The Twelve Dates of Christmas

by Jenny Bayliss

  The reception hall boasted a stage framed with red velvet swags. The Lightning Strikes reps stood—looking uncomfortable in the glare of the spotlights—on the stage with their clipboards.

  The hopeful daters formed two orderly queues beside the staircases at either end and took turns mounting the stage to be given their team name. Richard discreetly took Kate’s hand and squeezed it before letting it drop so that they could ease into the crowd separately to be partnered up.

  Kate checked her phone for the picture of Edward. He had a tall wiry frame, an amiable smile that showed laugh lines around his eyes, and a shaved head, the shadow of which insinuated light brown hair. The spotlights were hot and when it was Kate’s turn to take to the stage, she realized the reps were glistening with sweat.

  Kate’s team was called the Snow Leopards and when she found Edward, he was already with the other members. Mandy and Todd had taken an instant shine to each other; they grinned maniacally at each other and everyone else in the room.

  Mandy explained—while Todd held both of her hands and gazed at her dreamily as if every word that fell from her lips were the greatest thing he’d ever heard—that they had seen each other on the first date and felt an instant connection. From then on, they had been on all the same dates but had never been paired with each other until tonight. The reps hadn’t been able to divulge their personal information, and both Mandy and Todd had been too shy to approach each other personally.

  “We just kept locking eyes across the room,” said Mandy, looking at Todd.

  “It was like we were drawn to one another,” said Todd, looking at Mandy.

  “Like star-crossed lovers!” Mandy said.

  And with that they began kissing in a way that didn’t seem appropriate outside the bedroom.

  “Blimey,” said Kate to Edward. “Looks like escaping these rooms is going to be down to us.”

  Edward looked embarrassed and alarmed, and he smiled nervously at Kate as if she might actually be a snow leopard and was planning to devour him. Crikey! Kate thought. I must be unwittingly giving off terrifying sex vibes tonight.

  Entry into the escape rooms was staggered. Kate’s team was due to start in forty-five minutes, so they took themselves off to one of the bars.

  “Would you like a drink?” Kate asked.

  Edward bit his lip. “Would you?”

  “Yes,” said Kate. “I’m going to get a drink. Would you like one?”

  “Oh yes, of course, um, yes please, I’d like a drink. Thank you,” said Edward.

  “What would you like?”

  “What are you having?”

  “I’m going to have a white wine,” said Kate.

  “Okay,” said Edward. “I’ll have a white wine too, please.”

  Kate turned to ask if Todd and Mandy would like a drink, but they were already mid-discussion about it.

  “I’m going for a fruit cider,” said Todd.

  “Oh my God,” said Mandy, “I was just thinking I fancied a fruit cider.”

  “Wow!” said Todd. “You were?”

  “I swear to God!” said Mandy.

  “We’re just so in tune with each other,” said Todd.

  And the tonsil hockey tournament resumed.

  Kate ordered two white wines and handed one to Edward, who was perched uneasily on the end of a banquette, looking like a baby bird about to fledge.

  “So,” said Kate. “IT, that’s interesting. How often do you have to tell people to turn their computers on and off again?”

  Kate had thought a little mild teasing might break the ice, but Edward only smiled meekly in a way that suggested that the joke was well worn and unfunny.

  “Sometimes that’s what’s needed to reboot the system,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Kate. “Of course. Graphic novels, though,” she tried again. “That’s an interesting hobby. Very creative.”

  “Yes,” said Edward.

  “Do you find it hard to come up with new ideas?” she asked. “It’s quite an art, writing a novel with minimal prose.”

  “Yes,” said Edward. “I have a lot of ideas.”

  Kate perused the busy bar. There seemed to be a lot more flirting in this group, and she wondered if it was down to the sensual décor or whether nine dates in, people were feeling more relaxed about the whole thing, although that didn’t seem to be the case with Edward.

  It was a long forty-five minutes. Kate drank another glass of wine and Edward eyed her as a monk might view a lush. She tried to draw Mandy and Todd into the conversation, but every question seemed to result in more snogging. Kate wondered if Mandy had thought to bring some lip balm; she was going to need it.

  At last their number was called. Mandy unwrapped her leg from around Todd; by now the pair were almost horizontal across the banquette and Edward looked more than ever as though he wanted to run screaming from the venue.

  They were led into a small wallpapered room. The door slammed shut behind them. There was no handle on the inside and Edward stared hard at the space where one should be for over a minute, as if trying to open it with his mind.

  Against one wall, a floral standard lamp stood next to an end table, on which stood a box with a combination lock. On the other side of the room was a metal step stool. At first Kate didn’t think there was another door out of the room, until she spotted a gold keyhole on one wall near the ceiling and realized it was a hidden door, flush with the wall and wallpapered—as the rest of the wall—in a gold flock paper.

  The wall with the table was papered in the same gold flock as the wall with the hidden door. That left two walls: one with a deep teal background, with a rain forest scene with birds and animals and brightly colored foliage, and the other—the one with the step stool—plain white except for a border of the same design as the rain forest wall running along the top.

