The Dating Game Page 20

  ‘Get a room you two,’ said a passing group of boys in white tracksuits.

  Gill and Sean looked at each other, saying nothing. The sound of the diesel engine finally broke into their thoughts. When they didn’t move, the surly taxi-driver, shouted, ‘Do you two want a taxi or not?’

  ‘We’ll take it,’ Sean pacified him.

  ‘Do you mind if we go past mine on the way? It’s just there aren’t many taxis at this time of night, as you can see.’ Sean asked Gill.

  ‘No, that’s fine. Where are you?’

  ‘Top of Rose St. Just off Sauchiehall St, up the wee hill.’

  ‘The one that’s as steep as the hills you see in San Francisco on TV?’ asked Gill, as she adjusted herself on the seat. Her jeans were digging into her.

  ‘That’s it. It was handy for the RSAMD. I bought it from the landlord when I moved here.’

  Less than five minutes after leaving the bus station, the taxi drew to a stop in Rose St.

  ‘Gill, I had a great time tonight. You’re very easy to get on with,’ Sean whispered out of earshot of the driver. ‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’

  At this Gill giggled, ‘Sean, we’ve had three coffees. I’ll be lucky to sleep a wink tonight!’

  ‘Good point,’ he opened the door of the taxi, ‘nightcap?’

  ‘I can’t. I have an early start. Truly – maybe another time?’ Gill didn’t mean to commit herself by saying this, but immediately Sean pounced,

  ‘Good, because I’d like to see you again.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch when I get back from Barcelona,’ she said, trying to read his expression.

  ‘Are you getting out or what?’ the driver barked.

  ‘Give us a second,’ Sean replied over his shoulder. Turning to Gill, he leant across her and said, ‘Until next time,’ and he bent his head to hers and kissed her.

  As Sean closed the door, then waved, Gill touched her fingers to her lips where Sean’s had met hers a moment before and wondered what the hell was going on with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Wednesday 21st September

  No time to dwell on the exploits of the night before. Wednesday was chaos. The temp had arrived, so, after a quick briefing, Gill asked her to shadow Janice for the day. The girl, Amanda, seemed quite bright, which was one less thing for Gill to stress about when she went to Barcelona.

  Gill cleared her desk as much as possible. She hadn’t scheduled any meetings for today. Arranging meetings for the day before a holiday was always a recipe for disaster. Long ago she’d realised she shouldn’t overstretch herself, although realising this and doing something about it, were sometimes two entirely different things.

  Periodically she checked on the temp, receiving a nod of approval from Janice. That was all she needed to know. Breathing a sigh of relief, Gill attacked the rest of her tasks. Finally, she wrote a pending items list for Janice and e-mailed it across to her.

  Only once she was home, had popped a ‘fresh’ meal from the supermarket chiller section in the microwave, and poured herself a glass of wine, did Gill finally have time to check her personal e-mails. There was another progress update request from Caroline Morgan, a couple of jokes from Christopher and an e-mail from Gary. Gary. When had they gone out? Screwing up her face, Gill tried to recall exactly when she had ripped her trousers. Shouldn’t be too hard to remember that, you’d have thought, but she had difficulty with which day it had been. Ah, it was last Tuesday - a week before her second date with Sean. She hadn’t really thought about Gary this week, but then there had been such a lot going on. She opened the e-mail and read,

  ‘Hi Gill. Hope you are well. Am away on the rigs, but will be back next week. If you are game for meeting up again, how’s next Saturday, 28th looking? Gary.’

  To say that she was astounded was too strong, but very surprised, yes. But then, he had said he would like to see her again. With so many new friends at the moment, Gill was having difficulty keeping track.

  Last Tuesday seemed a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, not least that she’d slept with Anton. Plus she’d been in a compromising position with Charlie and snogged Sean. Her head hurt with the logistics of it all. She’d pack for Barcelona and then answer him. But first, she really must phone her parents.

  As Gill lay in bed waiting for sleep to overcome her, she replayed her last date with Anton, over and over in her head, every nuance, every detail, until finally she fell asleep.

