The Soulmate Agency

by Ivan B

  She went to comment on fate when he sat upright. “That’s enough about my boring past. What about you, what’s happening in your life?”

  She had no hesitation. “Contracts, currently I’m worried about renewing my contract.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  She sighed, “We’ve got this new producer who…”

  Roberta finished the second layer of bricks and furrowed her brow. If she pulled out her cardboard former she knew the structure would instantly go flat, she needed something to stop the ends spreading out. She remembered her mediaeval story again; they had built brick buttresses at the ends, that’s where the second body had been bricked up. She glanced around and spotted the oblong lead weight that was used as a doorstop. She picked it up and placed it at one end of the bridge. Next she hunted down the corridor until she found a match and brought that back for the other end. She drummed her fingers on the wooden surface, she was still not confident. She made her way upstairs. Checked on Ben, he was sleeping, and went to her suite. She rummaged in her suitcase until she found the small bottle of super-glue that she kept in case a heel came off one of her shoes. She headed back to the snooker room and glued the doorstops to the wooden surface. Then, with her heart in her mouth, she carefully slid out the piece of cardboard; the structure remained intact. She carefully placed the brass weight in the middle and waited. There was a slight plasticy creaking noise and then nothing, the structure worked. She felt unbelievably proud. She’d made it by herself and it worked.

  Once outside the jewellers Willow announced that the next thing she needed was a dress. She watched Henry’s face and then patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she purred, “I know men don’t like clothes shopping, why don’t you go and shop for whatever men shop for and meet me here in an hour?”

  The relief on his face almost made her laugh. He kissed her on the cheek and jauntily walked off down the road. She crossed over to a women’s clothing shop, watched him disappear into a computer store and re-crossed to the jewellers. She already knew where she was going to get her dress as she’d seen a beautiful long silk wrap-around dress in the window of the Oxfam shop earlier on; meanwhile she had a watch to buy.

  The film came to an end, not that Gwen noticed. She’d fallen asleep about half an hour into the film and remained asleep ever since. Derek wondered if she’d been sleeping properly at night as once she’d gone to sleep it was obvious that she was more than dozing. Once he’d realised she was sleeping he’d turned the sound down, after that he’d lost interest in the film and had let his mind drift, and drift onto thoughts of him and Gwen. He’d been honest when he’d told her that he’d not much experience with women, though he would have been far more honest to say that he really had no experience of women. He had taken a few women out for the odd evening, but there had never been any rapport, so much so that a few years ago he’d wondered if he was really heterosexual. Gwen had cured him of all such thoughts from the moment he’d seen her. Roberta had been sullenly sensual, Willow intriguing and Riona showing that indelible slice of aristocracy, but in his eyes Gwen outshone them all. He knew that there was a touch of the jolie laide about this in that somehow her sheer ugliness had initially made her fascinating and attractive, but he knew that he’d moved on from that. Now the more he got to know her the more he couldn’t get her out of his mind. She moved slightly under his arm and he knew that he had some decisions to make, decisions which may forever send this tiny woman from his life.

  Chapter 26

  Thunder

  Ben was lying in cotton wool and feeling absurdly comfortable when he realised that there was a draught. He tried to fight it, to stay warm and comfortable, but the spell had been broken and he emerged from a deep and dreamless sleep to see a fuzzy red-haired form peering down at him. He licked his lips, as usual when he woke up in this post-migraine state his mouth felt dry and his eyes sticky. He gave a tired smile, “Am I dreaming?”

  “You were certainly snoring.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, “How are you?”

  He realised that he was stark naked under the thin sheet. “OK, I think. Headaches certainly gone, well mostly gone.”

  He groped around on the bedside cabinet for his glasses. She handed them to him, she came into full focus. “What time is it?”

  “Seven. Diner is in an hour, that is if you want it.”

  He tried to get his brain together. “Thought dinner was at seven?”

  “I got them to put it back in case you woke up In any case Treasa’s bringing a guest and Angela’s having forty fits.”

  Memories flooded back to Ben, recent memories concerning the shower. “Did you find me in the shower?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  She tickled his chin, “Don’t worry, I won’t broadcast the fact that your chest does a good imitation of a sheepskin rug.”

