by Cathy Kelly
All at once, the buzz of frantic conversation began. It sounded like a swarm of locusts droning over a crop field. Holly and her date looked around them in awe, then looked guiltily at each other.
He was pale and freckly and was blinking at a rate that meant he either had a speck of dust lodged in both eyes or was very, very nervous.
He took a huge gulp of his cocktail, looked down at his bit of paper and began to curl the corner up in an obsessive way that Holly recognised as classic shy behaviour. Her stomach lurched in anxiety. He was clearly even shyer than she was and therefore, the onus was on her to talk to him because that was the polite thing to do. But whatever was she going to say? She took a gulp of her drink. It tasted like the sort of thing Joan concocted out of the dregs of bottles when they had no money for decent wine.
‘Did you get dragged along by your friends too?’ she asked suddenly.
‘Yeah.’ The look of gratitude on his face made Holly glad she’d forced herself to speak.
‘Me too. It was my friend’s idea. She’s over there.’
They both looked over to where Joan was sitting with a handsome blond guy who was wearing a leather jacket. Joan was gesticulating wildly with one hand and twirling a strand of her black hair with the other, while her date looked raptly on with his mouth open. Holly, who’d seen Joan’s technique before, knew that her next move would be to place one hand on the guy’s arm, gaze deeply into his eyes and say something along the lines of ‘You’re incredible, you know that?’ This didn’t always work but Joan always did it. She’d seen it in a film and firmly believed that it would be successful eventually.
Holly turned back to her date. She better get some information before the gong went. She didn’t want Miss Mindy to beat her up for not going along with the rules. Miss Mindy looked like she could stand in for her own bouncers if the need arose.
‘What’s your name?’ Holly asked the guy.
‘Ron.’
‘I’m Holly. I didn’t want to be here either but we can pretend, can’t we?’ she said lightly. It was quite an experience for her to be the outgoing one in any conversation.
Ron nodded.
Holly wrote his name down.
‘What do you do, Ron?’ she asked in her newly-acquired chatty voice. She took another slurp of cocktail while she was waiting.
‘I’m at college,’ he said, looking down at his bit of paper.
Holly waited for him to say what he was studying but he didn’t. For a brief moment, she wondered was she this difficult to talk to? Did other people cast around wildly for conversational gambits that would work? Making conversation with someone as painfully shy as Ron was hard going.
Holly vowed that would change. Buoyed up by this self-improving decision, she tried again.
‘I work in Lee’s Department Store,’ she said.
Ron kept looking at his bit of paper.
‘In the children’s department.’
Still no answer.
‘What do you study?’ she asked in desperation.
The gong banged. Ron still wasn’t talking. The time was up.
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Holly and got up. She brought her drink with her, being very careful not to spill it as she moved to table seven. She needed it.
‘Hi,’ said her new date. He wasn’t bad looking, she realised, dark hair, dark eyes, a nice shirt with a few buttons open to reveal a bit of chest hair, a laid-back attitude to him. He was perhaps two or three years younger than she was. Cute. From table nineteen, Joan gave her a thumbs up signal.
Holly sat down and put her glass on the table carefully. This guy was definitely one of the rowdy gang of students. They were probably out for a night of fun, they weren’t seriously looking for dates. Now that she was determined to talk, she could enjoy herself too.
‘Hi, I’m Holly. This is a bit of fun, isn’t it?’ she said brightly, astonished at her own daring.
‘I’m Carl and yeah, it’s great fun,’ said the guy, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin. ‘So, you’re looking for a man, Holly?’
‘What?’ said Holly.
‘A man, I said are you looking for a man, or are you here for some fun?’
He was drunk, Holly realised.
‘Fun, really,’ she said. ‘My friend and I came here for a laugh.’
‘You could have a laugh and some fun,’ Carl said meaningfully. He reached under the table and gave Holly’s leg a suggestive grope.
She drew back in shock and just managed not to spill her drink.
‘We’re here to talk,’ she gasped.
He looked fed up at this. ‘Why do all girls want to talk?’ he grumbled. ‘It’s boring. Talk, talk, talk. That’s all they do.’
