Wow. Holy cow, the man actually replied. And with help too. I send him back a quick email, telling him I’ll pass on his regards to Eleanor, which I won’t, because then she’ll know I’ve been digging up ex-boyfriends, but Neil doesn’t need to know that. I also thank him for his help and assure him that he is not my father. Poor guy.
But he has been very helpful. I search his email for things I can garner to help my next potential date. So, Mum wants a bit of excitement and unpredictability in her life, does she? And she wanted a soulmate. The One. I wonder if she considered my dad to be The One. I think about it, but I don’t think she did somehow. Oh yes, she loved him for sure, but I don’t think she ever considered him to be the all being, all ending soulmate. Her other half. I don’t even know why I think that, but I do. Huh. Who knew my mum was such an old romantic?
I now know that I am looking for a fun, exciting and unpredictable man who will inject a bit of a thrill in to her life. Assuming that I don’t mean guys with porn DVDs stuffed down their jackets, where on earth am I going to find someone like that?
"Is my dad here yet?" Jenni asks. She’s working on a client whose hair has taken longer than expected and is running late.
"Not that I can see," I reply. "Why? Is he coming here?"
"Yeah, he’s picking me up from work tonight. I told you, I couldn’t get my car to start this morning."
"Oh."
Oh. I haven’t seen Jeff since the date. The first date, when I started this whole stupid scheme that has been nothing but trouble. In reality it wasn't even three months ago, but it feels like a lifetime ago. I feel so naïve when I think back to that first meeting in Starbucks, where I met Jeff and actually thought he might be the one. I was actually deluded enough to believe that it might be that easy. I’ll never understand why he and my mother didn’t get on. He was a really good match.
Right on cue, Jeff walks into the salon. He waves at Jenni, and sits down in a chair to wait for her. He smiles at me. I’ve finished with clients for the day, and am just cleaning up, so I think that I’ll be polite and go over to say hello.
"Hey you," I say. "How are you?"
"Hi Mackenzie. I’m good, thanks. You?"
"Fine," I say.
"I hear you’re still looking for a man for that mother of yours."
"Yep." I nod. "It’s a lot harder than I thought."
"Yeah, she sure seems like the type that will never be satisfied."
"What do you mean?"
"Didn’t she tell you about our date?"
"Yes," I say, trying to remember back that far. "She said it was wonderful, and she had a great time, but there was no chemistry between you two. I thought there was chemistry, but obviously I was wrong."
"Well, I did too. I had a lovely time with her, I thought she really liked me, and I thought everything was going really well. Then in the car on the way home, I asked if I could see her again, and she said, ‘I’m not really feeling it, but thanks for a nice night’. I mean, I thought we had something there, but I’m not going to push her. If a lady says no, then she means no."
"Really? You should have pursued it."
"Nah. I’m not one of those guys who doesn’t take no for an answer. If she doesn’t want to see me again, then she doesn’t want to see me again. Pathetic begging on my part is not going to help." He shrugs.
I smile. I still really like him, and I still fail to see why my mum didn’t. I’m tempted to set them up again—I could’ve sworn on that instant chemistry between them—but Jeff is right, bless him. No does mean no. But why? He’s so nice. Jenni is lucky to have him as a father. He’s a damn site more useful than my own father ever was, and this is only the second time I've met him. I wonder if Jenni knows how lucky she is.
"I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you," I say. "I really am. I honestly thought you two would be perfect for each other."
"I thought we had something there too, but sometimes things just don’t work out the way you expect them to. There doesn’t even have to be a reason."
You see how nice he is? I have a sudden urge to hug him. I have no idea why. He’s just a really, really nice guy, and I can tell that what his wife did to him and the divorce still have a lasting impact. It’s not my place to hug him but I hope that Jenni hugs him often to make up for it.
"Well, I hope you find someone who deserves you," I say instead.