  He turned red. She stood up, “Do you want to come to dinner?”

  “I’ll try. I’ll know how I really am when I get up.”

  She kissed him on the forehead, “Then I’ll give you half an hour.”

  On the way to dinner Roberta proudly showed Ben her bridge. In his eyes it had a beautiful shape, but was totally mechanically unsound. There were wedge shaped cracks indicating that the bricks were not properly mated and it probably had no lateral strength to speak of. However, it fulfilled the original specification in that it proudly supported the brass weight and the fact that she had accomplished it alone made them both absurdly proud.

  Dinner was dominated by two things. Firstly Willow flashing her engagement ring around and showing off the ruby in her ear and secondly talk of the morning’s bonding exercise with the questions on the wooden tiles. Angela breezed in just as they were pouring coffee. She helped herself to a cup and pulled a chair up to the table. Her eyes glanced down the length at the now solid pairings with Treasa and George at the end. Ben gained her attention and thanked her for moving the dinner. She accepted his thanks with diplomacy, but did not, Roberta noted, apologise for the cheese in the food earlier on. Angela pulled out an envelope. “We’ve had a look at the only two entries to the bridge building contest and superb as Cameron and Riona’s suspension bridge is we are giving the reward to Ben and Roberta. Never in four years we have been running this exercise have we had a self-supporting curved structure as an entry and certainly not one that could support the weight.”

  Everybody clapped and Roberta almost swelled with pride. Angela consulted a small piece of paper. “Tomorrow’s exercise, as Riona pointed out, is called Excursion and will commence immediately after breakfast; that is at ten-thirty.”

  She looked down the table, “Do you two wish to join in? George would be a most welcome guest.”

  George gave a wrinkled smile, “If it’s no trouble.”

  “None at all.”

  She stood up and looked at Roberta, “By the way Roberta, your father phoned this evening, he said that he’d pick you up on Friday morning as he’d be passing by and you had plans to make for next week.”

  Angela swept out leaving Roberta looking as if she’d been pole-axed. Once again a brief moment of joy had been overshadowed by the spectre of her family.

  After coffee everybody lazily made their way to their suites. Cameron and Riona to Riona’s suite, Willow and Henry to Willow’s suite and the other’s to their individual suites. Derek kissed Gwen goodnight on the stairs while Ben tried to console Roberta, but she had withdrawn into herself and become uncommunicative. He managed a kiss on her cheek, but there was no feeling in it. It was as if her life spirit had been extinguished, totally snuffed out by the mere mention of her parents and her father’s imminent appearance.

  Treasa said goodnight to George in the front of his Morris Minor. He was still remarkably physically hesitant; however it seemed that he had decided that practise would help him overcome his inhibitions.

  Riona and Cameron sat in the settee side by side looking out of the window into th
e dark night and chatted for about an hour. On the face of it, it had been a wasted afternoon, however, as far as their relationship was concerned it had not been wasted time for they had chatted while they had worked on the bridge. Chatted with no purpose in mind other than talking to one another. Their talk now followed the same pattern. They mainly talked about their pasts. Riona got Cameron to talk about his home; of the little shop near Stornoway. Then about his fisherman father and of his fears over his brother’s intention to disinherit him as he had, in their eyes, forfeited any hereditary rights by leaving the island. Cameron got Riona to talk about her schooldays; she firmly stuck to life at her final school in Suffolk and her involvement in the hockey team. Eventually she stretched and kicked off her wooded high-heeled sandals, Cameron picked one up. “Don’t know how you walk in those things anyway, don’t you ever wear anything else?"

  She suddenly became anxious, “Do you think I should wear something else?”

  He gave her a hug, “You wear what you’re most comfortable with, I wasn’t criticizing.”

  She picked up the other sandal and looked at it. “I got my first pair when I was sixteen, although that pair had smaller heels. My step-mother hated them, she told me that they made me walk like a slut. I ordered three more pairs and when I was about twenty I got a dozen pairs of the type I have now. At first I did it to annoy her, but now I don’t really want to wear anything else, I find them comfortable and in a way reassuring.”

