Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating (42 page)

‘Well?’

Bianca and Cassandra were peering at her in excited anticipation.

‘A boy!’ Alice smiled triumphantly, letting the office door swing closed behind her. ‘A beautiful, bouncing, perfect baby boy!’

Bianca and Cassandra whooped in noisy celebration whilst Audrey nodded, pursed her lips and retreated into her glass-walled office.

‘Good old Hilary!’ Bianca cheered. ‘She’s finally given Kevin an ally in a house full of women! How many daughters does she have?’

‘Two!’ Alice pulled off her coat. ‘And according to her last night, there won’t be three. She told Kevin she’d sue if he ever came near her again!’

‘She says that now . . .!’ Cassandra laughed.

Alice sagged down into her seat, exhausted but trying to let herself be buoyed by the infectious good news.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, holding up Max’s note.

The girls shrugged and turned away. She opened it.

Dear Alice,
You’re a genius! I don’t know what you said to Audrey, but the very next date she sent me on was perfect! It was with Hayley Clarke and I’m smitten – head-over-heels, taken-leave-of-my-senses smitten! Thank you so much for getting Audrey to see the kind of woman I really wanted. Both Hayley and I are eternally grateful.
Max Higgert

Alice closed her eyes and held the note to her chest. She felt tears prickle the insides of her eyelids.
She wasn’t wrong
. She wasn’t losing her marbles after all. She’d been right to go out on a limb. She’d made a match: a brilliant match. She’d helped two people find love. She suddenly felt weak with relief.

‘Yeah, hello?’ a voice cut across the office.

Alice opened her eyes. A young woman – a beautiful young woman – was standing by the door.

‘Table For Two, right?’ she addressed the room.

Out of the corner of her eye Alice saw Audrey stir in her glass office. She could see why; the woman was certainly eye-catching. She was classically beautiful, like a preRaphaelite painting, yet at the same time totally modern, in a trenchcoat and sparkly trainers. She had a sprinkle of unseasonal freckles across her perfect English complexion, and a mane of untamed auburn hair. Everyone in the office sat up. If she was a new client, they all wanted her on their books.

Audrey moved first, like a speeding bullet.

‘Yes, yes, this is Table For Two. Please, step this way. Do come and take a seat in my office. I take it you’re here to find love? I’m the agency owner; delighted to meet you. Would you like a cup of coffee?
Cassandra . . . kettle!
’

But the young woman didn’t move a muscle. Instead she eyed Audrey up and down.

‘You . . .’ she said, her voice brimming with disdain, ‘. . . have
got
to be Audrey.’

Audrey paused mid-ushering.

‘Er, yes. Yes, I am.’

She looked bamboozled. The whole office looked on in bafflement.

The woman gave a little nod as though confirming something to herself.

‘That figures,’ she said curtly. ‘No, not you.’

There was a sharp collective intake of breath. Nobody ever spoke to Audrey like that. Audrey’s cheeks flushed as though slapped.

But the young woman was scanning the room, scrutinizing the other women. ‘I want Alice,’ she declared loudly. ‘Word is, she’s the best.’

Suddenly, all possible sound seemed to be sucked out of the room. Cassandra’s eyebrows rose to her hairline and Bianca’s mouth froze in a noiseless ‘oh’. Andrey stood as silent as the grave. Slowly, falteringly, Alice scraped back her chair and rose to her feet.

‘I’m Alice,’ she said quietly, instinctively wrapping her cardigan around her for protection. But the young woman’s face suddenly cracked into a delicious grin.

‘Brilliant! Can I have a quick word?’

For a moment, Alice was too dumbstruck to move. Who was this woman, and why had she dismissed Audrey like that? And more importantly –
how had she had the bottle
? But then Bianca coughed discreetly and Alice stumbled into action. She ignored the weight of Audrey’s injured stare, and led the young woman into the interview room, carefully closing the door behind them.

The young woman looked around the room.

‘This the heartbreak room, is it?’ She grinned and pointed at the box of tissues that sat on the table between the two wicker chairs.

‘Some people find it difficult talking about who they want to meet, especially if they’ve been looking for a long . . .’ Alice explained on autopilot before nervously petering out. The woman was examining her keenly.

‘Yes,’ the young woman confirmed, clearly pleased with something she’d seen. ‘You’re just as he described you.’ And she sat down.

Alice felt herself blush. Just as who’d described her? And why had this woman asked for her specifically?

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said, as she sat in the remaining free seat. ‘I’m confused. Are you interested in joining Table For Two?’

‘God, no!’ the woman laughed. ‘I’m not here to be match-made . . . I’m here to matchmake you!’

‘Sorry?’ Alice almost choked.

The woman sighed.

‘Men . . . They can be right muppets sometimes, can’t
they? All very good at the tricky stuff like fan belts and rewiring. But when it comes to the simple stuff . . . like
talking
. . . they’re rubbish! All these years of evolution and they still can’t quite get the hang of opening their mouths and making the right words come out.’

Alice’s brain was whirring nineteen to the dozen. What was she talking about?

‘Particularly my dad,’ the young woman continued.

‘Your dad?’

‘Yeah, you know him. Blue eyes, greying hair; kind fella. Quite handsome, I suppose, if I think about it.’

‘John . . .’ The word escaped Alice’s mouth like a whisper. Could she really mean John? Was this . . . was this
John’s daughter
? She looked about the right age, and she was certainly beautiful enough to be his. ‘
Emily?
’ she asked.