He smiles at me, a soft look passes over his face for a minute. "Thanks, Mac." He pats my hand. "But I’m not really looking. I only agreed to meet Eleanor because you were one of Jen’s friends."
I nod. "Well, you can’t rush these things."
"No. I hope you find someone good for your mum too. She’s a great woman, she deserves someone really special."
"Thanks," I say. "So do you."
CHAPTER 30
Okay, so the entire internet in general hasn’t been very helpful at all. I decide that maybe love should be found the old-fashioned way. I get to thinking about my next potential set up. Every week at the big discount store off Nightingale Way where I go to pick up my work supplies, there is a guy who works there, and every week he stops whatever he happens to be doing to chat to me. I take this to be a sign of loneliness. He’s never mentioned whether he has a wife or not, and I can’t remember noticing a wedding ring, although to be fair, I’ve never been looking for one before. He is a lovely guy, very friendly, always has time for a chat and a bit of local gossip. I’ve seen him helping people reach things from the higher shelves, and that alone is enough to convince me that he is a nice guy. Kindness goes a long way.
And he is as good looking as I could ever hope for. He’s an older version of George Clooney, but with darker hair and more laughter lines around his smiley brown eyes. He has to be mid to late fifties.
The next time I go to Discount Supplies I don’t see him at first. Just my luck that the one day I have something to ask him, he isn’t there. I’ve almost given up, and as I go to walk out the door, my arms loaded with bags, guess who happens to be coming in at the same time? I pluck up the courage to ask him outright.
"Excuse me? It’s Ron, right?"
He turns around and smiles at me. "It sure is, Miss Atkinson."
"Hi. Um, could I ask you something? Something kind of personal?" I ask.
"Of course, fire away."
"Are you single?"
"I am," he says. "Divorced two years ago. Why do you ask?"
"Well..." I shift on my feet.
"Here, let me help you with those bags," he says, taking a couple out of my hands.
"Thank you."
"Come on, I’ll walk you to your car."
"Right," I say, trying to indicate with my head for him to follow me. "This is kind of awkward. Are you dating anyone, or looking to date at the moment?"
He laughs. "This isn’t some kind of push for one of those online dating thingies, is it?"
"No," I say. "It’s kind of unusual, but the thing is, I’m looking for a date for my mother. She’s a lovely woman, about your age, but she’s been really lonely lately, and I want to find her someone she could be happy with."
"That is unusual."
"Well, I thought of you. You seem really nice, and I think you’d get on really well with Eleanor." I’ve more than learnt my lesson that referring to her as "Mum" throughout the entire conversation really puts men off.
"So, you’re playing cupid then?"
"Well, you know, I thought who better to find her a man than me."
"That’s a really nice thing to do." He puts the bags down in front of the boot as I unlock the car.
"Um… Okay, yeah sure, why not?" He says. "I’m in."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Great. When are you free?"
"Whenever you want me to be."
I pull out my date diary. Finally, a date that I don’t have to screen. This week is looking pretty empty actually. With no creeps from the internet to deal with, both my mother and I are surprisin
gly un-booked.
"How about Thursday night?" I ask.
"I’m free."
"Great. Do you have any preference restaurant-wise?"
"I know a great little place. Do you know The Riverside Café on Riverside Drive? It overlooks the river. It’s beautiful there."
I’ve never heard of it, but it sounds nice. "Okay," I tell him, entering it into the date diary.
"How does eight p.m. suit you?"
"Fine," he says. "How will I know your mum?"
"Er…" I try to think of what I’ll need to package her in. That lilac blouse with the dark purple flowers on the sleeves would look nice.
"She’ll be wearing black trousers and a lilac top," I tell him. "Shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes and glasses."
"Okay then. Sounds great."
"Okay then. Thank you," I say to him.
"Thursday it is. See you soon." He turns to walk away. "Oh and Mackenzie?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for thinking of me. I’m honoured."
I smile. "You’re welcome."
"Honey, can I borrow your baseball cap?" I call out, knee deep in the contents of my closet and unable to find a single hat that my mother won’t recognise.
