The Dating Game

by Susan Buchanan

  ‘It’s not before time, Gill. That’s three years you’ve been doing this single-handedly,’ her friend remarked.

  ‘Yeah, I know, but I have Janice.’

  ‘I know and I realise you’d be lost without her, but she’s not a recruitment consultant, so there’s a limit to what she can help you with.’

  Gill knew she was right. If all went well, the next thing would be to get additional admin support, perhaps a student looking for work experience. Actually that wasn’t a bad idea. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

  ‘Just a sec,’ she said to Lisa. She rooted in her bag for her mobile and locating it, opened her calendar and diarised to investigate hiring a student. ‘So what are you doing on Sunday?’ ‘Well, whilst you are being fawned over by the lovely Charlie, I will no doubt be nursing a hangover. You know we don’t do things by halves, our family. Amy wants to try and stay out until everything shuts. It always involves a taxi back, occasionally with one of us having to ask the driver to pull over, so someone can be sick at the side of the motorway.’

  ‘Nice!’ said Gill.

  ‘Yeah, but true. And then I think I’ll spend Sunday in my pyjamas watching Persuasion and Spooks.’

  ‘Persuasion? I wouldn’t have thought that was your thing.

  ‘Not my thing? Are you mad? Rupert Penry-Jones is in it. Did you see him in Silk? Phwoar! I would! I so would!’

  Gill had watched Persuasion several times. She liked classical literature and felt several adaptations were very good indeed. And yes, if Colin Firth or Rupert Penry-Jones featured in them, so much the better. You could do far worse things with your weekend than lie on the sofa watching box set DVDs. But surely there were better things, too? Well, this weekend she was about to find out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Saturday 10th September

  The forecast for the weekend was actually quite good. Gill got up early and spent the first half of Saturday morning paying bills, trying to work out what to wear, and catching up on housework. She really wished she had time to organise a cleaner. It would be so lovely to spend all of her weekend doing enjoyable things like reading, watching TV or even pottering a bit in the garden, maybe catching an occasional, and it was very occasional in the west of Scotland, ray of sunshine.

  For her date, Gill plumped for a cream, v-necked short sleeved shirt, showing just a hint of cleavage and paired that with rust-coloured, linen, three-quarter-length trousers. She married that with amber earrings which Christopher had bought her one Christmas. She pinned her hair up, with just a few loose tendrils falling around her face. She looked, she thought, very feminine. Too tall and slightly too heavy to be considered dainty, at least she looked pretty.

  It was unseasonably warm for September. Last September it had rained almost every day. She had been quite glad to be heading off for a long weekend with the girls to Amsterdam. That reminded her, she really must organise the insurance for their upcoming trip to Barcelona, but first things first - she had a date to think about.

  With such fine weather, Gill decided to make her way to Glasgow by bus. Going into town on a Saturday always proved a little chaotic. She just hoped there wasn’t a football game on today. The season had started a few weeks ago and the city was always torture to be in when a few rowdy fans chose to spoil it for everyone.

  Cars were backed up for several hundred metres and the traffic was slow moving, but 999 they got going again and edged over the Clyde and into the city.

  Gill wanted to arrive at Civitavecchia with enough time to spruce herself up, make sure she looked fresh, and that her hair hadn’t fallen down more than it was meant to.

  She hopped off the bus in Hope St and ambled towards Buchanan St, which was busy with Saturday shoppers. She ducked through into Royal Exchange Square, gazing up briefly at the old Stirling’s Library. She hadn’t been in it since its conversion to a museum, she realised.

  Checking the traffic on Queen St, she made her way across into Ingram St, towards where the recently opened Italian restaurant stood. It had received excellent reviews and had been praised by a national newspaper restaurant critic. Gill was keen to try it, and just hoped she wouldn’t be too nervous to enjoy her meal. In Anton’s company she had felt relaxed. She hoped it would be the same with Sean.

