Alton had not received the communication with grace. In fact, he made sure to tell as many people as he could that Pip was a certifiable nutter and they should avoid her like the plague.
Similarly disastrous dates occurred after university with various men by whom she was lucky enough to be asked out. Cullum, William, Tait, and Devon immediately came to mind. Pip wondered if she should just call and cancel with Malcom and not add another catastrophic first meeting to her pathetic dating history.
Ultimately, Pip chose not to cancel. What if Malcom was her proverbial knight in shining armor, the pearl in the oyster she’d been waiting for? What if he was the one to finally love and accept her for who she was—strange ability to speak to the dead and all?
When Pip laid eyes on him in person, she realized Sephra had not oversold her cousin in the least. He was tall and thin, in a poetic kind of way, and he wore his light brown hair on the longish side. All he needed was a blue satin ribbon to club it back and knee breeches and he could have passed for a modern day Lord Byron. In other words, he was exactly her type.
Pip picked up her pace as she was ten minutes behind schedule and Malcom was nervously looking around as though he thought she might be a no-show. As she neared him, a rather rough looking man started to jog along next to her. Pip stopped to let him pass, but he halted with her.
“Pardon me,” Pip inquired, “are you following me?”
The man answered, “’Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be following you? You’re gorgeous, love.”
She appreciated the flattery even if it came from an apparent lunatic. At five feet ten with shiny, thick, dark hair, Pip knew she made a good first impression. Her clothing was always top of the line, if a bit conservative, and she made sure to stay out of the sun so as not to wrinkle prematurely. She hoped her date found her as attractive as the odd fellow next to her.
As she shared pleasantries with the stranger, Pip pondered a fortuitous outcome to her blind date. She didn’t fully realize she’d reached Malcom until he offered his hand and inquired, “Philippa Fielding?”
Pip looked up and nearly fell into the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. She answered, “Yes. You must be Malcom.”
Nodding his head in response, he asked, “Who were you chatting with just now?”
“I don’t know, exactly.” She continued, “Just some man who started to walk with me.”
Malcom looked around and inquired, “What man?”
Pip looked over her blind date’s shoulder and spotted the chap who’d been shadowing her. She pointed at him and replied, “That one over there, the one with dirty blond hair and a goatee.” She further clarified, “His two front teeth are chipped.”
Malcom turned and looked, but saw no one. At his confusion, Pip added, “He’s in his forties, wearing worn blue jeans and a grungy t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up.” She gestured further to clarify who she was talking about. “The one who looks like he’s just been in a pub brawl.”
He still had no idea who she was talking about, so he answered, “I don’t see him.”
Pip made eye contact and called out, “Excuse me sir, would you come over here, please?”
The bedraggled looking stranger gestured to himself, as if to ask, “Me?” Pip nodded and he readily approached. “Hello,” she greeted, “I’m sorry I didn’t get your name just now. I’m Philippa.”
His hand shot out and he smiled, showing off two broken front teeth, “Bertram, love. I’m proper chuffed to meet you.”
Pip dropped her hand, gasped, and let out an uncharacteristic expletive. “You’re Bertram? Bloody hell.”
Malcom watched his cousin’s friend warily. Obviously, he didn’t see anyone who looked like he’d recently taken a couple knocks to the face, as Pip was the only person in the vicinity who could see ghosts.
At that instant Philippa knew her date was over. She decided to just come clean with Malcom, explain her odd life, and walk away. If she was lucky, she could still join her friends at the cinema to watch the romantic comedy they were all keen to see.
Malcom realized Philippa might not be as odd as he first thought and said, “The way I see it, you’re either completely bonkers or you’re speaking to a dead person. Which is it?”
Pip found it refreshing that Sephra’s cousin didn’t immediately assume she was destined for Bedlam. She replied, “The latter, I’m afraid.” She further clarified, “It’s the result of a nasty fever I had as a child.”