  “Then you keep wearing them; I like you wearing them.”

  “You do?”

  “I do, but don’t cripple your feet over me.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments and then Riona said meekly, “I’m off to bed.”

  She rose and lingered by the bedroom door, Cameron could see uncertainty written all over her face. He said gently, “I’ll wait, when your ready you come, but until then I’ll wait.”

  She tiptoed back and after a second’s hesitation lightly kissed him on the forehead, he wasn’t quick enough to give a return kiss, but the one kiss was enough for each of them to know that they were on the right track.

  The promised storm broke shortly after midnight with a tremendous crack of thunder followed by a series of lightening flashes and a barrage of deafening thunderclaps. Cameron woke up with a start at the first peal of thunder. He was then totally astounded as Riona sprinted from the small bedroom and literally flung herself into his arms. With every progressive thunderclap she tried to get closer to him as if by melding into his very being she could escape the storm. Each flash of lightning caused a tremble and each clap of thunder a violent shudder. Cameron just held onto her. The storm passed over quickly, but it left Riona and Cameron in a close encounter of the physical kind, each holding on to the other and each gaining comfort from the feel of the other. Eventually physiology and the release of suppressed sexual desire took over. Cameron kissed Riona, she kissed him back. He kissed her more passionately, she returned the passion. Eventually, after much inept fumbling and awkward groping they made love. On the scale of love-making the act probably hardly registered, it certainly didn’t make the earth move, or even cause a ripple in a teacup. But for Riona and Cameron the landscape changed from sterile desert to abundant pastures, from legal matrimony to consummated marriage. The fear of thunder had been greater than the fear of physical contact and they both knew now that contact had been made it would be continued without the necessity of external.

  The gathering storm also had its effect on Ben. Although he’d got ready for bed he wasn’t tired due to his afternoon of sleep. In any case he had other things on his mind, really one other thing on his mind; Roberta. Ben knew that he was naturally a cautious person and that given time, and the right conditions, he would have wooed Roberta for perhaps a year or two before making any major decisions. Truly he could not understand either Riona and Cameron or Willow and Henry, maybe because it was as a vicar he’d seen too many marriage break-ups. The words ‘Choose in haste and repent at leisure,’ were almost ingrained into his soul. But Roberta was a damsel in distress and he did not have time to dither. He’d thought that she was paranoid about her parents, but now he knew otherwise. He remembered that Angela had apologised to him on arrival that he hadn’t received written confirmation of there being enough people to run a ‘Soulmate Session’ as the letters had been placed in the wrong out-tray. He assumed that the same had happened to Roberta and that her parents had opened her mail, there could be no other explanation for her father’s accurate knowledge of her whereabouts. Ben made himself a cup of tea and sipped it. Could he make a rapid decision here? Did he have enough information? What did he feel? Did he love her, or could her grow to love her? In the end he did what he always did when in a dilemma, he prayed. He poured his heart out to God, told God of his feelings, his fears, his uncertainties, by the time he had finished he knew the course of action he should take. He got up from his knees at the first peal of thunder, changed back into jeans and sweatshirt and set off down the corridor for Roberta’s suite, he had the full length of the corridor, South to North, to walk and plenty of time to change his mind. It never occurred – his mind was set. Once at her door he waited for a peel of thunder to die away and knocked gently. The door opened almost immediately. She looked dreadful, she hadn’t changed since he left her, had obviously been crying and had all the elegance of a defeated baboon. She surveyed him with tired eyes and managed the ghost of a fraction of a hint of a smile. “It’s OK Ben, I’m not afraid of thunder.”

  As if to emphasise her words there was an almighty peel that seemed to roll across the top of the house. “I’m not here about the thunder, I’m here about us.”

  She shrugged, “They know.”

  He felt a fool standing on the doorstep so he moved forward, entered her room and closed the door behind him. He tenderly put his hands to her face and moved the hair aside to gaze into her azure eyes. “I’m here about us. I know that this is swift and that you don’t really know me and that you’d be taking an almighty risk, but would you marry me?”