  She arrived fifteen minutes early. Should she go in, freshen up and sit down somewhere, and wait for him to turn up? Or, clean up, come back out and go in again in twenty minutes? No, what if he saw her? Then she’d look ridiculous. But, surely she’d recognise him. Deciding that the least idiotic option was to wait for him, she approached the door and went in.

  She saw him straightaway, but his eyes weren’t on the door. Either he expected her to see him, or he assumed she wouldn’t be early. He was texting, concentrating on the buttons as he typed out a message. His head was slightly bent forwards, but she could still clearly see his face under his mop of black curls. He was handsome. The toilets were to the left hand side. Sean was sitting to the right. Should she sneak to the toilet to check she was presentable and that her makeup hadn’t sweated in the September sun? Or should she just approach him? She had no chance to deliberate further, as just then Sean looked up and his face creased into a huge smile. He raised his right hand in greeting and dropped his phone into his pocket with his left.

  Gill made her way to his table, feeling pretty nervous.

  ‘Hi, Gill, it’s grand to meet you,’ Sean kissed her on both cheeks.

  ‘Very Mediterranean’, Gill joked. ‘Nice to meet you, too.’

  ‘Ah well, I’m from Galway, so we’re European all right. What would you like to drink?’

  She noticed he was drinking Guinness.

  ‘Could I have a glass of medium white wine, please?’

  ‘Sure you can. Just you sit yourself down there, and I’ll take care of it.’

  Gill sat down as Sean went to the bar. She loved his accent. Irish accents always did it for her, but Sean’s was particularly hitting the spot. He did look quite young. She knew he was only thirty-five, two years younger than her, but he barely seemed thirty. His photo hadn’t done him justice at all. And he scrubbed up well, too; gone was the unkempt look from his photo. So, he had made an effort. Good. When he returned, he leant across her slightly to place her drink down and she breathed in the smell of his aftershave – not too noticeably she hoped. It wouldn’t do for it to seem as if she was trying to drink him in. He scored a comfortable eight for presentation.

  ‘So, Gill,’ said Sean, as he sat opposite her. ‘This is my first time, so can you be gentle with me?’

  ‘Your first time?’ Gill repeated, her tone a mixture of perplexed and horrified.

  ‘Yes, meeting someone through the agency,’ his eyes twinkled at her.

  Realisation dawned and Gill tried not to burst out laughing and failed miserably.

  ‘You didn’t think…?’

  ‘Just for a second…yes…I did,’ she said, struggling to regain her composure.

  ‘Well, I’m hardly Brad Pitt, but even I’ve managed to address that issue by now.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Gill, eager to change the subject, feeling that joking or not, touching on the subject of Sean’s virginity and when he lost it, was no way to start a date, ‘Who recommended the restaurant to you?’

  ‘Oh, one of my friends, Gail. She started working here part-time in the evenings to get some extra cash, just after it opened. She says it’s been booked up solid since then. She obviously wasn’t kidding.’

  Gill’s glance took in the restaurant part of Civitavecchia, where only two tables were unoccupied. Both had reserved signs and presumably one was theirs.

  ‘I booked for half one. I thought we could have a drink and get to know each other a bit before eating. To tell the truth I was a bit nervous and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be such a mess that I’d dribble spaghetti down my shirt.’

  Gill laughed. Sean was very likeable, had an easy manner about him. She thought briefly of Anton.<
br />
  They chatted a bit about work and then Gill quizzed him on music.

  ‘Yeah, I came over to Scotland to go to the RSAMD, but I liked it here and so I just stayed. I have a lot of friends here now.’

  ‘You never thought about going back?’

  ‘Sure I did, but I haven’t yet and I’ve been here more than a decade now.’

  ‘That is a long time,’ Gill agreed. ‘You’ll have seen a lot of changes in Glasgow then.’

  ‘Oh yeah, particularly new pubs opening up. Not so many closing down. Of course there’s the smoking ban, too.’

  ‘That’s right, you smoke, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I know, it’s a terrible habit, but I only do it to be sociable.’

  This argument didn’t convince Gill, but she let it go.

  ‘So you’re reduced to standing outside in the rain or under one of those huge heaters they have in beer gardens?’

