Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating (47 page)

Alice thought she might literally burst with happiness. Surely such a flimsy thing as human skin couldn’t hold in this much whirling excitement and the dynamite of glee? She felt like a joy bomb about to explode!

John was giving up his job!

And
she also had it on very good authority – Geraldine’s, who she’d decided was one hundred per cent trustworthy; she read Jilly Cooper, for God’s sake! – that John had never been any of the nasty things she’d imagined. He was a gentleman – just like she’d wanted him to be!

Alice felt like pinching herself. Surely she, Alice Brown, couldn’t be this lucky?

She arrived home on a cloud of happiness. She went straight to her bedroom, opened her wardrobe and took out the dress she’d worn to the ball.

‘Thank you!’ she whispered to her dress. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’

She hugged it to her. This was the outfit that had started everything. And to think, she’d almost not bought it! To think, she’d even tried to get out of going to the ball!
Thank goodness fate had known better than she had.

As she held her dress she decided to give it another outing. She was going to wear it –
and
her heels, handbag, earrings and make-up – on a date with John. She was going to wow him all over again. She was going to make him look at her and know she was worth giving up his job for.

She felt another wave of excitement crash over her. She had a boyfriend! And a better, handsomer, more perfect boyfriend than even she could ever have imagined! She slipped her dress back onto the rail and laughed at how it looked, a lone slick of glamour amidst a sea of corduroy and knitwear.

Somewhere in the middle of her filing cabinet, with dozens of old case files spilled across the floor in a fan of forgotten lonely hearts finally meeting years after the need, recognition hit Sheryl. Like a twisted thunderbolt or a rogue arrow from an off-colour Cupid, she suddenly realized who John’s mystery woman was. Her face was smiling up at Sheryl from a faded Manila folder.

She was Lady Isabella Denham, formerly known as Isabella Alpine and before that plain old Isabel Jones. A long time ago, before her marriage to Lord Denham, she’d been a fully signed up and very active member of Love Birds.

Sheryl laughed out loud and kissed the file victoriously. She knew she’d known her from somewhere!

The file contained all the ammunition she needed on Lady Denham – from her age to her preferences to her divorces. She had a complete record of her dates throughout the two years she’d been a Love Birds client: a voracious catalogue of men, all of whom, Sheryl noticed, were considerably younger than her. Sheryl even had her mobile number! She wondered if it still worked.

Leaving her files scattered on the floor she took Lady Denham’s folder to her desk. So she knew the identity of John Cracknell’s mystery lady. All she needed now was a bit more evidence to establish his guilt as a philanderer. Just seeing him dining with a woman who wasn’t his wife was not enough. She needed something more: an irrefutable, cast-iron nail for Audrey’s coffin.

Sheryl reached for her telephone, her breath quick and excited. God, this was fun! She could already picture the look on Audrey’s face . . .

‘Yes?’ Isabella Denham’s clipped tones rang in Sheryl’s ear. She sounded like she was in a car – presumably on the way home from her tryst at The Privet. Was John with her? Were they on their way to a hotel bedroom, about to make steamy, passionate love?

‘Lady Denham, sorry to bother you. Sheryl Toogood here from Love Birds matchmaking bureau.’

‘Love Birds? What on earth do
you
want? And at this time of night? It’s been years!’

‘I know. And I’m so sorry for the late hour.’ Sheryl used her most ingratiating tone. ‘It’s just that a cracker of a bachelor has come onto our books – a real gem! And you know how it is when a good-looking, eligible man comes along,’ she confided, enjoying her own yarn. ‘There’s always a fight as everyone scrambles to get their claws into him first. I’m trying to think of a suitable match for him, a
worthy
match, before word gets out and the feeding frenzy starts. And then it hit me! He would be absolutely perfect for you! And so I had to call you straightaway to see if you
were interested. I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if I hadn’t tried to make this match!’

There was a long pause.

‘I don’t suppose . . . I was wondering . . . are you . . .’ – Sheryl tried to sound as casual as possible – ‘looking for a date at the moment?’ She held her breath for the answer.

There was another long pause. Sheryl’s buttocks clenched her chair in anticipation. The seconds ticked interminably by. She could hear the sounds of Lady Denham’s car droning discreetly in the background.

‘Well, Ms Toogood,’ Lady Denham replied eventually, her voice curt. ‘Despite the rude hour of your phone call, your timing is surprisingly excellent.’

‘Oh?’ Sheryl replied excitedly. All she needed was for Lady Denham to take a couple of steps forward and walk into her net.

‘As coincidence would have it,’ Lady Denham continued crisply, ‘one of my regulars let me down tonight. So, yes, I could potentially be interested in hearing about your new gentleman. Tell me more.’

