by Nancy Peach
“It had been a night of nonsense and folly, of agitation and excess of feeling, and yet our heroine felt the approach of resolution. For, once the mind of a young woman is fixed upon a decisive course of action, there is little that can be done to dissuade her. Particularly in matters of the heart.”
Tess smiled in her sleep.
Simon responded to Tess’s text within a couple of hours, and on the Sunday morning she awoke bleary-eyed and groggy to a message in her inbox asking if she’d like to go out the following Saturday. She scrunched her eyes against the daylight and struggled up onto her elbows, propping her head up with another pillow as she tried to focus on the screen. Wincing at her headache she replied in what she hoped was a suitably cheerful, but not too desperate, tone and then stared at the phone in her hand for a few moments, contemplating the implications.
She didn’t mention the blind date to her mother, feeling that conversations about potential boyfriends were best avoided, but they had a long hug in the kitchen before her mum wrinkled up her nose and said, “Did you sleep in that top, you grubby mare? Go get yourself in the shower. I’ll get breakfast on,” and no reference was made to the previous night’s argument or the letters that were now stashed in Tess’s rucksack. Jake looked contrite when he returned later that morning without Rini and Tess apologised for embarrassing him in front of his new girlfriend.
“It’s hardly the picture of domestic harmony, is it?” she said when they were back in the privacy of the conservatory. “And I know how thin these walls are. You’ll have heard all of it.”
“Oh, look Tess, some of it were my fault,” he said, staring down at his open palms. “I started you off fretting about Mam, and then for you to find them letters… To be honest she needed a few home truths.”
“Yeah, but maybe screaming them around the neighbourhood was not the best way to do it.”
He leant back and laughed. “No, it were grand. Should’ve seen Viv’s face when she heard you talking about all them lads you’d shagged at university.”
“Oh my God! I can imagine.” Tess put a hand to her mouth in horror.
“But don’t worry about Rini. Her family’s way more messed up than ours.”
“Oh, well that’s reassuring, I suppose.” She patted him on the arm. “Thank you.”
“Nowt to thank me for. Don’t be daft, woman.”
And that was the end of the conversation.
When she got back to Bristol, she found that Simon had texted her again and suggested The Garage as a place to meet up on Saturday. It was a bit townie for Tess’s taste, but maybe this was all part of her reinvention – before she could change her mind, she replied that she’d see him there. She sat back on the sofa, Morris pawing at her lap. Well, she’d done it now. She was going on a date. An actual blind date. She didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified, but one thing was certain: she’d taken charge of herself again. She hadn’t bought anything other than petrol at the motorway service station, ignoring the television host as he pointed out the array of confectionary items.
“It has been a very eventful few hours, Tess, are you quite sure you don’t need a little pick-me-up? After all, your mum’s been lying to you for years and years. That’s gotta hurt, hasn’t it? And your dad. What must he have thought? Probably that you just didn’t care... It’s all such a mess.”
Past the super-size bars of chocolate she’d walked, swinging her keys. Past the grab-bags of crisps and the multipacks of biscuits, past the freezer cabinet with its tubs of ice cream. The host’s voice became increasingly frantic.
“You know I’m right, Tess. Because I understand you better than anyone else. I know about that emptiness inside of you and the best way to fill it… It’s all here, look! Here’s your sugar rush, your own little shot of comfort wrapped up in shiny foil. There’s even those little puddings you like. I mean, they’re so small they barely count!”
Still she’d walked on, straight up to the till, past the shelves of groceries and barely given them a second glance.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking you don’t need it, Tess, because you do!” he’d screeched as she paid and walked back to her car. But this time, Miss Austen’s voice had been louder and it had drowned him out.
“The evidence of a parent’s love is a balm to the soul, sir, no matter how shocking the manner of discovery. I think you might find that Tess is, in fact, already in possession of everything she requires.”
It was true. The feeling from last night remained strong within her; she was in control. Maybe she was closer to rediscovering her confident former self than she had thought. She pulled the sheaf of her dad’s letters out of her rucksack and pressed them to her face for a moment, breathing in the scent of warm dust before carrying them upstairs and tucking them away safely in a drawer, for now.
Later that afternoon, Kath returned from her shift. Tess was making herself a cup of tea when her housemate came in and dropped her bag and keys with a noisy clatter on the work surface. She opened one of the cupboards and started searching for food while enquiring as to Tess’s weekend. Tess filled her in about the row with her mum and the discovery of Marco’s letters.
“Shit.” Kath gave a low whistle. “What are you going to do?”
Tess admitted that she didn’t know. The information was just sinking in and she didn’t want to make any rash decision about attempting to forge a relationship with a father she hadn’t seen in twenty years. “It was a massive shock,” she said. “I mean, my mum, you can imagine. I’m still completely livid with her.”
“But you can sort of see why she did it?”
“Kind of. No. Not really, to be honest. I get that it was out of some misguided attempt to protect me. She still maintains that he was an absolute bastard and I’m sure he wasn’t perfect, but she’s basically guided my opinion of him by lying, or at least, hiding the truth. Now, it’s like I found these letters, I realise he did want to know me and I have to readjust my idea of him. It all feels like a complete…”
“Head-fuck?”
