The Soulmate Agency

by Ivan B

  Once Derek had escorted Gwen to her suite door, and given her the appropriate amount of lip-exercise, he ran down the stairs two at a time and out to his car. Gwen had said that she needed plenty of time to have a bath and get ready, that meant he had an just over an hour to reach the nearest town, do some shopping and return. He knew it was going to be a close run thing.

  Almost as soon as Derek departed there was a knock on Gwen’s door. Roberta was all smiles and held out a bouquet of flowers. “I thought you might like these.”

  Gwen surveyed them, they weren’t tatty yet, but they weren’t far off. She reached out for them while Roberta burbled on. “They were Riona’s and she gave them to me after the wedding and now that I’m married I thought that I’d pass them on.”

  Gwen grinned, “Think I need all the luck I can get do you?”

  She stopped and re-wound what Roberta had said in her head. “You’re married?”

  Roberta proffered her left hand that now sported the tiny diamond engagement ring and a thick plain gold ring. Gwen wistfully looked at her, she had all the beauty that Gwen knew she didn’t posses, plus the height, plus the hair plus… She stopped herself going down that train of thought and put her arms around Riona’s waist and gave her a hug. “I’m so pleased for you.”

  Gwen stepped back and noted the eyebrow stud and the earrings. “Got your jewellery back then?”

  She nodded and leant against the doorpost, “Ben’s been wonderful.”

  Gwen thought of the long bath she was about to miss, “Come in and tell me all about it.”

  Roberta beamed, she was dying to tell someone, anyone, and neither Willow nor Riona quite fitted the bill and Treasa hadn’t returned yet. She almost floated over the threshold.

  Sylvia watched Derek’s car travel down the drive with a small gravel wake behind the rear wheels. She smiled and turned to Angela. “What’s the betting he’s off for a set of rings, that’ll make three out of four.”

  Angela shook her head in disbelief, “Didn’t reckon any of this motley group was up to it, oddballs every one.”

  Sylvia oscillated her chair back and forth, “What’s the odds on a full set? Any chance of a Ben/Roberta liaison?”

  Angela grinned and chuckled, “Not a hope. She’s as thick as two short planks and an alcoholic while he probably wouldn’t know one end of a woman from the other. No chance.”

  “I’ve seen them kissing.”

  “Monkeys kiss, doesn’t mean that they’ll get married, besides, aren’t you counting your chickens before they hatch, Willow and Henry might not go through with it tomorrow.”

  Sylvia changed from a fore-aft motion to a slight twist from side to side motion. “They will; she’s a choose in haste repent at leisure type and he’s infatuated, so don’t go putting them on the cover of our next brochure.”

  They watched a yellow mini come screaming up the drive and hurtle past the window. “That one caught me off guard,” Angela muttered, “I’d not have put those two together in a million years and certainly not expected them to get married in under twenty-four fours. There must be more to Cameron than meets the eye.”

  Sylvia stopped moving her chair around. “I wonder if he realised when he married her how eccentric she is. Nobody else has ever asked for doughnuts for lunch or fried egg sandwiches for breakfast.”

  Angela nodded, “She’s also the only one ever to book through her solicitor.”

  Sylvia started her fore-aft motion again and Angela smiled, “He’ll be here soon, his regiment flew into Mildenhall on time, I checked.”

  Sylvia glanced at her mother, “I hate it when he goes and I feel like a teenager on my first date when he returns, bit silly after all these years.”

  Angela put a hand on her daughters shoulder and said softly, “At least he returns and you’re happy together, let’s hope this motley lot find such happiness.”

  She sighed and turned round and glanced at the clock. “Soon be time to start picking up the pieces, Roberta’s bound to realise soon that Ben will opt for the ‘let’s be good friends’ option. Have you warned the staff not to serve alcohol to Roberta?”

  “Yes, but she’s a grown woman and there’s a pub in the village.”

  Sylvia suddenly swung round and accelerated towards the door. Angela smiled and looked out of the window as Sylvia’s husband’s car headed for the side door, the one with no steps.

