At Gill’s worried face, he reassured her, ‘But I really don’t think that’s the case here. Listen, were you going somewhere when you crashed into me?’
Gill winced at the reminder, and the corners of Liam’s mouth twitched when he saw it,
‘It’s just I thought maybe you could buy me a coffee to make up for running into me?’
‘Tell you what,’ said Gill impulsively, ‘Why don’t I buy you lunch and that gets me off the hook for Barcelona, too?’
‘Deal.’
‘But I need to be done in an hour or so, as I was on my way to see my accountant.’
‘Well, we can’t have you being late for him.’
‘Quite. Why don’t we go to McSwains? That’s if you like Scottish food.’
What a dumb question, Gill realised, no sooner had it left her mouth. What was it with her? Did she have ‘I must behave like a moron around good-looking men’ syndrome?
‘Sorry, what I meant was if you like Scottish fine dining.’
‘I do. OK, let’s go.’
It was only a few minutes to the restaurant and as they walked, Liam told Gill he had a day off, and had been on his way into town to do some much needed clothes shopping – something he loathed.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Gill took charge - she was paying after all - and asked if they had a table for two. No, they hadn’t booked. The waiter seemed doubtful, but just then the phone rang with a cancellation.
The waiter seated them near the window, overlooking Kelvingrove Park. It was a cosy spot and Gill blushed. She almost felt as if they were illicit lovers instead of two drivers post-accident.
Menus arrived swiftly. They refused the wine list, both opting for sparkling water instead. Although the small restaurant was busy, they had plenty of privacy. Not here a neighbouring table positioned so close to you that you felt as if either your stomach or your arse would surely knock over glasses or cutlery, as you tried to squeeze past. The setting was intimate and Gill suddenly found herself at a loss for words. She looked at Liam, who was busy studying the menu. He looked up and threw her an enquiring glance. With a tiny shake of her head, she buried herself in the menu. They both eschewed starters in favour of dessert.
‘What do you fancy?’ Gill asked.
A slight smile graced Liam’s lips and then it was gone, as he replied, ‘I think I’m going to have the Breast of Chicken with Chorizo. You?’
‘Yes, that sounded really nice, but I had chicken for dinner last night, so I’m going to have the Sea Bass.’
Running his finger down the menu, Liam found it, ‘Ah yes, Sea Bass with Sun-blushed Tomatoes and Feta. Sounds really nice, too, but I’m just not in a fishy mood.’
‘I know what you mean. I have to be in the mood for some things.’
Liam’s eyes glinted and Gill blushed again. How did he do that to her?
‘I’m just going to go and freshen up before lunch.’
‘Good idea,’ and Liam followed her until they parted ways for the respective toilets.
When Gill returned, Liam was already back at the table. ‘I’ve ordered, hope that was OK?’
‘Sure. You already knew what I wanted.’
‘Great. So tell me, what were you doing in Barcelona?’
Gill related how she’d gone to the Mercè festival with three friends for a long weekend. She explained that she and Angela had just come out of the Sagrada Família and were just about to head back to the hotel, when the mugger stole her bag.
‘They’re just so brazen. That’s what gets me,’ said Liam.
‘I know. I mean, I knew theft was notorious on the Ramblas and we were always very careful, but I didn’t expect someone to try to steal my bag off my shoulder.’
‘It’s a shame, as Barcelona’s a great city, but the police turn a blind eye. To them, it’s just stupid tourists,’ Liam empathised.
‘Fair enough, some people have no sense, you know, coming out of a jewellery shop dangling their purchases, with their wallet or purse still in hand, Nikon around their neck. But even so, no one asks to be mugged.’
‘Yeah, it’s a pity.’
‘So, what were you doing in Barcelona?’
‘I was just passing through, actually. I flew to Barcelona the week before and drove down to a few tile manufacturers. I’m a tiler by trade, but now I have five tile warehouses in the central belt. I’ve been trying to find new products for them. I was on the return leg of my trip, and had half a day to kill in Barcelona. I thought I’d see if the Sagrada Família lived up to expectation.’