  Anton left the laboratory some time after midnight. It had been a long day. He’d subsisted on sandwiches and coffee. At least the hotel wasn’t far away, he thought. He couldn’t wait to have a warm shower and then lie in a soft bed, where he could finally let his thoughts drift to Gill and what had happened between them. It had been every bit as good as he had anticipated. They had been so right together. He felt excited about the future. Concentrating on the road, windscreen wipers on full, he smiled to himself at the thought of her. The rain was becoming heavier, making it difficult to see. The newscaster on the radio warned of flooding and heavy rain and advised drivers to take extra care.

  Headlights rushed towards him. He heard a scream, which startled him. The impact, the twist of metal, and the pain, occurred simultaneously. As he started to lose consciousness, he realised the scream had been his own.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Thursday 22nd September

  As it turned out, Gill didn’t manage to get back to Gary that night, since the grilling she received from her mother, who had made her feel bad for not phoning in the past few weeks, lasted more than an hour. Gill finally managed to get her mother off the phone by telling her she still needed to pack. But not before she promised to come down in a couple of months and spend a few days with them. ‘Your father’s not getting any younger you know.’ The irony of this statement was lost on her mother, older than her husband by five years. And they were both fitter in many ways than Gill. In their early seventies, their days consisted of walks by the sea, squash for her father and tennis for her mother. Moving to Devon had rejuvenated them. Sometimes Gill wished she could move to Devon, although not next to her parents, no matter how much she loved them. She fancied somewhere tranquil, with a slower pace of life than in the city. Although no London, Glasgow was busy enough to need to escape from on occasion. For now, Barcelona would have to do.

  Always first to arrive, Gill checked her e-mails at the station. Damn. She’d forgotten to reply to Gary. She typed fast. ‘Gary, about to go to Barcelona. 28th should be fine. What did you have in mind? Gill.’ Short and to the point.

  As she waited, she noticed another e-mail arrive from Caroline Morgan.

  ‘Dear Gill. Please find attached two more profiles.’

  Realising she wouldn’t be able to read them easily on her phone, she dug in her carry-on bag for her tablet, booted it up and logged into her e-mail again. There, better now.

  Candidate Profile

  Name – James McArthur

  Age – 48

  Lives – Edinburgh

  Occupation – Company Director

  Qualifications – MSc Marketing

  Height – 5’ 10’

  Marital status – Divorced twice, four children

  Smoker – Y

  Interests: Stock market, cars, white water rafting, good restaurants, wine, movies.

  Further information: I set up my first company at twenty-five. I have dabbled with many industries since. I own several homes in France, Spain, the US, as well as pieds à terre in London and Morningside. I split my time between them when I can.

  Looking to meet: A lady who enjoys travelling and who appreciates wine. Must love cinema.

  Gill scanned the first profile. Company Director from Edinburgh, OK. Height fitted. Divorced twice – ouch! That was a big no-no. Once was unlucky, twice flagged up warning signs. At forty-eight, his kids could be anything from thirty downwards. Stock market – so, he found financial dealings and probably world affairs interesti
ng – certainly more than she did. From the head and shoulders shot included, he appeared quite stocky. The image was very proper, almost as formal as a passport photo. The black suit did nothing to detract from his bulk. Gill also didn’t like the way he bragged about setting up a company so young. It was very ‘look at me,’ which Gill despised. Likewise, mentioning his homes around the world, screamed show-off.

  Gill felt sure many women would be delighted to receive James’ profile, and consider him a real catch, but she wasn’t particularly interested in material wealth. As long as she had enough to live the life she currently led, she was happy. No, he wasn’t for her. His eyes held no warmth. She’d like to say his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but that slight twist of his lips couldn’t even be classed a smile, more a grimace. It almost looked as if it pained him to smile.

  White water rafting – well, she’d always fancied that, a throwback to dreams of her adventurous youth, when she would have tried anything daring - hence the dreaded, never to be repeated bungee jump. But she’d have to wait for another opportunity, as she certainly wasn’t going with Mr Arrogant – Mr I Display My Wealth For All To See. He was into cars, too, probably had one for every day of the week. And Morningside, well that made sense. You couldn’t be as wealthy as he was, and not boast a home in the most luxurious neighbourhood in Edinburgh. He didn’t interest her at all, from his affluence to the severe military haircut; Gill simply wasn’t taken with him.