I don’t wait for an answer, just pluck Dan’s way too big Texaco cap off the shelf and curl my ponytail under it. I look in the mirror, already running low on time. The result isn’t as bad as I expected it to be. My scarf hides half of my face, Dan’s hat hides the other half, and it’s cold enough outside so that I don’t look like a complete oddball to be wearing so many clothes. I think it’s a good disguise, even though I haven’t managed to find a wig, hiding my hair under a baseball cap will have to do.
Dan is sitting with his feet up on the coffee table and the TV remote in his hand when I come into the living room. He looks at me a moment. "I don’t dare to ask," he says before going back to flicking through TV channels.
"I’m going to watch," I tell him.
Dan just looks at me. "How can you watch a date, Mac? Enlighten me."
"She must be doing something wrong, right? She’s scaring them off. All these perfect men, and not one of them want a second date. I have to find out what’s going on. Ron is a really good catch, and I’m not going to let her lose him like she lost Jeff. Don’t worry, they won’t even know I’m there."
He makes a noise that I take to be a sceptical-sounding snort.
"Well, someone needs to do something. There’s no point in setting her up on dates if she’s only going to scare them away. I need to find out what she’s doing wrong so I can fix it."
Dan just looks at me again, it is his I think you’re insane look.
I sneak out to my car like a super spy. It’s not even as if I think my mother might be watching. Ron picked her up ten minutes ago. I know this because I may have been staring out of our bedroom window with a pair of crappy binoculars.
I’m actually wearing so much clothing that it is difficult to move. I have on a pair of inconspicuous black trousers. My t-shirt is black too, but it’s hidden by my new black coat—that I went out at lunchtime today to buy—because my mum would probably recognise every other coat that I own. It just had to be black, and zip up high. It does. It zips up to my nose. I am also wearing a black scarf, sunglasses, and Dan’s baseball cap. In fact, I am a little worried that I look more like a burglar than a daughter on a secret mission. Tonight I am Mackenzie Atkinson, part of the Stop Mum Dumping That Man operation.
I just hope I don’t get thrown out of The Riverside Café for looking like a terror suspect.
I park my car a few streets away and walk in. Thankfully it really is quite cold tonight so I don’t look too out of place. But I feel it. I feel insane. Is this really what it has come down to? Creeping around Bristol at night, dressed like I’m about to hike up Everest, trying to see and overhear snippets of conversation from someone else’s date, just to try to figure out if my mother is doing something specific to frighten men away? I must be crazy.
I kind of wish that I knew the area and the restaurant better. If only we were at Belisana. But I’ve never been here before. I think any real super spy would have checked out the premises before the mission, but what can I say? It was a spur of the moment decision to do this. I suddenly thought "Hey! I can dress up like an extremely cold bank robber and follow my mother around without getting noticed and/or arrested."
I sneak in to the restaurant and spot Mum and Ron immediately. She is laughing loudly at something he is saying. This is a good sign, right? I sit down at the bar, and realise that I haven’t brought anything to read with me. Damn. I intended to fetch a big folder along so I could hide my face behind it, but in my excitement I’ve left it in the car.
"Could I see a menu?" I hiss at the bartender.
He produces one and hands it to me. I wonder if he’ll mind me keeping it for the next hour. He probably will. I want to get a bit closer to them so I can hear what they’re saying, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. And if I sit too close, they might notice me anyway. I shift a couple of stools down at the bar. Now I can overhear a little of what Eleanor is saying if she raises her voice.
They’re talking about their dogs—big surprise there. Mum seems pleased. Perhaps Ron is a dog person. A small dog person. All I know is that this guy is a good catch, and I have to do something to make sure she gives him a chance. I think that she’s not giving these men a chance. Maybe a little bit like I’m not, I think. Isn’t it true that one little flaw, no matter how minute, is enough for me to get up and walk out of the restaurant right there and then. What if I’ve passed over The One, because he had bad teeth, or had indulged in the wine a little too much? What if all this is my fault because I’m a little too picky?