“Yeah.”
“Totally. I mean, if you’ve been told often enough, like, that your father didn’t love you, I guess it’s hard to suddenly believe that he did?”
Tess’s eyes filled with tears and Kath rushed to put her arm around her. “Shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be, you know…”
Tess sniffed. “No, you’re right. It’s exactly like that.” She gave a watery smile. “And in a way, that’s what makes it more bearable. It’s finding out a nice thing rather than a horrible thing, and in recent years I feel like I’m only ever stumbling across really crappy surprises.”
“Sure, you’re not wrong. Walking in on yer man Scott in bed with another fella is, like, right up there with the crappiest.”
“Yeah.” Tess laughed. “Given my luck recently, I’m just amazed that I didn’t discover that my real father’s actually an axe-murderer or that I’m about to be deported or—”
“An envelope full of anthrax…”
Tess laughed. “Exactly.”
Kath leant back against the cupboard. “So, what did Gorgeous Jake say?”
“Well. He’s was just Jake, you know. Gorgeous or not, he’s so matter-of-fact about everything, it’s hard to tell if he’s bothered either way. I’ll call him later, once I’ve got my head straight. I know he’ll be cross with Mam and he’s probably worried about me – not that he’d show it particularly. I don’t know, though, whether he’s upset that it’s my dad who’s been in touch and not his.”
“You don’t think she’s got another bloody shoebox squirrelled away somewhere full of letters from Jamaica?!” Kath hooted with laughter and then put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that was me being inappropriate again.”
“You’re fine. It helps, you being so… you know.”
Kath nodded. “Well, grand. Any time you want to chat about it, you let me know. If you want someone with you when you go through the letters, like, or…? No. Su
re, you’re right, that would be weird. Well, I’m here if you need.” She moved to the cupboard. “Now, I am half-starved. What paltry offerings have we here?”
Tess meant what she’d said about not wanting to make any rash decisions; she just needed to let the information sit with her for a while. In the meantime, the blind date was a more pressing concern and something she definitely wanted Kath’s opinion on. “I texted that guy Simon last night,” she said, feeling quite proud of her extreme bravery.
Kath was bent over searching in the furthest depths of what was essentially an empty cupboard, so Tess’s voice was muffled. “What?” she asked, backing out carefully.
“Simon Collins? That guy Ravi was talking about? I texted him.”
Kath still looked none the wiser.
“The blind date? Possibly the only man in England who might want to go out with me?”
A flicker of recognition crossed Kath’s face. “Ah…” she said, starting to nod, but then shook her head. “No. He wasn’t called Simon. You mean Leon.”
“Who?”
“Leon. Leon Marshall. He’s the friend of Ravi’s who was interested in a blind date. Mind you, you’d have to be blind. He’s no ride, that fella. Face like a bag of spanners. That’s why he’s had no luck on Tinder.” She bent back down and continued to forage in the cupboard, smiling in triumph as she pulled out a dusty pack of noodles.
“But… No. It was Simon.” Tess reached for her phone and started scrolling through to Ravi’s message. “Simon Collins. Not Leon Whatever…” She paused. “See?”
Kath peered at the screen. “Ah well, maybe all of Rav’s mates are keen on hooking up with you, God knows. Certainly, the one he’d mentioned to me was Leon… What? What is it?”
Tess’s nose was screwed up in confusion as she looked at the message immediately above Simon’s contact details. The text from Ravi said: “E. Agent info”, with a smiley emoji.
“E. Agent? What does that mean?” Tess was staring at the screen, willing it to make sense.
Kath took the phone out of her hand. “Estate Agent, I guess. Oh! It’ll be that time we thought we might look for a flat nearer the hospital, d’you remember? Rav had the number of that guy who’d found Dion’s place, the one with the balcony… Wait, so this is the… Holy Christ! You total arse!”
Tess’s face was frozen in horror as the realisation dawned. “Oh. My. God. I’ve texted the wrong guy.”
Kath was lost for words. They both looked at each other for a few seconds and then exploded into laughter.
“So. Just to re-cap,” said Kath wiping her eyes, “you’re going on a blind date with a complete and utter random.”
Tess nodded, “It would appear so. Christ, what must he have thought when he got my message? And what kind of person agrees to a date with a total stranger who texts him at”—she looked back at her phone—“at one-thirty in the morning, especially when it’s not even come through a dating app?”
“Well, I guess you’re going to find out.” Kath was shaking her head in a combination of astonishment and admiration and they both burst out laughing again.
Kath suggested a thorough trawl through the internet. They didn’t have to look for long. Information about Simon Collins’s life and opinions was easy to find, due to his regularly updated posts on every social media platform available, including some Tess had never even heard of.
“Sure, he likes to let everyone know what he’s up to.” Kath laughed as they looked at a picture of him lifting weights that morning.
On Simon’s LinkedIn page he described himself as a “Residential and Commercial Property Retail Executive” and away from the polyester-suited splendour of his business profile, his extensive photo collection indicated that he was quite good-looking. There were many images of him in a pair of shorts, top off, revealing a toned torso and what might have been a fake tan. Tess groaned. “He’s clearly a complete narcissist. Oh God, what am I doing?”