  ‘Pretty much. You can barely breathe when you walk out of a pub these days for the smog that smokers have created.’

  ‘Sir, your table’s ready. Would you like me to take your drinks over for you?’ the waitress asked.

  Saved by the bell, thought Gill, grinning as she sat back whilst the waitress placed their glasses on a tray. They then followed her through the busy restaurant to a well-appointed table, away from the noisy bar, the kitchens and the toilets.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Sean, once the waitress had provided them with menus and announced that today’s specials were for antipasto: Involtini di Speck con Mozzarella; for pasta: Spaghetti alle Vongole – neither liked clams so that wasn’t an option; and for main course, the special was Porchetta, Sardinian suckling pig. The waitress had explained that this was a special treat, usually only available if ordered twenty-four hours in advance, as it required a lot of preparation. But a party which had ordered it, and paid the fifty percent deposit required, had just cancelled, so the Porchetta was being made available to all diners.

  ‘I can never decide whether to have the specials, as that’s likely to be the best they have, or whether it’s just the restaurant offloading all the stuff they have left!’

  Gill laughed. ‘I know what you mean. I once tried wood pigeon as I was told it was to die for. It was nothing special.’

  ‘Doesn’t surprise me. OK, let’s give this place the benefit of the doubt. It’s had good reviews and every time a waiter walked past me with food earlier, I was like the Bisto kid with my nose in the air. Plus I’m starving. You?’

  ‘Well, I had some cereal this morning, but yes, I could eat.’

  ‘What do you fancy?’ asked Sean, unfolding his napkin and laying it on his lap.

  I think I’m going to have the Involtini to start,’ Gill said.

  ‘Involtini? Ah, the Wild Boar. Yeah, that looked good. I might have the Caprese Salad.’

  Damn, now he’d chosen a salad and she was having a meat dish for starters, and she really wanted the Porchetta for mains, but how to do that without seeming like the pig she was about to order?

  ‘Oh, and what’s caught your eye for the main course?’ Gill asked.

  ‘I’m definitely having that suckling pig. That sounded like the dogs bollocks. I mean, it sounded really good.’

  Deciding stuff it, she was hungry and she was also having the Porchetta, she told him of her choice.

  ‘I like a girl who likes her food. Sorry, I mean, who’s not afraid to order a normal meal, instead of just a salad,’ Sean twirled his wine glass lightly in his hand.

  Gill realised she didn’t feel nervous with Sean. She was warming to him. It was too early to tell if there was a spark between them or not, but he was certainly entertaining company. She hadn’t taken offence at his comment. She was slightly overweight, but not enough that she expected jibes about it. Besides, she did love food.

  The waitress returned, just as they were deciding on the wine. In the end they opted for a bottle of a traditional red Sardinian wine, Cannonau. Gill had had it before and loved it, but Sean professed that it was his first time. This time Gill didn’t blush.

  As they waited for their starters, they chatted about music and who they liked and didn’t like. Sean couldn’t stand rap either, nor was he particularly enamoured of the acts which shook their booty or botty as was so often the case, he said. He loved rock music and indie music from the nineties, some pop music and even some heavy metal. He didn’t go to classical music concerts, but he did occasionally listen to it, depending on his mood.

  Gill thought Sean was quite small for a rugby player. She didn’t follow rugby but she’d seen some of these guys on TV and they were huge, six feet five, six feet seven. He was quite slim, too, fit looking.

  ‘So how often do you play rugby?’

  ‘Not as much as I’d like. Once every two weeks or so. Depends when we can get enough guys together to play – there are always the fair-weather players who run for the hills at the least spot of rain.’

  Gill smiled, so Sean continued,

  ‘Yeah, I used to play a lot back home and was a member of Galwegians Rugby Club, which is a great place, great craic as well, but it’s not the same playing here.’

  ‘Could you not play for a club here, too?’

  ‘I could, if work commitments didn’t mean that sometimes I have to let the guys down and I don’t like doing that.’

  Admirable, Gill thought. Reliable.