  She turned her attention to the second profile.

  Candidate Profile

  Name - Mark O’Hara

  Age – 35

  Lives – Prestwick

  Occupation – Consultant

  Qualifications – MBChB from Glasgow School of Medicine

  Height – 5’ 7”

  Marital status – Single

  Smoker – No

  Interests: Motocross, rally driving, speedway, music, squash.

  Further information: I recently took up a new post as Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon. I come from a large family, all doctors. Also in a band, play guitar.

  Looking to meet: Someone who wants to socialise and enjoy life.

  Gill began to read, but not without first scrutinising his photo. He appeared to have strawberry blond hair. Ginger. Hmm. But he had a lovely smile, which did reach his eyes, unlike James’. He was a Consultant – another highflier then; quite short, though, at only five feet seven. A non-smoker. That deserved a tick. Another black mark for James – a smoker. Mark, too, seemed to like cars and bikes. He played squash. Gill had played once and for three days afterwards, had felt as if she’d broken her wrist, unable to type, not even in a ‘one finger at a time’ fashion.

  ‘What are you up to?’ Lisa peered over her shoulder. ‘Might have known you’d still be attached to a computer somehow. We’re on holiday remember,’ she plonked herself down on the bench next to Gill. ‘So, who’s that?’

  ‘Another potential date. Mark. He’s a doctor.’

  ‘Ooh,’ Lisa’s eyes already displayed dollar signs.

  ‘Don’t even think it – he’s only five feet seven.’

  ‘And? We’re all the same height…’ She didn’t get to finish her sentence, as Gill broke in, ‘Lying down, I know.’

  ‘He’s cute, though, for a ginger.’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Gill agreed, just as Angela and Debbie walked up to them.

  ‘Hello, love,’ Debbie embraced first Gill, then Lisa. ‘Bumped into this one at the cash machine. So, how are we all doing?’

  ‘What’s that you’ve got there?’ Angela strained to see, as she set her bag down on the bench.

  ‘That’s Mark,’ Lisa filled her in.

  ‘Mark?’ asked Angela and Debbie together.

  ‘The agency sent me two more profiles,’ said Gill.

  ‘Really? Let’s be having them,’ Debbie’s enthusiasm was catching, as all four friends huddled round Gill’s tablet.

  ‘Why don’t we wait until we’re on board? We really should get going,’ Gill checked her watch. ‘The train leaves in ten minutes and we still need to buy tickets.

  ‘OK, get a wriggle on, girls,’ Lisa bossed them.

  The packed train meant standing room only. No chance to discuss the profiles. By the time they reached Prestwick Airport, the girls were pretty hyper.

  ‘I’m so glad we booked Speedy Boarding,’ Lisa said, rummaging in her bag for her boarding pass. ‘Look at the size of the other queue.’

  ‘Yes, but we paid an extra forty pounds between us, just to board the plane earlier,’ Angela’s cynicism shone through.

  ‘Well, it’s done now. Let’s just be glad we don’t have to push in with all the rest of them,’ Debbie jerked her thumb in the direction of the three hundred-odd passengers jostling each other behind the Wait Here line.

  ‘That was much more civilised,’ Debbie said, once they had all taken their seats.

  A large woman, one of the last people to board the plane, tried to put her three carrier bags into the overhead compartment, but there simply wasn’t space. She managed one and then asked Gill and Angela to move, so she could access the window seat. Angela stared at her. The woman had to be twenty stone plus. She really thought there was going to be room for her in the window seat, plus her two bags? How had she even sneaked the bags past the airline’s checks? Angela and Gill slid out of their seats to let her pass, catching a whiff of body odour which would have knocked out a World Championship boxer. When they sat down again, Angela practically had to hug Gill to get away from the woman who now occupied one and a half seats.

  ‘How long’s the flight?’ Angela whispered to Gill.