Kath was studying a shot of Simon in his jeans and muscle vest. “He’s got a pretty decent reason for being a narcissist though. I mean, he’s in good shape, isn’t he. I wouldn’t say no – if I wasn’t going out with Ravi, obviously.”
Tess picked up her mug and moved to the dishwasher. “I must be out of my mind,” she said. “D’you think I should just cancel? Explain the mistake.”
Kath folded her arms. “Babe,” she said. “Don’t cancel. It’ll be an adventure. It doesn’t matter if he’s not Mr Perfect, and it’s not like you’ve suggested meeting in an abandoned shack on the Downs. You’ll be in the centre of town, and if he’s a dick, or you feel unsafe or whatever, you just get an Uber straight home.”
Tess didn’t look convinced but Kath continued, “It’ll be good to go out, get a new outfit, get back some of that sass? You’ve had a crappy time at work. You need some fun, flirt a bit, you know. It’s never going to be easy, after Scott, but you’ve got to get back on that horse sometime.” She looked back at the phone. “And that sure is some horse.”
“Show pony, more like. But yes, you’re right. I’ve got nothing to lose.”
“And who knows – you might even make it to the Instagram hall of fame, if he decides there’s space on there for anything other than his pecs.”
Chapter Seventeen
A week later and Tess was standing on the pavement outside The Garage Bar feeling nervous. The television host had been in her ear for the whole taxi journey contemplating his list of possible show titles for her night out.
“I’ve had some ideas, Tess, see what you think… How about: ‘Fat Girls Dating Fit Boys – When It All Goes Wrong!’ No? What about: ‘I’m Dating an Ugly Doctor, Get Me Out of Here!’ Not keen? It’s a bit derivative, you’re right. We could try: ‘My Mum Was a Lying Tart, Am I One Too?’ It’s up to you,” he said as she shut the taxi door and stepped out onto the pavement. “After all, you’re integral to the creative process here. Without you, there’d be no show!”
She had decided to wear the top she’d bought at Meadowhall the previous weekend, and suddenly she was reminded of her mum’s words about the low neckline. Resisting the urge to tug at it and make herself more decent, she took a deep breath and pushed against the glass doors of the bar, where she was met by a wall of noise. The posters proclaimed that happy hour was in full swing and the place was packed. Gangs of scantily clad girls tottered around high bar stools with improbably named cocktails. In the corner, a large screen was showing the end stages of a Champions League match and a group of men were gathered beneath it, feet planted widely apart, taking occasional swigs of their designer cider as they gazed, mesmerised by their team’s progress. It was clear that this was not a place for couples; gender lines were well defined and the groups of males and females would not mix or mingle until significant quantities of alcohol had been consumed. It was one of those venues where the primary objective appeared to be getting as loaded as possible, stumbling around the sticky dance floor and eventually toppling into the arms of a stranger, either going on to indulge in a night of erotic adventure, or fall over on the pavement and vomit on your shoes. Which way it would go for each individual was anyone’s guess at this early stage of the evening, but Tess thought she could already identify a few girls for whom the latter option seemed most likely.
Amid these circling packs there were one or two lone wolves, and up at the bar Tess could see a razor-sharp hairline cut into a broad neck and shoulders that seemed to fit with the extensive profile of images she now associated with Simon Collins. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw him turn his head towards the mirrored glass behind the bar and surreptitiously groom his eyebrows with a forefinger. That’s my man, she thought to herself as she made her way through the throng and tapped him on the shoulder. He was a bit shorter than he looked in his photos and, in her heels, Tess matched his height.
“Simon?” she said as he turned to her with a wide, friendly grin.
“Tess?” There was a momentary look of doubt on his face, or
did she imagine it? Then a flicker of his eyes down to her cleavage and back, and the smile was just as wide again. He leant in to give her an air kiss on both cheeks and then held her out at arm’s length to admire her.
“Well, you’re a proper stunner, aren’t you? What’ll you be having, gorgeous?”
His Bristolian accent was partially hidden beneath a more gentrified tone but she could still hear it, and his warm manner made her smile, disproportionately gratified to be called a stunner by someone who held physical appearance in high regard.
“Thank you. I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.”
He relayed the order to the pouty barmaid with whom he appeared to be on first-name terms, and then handed Tess her drink.
They made their way across the crowded bar, found a table, and settled into some small talk, shouting to make themselves heard above the competing noise from the hen party on the table next to them and the football fans arguing with the TV referee above their heads. Tess explained about her mistake regarding the text message and how she’d come to have his number. Simon admitted that he had been a little bemused by her offer of a date. “But, you know, I’m single. I just thought, why not?” He gestured to Tess with a smile. “And now I’m glad I did.” He drained his bottle of cider and thumped it down on the table.
“Tell you what, it’s a bit loud in here, isn’t it?” he said as an inflatable penis whizzed past his ear, thrown by the neighbouring hen party and accompanied by howls of delight. Simon turned to them. “All right girls! Ain’t you seen enough of the real thing lately?” He picked up the lurid pink balloon and carried it over to them. “Bit small, I’d say.”