‘So what do you study?’ asked Holly, determined to interrupt his moan.
‘How did you know I’m a student?’ Carl demanded.
‘You’re here with a gang and you all look like students,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell me, you’re studying brain surgery.’
‘Very funny,’ slurred Carl.
Holly beamed back at him. She’d done it. She’d been talkative and she’d made a joke! So, she’d managed it because the people involved were very shy and very drunk, but it was a start.
‘God,’ Carl said, staring mesmerised at her chest. ‘You’ve a great pair of tits.’
Holly’s eyes grew wide. For an instant, she thought of flinging the rest of her cocktail all over his face. But cocktail-throwing was for brave women. Tara would probably do it without a second thought. Joan would possibly land him a punch. She’d done a bit of kick boxing.
But what was the point? Carl was plastered
‘If you don’t want me to get Miss Mindy over here to tell her what you’ve just said to me, shut up and be polite!’ she said calmly.
It was his turn to widen his eyes. Miss Mindy scared everyone.
‘Very sorry,’ he said drunkenly.
At the next table on Holly’s dating odyssey, the man had disappeared, leaving his piece of paper behind.
‘He’s gone to the loo,’ said Miss Mindy, swooping like a giant flamingo. ‘How are you getting on, love?’
Holly looked down at her list. She’d written: Ron, v quiet. Carl, v drunk. She had no phone numbers or dates set up, although her boobs had been praised. She didn’t know whether Miss Mindy would see this as a negative or a positive reaction.
‘Fine,’ Holly said. ‘I’ve been getting on fine although it’s not what I expected.’
Miss Mindy raised her eyes to heaven. ‘The story of my life, love.’
By ten, Holly had met nineteen men (one of the contestants had gone home) and knew for a fact that she hadn’t met the love of her life.
The best had been a sturdy guy in his early thirties who worked in a lab and told jokes through the entire five minutes, which was funny, but struck Holly as obsessive shy behaviour under another guise.
‘How can you tell you’re talking to an extrovert lab researcher?’ he asked.
‘Don’t know.’
‘He looks at your shoes when he’s talking to you.’
‘You’re a panic,’ Holly said warmly to him, ‘I bet all your friends love you coming out with them and making them laugh.’
He looked sad. ‘That’s the problem, Holly. I have lots of friends, but nothing more, no special someone.’
‘How did you get on?’ Joan asked her when it was all over.
‘It was different,’ said Holly diplomatically. After all, Joan had thought it was a great way for a shy woman to meet men.
‘But you didn’t meet anyone?’
‘No. I did get told that I had a great pair of tits, though.’
‘Says who?’ Joan looked shocked.
‘Carl.’ Holly pointed him out. ‘I was tempted to throw my drink over him.’
‘Oh, plastered student boy.’ Joan dismissed him. ‘Just as well you didn’t. It would have been a waste of drink,’ she added sagely. ‘Listen, I might stay and have a drink with one of the gu
ys I met.’
Holly grinned at her friend. ‘Don’t tell me, the leather jacket guy. He was nice.’
‘Becks. That’s not his real name, but he’s an ace footballer,’ Joan said, looking positively dreamy.
‘Go, girl!’ said Holly.
‘You don’t mind walking home on your own, do you?’
‘Don’t worry about me, I’m a big girl. Literally,’ Holly said ruefully. ‘No mugger in his right mind would try and steal my handbag.’
When Holly walked up the path to the house half an hour later, their new neighbour, Tom, was dragging a bin liner out the front door ready for the next morning’s refuse collection. Even though it was late, he’d obviously just got home from work because he was wearing a shirt and tie, which he’d tugged loose from its knot. He looked different in work clothes; up to now Holly had seen him loping round in jeans and sweatshirts. He looked older and more serious in a collar and tie.
‘Hi,’ said Holly.
‘Hi yourself,’ he said, looking pleased to see her. ‘How are you?’
Holly thought about it. ‘Great. I should be terrible because I’ve had an awful evening, but I’m not.’ She’d made a breakthrough of sorts, after all. She’d made herself face her shyness in the scariest way and she’d managed it.
