short skirt and a perilously low neckline. Barry Chambers and David Bennett suddenly snapped to attention. Of all the men in the room only Nigel seemed
not
to be transfixed, his attention rooted instead on a spot in the middle of the carpet.

‘Firstly’ – Sheryl paused dramatically – ‘Ernie and I are both deliiiiighted by how many new faces will be coming to the ball as “matchmakers in the making”. What a crop of talent we have in this room!’ she chirped, and slowly, very deliberately she looked straight at Alice.

Audrey’s mouth fell open in surprise. Surely she must have been mistaken. But next to her Alice squirmed in her seat and started to blush. Audrey was incredulous. Why on earth was Sheryl looking at Alice? What did she mean? And what was it she’d said?
Ernie and I are delighted
. So that’s what they were gossiping about earlier! They were sniggering about Table For Two’s ‘matchmaker in the making’. Audrey’s neck flushed and her temper flared. She knew she shouldn’t have invited Alice to the ball. Well, she wasn’t going to be a laughing stock. She’d had enough of Alice showing her up, with her stupid bike and saggy cardigans. She’d call her into her office first thing tomorrow and tell her there’d been a mistake. And then she’d invite Bianca to the ball instead.

Audrey looked down. Her knuckles had gone white. She forced herself to breathe deeply.

Eventually, as the minutes passed, some of Sheryl’s words filtered through.

‘And so the prize will be presented,’ Sheryl announced, her bust wobbling with excitement, causing Barry Chambers and David Bennett to shuffle strangely in their seats, ‘by our very own local celebrity, top soap actress Lucy Lucinda!’

Audrey snapped to attention.

‘Prize? What prize?’ she hissed at Alice.

‘For Bureau of the Year! It’s starting this year. Ernie’s going to pick the winner.’

Audrey blinked in disbelief. A prize! Why hadn’t she heard about this?

‘Thank you,’ Ernie said smoothly as Sheryl reluctantly
relinquished the floor. ‘I’m sure everyone would agree that this year’s ball looks like being better than ever. Thank you, Sheryl, for your sterling efforts.’

Ernie rattled through another couple of items of business before asking: ‘And finally . . . membership updates. Does anyone have any staff changes to report to the group?’

All eyes turned to Nigel who was still contemplating the carpet.

Silence.

‘Ahem.’ A small cough came from the front of the room. ‘Actually,
I
do.’ Sheryl Toogood was on her feet again. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce Matteus.’ She stretched a baby-pink talon towards an over-groomed but undeniably handsome young man. Matteus stood and bowed to the group. Out of the corner of her eye Audrey saw Cassandra elbow Bianca and mouth ‘cor!’. She pursed her lips. Why must her girls show her up at every opportunity?

‘Matteus is new to the area,’ Sheryl continued, ‘but he comes with a fantastic CV. He’s fresh from the management team at the dating website dating4desperates.co.uk!’

There were gasps of admiration. Dating4desperates.co.uk was the biggest internet dating site in the country. It bagged more new members in a week than all of the DIPS agencies managed together in six months.

‘Of course, we all know that matches made by professional matchmakers are far more likely to lead to love than the DIY jobs made online’ – Sheryl played to the audience with a knowing smile – ‘but the depth of Matteus’s experience, not to mention his strong interpersonal skills’ –
Cassandra nudged Bianca again; even Wendy had started fanning herself with her agenda – ‘. . . make him the ideal new addition to the Love Birds team.’

‘Hear, hear!’ Ernie led a round of applause and Matteus smiled winningly.

There was a pause.

‘Anyone else?’ Ernie asked. Again everyone’s gaze fell expectantly on Nigel. Again Nigel seemed oblivious, locked in his own personal misery.

‘In which case’ – Ernie sounded disappointed – ‘that wraps things up.’

The room sprang to life with women charging towards Matteus. They flocked around him, with glossy eyes and pink cheeks. Even Wendy joined in. Audrey frowned and then suddenly realized the stampede had left no one between herself and Nigel. Slowly, sorrowfully, he turned towards her, opening his mouth as though to speak. Audrey jolted. He couldn’t possibly talk to her. Failure was infectious and she couldn’t be seen to be socializing with a sinking ship.

‘Oh, Mr President!’ she called out hastily. ‘May I have a quick word?’

Ernie was deep in discussion with Sheryl and looked vexed at the interruption.

‘In private,’ Audrey said pointedly, steering Ernie away from Sheryl and into a quiet corner.

‘Yes?’ he asked distractedly.

‘Mr President, it’s about the ball.’

‘Yes?’

‘About my “matchmaker in the making”.’ She moved to block his wandering eye line. ‘I was wondering if I might change my mind? I want to bring Bianca.’

She had his attention now. He eyed her beadily.

‘But Bianca’s been before. Several times, if I recall. And besides, Alice has already been invited.’

‘Yes, but I hadn’t realized the significance of my choice.’

Ernie looked at her closely. Audrey tried to look wronged.

‘I hadn’t grasped what a professional endorsement it was to be invited as the “matchmaker in the making”.’