Malcom figured as much and, hoping to have a message of his own, replied, “How delightful! I love to watch those programs on the telly! Can I ask you some questions to see if you’re spirit friend will answer them for me?”
Pip realized the date might not be a total loss after all, and inquired, “Bertram, are you comfortable with that?”
The ghost responded, “Sure, love, always happy to lend a hand. Why don’t we find a spot to grab some fish and chips and a pint and I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Fish and Chips? Bertram, you can’t eat fish and chips, you’re dead.”
“Thanks for stating the obvious, love. I know I can’t eat them, but you can and I can watch. If I’m very lucky I might just have myself a moment of vicarious pleasure.”
Pip responded, “You speak very well for someone who’s so, so . . .” She was about to say disheveled looking, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Bertram knew he wasn’t Pip’s normal kind of contact, so he replied, “Things aren’t always what they seem, love.”
Pip knew that better than most. She decided she’d probably get to know a lot more of her new contact if he stayed around for a while. So she turned to her date and explained, “Bertram would like for us to eat fish and chips while he tries to answer your questions. Is that acceptable?”
Bertram interrupted, “Don’t forget the pint, love. I’ve been hankering for a good stout for longer than I can say.”
The odd threesome squeezed into a tiny table at a tourist dive near the Eye called the Bronze Star. Malcom questioned the necessity of three chairs, but Bertram insisted he be treated with the same respect as the living.
The trio sat in front of red plastic wicker baskets lined in greasy paper. They were piled high with deep fried cod and chips. Three pints of Blackheart stout sat in front of them. Bertram kept running his hand through one of them in an attempt to cosmically absorb the contents into his ethereal form.
Pip took minuscule bites of her food in hopes Bertram achieved satisfaction before she had to consume the whole mess. She preferred her fish lightly grilled, not swimming in trans-fat. But she understood from previous contacts that the recently departed missed eating immensely and all of her contacts were rather newly deceased.
One of the requirements for passage into the afterlife is proving one is capable of unselfish service to others. If there is some question whether a being meets this criteria, they’re sent to angels like Corrine, who farm them out to helpers like Pip. Once the requirements are met, the contact “gets his wings,” as it were. Although according to Corrine, that’s just a figure of speech, there are no real wings involved.
Malcom intently devoted himself to the food in front of him for several moments before he wiped his mouth and put his napkin down. He was uncertain what to do, so he said, “So, Philippa, I don’t know how to proceed. Can I just ask you anything and you’ll tell me what he says, or do you start?”
She replied, “Truthfully, I don’t know how this is going to go. Normally my contacts give me messages to share with others. They don’t usually take requests. So why don’t you just ask a question and we’ll see how Bertram wants to handle things.”
Malcom looked at the empty chair next to him before closing his eyes, rolling his head around his shoulders, and theatrically inquiring, “Bertram, is there anyone coming through with a message for me?”
The ghost shook his head and turned to Pip, “Methinks this young fellow has watched too much telly on the subject, no?”
> Pip responded, “For heaven sakes, Bertram, this isn’t exactly an everyday thing for most people. Go easy on him.”
“Fine, love. Tell him that his lover, Xavier, says he adores him just as much in the afterlife as he did in life and that pretending he’s heterosexual isn’t the answer.”
Pip nearly choked on her beer. “You’re kidding. This is just your way of joking with me, right?”
The spirit shook his head, “Nope. This one’s as queer as they come, love. Just tell him.”
So Pip shared the message and Malcom immediately broke into heart-wrenching sobs. He knew Xavier had been trying to tell him something in his sleep. He just never retained it. He cried, “I know he’s right, but Xavier was my one true love and I thought I didn’t deserve happiness after he died.” He continued, “My parents never wanted to believe I was gay so I figured I’d just become hetero. At least that would make them happy.”
“Malcom,” Pip responded, “you don’t just decide to be straight. You know that, right?”