‘Well, I’m very glad you did, otherwise I would have had real problems; credit cards to cancel, loss of money, not to mention needing to get a new passport.’
Their meals arrived and they tucked in hungrily. Gill was pleased to see Liam had a good appetite and lovely manners. He spoke to her only between mouthfuls, asking her what she did for a living, what she’d liked best about Barcelona; did she need her bathroom tiled? The last was said with a sexy little smile.
He can tile my bathroom any day, thought Gill. Gotobed? More like Cometobed!
‘So, tell me, Gotobed, really?’ asked Gill.
Liam sighed and then trotted out the story, as he had clearly done many times before. ‘My dad’s English. Apparently it’s one of the oldest surnames in England. There are only around two hundred or so of us in the UK.’
‘But what a cool name!’
‘You wouldn’t think so if you’d had to have it all through high school, especially in Scotland.’
‘Maybe not. So how old is your name then?’
‘Well, we can trace it back to at least the fourteenth century, and it’s rumoured that we might be linked to William Gawtobedde of Sussex in 1332.’
‘Who was he?’
‘I don’t think he was anyone particularly famous. I think it’s just they reckon that’s where we came from, and then, of course, over the years, the spelling changed from Old English to what it is now.’
‘That’s really interesting,’ Gill gazed at him, fascinated.
‘Thanks.’
The dessert was to die for, but all too soon, it was time to go, otherwise Gill would be late for her appointment.
‘I really enjoyed lunch, thanks,’ Liam helped Gill on with her jacket.
They walked back to their cars and taking out her keys, Gill said, ‘We haven’t exchanged details yet.’
‘Neither we have,’ Liam scrawled his name and phone number on a scrap of paper which he took out of his wallet. Tearing it in two, he asked Gill to write her number on it. Gill obliged and handed it back to him. Their hands touched briefly and a frisson shot through Gill.
‘Listen, Gill, I’d like to see you again.’
Gill waited.
‘Are you doing anything on Wednesday night?’
Gill thought for a moment and then said, ‘Nothing special.’
‘Do you like photography? Or rather, do you like free champagne and nibbles?’
Gill laughed. ‘I have to confess to not knowing much about photography, shading, exposure and all that. But you’ve won me over with the champers.’
‘Great. A friend of mine is having his first exhibition and I have tickets. Can I pick you up?’
‘Where is it?’
‘It’s at the Lambkin Gallery in Byres Rd.’
‘OK, well, why don’t I meet you there? What time?’
‘It starts at seven, but if we’re there for seven thirty, that’s fine. We’ll probably be among the first, but I want to support my friend, you know.’
‘No problem. OK, I really need to go. See you on Wednesday.’
Gill went to shake his hand, but Liam kissed her cheek.
‘I look forward to it.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tuesday 4th October
Beep, beep, beep. Oh no, it can’t be morning already. Reluctantly Gill dragged herself out of bed and stood in the shower for a good twenty minutes. The feel of the pressurised jets on her
skin was welcome to her weary bones. She really needed some exercise. First work had been the problem, now her love life was taking up her time. At least she had addressed the work-life balance which had plagued her for several years. Thanking her Guardian Angel for sending her Angus, Gill got ready for work.
She’d received a reply from Sean yesterday, on leaving her accountant’s, asking if Tuesday was too soon. Foolishly Gill confirmed Tuesday was fine. She had felt bad for not answering him for so long. He suggested the bowling alley at Springfield Quay and they agreed to meet there at seven.
That morning Gill had hastily flung a casual dress in a bag, along with some ballet pumps. That was her outfit taken care of.
She’d have to wear those awful bowling shoes, she thought, as she drove into town. Nobody could look good in those. At least her height gave her an advantage. She felt sorry for those less fortunate who, without their four inch stilettos, would be minute.