‘But Sheryl was very clear about it.’

‘Not clear enough,’ Audrey replied emphatically, happy to have an unexpected opportunity to drop Sheryl in it. ‘And bringing Alice would send the wrong message to my girls.’

‘But you can’t invite her and then change your mind!’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that!’

‘Think how demoralizing it would be for the girl!’

‘I don’t think it would be that ba—’

Ernie was looking angry.

‘No, Audrey! I won’t allow it. Alice is a genuine talent. And, really . . . I didn’t think you had it in you to be so cruel.’

He turned away, leaving Audrey feeling ticked off. It wasn’t fair. Why was it that everything her girls did or said somehow reflected badly on her?

Ernie was back in huddled conversation with Sheryl, and the other society members were still fawning over Matteus. Only Audrey and Nigel stood outside the throng. Without
moving her sight line a smidgen – eye contact could be read as an invitation for conversation – Audrey marched back to her seat, collected her belongings and steamed towards the door. She left the chatter of the meeting behind her and set a steely course towards the bus stop.

It was Friday afternoon and Alice was hard at work staring out of the Table For Two window.

Friday was always the busiest day of the week, when most clients had their dates. The Table For Two staff would be in a flurry of phone calls, hastily arranging restaurant bookings and giving last-minute pep talks to jittery clients. Alice’s job became part organizer, part counsellor and part mum, giving verbal hugs down the telephone and waiting nervously while her brood of clients tottered bravely into the world of dating.

On this particular Friday, Alice’s phone calls had all been made, and plans were complete for myriad dinner dates to take place across the city over the weekend. Everyone knew their rendezvous times and destinations; photographs had been emailed and backgrounds given. Although the rest of the Table For Two staff were still busy, Alice’s phone was silent. She looked at her watch; half past three. She grinned. She had a blissful couple of hours to spend matchmaking. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Alice loved matchmaking. Alongside pottering in her garden, it was when she felt most alive. She had a special routine. First she cleared her head and blanked out the sounds of the office. She’d imagine she was in her garden, the sun on her face, the grass beneath her feet and birdsong in her ears. She’d breathe deeply, letting the stress of the day melt away as her muscles released their tension. She knew she must look odd; Audrey and the others probably thought she was asleep. But she didn’t care, and she never heard their comments anyway. She’d be in the matchmaking zone, a silent, romantic place where negativity couldn’t enter.

Within a minute or two she’d be ready. Sometimes she’d open her eyes and stare unseeing out of the window. Sometimes she’d forget and keep her eyes closed. The casual observer would never guess what rich and vivid activity was taking place inside Alice’s head. The magic of matchmaking was buzzing in her brain.

When Alice made matches it was as though she led her clients into a bright, colourful movie where everything was better, nicer and more romantic than real life. Everyone had shiny hair and flattering outfits. It was a world just ready for people to fall in love.

Alice’s matchmaking would begin. She’d start with the man. She’d picture him in the restaurant, smartly dressed and totally at ease. He’d be excitedly awaiting his date.

Next Alice would pick a woman who, hunch would tell her, might be a match. She’d watch her enter the restaurant and remove her coat. She’d look stunning: the best she could possibly be.

The couple would greet each other and he’d pull out her chair when she sat down. They’d smile at each other happily, both thanking their luck at being set up with someone so attractive. And then they’d start to talk.

This was the crucial part of the date. Would conversation flow? Would they find common ground? Would they even need to? Maybe they’d delight in being opposites, be enthralled to meet someone whose life and interests were so different from their own? Some people craved similarities, others difference. It was only when Alice watched their date unfold in the private confines of her mind that she knew whether the match would succeed.

Sometimes the dates broke down between the main course and the dessert. Polite enquiries only carried them so far. So the couple would thank each other for a lovely night and head home. Alice would see them safely to their doors, and then return to the restaurant, clearing the table and setting the scene for a new date and another partner.

But sometimes – the best times – the date in Alice’s head fizzed and sparkled with romance. Conversations cascaded into each other, smiles lingered well beyond their cause and Alice would burst from her reverie to excitedly scribble down the match.

This was what had happened when Alice had imagined the meeting between Jason and Jennifer. There’d been so much chemistry she’d practically felt the air catch light around them. And now they were getting married! Alice felt something deeper than pride. It was the ownership a painter feels for his work of art.

Alice loved to sink into her imaginary restaurant and made matches whenever she could; in quiet moments at work, evenings when the office was empty, or at weekends as she weeded her garden. Every Monday she’d have a long list of dates to organize, each born in her imagination. It was her fantasy list, her list of romantic hope. At this stage none of the relationships had yet happened; they were just twinkles in Alice’s eye. But in her mind they already blossomed. And when the relationships finally took seed in the real world, blossom so many of them did.

Alice’s consciousness was gradually permeated by a ringing noise. As the noise became more insistent, the restaurant began to break up around her. She tore her eyes away from the window. She was back in the land of the office and the phone was ringing. The last remnants of the restaurant disappeared and she reluctantly picked up the phone.