The Dating Game Page 5

  Stopping at a supermarket in Kilmarnock to grab a sandwich and a cup of tea in the café, she scrolled through her texts and e-mails. Seeing the number of unread e-mails, she wondered how she was going to get through them and prayed for divine intervention. Pressing speed dial for the office, she quickly connected with Janice, who ran through what had been happening. After advising Janice that she would be back in just over an hour, Gill hung up and resumed drinking her tea, shutting out the cacophony that was a crowded supermarket café. At least the schools had gone back now, as during the holidays she didn’t dare enter supermarkets during the day. Gill loved kids and doted on her brother’s two. Harry was four and George had just turned six and didn’t he want to tell you all about it. Actually he wanted to tell you about everything, just like his dad as a child. It was other people’s kids, particularly in supermarkets, who drove Gill mad. She tried to ignore their tantrums or when they threw themselves on the floor, refusing to get back up. If they looked between two and three, Gill gave the parents some leeway. After all, even she had heard of the terrible twos. Although her brother, Christopher, did seem to have got off lightly in that regard with his pair, who were angels – well, most of the time. But if they were older than that, Gill often wanted to strangle the parents. She knew it must be hard being a parent. Debbie had told her often enough what a trial it could be, but there were limits to what she felt the general public should be subjected to, and shrieking which would shatter glass she felt was well beyond that limit.

  After returning her empty tray to a vacant spot on the catering trolley, Gill dialled Debbie. She answered on the second ring.

  ‘Hi, it’s me.’

  ‘I know. I can see your number.’

  ‘Right, anyway, did you get my text?’

  ‘Yes, very exciting. So what do you think?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t actually been able to read any profiles yet, as I’ve only seen them on my phone and you know how blind I am.’

  Debbie knew. Gill was known for being clumsy, always falling over things and also for losing her contact lenses on nights out. She was as blind as a bat without her glasses or lenses in.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Debbie. ‘So, where are you?’

  Gill explained to her friend about her morning and how the meetings had gone. ‘I’m just heading back to the office now. I was going to ask, I know we met up last night, but I was thinking I could print the profiles off and we could have a look at them together.’

  ‘We-ell,’ Debbie hesitated.

  ‘Or do you need to pick Olivia up?’

  ‘No, my mum’s doing that, it’s just I haven’t seen much of Gerry this past week. He’s been working a lot of overtime.’

  ‘Oh right, don’t worry then. I’ll just phone you when I’ve had a look at them.’

  ‘No, let me see if I can work something out. I’ll call you back,’ and with that Debbie hung up.

  It took Gill less than forty-five minutes to get back into the west end of Glasgow, as traffic was still relatively light. Everyone was still in work. The rush hour would probably start within the next hour.

  When she arrived in the office, the normally unruffled Janice appeared stressed out.

  ‘You OK?’ she asked with concern.

  ‘Yes, it’s just been bonkers in here today. The phones have been ringing off the hook. Three people have dropped in about the SRC role you advertised, bringing their CVs in person, and the e-mail is totally choked up. Plus the server went down just after you called and I’ve only just managed to get it up and running again now. All in all, today could have been better.’

  Gill felt guilty, but didn’t quite know how to respond to make things better. Perhaps in hiring this new recruitment consultant, Janice’s workload would automatically reduce. She already did so much more than a receptionist and was an essential cog in the business. That’s why Gill paid her more than the going rate for a receptionist role, to ensure she didn’t think of leaving.

  ‘Do you have the CVs from the walk-ins?’ Gill asked.

  ‘Sure. Here,’ Janice handed them to her.

  ‘Thanks. I need half an hour without interruptions, unless it’s life or death, OK?’

  ‘No problem. You can count on me to hold them off,’ she winked at Gill.

  Laughing, Gill retreated into her office, where she booted up her computer and started working her way through the CVs Janice had handed her. She then made a start on the remaining mountain she still needed to address.

  Apart from an e-mail sent by Debbie into her work account, saying in the subject simply, ‘All is cool. Spoke to Gerry. Meet me in Drummonds Kelvingrove at 7,’ Gill barely glanced up all afternoon.