  By seven forty-five they were all assembled in the library sipping fruit juice. Cameron looked resplendent in his highland garb while Riona had chosen a pure white dress with a square cut neck that showed off her string of pearls nicely. Her MacLeod Sash made a black and white tartan statement that no-one missed. Willow’s dress was silky blue and of her favourite wrap-round variety, it’s high Chinese style neck enhanced her height, as did her high-heels; Henry looked both dapper in his style of dress; dinner-jacket, dress shirt, bow tie and charcoal grey trousers, and immensely proud to have Willow by his side. Ben, in his lightweight fawn suit, looked like an out of place Vicar at a rotary club dinner while Roberta looked stunning. She’d turned up in an olive green designer dress that emphasised her every curve and feature while ending at mid-way between thigh and knee so that her silky smooth legs could be seen. To everybody’s amazement she was also smiling and not hiding behind her hair which she had tied back in a single bunch, Willow style. Treasa had surprised everybody, she’d turned up in casual blue slacks with a light blue blouse and a blue cardigan slung casually over her shoulders. She was also wearing glasses, the thin student type, and sporting a brown make-up beauty spot just above her lips and offset to the left. This all seemed to add years to her appearance. She no longer looked like an over-dressed child, more like an undergraduate who had deliberately ‘dressed down.’ George, having nothing else, had squeezed his bulk into a charcoal grey suit while his face showed only constant delight. That left Gwen and Derek. Derek also had formal dinner jacket attire, but with a plain white shirt; Gwen had on a long black dress that made her look like the wicked witch from the West after a bad day out over a steaming caldron.

  Angela turned up at exactly seven minutes to eight and surveyed the assembled mass. She managed not to cringe at Gwen’s outfit, marvel at Roberta’s new found splendour and not do a double-take at Treasa’s transformation. “Dinner will be in a few minutes and the after dinner speaker will be in the library for ten o’clock. Because of the timing tonight tomorrow’s session does not start till ten thirty, although the pool will be open for swimming from seven and, if you want, the local stables will bring up a ride for you.”

  Riona perked up and Cameron cringed; horse riding was definitely not his forte. Willow stretched, carefully avoiding touching the ceiling. “Who’s the speaker?”

  Angela gave her best Soulmate Agency smile, “Marianna Greques the marriage analyst. You’ve probably seen her programmes on TV.”

  Ben’s eyes bulged. “You mean that woman who recommends perking up a marriage by sleeping around to get a varied experience?”

  Angela gave a comforting smile, “That’s just one of her more sensational ideas, she also…”

  Gwen cut across her with her thick Welsh accent, “I wouldn’t listen to that woman if she was the last person on earth, disgusting, that’s what she is, disgusting.”

  Henry pursed his lips, “Not a cats chance in hell I’ll listen to her, she publicly stated that fluidic cohabitation was God’s intention for mankind, goodness knows where she got that idea from, but it wasn’t the Bible.”

  Willow smacked her lips, “Woman’s a charlatan, she’ll say whatever keeps her in the limelight, she’s about a worthwhile marriage analyst as I’m a worthwhile midget.”

  Roberta tucked her arm in Ben’s, “If my husband is not going to listen to her then neither will I.”

  Angela realised that she had a full scale rebellion on her hands, “Very well, I’ll ring her up, she’s probably on her way here already.”

  She went to leave, wrinkled her brow and spun b
ack, “Did you say husband?”

  Roberta flashed her rings for the second time, she grinned, “And I’d like a nice light triple-decker Victorian sponge.”

  There were congratulations all round as the Dinner gong sounded down the hall.

  Once they were all settled and the starter had been served Willow tapped a glass before anyone could eat. "I’d rather like Ben to say grace.”

  There were general mutters of approval and Ben said a short grace. When he’d finished Derek flopped a newspaper in front of him, “If I was you I’d say a prayer of thanks.”

  Ben glanced down, “Why?”

  “It’s an admission from the Home Office that some police authorities were allowed to sell computer equipment that had been confiscated under certain indecency acts. Full story’s not out yet, but it smells of a deal, you know, ‘we won’t prosecute as long as you don’t object if we keep your equipment and flog it off.”