The introductions with Angus were going well. Three key accounts had received him warmly, and he had already begun to prove his worth. So far he’d coaxed five of his clients over to McFadden’s Technical Recruitment, purely on relationship. Gill was pleased, and since she believed in giving credit where it was due, she told him so. Angus glowed with pleasure. Evidently praise hadn’t been doled out much at his last employer.
Back at the agency, Gill called Janice into her office. Janice left the door slightly ajar.
‘Could you shut the door, please? It’s a private matter.’
Janice raised an eyebrow in alarm. Gill smiled and assured her there was nothing to worry about, ‘The exact opposite, actually,’ she told Janice, as she took a seat.
‘Janice, you’ve done a lot for me and this agency over the years and now, I think, with Angus starting, that we’ll be able to bring a lot more business to the firm. So, with that in mind, I’m raising your salary by two thousand pounds.’
‘What!’ Janice started in her chair. ‘Really? Oh Gill, that’s great! Thanks.’
Janice came round Gill’s side of the desk and hugged her.
‘Yes, yes, steady on. I’m only giving you a raise, because you’re great. Keep it to yourself, mind.’
‘Of course. My lips are sealed,’ Janice made a zipping motion with her fingers.
A little later, Gill checked her watch. Oh God, is that the time? She went into the outer office where the others were packing up, except for Angus who was still tapping away on his computer.
‘Night, girls. Have a nice evening,’ Gill told them. As soon as they had gone, she asked Angus, ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just answering some e-mails, making some calls.’
‘Right, well, it can wait until tomorrow. Go and enjoy your evening.’
When Angus started to protest, Gill gave him a look that brooked no argument.
After Angus left, Gill answered a few more e-mails then paid some bills online. A quick change in the toilets and she was ready to go bowling - or at least, as ready as she was ever going to be.
The noise that greeted Gill as she entered the bowling alley made her want to cover her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was the din of the pins being knocked down, or the screaming youngsters. Gill wasn’t often in the company of children, except her nephews, and she sometimes found it difficult to tolerate ‘other people’s children’. She soon spotted Sean, putting coins into a slot machine.
‘Winning?’
Sean jumped, ‘Jeez, you gave me the fright of my life!’ his hand covered his heart, feigning heart failure.
‘Jumpy, aren’t we?’
‘Clearly. So, are you ready? Nice dress,’ he said with a smile on his face.
‘Thanks,’ said Gill, wondering why he was smirking.
Sean took down his pint from where he had left it on top of the machine,
‘I’ve booked it for seven fifteen. Would you like a drink?’
‘Yes, but I suppose I better change first. Now, where do I get those hideous shoes?’
Sean grinned, pointed to the left, and said, ‘This way, ma’am.’
As Gill changed into the red, white and blue monstrosities, Sean paid for their two games of bowling. Twice the embarrassment.
Gill just knew she was going to be dreadful at this game. She hadn’t bowled for years – and couldn’t have been classed as good then.
‘What kind of wine do you have?’ Sean asked, once they reached the bar.
‘We have red and white,’ said the sullen barmaid.
Her colleague chipped in, ‘Remember we also have that new white zinfandel.’
Before ‘Her Happiness’ could relay this to Gill, Gill cut in, ‘White zinfandel will do just fine, thanks.’
‘I’ll have a Stella,’ Sean added.
As they walked away from the bar, towards lane twelve, Sean voiced what Gill was thinking, ‘She was a right barrel of laughs.’
‘I guess some people just love their job.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t like to see her on a bad day,’ said Sean, as he put his glass on the counter. ‘Right, have you played before?’
‘A long time ago.’
‘OK,’ Sean sat himself in the low seat, poised to process their details.
‘What do you want to be known as?’
‘Er, how about Gill?’
‘Yep, that works. Me, I’m always Seanster.’
‘Seanster?’
‘Yeah, blokes can’t just have their own name.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yep, it’s not cool.’
‘So it’s far cooler for a thirty-something man to have a nickname?’
‘Got it in one. Right, do you remember what to do?’