  She was vaguely aware of Janice shouting goodnight just after five, and next time she glanced at her watch it was quarter past six. Hurriedly, she logged into her e-mail and brought up the profiles.

  Number One – yes, he looked even better on the big screen. Charlie Prentice. Broad shoulders always did it for her. Maybe he was a mechanic or a shipbuilder, something manual labour related. On second thoughts, she doubted that, or he wouldn’t be on a Professional Persons dating site. More like Blue Collar Workers Are Us. There was nothing wrong with blue collar workers of course, she thought. On the contrary… Gill thought back many years, to Paul, a production worker at the local factory which made ball bearings and other parts for the automotive industry. The sex had been fantastic. Gill hastily pulled herself back to the present, feeling a touch aroused at her reminiscing.

  Candidate Profile

  Name: Charlie Prentice

  Age: 44

  Lives: South side Glasgow

  Occupation: Surveyor

  Qualifications: BSc Hons Environmental Management and Planning

  Height: 6’ 1”

  Marital status: Divorced

  Children: One daughter, aged twelve

  Smoker: No

  Interests: Playing and watching rugby, swimming, socialising with friends, mountain climbing, dining out, cooking, travelling

  Further information: Originally from Barra, I moved to Glasgow when I started university and ended up staying here.

  Looking to meet: A woman who likes socialising and who is open to romance. She should be independent but enjoy being part of a couple.

  Divorced? With a daughter. So he had some baggage, but didn’t they all? Gill thought. It was a plus that he didn’t smoke. No wonder he had that build, if he played rugby, and the swimming would account for those gorgeous shoulders. Blond, shortish hair, blue eyes. Yes, there was a real possibility she’d feel some sort of spark, she thought, if she could meet him in the flesh. And he shared some of the same interests as her, travelling, dining out and he could cook! That had to be a bonus. Just as long as he didn’t expect her to cook for him, or any friendship would be over before it began. Domestic goddess she wasn’t. And ‘open to romance,’ should that be interpreted, as ‘wants sex’? It was hard to know. You’d really have to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. She quite liked the Western Isles lilt, too. Charlie sounded promising.

  Candidate Profile

  Name: Ronald Fotheringham

  Age: 49

  Lives: Loch Lomondside

  Occupation: Antiques dealer

  Qualifications: MA Art History, FDA Furniture Restoration, PhD Fine Art & Design

  Height: 5’ 9”

  Marital status: Widower

  Children: Three of adult age

  Smoker: Occasional

  Interests: Art history, restoration, fine dining, black and white movies, squash, tennis, reading the classics.

  Further information: I have travelled extensively in search of various antiques on purchasing trips, including Asia, South America and the Orient.

  Looking to meet: A lady who wants to be treated to the finer things in life.

  He sounded as old as he looked and forty-nine? In his dreams. She wondered for how long he had been trying to pass himself off as forty-nine. He did sound interesting, th
ough, but a bit too fuddy-duddy. Her brain couldn’t compute a squash and tennis playing antiques dealer. Instead she conjured up the geeky, bookish, loner, effeminate, possibly gay, antiques dealer, which the movies often portrayed. Ronald had snow-white hair and a tanned complexion, with sun spots. He was a no.

  Candidate Profile

  Name: Anton Sidorov

  Age: 38

  Lives: Stirling

  Occupation: Research Scientist

  Qualifications: Equivalent of MPhys in Theoretical Physics

  Height: 6’ 3’

  Marital status: Single

  Smoker: No

  Interests: Golf, tennis, movies, reading, Zorbing, pot-holing.

  Further information: I come from Vladivostok and have been working as a Research Fellow in Scotland for five years.

  Looking to meet: An intelligent, attractive lady who likes sport and trying new activities. She should enjoy the cinema and weekends away exploring new places.

  Mmm. He actually looked quite nice, now she could zoom in on his picture. High cheekbones, in that inimitable Slavic style, piercing blue eyes and an indolent smile. Much slimmer than Charlie, but not unattractive. He had some interesting hobbies, too, and she could always use the joke on him, ‘it’s not rocket science’ and see how it was received. The fact he was a research scientist didn’t intimidate her, as of course she had an engineering degree. She could probably hold her own and would undoubtedly find his conversation quite stimulating. They shared a love of cinema. She wondered what type of movies he liked. Deciding that Anton definitely went in the ‘possible’ pile, Gill printed off the three profiles on her colour printer and popped them in her briefcase.