  Kate looked around the room. Then she felt around the walls for bumps or buttons or concealed cubbyholes that might hold a key or a clue about how to get out. She didn’t find any.

  “Any ideas?” Kate asked.

  Todd, who stood behind Mandy with his arms around her waist, said, “I love lemurs.”

  “Oh my God,” Mandy yelped. “I love lemurs too!”

  “No way!” said Todd.

  Mandy swiveled round to face him without breaking Todd’s grip around her waist.

  “I swear on my life!” Mandy said with such overblown sincerity that Kate felt sure she was being sarcastic.

  But she was not. There followed two minutes of cooing at each other before they were lip-locked once more. Kate turned to Edward, who looked back at her blankly.

  “What about you?” she asked hopefully. “Problem solving is your livelihood. What are your thoughts?”

  “It must be in the wallpaper,” said Edward.

  Kate was deeply relieved to have any sort of proactive response.

  “Yes,” she said. “I think so too.”

  The two of them stood side by side, arms folded, staring at the rain forest.

  “I don’t fancy you,” said Edward, his eyes remained fixed on the wall.

  Kate was taken aback at the bluntness of a man who an hour ago couldn’t choose his own drink.

  “Fair enough,” said Kate. “I don’t think we could compete with Romeo and Juliet anyway.”

  Kate gave a nod in Todd and Mandy’s direction. As she did so, Todd stumbled backward, still attached at the face to Mandy, and landed on the step stool, whereupon Mandy straddled him and the heavy breathing became obscene.

  “I’m just grateful she’s wearing jeans,” said Kate.

  “Romeo and Juliet both ended up dead,” said Edward.

  Kate tried to think of something funny to say but decided it would be lost on her companion.

  She had an idea.

  “What if we count
how many there are of each animal,” she said. “There are four types of animal and the chest is locked with a standard four-digit combination lock.”

  Edward nodded and the two of them began to count the creatures in the rain forest wallpaper while Todd and Mandy had trouser sex on a stool. There were nine parrots, six snakes, eight butterflies, and four lemurs on the wall.

  “Okay,” said Kate. “So now we just have to keep twiddling the numbers until we get the right combination. Simple! How many combinations can there be of four numbers?” she said brightly.

  “Ten thousand,” said Edward.

  “Oh,” said Kate.

  She looked around the room and her gaze fell upon the border.

  “There!” She tapped Edward’s arm and he leaped away from her as though she’d stung him.

  “Where?” he said.

  Kate pointed to the border.

  “They’re in order,” she said. “Lemur, butterfly, snake, parrot. That’s the combo,” she said. “I’ll bet my granny on it!”

  Edward gave a look that suggested she was just the type to gamble her grandmother away, but he nodded his agreement with her hypothesis.

  “Would you like to do the honors?” said Kate, motioning toward the chest.

  “Would you?” he asked.

  “I don’t mind,” she said.

  “I don’t mind either,” said Edward.

  “You do it,” said Kate.

  She thought it might be good for Edward to do something assertive.

  Edward used the combination and the lock clicked open. Inside the chest, the key to the concealed door lay on a purple velvet cushion. He took it out and held it up like he’d just discovered the Holy Grail.

  Edward was tall but not tall enough to reach the lock without the stool. Clearly not wanting to be the one to break up the writhing couple on the stool, he handed the key to Kate.

  “Smooth,” she said, and raised her eyebrows.

  After several tries at reasoning with them, Kate pushed at Mandy and Todd gently until they flopped off the stool, limbs locked around each other, and landed on the floor with a dull thud like a couple of sandbags. This did nothing to dampen their ardor; on the contrary, their rampant thrusting only increased.

  Kate stood on tiptoes on the stool and slipped the key into the lock. The door clicked open and Edward was through it before Kate had even climbed down off the stool. She called to Todd and Mandy that they were going to the next room, but they didn’t appear to hear her. Oh well, she thought. That’ll be a nice surprise for the next team.

  “And then there were two!” said Kate as the door snapped shut behind her.

  Edward looked green.

  The next room was furnished to look like a study, with bookshelves, a heavy mahogany writing desk and chair, table lamps, and a chaise longue. There were ornaments and trinkets above the fireplace and a crimson smoking jacket hanging on the back of the door, which was not concealed this time but made from the same oak as the paneling on the two walls free of bookcases.

  A fleeting thought that Matt would love this room passed through her mind, and Kate banished it just as quickly and wondered instead how Richard was getting along with his date. She hoped he was having as much luck as she was.

  At the end of the chaise stood an old leather-bound steamer trunk with Paris stickers all over it. It was locked, and Kate surmised that it was for this that they needed to find a key. The action of intent looking seemed to suit Edward, as it negated the need for conversation, and he became less jumpy.

  They worked in amiable silence, Kate having written this date off as a complete nonstarter. Probably for the best, she thought; what with all the upheaval of moving, she would find it hard enough to find time for her budding relationship with Richard, let alone add another potential lover into her schedule.