  Roberta tried to get her brain in gear, this was important to her husband. “So this thingamajig that Ben bought at a church fête was put there by the police?”

  “Not directly, but they probably let it, and a few hundred others, be auctioned off.”

  Derek tapped the newspaper, “Says here the only redeeming feature is that agency that sold it all off kept a log of the item serial numbers on a central computer, so if yours is on it that list, you’re in the clear.”

  Ben closed his eyes, swallowed and then allowed himself a smile, this truly was a grand day.

  By the time the starter debris was cleared away and a sorbet had been delivered in front of them, Roberta had described her day, Cameron had described Riona’s stately home, Treasa told the group what made her temporarily dump her contact lenses and Willow had waxed eloquent about Henry’s farmhouse. Only Gwen and Derek remained silent. Derek couldn’t help noticing that Gwen was becoming more and more withdrawn, it wasn’t that she wasn’t pleased for the others, she just wasn’t contributing to the conversation. He ate his sorbet while thinking, he had the woman he wanted sitting across the table and an object burning a hole in his pocket. He’d carefully planned an intimate tête-à-tête in one of the upstairs sitting rooms where he’d already placed some flowers, a bottle of champagne and a do-not-disturb notice on the door. By the time he was at the bottom of the glass he’d decided on a change of plan. He steadied himself, the next few seconds could bring joy or an embarrassing disaster. He tapped the side of the empty wine glass with his spoon and the table fell silent. Fortunately he and Gwen were sitting at the end of the table so he slid off of his chair onto one knee. Roberta’s eyes became like saucers and Gwen’s mouth fell slightly open. He observed everybody’s expression as if the whole process was in slow motion for him. “Miss Jones, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife.” The delivery was slow and earnest and finished with a small bow and the offering a small box in which was an engagement ring with a cluster of eight diamonds around a larger ninth central diamond. Following this act there was silence, pure silence in which Derek could only hear his heartbeat and the tick of the Grandfather clock twenty feet away in the hall. Time seemed to stand still. After what seemed like and age Gwen stood up, kissed him on the forehead, took the ring slipped it on her finger, much to her surprise it fitted perfectly. She gazed at it, and Derek, before replying huskily with a plain and simple ‘yes’ and throwing her arms around him. Derek started breathing again and he could hear congratulatory noises from the table while the world speeded up to normality.

  As the sorbet glasses were cleared away Gwen looked across the table to Roberta, “If I was you,” she said, “I’d bottle whatever is in that bouquet.”

  Roberta laughed and then her face froze as if she’d seen a dreadful apparition, it was a wine-waiter with a bottle of white wine, she unconsciously licked her lips. Gwen’s eyes passed from Roberta’s horror struck face to the wine-waiter. “No wine for me,” she said loudly, “But if you’ve got some of Henry’s apple juice that’ll do fine.”

  Roberta made a sort of gulping noise deep down in her throat. “Don’t not drink because of me.”

  Gwen flashed a smile, “Actually I’m teetotal, Welsh Methodist you see, always been teetotal and always will.”

  Derek, who’d been looking forward to the wine chipped in. “If apple juice is good enough for my fiancée then it’s good enough for me.”

  Everybody started to make noises about no wine and Roberta became overwhelmed with a mixture of relief, gratitude and realisation, realisation that these people who had been strangers four days ago were now becoming friends.

  The fish dish passed of with Gwen beaming like a lighthouse on steroids and Derek shaking. He’d never been one for public spectacles or conspicuous romantic gestures and the effort had taken its toll, thus he was unprepared when Ben looked at him and asked when they intended to have the wedding. He floundered. “Eh? O I’m not really sure. I guess such things need planning, not that unplanned ones are any less romantic , it’s just…” He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, “Really it’s up to Gwen, if she wants I’ll marry her tonight by moonlight on a flower strewn lake.”

  Willow leaned forward and prodded Henry across the table, “Now that’s what I call romantic.”

  Gwen wondered what had overcome him and realised that she had. She said softly, “Actually I wouldn’t mind a wedding here, tomorrow, before we all leave.”