  Good. She’d get a chance to go through these profiles with Debbie and gauge her friend’s reaction to them. Gill didn’t think she was terrible at picking potential partners, just unlucky.

  After sending a few last minute e-mails, Gill freshened up in the toilet. Untucking her blouse, she applied some roll-on deodorant and, standing in just her bra and trousers to allow time for the deodorant to dry, she turned her attention to her hair. Her hair didn’t cope well in the heat, so she tugged a brush through it, and then applied leave-in conditioner, before spritzing her hair with fixing spray. A smattering of bronzer to give her a bit of colour, since she hadn’t been on holiday yet, a slick of lip gloss and she was ready. Slipping on a fresh blouse, she donned a black fitted jacket, smoothed it down and returned to her office to collect her things.

  It was just over half a mile from her office and as the weather was fine, Gill decided to walk. She arrived at Drummonds a few minutes before seven. Entering the restaurant, a staff member, dressed in a crisp white blouse, black waistcoat and sash, greeted her.

  ‘Good evening. Do you have a reservation?’

  ‘Yes. It’s under the name of Orr,’ Gill replied.

  Checking the reservation book, the girl smiled and said,

  ‘You’re the first of your party to arrive. Would the table by the window be OK for you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine, thanks,’ Gill confirmed and the waitress led her to a table, which had an excellent view over Sauchiehall St.

  Pulling out Gill’s chair for her, the waitress asked if she would like a drink. Gill mulled this over for a few seconds then decided she could always leave the car where it was overnight, and get the bus in tomorrow.

  ‘I’ll have a small glass of Sancerre, please.’ Best to pace herself.

  The waitress swiftly brought the wine to the table, along with two menus. She explained that her friend had booked through a special deal they had on at the moment, so that was menu one, but they could also provide anything from the à la carte, which she left her, too.

  Thanking her, Gill resumed her daydreaming and people watching. Seated by the window gave her an excellent vantage point, and, since the restaurant was raised one floor from the street, no one could see in. There was nothing worse than being in a restaurant, at a window table, on the ground floor. You felt like a goldfish in a bowl and people were so rude, gawping at you.

  Remembering she hadn’t switched off her phone, Gill opened her bag and put it on silent. She saw she had a new text message, from Christopher.

  ‘Missed you this weekend. The boys want to know if you will come for dinner on Thursday. Sarah’s promised to make meatballs if you do. Please say yes.’

  Gill smiled. She’d missed lunch with her brother and his family on Sunday, as she was too busy, trying to catch up with work. She felt bad, as it was the only engagement that she usually kept without fail. She enjoyed this family time, a rare respite from the drudgery of work. Sarah was lovely, too. She couldn’t have asked for a better sister-in-law. Pity that they never had time to have a girls’ night out together. Their schedules were simply too hectic.

  As she put her phone back in her bag, she thought of how her brother wrote all his texts longhand. Gill had given in to shorthand on texts, although she was no expert, simply to save time.

  Just then, the door opened and she saw Debbie’s short, beige trench coat being shed and handed to the waitress. Her friend waved at her and Gill stood up to give her a brief hug.

  Once seated, the waitress brought Debbie’s vodka and both girls relaxed.

  ‘Gerry dropped me off. I’ll get a taxi home later. So, spill the beans,’ said Debbie excitedly. Originally against the dating agency idea, since it was now decided upon, she was embracing it wholeheartedly.

  ‘Where are these profiles?’ Debbie asked, barely able to contain herself.

  ‘Why don’t we choose our food first, and then we can concentrate on my love life,’ Gill enjoyed keeping the anticipation going for a few minutes longer.

  ‘OK,’ and Debbie turned her attention to the menus.

  After a few minutes they turned to each other and Gill said,

  ‘I’m going to have the Homemade Pâté and then the Chicken Breast with Dingwall Haggis, with Whisky Sauce. I can’t see past that.’