  Within the first couple of minutes Edward had found the first key in one of the desk drawers. The key didn’t fit the lock. A moment later, Kate found another key in the smoking jacket pocket. That didn’t fit either. The third key, which Edward found in a small gilded sarcophagus on the mantel shelf, did fit the lock, and they opened the trunk to find another smaller trunk inside.

  Kate was beginning to enjoy herself. And without Todd and Mandy simulating sex in the corner, even Edward relaxed and became relatively chatty. One of the keys they already had fitted the second trunk, but the third key didn’t open the third case—which was an old picnic basket with a parcel label tied to the handle and the words A Moveable Feast written on it.

  Edward and Kate began an organized search—almost as if they were a team, Kate mused. Edward noticed a creaking floorboard beneath the tapestry rug in the center of the room. Carefully they rolled it back and found a floorboard that lifted easily. Kate reached her hand into the space and brought out a wooden box, which held the key to the picnic basket, and the key that Kate had found in the smoking jacket opened the fourth case housed within it.

  The fourth case contained a small wooden box about the size of a jewelry box and, unlike the others, it also contained postcards, which, as they inspected them, were all black-and-white images of the Ritz in Paris in the 1920s.

  “This must be the final box,” said Kate, and Edward agreed.

  They scanned the room.

  “It must be hidden in the one of the books,” said Edward, in a rare moment of assuredness.

  Kate glanced at the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

  “Where do we even begin?” she asked as much of herself as of Edward.

  Edward ran his finger along his lower lip.

  “It can’t be a random book,” he announced. “The postcards must be a clue; look for any books pertaining to Paris.”

  Kate was suddenly excited. They took a bookcase each, working methodically along the shelves, pulling out anything that hinted at being at all connected to Paris. All the classics were there: Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, the Brontës. All hardbacks and gold lettering like her dad’s old Reader’s Digest collection, in bottle green, red, and navy blue.

  Kate reached the Hemingways and something in her memory clicked.

  “A Moveable Feast!” she cried out. “It’s Hemingway!”

  Edward pushed a tome back into place.

  “What?” he said.

  Kate ran her finger along the row and picked out Ernest Hemingway’s memoir, A Moveable Feast. She let it fall open and sure enough, the book was hollowed out through the middle, with a key sitting at the bottom.

  “How on earth?” asked Edward, scratching his head.

  “It was the steamer trunk,” said Kate. “That was the first clue. Hemingway accidentally left a steamer trunk at the Ritz in Paris and they kept it for him in storage, and when he found it again later it was full of his old notebooks from the 1920s. That was the catalyst for his memoirs. I can’t believe I remember that,” she said more to herself than to Edward.

  “A Moveable Feast,” said Edward.

  Kate grinned and offered the book to Edward. He shook his head.

  “You do it,” he said. “You found it. Well done.”

  He smiled at Kate. He really did have a lovely smile; what a shame it only made an appearance at the curtain call. Kate slipped the key into the lock on the final box and retrieved the key to the exit. Edward held out his hand and Kate shook it.

  “It was lovely to meet you,” said Edward quietly. “Under different circumstances . . .”

  “What do you mean?” Kate asked.

  “You can tell your boyfriend I didn’t lay a finger on you,” he said.

  “My boyfriend?” Kate echoed.

  But Edward gently lifted the key out of her palm, slipped it into the lock, and turned the key. The door clicked open and Edward slipped out through it and was gone before Kate could argue or get an answer.

  Kate left the study and followed a
corridor that led out into another bar. Edward wasn’t in it. She approached the bar and ordered a drink.

  “I seem to have lost my date,” she said to the woman behind the bar.

  The woman smiled.

  “Happens to the best of us,” she said.

  “I don’t suppose you saw a tall willowy chap in a blue stripy jumper pass through a moment ago?”

  “Good-looking chap? Shaved head?”

  “That’s him!”

  “He looked like he was in a hurry,” said the woman. “Headed straight for the exit. Did you scare him off or chase him off?”

  “Neither,” said Kate. “I don’t think.”

  But she had a horrid suspicion that Richard might have had something to do with it.

  Kate took her drink and wandered through to the bar nearest the street exit. She sat and waited for Richard to finish. She hoped she was wrong about him. But who else would have said something to Edward? And what on earth must he have said to make Edward view her as though she were an infectious disease?

  Twenty minutes later Richard’s team entered the bar. Richard was making jokes and they were all laughing as though they’d been friends since college, not strangers on a date night. Richard’s date seemed enthralled by whatever story he’d been telling, and she looked up at him doe-eyed and attentive. Kate fumed.

  Richard spotted Kate and left his new friends—with much protestation on their part; he kissed Echo on the cheek, and with a wink that could have meant something or nothing he strode across the bar and plonked himself on a stool to face her.

  “What say we get out of here and go somewhere a little more intimate,” said Richard.

  “You spoke to my date, didn’t you?” said Kate. “Frightened him off.”

  For a moment Richard’s face was a mask. Kate could imagine his thought processes: Laugh it off? Play it cool? Be honest? But he recovered his composure.

  “It was just a bit of fun,” said Richard. “I didn’t mean anything by it!”