But no, I knew when I started this that he had to be the perfect man. Mum could find any amount of losers on her own. The whole point of me doing this was for her to find someone great. And yes, okay, maybe it is a little harder than I thought, but so what? Wasn’t the whole point to put the effort in now, and hopefully reap the rewards of peaceful Friday nights with Dan later?
And so what if I’ve passed over men because they’ve asked for a blowjob in the bathroom stall? Aren’t we allowed to have high standards anymore? Why should I be expected to lower my standards for the men my mum has to try to make a life with, just because it’s been difficult so far?
Oh! Ron has just leaned across the table, lifted her hand up and kissed it. Yikes. Mum looks impressed. The whole gesture is a little too sickly for me. I can envision beating Dan across the head with my handbag if he was to try something like that on me. But we’re not from their generation. It’s nice that Mum is impressed by that. Unless she’s acting. Crikey. I hadn’t thought of that. What if this is another Jeff, and they have a great date, and then she screams "I never want to see you again in my life!" in the car on the way home? I have to do something. But what? I can’t draw any attention to myself. I can’t beckon Ron over and give him the "keep doing what you’re doing" speech. I can’t send over a bottle of champagne. Ooh, maybe I can?
I beckon the bartender over to me. He has been casting me strange looks all night. I think he may have informed the management that there is a suspicious person on the premises.
"Can I send a bottle of champagne to that table anonymously?"
"Huh?" He looks at me like I’m crazy. Join the queue, mate.
"You know. I want to send a nice bottle of champagne over to that couple." I point at them. "But under no circumstances are they to know it’s from me. Just tell them it’s complimentary from the bar or something. Can you do that? Without saying a word about me?"
He looks me over, as if considering whether I’m about to pull out a gun and hold up the place.
"Yes," he says, eventually. "Just tell me what you want."
I shrug. "I don’t know. How much is your nicest, most expensive bottle?"
"Seven hundred quid."
Bugger. Do people actually spend that mu
ch on booze? I wince. "Okay, how about one in the hundred quid range?"
"Yeah, I can do that. We have a nice one for ninety nine pounds."
"That’d be great," I say. Thank god that I have Dan’s credit card on me and know his pin number. He is so going to regret the day he told me that one. I hand it over to pay. "Please, make sure you mention nothing about it being sent from here. Or from anyone in this bar, otherwise they’ll start looking around for me."
"What are you, anyway? Some kind of spy?"
"Something like that," I say. "But more unprofessional."
He laughs.
"Thanks," I tell him when he has put the transaction through.
I watch as he delivers the bottle in an ice bucket. Very nice. Mum’s face lights up and Ron looks very pleased. Result! Dan is going to kill me for spending a hundred quid on champagne that wasn’t even for us, but he has to understand that it will pay off in the long run.
"Relax," the bartender says when he comes back. "I told them it was a special prize for being our thousandth customers."
"Thank you," I say to him.
I have to admit that I’m impressed by Ron’s choice of restaurant. I’ve been so busy concentrating on the couple in front of me that I’ve forgotten to really look around. It’s a very pretty place, kind of minimalist and very classy. Thankfully there are a few nice, big, potted plants that provide a great cover when Mum gets up to go to the bathroom. Ron has a little smile on his face. They’re obviously hitting it off. I realise that I’ve chosen either completely the wrong date to spy on or completely the right one. This could go either way. If Mum and Ron get along, and they get to a second date, then I’ve obviously chosen the wrong date, but if she comes home and says there was no chemistry and that she never wants to see him again, then I’ve chosen the right date. Because I know that there is chemistry. And I know that they’re getting on swimmingly, and I now know that he has done nothing wrong as such, and that my mum would be saying no for some unknown reason. In which case, I can confront her about it and get it out in the open. Either way, playing super spy for the night will be a good thing.
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