  Gill was known for her calorific tastes, so Debbie, a bit of a health freak, said,

  ‘I think I’ll have the Salmon on Herb and Leek Risotto.’ She continued to read from the menu, ‘and for mains, I think I’ll go for Sea Bass Fillet with Scallops.’

  ‘Sounds fabulous,’ said Gill. ‘You do realise, Mrs Orr, that there probably isn’t a great difference in calories between your choice and mine tonight?’

  ‘I’m having fish!’ said Debbie, defending herself.

  ‘Yes, but with risotto and creamy mash and garlic and herb butter? Tut tut!’

  ‘Yes, well, I work it all off, anyway. Don’t tease me, or I may have dessert, too,’ and she picked up the menu again and said,

  ‘In fact, Puff Candy Meringue with Honeycomb Ice Cream and Hot Butterscotch Sauce sounds like it might round off the evening quite nicely,’ Debbie smiled sweetly at her friend.

  ‘Bitch!’ Gill said sotto voce.

  Debbie didn’t get the opportunity to add anything else, as their starters arrived. They tucked in greedily, agreeing by unspoken consensus that their chat would have to wait, whilst they polished off their first course.

  They laid their cutlery vertically across their plates, indicating they were finished.

  ‘So, am I getting to see these profiles or what?’ asked Debbie impatiently. ‘C’mon, hurry up,’ she tapped her fingers on the table, mimicking a drum roll.

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Gill, reaching for her bag. After some deliberation, she had decided to show Debbie the profiles in the order she had received them. Originally she’d thought it would be best to start with the worst and end with the best, but later decided it might be useful for them both to view the profiles in the same order. Gill wanted to assess Debbie’s reactions to see how closely they matched her own.

  ‘Do me a favour,’ Debbie said, ‘Cover up the photo first. I want to get a feel for them, without the photo.’

  ‘Oh, OK. I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Gill, feeling almost shallow for
having greedily devoured their photos first. But then, she had been unable to read the profiles, as she had viewed them on her phone and with her poor eyesight, it simply hadn’t been possible to pick out any words. That was her story anyway.

  Gill handed over Charlie’s profile, covering his photo with a coaster. Debbie slid the A4 sheet towards her and began reading the text.

  “Forty-four. That’s good. Surveyor. Probably drives a nice car and has a decent job – likely to be reliable,’ she glanced at Gill approvingly. Lowering her eyes back to the page, she read on. ‘Tall,’ Debbie waved her hand in the air, giving that attribute a large tick. ‘Divorced, though, and he has a daughter. Not a deal-breaker, but something to bear in mind?’ she glanced up again at Gill, who remained silent, waiting for her friend to conclude her assessment and more interested in what Debbie would say when she saw his photo. ‘Seems compatible with you, interest-wise. I say, unless he’s pig-ugly, he’s a yes.’ With a questioning glint in her eye at Gill, trying to figure out how her friend felt about Charlie, Debbie withdrew the coaster, to reveal Charlie’s photo.

  ‘Oh, hello! He’s bloody gorgeous. What’s he need to use a dating agency for?’ Debbie said flabbergasted.

  ‘Ahem,’ said Gill pointedly.

  ‘Well, yes of course, you’re gorgeous too, but I would kick you out of bed. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. In fact, I might tie him to the bed, so he couldn’t escape!’ confessed Debbie.

  Gill laughed. ‘He’s not that good-looking.’

  ‘Er, yes, he is,’ said Debbie.

  ‘Well our tastes really must be different then. Personally I’d only tie him to the bed if he was Bradley Cooper, Matthew McConaughey or Hugh Dancy gorgeous.’

  ‘Well he looks a bit like Bradley Cooper, without the facial hair. Who’s Hugh Dancy?’

  ‘The boss and Isla Fisher’s boyfriend in Confessions of a Shopaholic.’

  ‘Ah. Yes, he is quite tasty.’

  ‘So, if you had to rate Charlie on looks, what would you give him?’

  Debbie debated this for a minute then said, ‘Eight or nine.’

  ‘OK. I think seven.’