  ‘Two and a half hours.’

  ‘If nobody sits beside them,’ Angela inclined her head to where Lisa and Debbie sat, undisturbed, would you mind if I moved over there?’

  Sympathising, Gill said, ‘Of course not. I’m going to read anyway.’

  ‘Great,’ Angela’s relief was almost palpable, if short-lived, as a woman came along with a young boy and asked Lisa to move up.

  ‘I can let you past, but I want an aisle seat.’

  The mother regarded Lisa with notable disdain. Muttering something indistinct to her son, the boy then wriggled past to the window seat. Seemingly content, the girls then paid no attention to him, until he started kicking the back of the seat in front of him, occupied by an elderly lady.

  ‘Could you stop doing that?’ Lisa glared at him.

  The boy said nothing, but redoubled his efforts.

  ‘Quit it!’ Lisa said sharply. The boy started to cry. The stewardess appeared just then and Lisa stopped her, ‘Excuse me, can you seat this boy elsewhere? He’s kicking this lady’s seat.’

  ‘I’m afraid the flight’s full,’ the stewardess said apologetically.

  ‘Well, can you seat him with his family? He’s being a nuisance.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ The stewardess then asked the boy where his mum was.

  ‘What a flight,’ Angela said, delighted that they had finally landed. ‘I thought I was going to be sick. That woman reeked. I don’t think she’d showered for a week.’

  ‘I know. She should have been made to buy two plane seats and a can of deodorant,’ Gill said, as she reached in her bag for her passport.

  It was peak time at Prat de Llobregat airport and several flights had just deposited their passengers on the tarmac.

  ‘Wow, feel that heat,’ Lisa said, positively jubilant.

  ‘I know, it’s glorious,’ Gill basked in the sun during the short walk from the plane steps to the terminal building.

  Forty minutes later the girls entered the main section of the airport, in search of the tourist information centre. They wanted to know exactly where to get the train, as they found the signs difficult to follow.

  ‘This airport’s lovely,’ Lisa said awe-struck. ‘Just look at these shops.’ Knowing that shops had the same effect on Lisa as a siren calling a sailor, Gill grabbed her shoulders and turned her aw
ay from them.

  ‘Train’s not bad. Quite comfortable actually,’ Angela reclined in her seat.

  ‘Yes, just a bit busy,’ Debbie hated crowds.

  They alighted at Passeig de Gràcia and walked the ten minutes to the hotel on C/Boqueria, passing shoppers laden with bags from El Corte Inglés, as well as top designer names. Lisa appeared to be in heaven. Debbie regarded the cool, Catalan women; always expertly coiffed, with makeup as flawless as if applied by a professional, sunglasses perched on their heads. Parents held the hands of their chattering children, as they tried to identify a café where they could have a drink.

  ‘Is it much further?’ Lisa moaned. ‘My feet are killing me.’

  ‘Well maybe you should have worn something more practical than heels, for travelling?’ Angela glared at her in exasperation. Although they were friends, those two rubbed each other up the wrong way most often.

  ‘I think it’s just down here,’ Gill consulted the map and then said, ‘Yes, see the sign?’

  The girls looked up, and sure enough the sign for their hotel stood out fifty yards ahead.

  The receptionist spoke good English and soon sorted them out with their keys. A porter showed them to their adjoining rooms. They were both family rooms. The Hotel Opera didn’t appear to have simply double or twin rooms. Debbie and Angela took the first room, which comprised a single bed and bunk beds.

  ‘We won’t be in it much,’ Angela said, taking in the small, but neat accommodation. A functional en suite was off to one side, but there was a serious lack of wardrobe space.

  ‘Thank God I’m not sharing with Lisa. Five coat hangers?’ Debbie said in disbelief.

  Once unpacked, the girls went next door to hurry along Gill and Lisa.

  Gill opened the door to them.

  ‘Hey, your room’s huge!’ Angela took in the room, twice the size of their own, which boasted a balcony overlooking the street.

  ‘Aren’t they all the same?’ Gill asked.

  ‘No, ours is miniscule compared with this and we have bunk beds.’