Sheryl could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears. Lady Denham had called John a ‘regular’. Something was definitely going on between them!

‘Of course, Lady Denham,’ Sheryl replied sweetly. ‘But what rotten luck about your regular. What happened?’

‘He’s retiring from escorting.’

‘From escorting?’ Sheryl breathed giddily. ‘What, is he an agency man?’

‘Not from a dating agency, no. Obviously I gave those up when I met Lord Denham.’

Sheryl could hardly believe her luck. Lady Denham was as easy to squeeze as a tea bag.

‘But you say this man was an escort? So you, um, you paid him, right?’

‘That’s right. Much simpler. Everyone knows what they’re getting into that way. He was from Geraldine.’

‘Geraldine?’

‘Yes, Geraldine Ashby. Look, I’m really not sure whether I’d want to join your little agency again, Ms Toogood, but I suppose you might as well tell me about your gentleman anyway. Maybe some sort of arrangement could be made if he’s up to scratch.’

Even as Lady Denham spoke Sheryl was already calling up the Google page on her computer and typing in the name ‘Geraldine Ashby’. She blithely spun Lady Denham a few lines about her dazzling new bachelor, making sure he didn’t sound too dazzling. After all, she was buggered if Lady Denham wanted to meet him. He didn’t exist.

She quickly found a website for ‘G. Ashby Appointments’ and hit return.

‘Hmmm, well, I’m not sure,’ Lady Denham said doubtfully. ‘He’s not exactly what I’m after these days. I think you might be losing your touch, Ms Toogood.’

‘Oh well!’ Sheryl hit the button for
gentleman escorts
. She whizzed through the blurb at the top of the screen. ‘
Escorting you through your vital events
...
Discreet and professional service
.’

‘We must catch up sometime soon,’ Sheryl sang airily, her attention elsewhere. ‘Do lunch.’ She dropped the phone back onto its cradle without waiting for a reply. She had what she needed now, and it wasn’t Lady Denham’s custom. She clicked on the button that said
gallery
and held her breath as she browsed through the selection of male escorts.

And there he was. John Cracknell. His distinguished face, so familiar from the DIPS balls, smiled handsomely at her from the computer screen. Except he wasn’t John Cracknell. He was John Marlowe. His interests were current affairs, sport and gardening. He was forty-one years old and yours for the night for G. Ashby Appointments’ highest fee.

Sheryl leaned back in her chair and smiled victoriously.

‘Gotcha!’ she said out loud to her empty office.

John beamed at Alice for the umpteenth time that evening and wondered yet again what he’d done to deserve to feel this good. He couldn’t believe she was actually here, sitting in his kitchen, eating his cooking, drinking his wine and, hopefully soon, sleeping in his bed.

‘You know,’ he grinned, ‘other than Emily and Geraldine, you’re the first woman I’ve cooked for in fifteen years!’

Alice smiled, but she seemed distracted. She put down her fork. ‘What are we going to do about Audrey?’ she asked quietly, her voice sounding small and worried. ‘We can’t let her find out about us by accident; it wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Wouldn’t it?’ John had a flashback to Audrey’s hard, cruel face at the ball.

‘She’d feel humiliated, like we’d not only broken her heart but made a fool of her too.’

‘Do you know,’ John said lightly, ‘for the first time in my life I don’t care how Audrey feels, or how any of my exclients feel. I’ve worried about them for too long. It’s time I worried about the people who are really important. You, me and Emily. Oh, and Buster, of course.’ He looked at Alice
and saw worry etched across her face. ‘You don’t owe her anything, you know. She’s treated you pretty badly over the years.’

‘She doesn’t
mean
to be unkind.’

‘She just does it automatically!’

But Alice still looked worried. She pushed her half-eaten food away.

‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you?’ he asked suddenly.

‘No!’ Alice exclaimed emphatically. ‘It’s just that I can’t stop imagining how she must be feeling, and how much worse it’ll get for her when she finds out about us. She’s going to have to explain your no-show at the next ball. I suppose she’ll have to say you’ve divorced.’

‘But will she?’ John asked. ‘I think she’ll just say I’m away on business and can’t make it. The lie’s entrenched now. It’s too big for her to get out of.’

Alice thought for a moment.

‘If you ask me,’ said John grimly, ‘the sooner she finds out about us the better. It’ll do her good to be set free from her lies. Believe me, I should know. Freedom feels fantastic!’

‘She’ll sack me,’ Alice said sadly. ‘She’ll have no reason, but she’ll do it anyway.’

John chose his words carefully.

‘Would that really be so bad? You’re better than Table For Two. You’re a brilliant matchmaker. You should be running your own agency.’