‘The very same!’ Emily grinned. She wriggled forward in her seat, her voice softening. ‘Look, Alice, I’m sorry to barge in on you at work, but I had to do something. Dad would totally freak if he knew I was here, but hey, I’m twenty-three; it’s not like he can ground me! And you know better than anyone that sometimes love needs a helping hand. The thing is, I love my Dad, and I want him to be happy – and he thinks you’re the woman to do it. It’s too bloody frustrating just to sit back and watch him mess everything up. He can’t help it; he’s just a bit . . . out of practice.’

‘Out of practice?’

‘With women.’

Despite herself, Alice couldn’t help but raise a watery smile.

‘I’m sure that’s not strictly true.’

‘Yeah . . . look, about the women . . . I know about the other night, and what he told you . . .’

Alice blushed and dropped her eyes to her lap.

‘Sounds like he made a right balls-up of it,’ Emily declared bluntly. ‘But it’s what he
didn’t
tell you that was the important stuff. I don’t blame you if you want to run a mile in the opposite direction. Christ, I would! I’d be imagining all sorts of things, and most of them disgusting. But trust me: Dad’s not what you’re thinking.’

‘But he’s . . .’ Alice started, and then quickly stopped herself. What should she say? She didn’t want to be rude about his profession in front of his daughter.

‘. . . an escort; yeah, I know.’ Emily decided for her. ‘And I know that if I were you I’d be reckoning that “escort” is just big fat code for “rent boy”.’

Again, Alice found herself blushing. It was as though Emily had peered into her head and read out her thoughts. John had been right: she
was
as wise as the hills.

‘Well, I’m guessing that’s another thing he wasn’t quite clear about,’ Emily continued. ‘Trust me, if Dad was a rent boy, he’d have been made redundant within the week. I don’t think abstinence is on the job description.’

‘Abstinence?’ Alice momentarily forgot her awkwardness and stared at Emily in confusion.

‘Look, I know I’m just a complete stranger who’s gatecrashed your work, but could I ask you a really big favour?’ Emily was looking at her earnestly. ‘If he tries to explain, would you hear him out? Please? And then, if you still want to run a
mile, fair enough. But – sisterhood solidarity and all that – I wouldn’t ask you to give him a chance if I didn’t think he was one of life’s good guys. There are plenty of crap men out there, but I promise you, my dad isn’t one of them.’

Alice wrestled with herself. She was naturally hard-wired to make others happy, and always preferred to tell people ‘yes’ rather than ‘no’. And goodness knows, her heart wanted her to tell Emily yes. But she caught herself. She remembered her weekend resolution. She
had
to stop listening to her heart; her heart only got her into trouble. She needed to remember her head.

‘I want to believe you, I really do,’ she said awkwardly. ‘But he’s your dad; you’re bound to say good things about him. And I have to protect myself. I can’t let myself be made a fool of any more.’

‘Listen, Alice’ – Emily was looking at her kindly – ‘I know you don’t want to get hurt . . .
more
hurt,’ she corrected herself. ‘But ask yourself this. Deep down – in your core – you
know
Dad would never want to make a fool out of anyone, don’t you? And he especially wouldn’t want to make a fool out of you.’

Alice squirmed. She couldn’t look at Emily. Instead she tried to concentrate on the pointed, piercing pain of the last few days, the crush of disappointment in her chest that had made it so hard for her to breathe, and the horrible taste that flooded her mouth whenever she thought about John’s job.

Emily got up to go.

‘He’s totally nuts about you, you know,’ she said softly. And then she closed the door gently behind her.

‘For fuck’s sake, Lou!’ Tony exploded. ‘Whaddya mean you’re not coming in? We’ve got that Premiership club party tonight – their in-house do; all blokes, no WAGs. I need all hands on deck, and more specifically, I need
you
behind the bar in something low-cut. How else am I going to keep sixty testosterone-pumped blokes happy?’

Sitting on her sofa in her oldest dressing gown with a coffee stain on the front, Lou gripped the telephone tightly. ‘I told you, Tony;
I’m ill
. And I’m a deputy bar manager, not a stripper!’ Tony was unbelievable. There was no way Julian would ever speak to Kate like this. Perfect little Kate.
Perfect little Kate who’d probably never thrown a sickie in her whole disciplined little life.
Christ only knew why she ever moaned about
her
boss. Julian paid her by the truckload and never expected
her
to whore it for the clients. ‘You
have
booked them a stripper, haven’t you?’ she quizzed her own boss sceptically.

‘Of course I’ve booked them a fucking stripper!’ Tony snapped, sounding less than convincing. ‘But that’s not the fucking point. Suze and the kids are staying at her sister’s tonight. I thought you could nip round to that sex shop,
buy yourself that nurse’s outfit. I was going to film us on the CCTV before we opened up; thought we could watch it back in the office later; have a little X-rated lock-in after we’ve sent the rabble home. But if you can’t be bothered to come in . . .’

‘Tony,
I’m ill
!’

‘
And I’m horny!
Christ, Lou; if I’d known you were going to be this much hassle I’d never have bothered . . .’

‘You’ve ever bothered . . . ?’ Lou interjected sharply. ‘I must have missed that.’

It was no wonder she was skiving off. Tony wasn’t the most nurturing of employers and pulling pints (or Tony, come to that) was hardly worth getting out of bed for. She just wasn’t up for it today. She couldn’t be arsed to be sociable. That was the trouble with her job – you had to be pleasant with the punters, and since her run-in with Kate, pleasant was something Lou definitely wasn’t. There was no way on God’s earth she was going to cover herself in slap, drag herself to work and smile for the morons today.

‘I don’t know what’s got into you lately,’ Tony was rattling on. ‘You’re so mardy; and you were as frigid as a nun’s tit the other night. Christ . . . !’ Lou could practically hear the creak as Tony’s brain turned over. ‘You’re not bloody pregnant, are you? You’d better not be; that’d be a total fucking disaster. Suze’d crucify me.’