‘That’s good,’ said Tom.
They walked companionably into the house and up the stairs.
‘Do you fancy a cup of coffee?’ said Tom suddenly.
‘Lovely,’ said Holly.
‘You can tell me about your awful evening,’ he added.
Holly smiled at him. It was funny, really, because she didn’t know Tom at all well but she felt comfortable with him. She wasn’t shy or tongue-tied in his presence. He was just Tom, the friendly giant who lived upstairs. He didn’t know many people and needed new friends. Kenny had brought Tom out for a drink and came back with the news that Tom wasn’t gay but was a decent bloke, with a girlfriend back in Cork.
‘All the best ones are straight,’ Kenny had said mournfully.
Since then, Kenny, Joan and Holly had included Tom in some of their nights out and Holly had found their laid-back new neighbour surprisingly easy to talk to. She didn’t need to make an effort to sparkle with Tom.
He pushed open the door to his flat and stood back to let Holly in first. His flat was like Joan and Kenny’s: bigger than hers with two bedrooms and a tiny balcony.
‘It’s nice,’ she said, looking around.
Tom had decent furniture, including chairs and a squashy brown leather couch that looked as if it came from Habitat. Everything was very neat and spotlessly clean but it wasn’t exactly homey. Holly itched to give it more life.
‘Did you have to do much with it?’ she said.
‘Just a bit of paint. The landlord got very upset when I said I wanted to change a few things. He thought I expected him to pay for it.’
Holly grinned. ‘He likes the idea of an investment which doesn’t involve any actual investing. The banisters are death traps but he won’t replace them. Still, the rent’s not too bad.’
Tom went into the kitchenette to make the coffee.
‘I own a flat in Cork and I’m renting it out for six months, then I’ll make a decision about buying in Dublin.’
Holly wandered happily, admiring a few photos in wooden frames. The biggest one was a shot of a pretty blonde girl with a swathe of blue velvet wrapped artfully around creamy shoulders. Gauzy filters and perfect make-up on the baby-blue eyes made Holly think it was one of those studio shots where women got glamorous make-overs in order to have a set of fabulous photos of themselves for their husbands or boyfriends.
‘That’s my girlfriend, Caroline,’ said Tom, carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee into the room. ‘She lives in Cork. She’s going to see how I get on here and if everything works out here, she’ll move to Dublin too. Caroline’s a management consultant and she says she wouldn’t have any trouble getting a job here.’
‘She looks lovely,’ said Holly. ‘Next time she’s here, you must introduce us to her. We’ll all have to go out and she’ll be happy knowing that you’ve got friends here.’
Tom grinned his sweet, even-tempered grin. ‘That’s great of you. I don’t know many people here, for sure. Caroline’s very different. She’s very independent and if she was in my place, she’d know everyone in the entire area by now and she’d never be home.’
‘Opposites attract,’ said Holly.
‘True.’
They drank their coffee in companionable silence. Holly didn’t feel anxious about the lack of conversation. Somehow, there was no need to worry about saying something with Tom, which was comforting.
‘Tell me about this awful evening you had.’
He laughed when she told him about the drunken Carl (she left out the comment about her boobs) and about Miss Mindy, who out-dragged the drag queens.
‘I’d have liked to stay and watch Miss Drag De Luxe but it wasn’t going to start for ages.’
‘Were there any guys there you’re going to meet again?’ Tom looked down into his mug.
‘No.’ Holly was blithe about it. ‘Joan and Kenny have this plan to set me up with a man and this was the first part of the plan. Well, Joan’s part. Kenny said it would be a disaster. He’s plotting some sort of blind date for me.’
‘Do you think blind dates work?’ asked Tom.
‘Not in my experience,’ Holly replied. ‘But then my experience is limited to a blind date set up for my debs dance when my friend Donna’s brother volunteered a college friend of his.’