He answered, “I do know that.” Then he repeated, “It’s just I thought I could pretend and then no one would be upset with me.”
“You mean no one except for the woman you’re pretending with. I can’t say I think that’s fair, do you?”
Malcom shook his head, “I guess not. But I know I’ll never be fulfilled by anyone other than Xavier. I don’t deserve it.”
Bertram interrupted, “Xavier says Malcom needs to go on that cruise around the Greek Isles he’s been thinking about. He’ll meet a very special person onboard.”
When Philippa shared the message, Malcom wept even harder, “I don’t want to meet someone else. No one can ever take Xavier’s place, not ever!”
Bertram replied, “Tell him his lover said to quit acting like a ninny and enjoy his life while he still has one. Tell him that they’ll be together again someday, but in the meantime life is for the living and if Malcom wants to honor the love he shared with Xavier, he should do it by learning to love again.” Upon hearing that, Malcom sobbed until his eyes were nearly swollen shut.
Pip turned her attention to her new contact, “Bertram, that was a beautiful message. If you keep this up, you won’t be with me for very long at all.”
He responded, “Oh, I’m not with you for the same reasons the others were, love. There’s more to my mission than that. Mine involves you a bit more.”
Her interest piqued, Pip asked, “What do you mean your mission involves me? Don’t they all involve me?”
“Not really, love, no. You’re just the go-between.”
Pip asked, “Do you have a message for me?”
“No,” Bertram replied. “Not a message as such.”
Then he clammed up and refused to tell Pip anything else, leaving her very confused indeed.
New York
Chapter 5
“Her name is Eliza, she’s thirty-six, and she works as a buyer for Barneys.” Rachel instructed, “You’re to meet her on the third bench on the left in Strawberry Fields, which of course is on the corner of Seventy-Second and Central Park West. Three p.m. today, don’t be late.”
Richard asked, “Shouldn’t I at least take her out to lunch or coffee or something?” Richard was used to wining and dining his dates to see if they had chemistry. Meeting on a bench in Central Park seemed a little impersonal.
“First dates are just a meet and greet to see if either of you wants to go on a real date. This is New York City, Richard. Everyone’s busy and nobody wants to waste their time; plan on being there for no longer than twenty minutes. Thirty tops,” she amended.
Richard replied, “It all seems so calculated and cold.”
“That’s life in the Big City, my friend. Trust me,” she counseled. “This is my business and I know what I’m doing. It may seem a little foreign at first, but I promise, once you get into the swing of it, you’ll see the wisdom of my ways. “
Richard sighed, “I guess I don’t have anything to lose. So how does this work? Do I call you and give you my feedback or what?”
The matchmaker replied, “Wait to hear from me. Eliza will call me within four hours of the meeting to let me know if she wants to see you again. I’ll be in touch as soon as I talk to her. We’ll proceed from there.”
Richard agreed to Rachel’s rules, but he didn’t like them. He knew by using a matchmaker he was entering a whole new kind of dating, but he still liked to think it would feel a little more organic and not quite so regimented.
At two thirty he put on his cashmere overcoat and left the office. He figured it would take about twenty minutes to walk to Strawberry Fields. That way he’d be there early, making sure to show respect for his date’s time. As he strolled up Fifth Avenue, Richard’s mind started to wander. He thought about how different his life would have been had he and Amelia not divorced.
What if they’d been madly in love instead of just being good friends? What if they’d had children right away? Their kids would have been in high school by now. They probably would have moved out to the Hamptons or Westport so they’d have a more traditional family life. City kids had a way of growing up too early and missing out on much of the innocence of childhood.
By the time Richard crossed the park next to the boating pond, he felt downright melancholy, not to mention old. With as much traveling as he did, and as much money as he had, he still felt as though life was passing him by and he didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Eliza was already sitting on the bench waiting when Richard got there. As he was early, he stood back and observed her for a moment. She was of slight build, although it was hard to tell how tall she was sitting down. Her light brown hair was cut in a mid-length bob and shot with subtle golden highlights. She was wearing jeans with high-heeled boots and looked very fashionable. Richard couldn’t tell what her face looked like as she was focused on her iPhone and appeared to be furiously texting someone.