  Ben slipped into Vicar mode, “Not in your chapel?”

  Since she was sitting next to him she laid a hand on his arm, “No offence Ben, but I’d probably like to do what you and Roberta are doing, marriage now and a service of blessing afterwards. Thing is I don’t want to get married at home with my brothers and dad around, they’d just get drunk and spoil the day, and I haven’t really settled in a church in Ipswich. There are loads of lovely churches, but I haven’t fitted in.”

  “No Welsh Methodists using the language of heaven?” Remarked Willow, who instantly sighed, “Sorry Gwen, tongue getting the better of me again.”

  Gwen managed a smile for her, “That’s alright, you’re partly right and partly wrong. It’s not the language it’s the spirit of community.”

  George didn’t say anything as he felt a slight outsider despite everybody’s welcome. They’d all come here looking for a mate, he’d just stumbled across Treasa and was still getting used to her transformed appearance. He was still thinking when Riona’s cut-glass voice boomed from the end of the table, “Then why not get Ben to do it and we’ll all turn up and cheer you on.”

  Derek decided to take control, “Could you Ben?”

  “Be delighted to, be a privilege.”

  He looked at Gwen, “Would you like that.”

  She nodded, but Roberta sensed it was not what she wanted. Roberta thought hard, in Gwen’s situation what would she want? After a few moments she said softly to Gwen, “We could make it a foursome, you and Derek, me and Ben.”

  Gwen’s eyes lit up, she replied, almost bowled off her feet by the offer. “You wouldn’t mind us stealing your day?”

  “You’d be adding to it.”

  Derek noted the angle of Gwen’s eyebrows. “Be fine by me, I wouldn’t want to push you into what you don’t want.”

  Roberta looked at Ben, he smiled and nodded. “That’s all agreed then,” Gwen announced, marriage tomorrow and a joint service of blessing with Ben and Roberta later. She managed a bright smile before dashing out of the room. Roberta grabbed her handbag and followed a few seconds later. Derek’s face went white, “What have I done,” he muttered to himself.

  Henry laughed, “You’ve made a girl’s evening, sweeping romantic gestures, acceding to her needs, she’s probably just overcome.”

  “I thought somehow I’d..”

  Henry reached out an arm over the empty chair and patted his shoulder. “You’re doing fine, in fact,” he chortled, “We’re all doing fine.”

  Treasa fiddled with her napkin, was she doing fine? George had hardly spoken since the So
rbet, now he looked trapped, trapped by the people round the table and the talk of marriage.

  Roberta caught Gwen up in the corridor and steered her into the ladies only lounge. Gwen pulled a bunch of tissues out of a box on the table and mopped her eyes, “Sorry, it’s just all too much.”

  Instinctively Roberta put her arms around her and gave her a hug. “Too Much?”

  “Derek proposing, everybody being so kind and you letting me in on your special day.”

  “It’ll be a grand day.”

  Gwen sniffed, “It’ll be a beauty and the beast day.”

  Roberta stood back and put her hands on her hips, “Well no-one has ever called me a beast before.”

  “Not you silly, me.”

  Roberta said softly, “Is that why you didn’t want a service of your own?”

  She nodded, “Can’t stand being the centre of attention, with you there I can merge into the background.”

  Roberta took a deep intake of breath, “Actually Gwen I’d rather like you there too. It’ll be Ben’s church with Ben’s people and I don’t know what they expect of me or how they’ll view me. So it’s strength in numbers.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Gwen blinked and dried her eyes again, further ruining what make-up she had, which wasn’t much. Roberta opened her handbag, “Here let me touch up your make-up.”

  She pulled out a cleansing tissue, “Shall we start from the beginning?”

  They returned as the main-course, with glasses of red grape juice, was being laid out. Derek gave her an anxious look, “You OK?” He said softly.

  “Never better,” she replied.

  He mentally frowned, her make-up had altered to be less noticeable, but more enhancing. The whole effect was to minimise the appearance of her hollow eye-sockets and beady eyes while adding depth to her face. She looked less like a gargoyle and appeared less self-conscious. “Sure?” he whispered.