  She didn’t move, she didn’t respond, she didn’t do anything; she just stared at him with lifeless eyes. It was as if the words had never been spoken. There was another window frame rattling peel of thunder, they both ignored it. Eventually she blinked, swallowed and said, “Pardon,” as if in total disbelief. “Can you say that again?”

  He took a deep breath, “I know that this is swift and that you don’t really know me and that you could be taking an almighty risk, but would you marry me?”

  She turned her eyes downwards, “You don’t really want me, you just want a wife, any wife.”

  “Yes I want a wife, but not any wife. There are at least two women, perhaps three, in my congregation I could get to be a wife, but not the wife I want. I want that wife to be you.”

  There was a brilliant flash of lightening and an almost simultaneous thunderclap, neither jumped. She was still almost unable to slough herself out of her self-induced despondency. “Really?” She mumbled disconsolately, “You want an alcoholic who’s as thick as two short planks for a spouse.”

  He tenderly massaged the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs while tenderly holding on to her cheeks and gazing into her eyes. “That’s your parents speaking. You’re not an alcoholic, you’re a reformed alcoholic who’s decided to walk away from booze, that takes courage. You’re not thick, I could never have built that bridge, you understand interior design, you…”

  He paused, “You are the one I want, you’re the one I’m beginning to love. I’d have liked more time, but then I’m normally too slow to grasp the golden opportunities.”

  His voice took on an even more tender cadence, “And you’re my golden opportunity. Only once in a lifetime could I have met anybody like you and I don’t intend to let you go.”

  He paused, “That is unless you don’t think that you could live with me, or,” he hesitated further, “or love me.” He paused again. “Or put up with the church.”
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  Life began to return to her eyes, she licked her lips, and said huskily, “Ask me again.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  A tremendous peal of thunder drowned out her words, but the follow up kiss conveyed the appropriate message.

  Treasa lay in bed and listened to the thunder. She wasn’t exactly frightened, but she wasn’t comfortable either. She tried to think of something, anything, that would blot the thunder out. Inevitably she started thinking about George. Was he really suitable for her? Could he cope with her six days a week six hours a day – or more – filming schedule? And all the public appearances, what about them? The thunder rolled around while she considered him. He was far taller than she would have liked, with him she looked like a midget, with a short man she could look reasonable. He had an occupation that would give her worry; policemen died all the time in high speed crashes; one had even got shot last week stopping a drug dealer. He was friendly, but not gregarious, so how would he cope with her show business friends? She rolled over; perhaps, she thought to herself, it’s me that’s got to change. Be content with a big man, be content with… She fell asleep as the last grow of thunder died away in the West.

  Henry and Willow, unbelievably, slept through the thunderstorm entwined in each other’s arms. They had celebrated their partnership registration in an energetic and sexually fulfilling manner, now they slept the sleep of the contented.

  Gwen, on the other hand, was not asleep, but she was temporarily trapped. She’d discovered as soon as she investigated the files she’d obtained from the office computer that she had chosen the wrong computer. It had been a choice of two and she’d chosen the one nearest the filing cabinets, she’d been wrong, it only contained letters and documentation of exercises etc. Thus she’d had to return to the office on the third floor, again dressed in black, to investigate the other computer. She’d spent ten minutes trying to guess the password and then given up. She opened the CD-ROM drawer, dropped a CD into it and re-booted the computer. It restarted, looked to the CD drive, thought about it and started copying files to her little box. This was a much slower method of copying using something called MSDOS. She actually had no idea how it worked, but the technicians always said it would work and it obviously did. The copying took nearly ninety minutes and she had serious trouble in staying awake. Once it had finished she opened the CD drawer, extracted the disc and let the machine shut down. She had just performed that task when the first peel of thunder assailed her ears, closely followed by the corridor lights coming on. She squeezed herself under the back-to back tables and waited, heart in her mouth. The office lights came on with Angela voice muttering about something indistinguishable. Then a man’s voice boomed out, “Just stop moaning and pull out all the computer plugs, including the telephone lines. We haven’t got any lightening surge protection and you know what happened last time.”