  The waitress arrived with their wine and asked if they’d like to try it.

  ‘No, just go ahead and pour it, please. I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ said Sean.

  The waitress poured a glass for Gill first and then proceeded to fill up Sean’s glass.

  When she had finished and was about to place the bottle on the table, he joked,

  ‘Oh it’s half a glass you’re giving us now then, is it?’

  The waitress was a bit confused and moved as if to top up his glass, but Sean said,

  ‘I’m just joking with you. It’s fine.’

  Once the waitress had gone, Sean said, ‘Shall we toast then?’

  ‘OK. What do you want to toast to?’

  ‘To the lovely woman sitting in front of me.’ Seeing Gill turn crimson, he added hurriedly, ‘And to meeting new friends.’

  There was a slight pause, when Sean’s gaze fixed on her for a second longer than was truly necessary, and then Gill jumped in with,

  ‘So, you like hurling?’

  ‘Oh, I love it. It’s my favourite sport, even more than rugby. I’m really lucky. There’s a club in Glasgow that I’ve played for since I moved here. We play matches a couple of times a month.’

  ‘That’s lucky. But, correct me if I’m wrong – is it a mix of hockey and shinty?’

  ‘Well, I suppose, but of course there are some rules which are different even to those two.’

  Since Gill didn’t know the rules of any of the three sports, she decided to leave it at that.

  ‘So what would you normally be doing on a Saturday afternoon?’ Sean asked Gill, just as a voice called, ‘Sean! I can’t believe it’s you. How are you?’

  ‘Dougal! I’m grand. Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in ten years.’

  ‘That’s ‘cos you haven’t been home for ten years!’

  Sean rose and greeted Dougal, slapping him on the back and hugging him. Suddenly, remembering where he was, he turned to Gill and said,

  ‘Sorry, Gill, this is an old friend of mine from home, Dougal. Dougal, this is Gill.’

  ‘I’m not that old,’ said Dougal, as he pumped Gill’s hand up and down. His hands were like shovels and her own slender hand disappeared in Dougal’s vast paw.

  ‘So what are you two youngsters up to today then? A spot of lunch, is it?’

  Gill guessed Dougal’s age as early fifties.

  ‘Yes, starters should be arriving any second,’ Sean told his friend.

  ‘Well, I won’t keep you from your lunch, but Sean, give me a call. Here’s my business card. I’m in town all next week.’
/>
  After giving the card a cursory glance, Sean pocketed it. ‘I will so. What are you up to in here then?’

  ‘Oh, just meeting a few old friends. Didn’t realise I’d be bumping into even older friends! I was looking for the toilet, but I don’t think it’s over here.’

  ‘No, it’s by the door, when you come in.’

  ‘That’s what I get for not paying attention. Too busy on my phone. Oh, here’s your meal now. I best be going. Enjoy.’

  Gill muttered a goodbye to Dougal as the waitress set their plates in front of them.

  ‘That smells amazing,’ said Sean, eyeing up Gill’s plate then staring forlornly at his Caprese salad.

  Gill stifled a laugh. Sean obviously regretted ordering the salad, which to be honest, also looked delicious.

  ‘Would you like to swap?’ Gill offered.

  ‘Oh no, no, you’re fine,’ said Sean. His eyes conveyed a different message.

  ‘OK, well, why don’t we share the starters then?’

  Sean’s face lit up like a five-year-old who has been told he can stay up late.

  ‘That would be grand. Would you like me to divide them up?’

  ‘Sure.’ This could be interesting, thought Gill, on two counts. First of all, would he divide them easily and offer her to choose, or give her the larger portion? Secondly would he make a hash of it?

  But Sean more than capably split the involtini in two; it was really one huge involtini. Then he divided the tomatoes, mozzarella and even managed to position the basil carefully on top of each to form a trio. It looked almost identical to the original presentation.

  ‘Well done,’ said Gill. ‘I’m impressed. If I had done it, half of the contents would have been on the floor and the rest would look as if a child had been smushing up its dinner!’

  ‘That’s a great word, smush.’