At five minutes until three he approached her. He smiled and greeted, “Eliza? My name is Richard. Rachel Feinman sent me.”
“You’re Richard Bingham!” Eliza gasped.
Startled by her surprise, he replied, “Yes, I am. I thought Rachel told you that.”
“She didn’t. I mean, yes, I knew your name was Richard, but she didn’t give me your last name.”
Smiling, Richard responded, “I hope that won’t be a problem.” And he really did, too. Eliza was quite pretty and seemingly very straight forward. He liked that. Too many women he met tried to feign a nonchalance around him, which came off as cold, rather than appealing.
“No problem as far as I’m concerned.” With a flirtatious look, she added, “I hope you aren’t disappointed.”
Indicating the seat next to her, Richard inquired, “May I?”
“Oh, absolutely!” she replied.
Situated next to her, Richard discerned that Eliza was just as petite as he’d originally thought, and equally appealing. “Not disappointed in the least.”
She beamed at his praise. “So how many of these first dates have you gone on so far?”
“Counting this one?” He laughed, “One.”
Eliza’s eyes widened, “Lucky you! This is my fourteenth.”
“And?” Richard prodded. “Any luck so far?”
Shaking her head, Eliza replied, “I wouldn’t be here if there had been. Seriously, I’ve been considering moving to a nice little town in Kansas in hopes of finding a better quality of men.” Then realizing her comment may have sounded bitter, she added, “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Truthfully, I appreciate your candor, Eliza. Dating in New York City can feel a bit like walking across a greased tight rope, ten thousand feet in the air, without a net; in other words, it can be rather treacherous.”
Eliza laughed, “I think I’ve found a kindred spirit.” She confided, “My last meet and greet told me I was too old for him. Keep in mind he had to have been nearly sixty. Then he said if I played my cards right, he might overl
ook my age and take me to China with him, as long as I proved to be entertaining enough.”
“Good Lord! What did Rachel say about that?”
“She gave him a warning. Told him she wasn’t running an escort service and if he treated his dates with anything less than total respect he’d be out on his ear.” Shrugging her shoulders, she added, “Which is great. I appreciate her having my back, but that meeting almost put me off this whole matchmaking thing.”
“It does take a bit to wrap your head around, doesn’t it?” he inquired.
Eliza nodded her head, “Please don’t take this wrong, but why are you here? I mean, if Richard Bingham can’t find love, and plenty of it, there’s no hope for the rest of us.”
“I’m just like everyone else in that respect, I’m afraid.” He added, “Anyone can find someone to date, it’s finding a quality person that seems to be the tricky part.” Richard said, “I know we’re supposed to cut this short, but how would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?”
Eliza beamed in response, “That sounds absolutely lovely. The problem is I continued one other first encounter and Rachel nearly kicked me out. She’s very emphatic about everyone following her rules.”
“Okay, then. Why don’t you call her and tell her the date went well and then hand me the phone?”
Eliza loved the idea, so she dialed their yenta and enthused, “Rachel, it’s me, Eliza. Richard is lovely and I’d really like to see more of him.”
Then she handed the phone to Richard who asked, “Would it be all right if we went on our second date now, Mother?”
London
Chapter 6
Philippa kissed her mother on the cheek and offered her father a warm hug as she joined them for breakfast. “What do you both have going on today?”
The auburn-haired countess, who usually looked as though ice wouldn’t melt in her mouth, was sporting a casual ensemble of leggings and an Irish sweater. “I’m learning how to rappel down a rocky hillside today.”
Kindred Spirits: A Romantic Comedy About Love, Life, and the Afterlife . . . Page 3