In her mind, Holly could still see herself in her cream dress, looking like a meringue on legs because those were her chubby days, with her date for the evening beside her, a short, wiry young man named Liam who could have doubled for a cocktail stick. Together, they looked like the odd couple. Her original date had been Richie, her first love, who’d dumped her just before her debs, leaving her utterly heartbroken.
Somehow, she didn’t want to tell Tom about that.
‘It wasn’t a success,’ was all she said.
‘Caroline would love somewhere like the Purple Mosquito,’ Tom said, adroitly changing the subject. ‘She loves nightlife and clubs, I’m a bit of a boring git and like to stay at home more,’ he added apologetically.
‘That’s it. Joan, Kenny and I will bring you both out when Caroline comes to stay,’ Holly said firmly. ‘We’ll paint the town red. Well, pale pink anyway.’
She finished her coffee and got purposefully to her feet. ‘I’m off to bed, Tom,’ she said. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’
‘No, thank you,’ he replied. He opened the front door for her. ‘I needed a bit of company.’
‘Any time,’ she said cheerily, dancing downstairs to her floor. ‘Any time.’
He was nice, Holly sighed, as she locked her own flat door. A decent man who clearly loved his girlfriend. Lucky Caroline.
‘I told you it wouldn’t work out.’ Kenny pointed out as he, Holly and Joan trooped out of Windmill Terrace for a Sunday morning brunch in their favourite café down the road. ‘You can’t expect people to bond in five minutes.’
‘I met a nice guy,’ argued Joan.
‘We’re not trying to find a nice guy for you,’ Kenny said in exasperation. ‘We’re trying to keep you away from men. You’re supposed to be working on your final year collection, not trolloping around like a ho.’
At the gate, the three of them waited for Tom. It was an unusually warm day and the sense of summer shimmered in the air. Holly stuck her sunglasses on, glad that she’d worn a skimpy T-shirt under her denim jacket. Perhaps they could sit at one of the outside tables for their brunch.
‘Well, what’s your plan, Smarty Pants?’ asked Joan, not even bothering to react to being called a ho.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Tom, slamming the front door behind him. ‘Overslept.’
‘Hi,’ said Holly, smiling sweetly up at him. Tom’s spiky hair stood up at odd angles where he�
�d slept on it and he’d obviously thrown himself into his clothes at high speed because he was wearing a sweatshirt that was inside out.
They walked slowly down the road with Kenny and Joan arguing over blind dates versus speed dating.
‘They’re still trying to set you up, huh?’ Tom asked Holly as they meandered along behind the other two.
‘Yes, they’ve run through all their friends and acquaintances and have come up with nothing so far. Coco the Clown is about the only person they haven’t thought of.’
Tom laughed. ‘They should leave you alone. You can’t force love.’
‘My sentiments exactly,’ she murmured, ‘but they’ve got their hearts set on this.’
‘You’re gorgeous anyhow, you don’t need anyone helping you out.’
Holly blushed a deep crimson and said nothing. She wished she knew how to accept compliments. Tom was being kind, that was all. And the nice thing was, he clearly thought Kenny and Joan’s attempts to fix Holly up with someone was a bit of fun. He didn’t see her as a hopeless case who’d never get a man on her own. This gave her confidence.
At the café, there was one table left outside and Joan and Kenny instantly claimed it, dark glasses and fashionably bored expressions at the ready.
‘I’ll go in and order,’ Holly volunteered. ‘What’s everyone having?’
When she got back, Kenny was trying to establish how Tom had met Caroline.
‘Well, we knew each other for years because we had some of the same friends,’ Tom explained, ‘I’d noticed her but she didn’t really seem to notice me until a gang of us went to the Kilkenny comedy festival and we hit it off. We stayed an extra night in Kilkenny and…’ He grinned. ‘Do you want me to draw you a diagram?’
‘Yes,’ said Kenny gravely.
‘Do you know anyone who met on a blind date?’ Joan interrupted.
‘No,’ admitted Tom.
‘My cousin met a man on a blind date and they went out for six years,’ Kenny said.
‘You mean they’re not still going out?’ Joan asked.
‘No, but that’s not the point,’ Kenny insisted. ‘They’d never have met if someone hadn’t set them up.’