‘I think so. The balls are all different weights, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, depending on how strong you are, I would suggest a ten or a twelve. You’re tall, so maybe a twelve, but then if you haven’t played in a while…’
‘I’ll go with a twelve,’ Gill stopped short Sean’s ramblings.
‘Great, well, Ladies first.’
Horrified, Gill said, ‘Oh, I thought you’d be first.’
‘Ladies always go before gentlemen.’
Gill muttered something under her breath about not seeing any gentlemen; otherwise she wouldn’t be in this godforsaken place. Lifting the green twelve ball, she put three fingers into it and walked towards the line. On the way she watched what she assumed was the father of the family in the next lane, to see if she could pick up any tips. He was no help; he bowled with flair, even doing that little knee flick that professional bowlers do. There was no way she was going to attempt that.
Gill tried to swing the ball, but it was heavier than she had anticipated. Damn, she should have used the ten, but the holes in the ten seemed really small, and she didn’t think her fingers would have fitted inside. Eventually she swung her arm back, then forward, and released the ball. It trundled miserably off to the side and into the gutter.
Gill watched in embarrassment as it very slowly reached the end.
‘Daddy, I did better than that lady. She didn’t get any pins,’ the boy in the next lane pointed at Gill in glee.
‘Shh,’ the father said and then smiled a ‘Sorry’ at Gill.
Gill returned to where Sean was standing and tried to put a brave face on it.
‘I’m just warming up, trying to lull you into a false sense of security,’ she joked, as she sat down.
‘Er, you might be doing that,’ said Sean, ‘but it’s still you to go,’ he indicated the scoreboard which registered a bit fat zero.
Of course, Gill had forgotten that each turn consisted of two shots. Reddening again, she said, ‘I knew that, I was just…resting.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Sean laughed then took a sip of his beer, ‘Go on. Show us what you’re made of.’
That’s what Gill was afraid of. She wasn’t made of very much where ten pin bowling was concerned. She picked up the twelve ball, but when she went to throw it, her fingers didn’t come out easily.
The ball fell clumsily out of her hand, narrowly missing her feet, as she jumped back and then it rolled onto the family’s lane.
‘No, no, no!’ Gill looked on panic-stricken and the mother glared at her in frustration, as Gill’s ball headed slowly towards the pins, ready to muck up the family’s scores.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Gill apologised to the mother, who shook her head, as if to say it didn’t matter, but whose body language said something else entirely.
The father said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go and get them to reset the score.’
Meanwhile Sean hid behind the screen, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
‘It’s not funny!’ Gill said, fighting a desire to slap him.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ tears ran down Sean’s face, ‘but it is funny, really funny.’
‘Anyway, your turn now.’
Sean bowled a spare and then managed to knock down the final pin, resulting in a third go.
In the next few shots, Gill at least managed to stay in her own lane and even hit a couple of pins, with first a score of one and then three.
‘That’s not bad,’ said Sean magnanimously.
‘Oh shut up!’ said Gill, good-naturedly.
Finally over her embarrassment, Gill was now quite enjoying herself.
‘Have you eaten?’ Sean asked.
‘No, why?’
‘I thought I might get us some fries whilst we’re bowling.’
‘OK, sure.’
‘Do you want anything else to drink?’
‘Eh?’ Gill glanced at her three-quarters full glass of wine and then at Sean’s empty glass.
‘No, I’m fine, I’ve barely touched my wine,’ she said pointedly. But her barb was lost on Sean, who headed to the bar.
Sean won a hundred and eighty-four to sixty-seven, but at least Gill had improved. The fries were actually quite good, but Gill realised she needed a soft drink to go with them.
‘I’m just nipping to the toilet. I’m going to get myself a Coke on the way back. Do you want one?’
‘No, I don’t drink the stuff, but I’ll have another Stella, thanks.’
Gill tried not to frown and just enjoy their evening, but the niggling thought wouldn’t go away. Last time Sean had drunk too much in her company, he’d become a complete arse and embarrassed her.
The Dating Game Page 27
