Blind Date

by Debbie Ioanna

  I was being picked up by Sarah and Max to help them set up the venue for their engagement party. There would be various decorations to put up and, being the only bridesmaid, it was part of my duty to help. It also gave me time to probe Max for more information on his cousin. Although he wouldn’t be much help. He thought blind dates were immature and outdated.

  “So, what does he look like?” I asked Sarah as I got into the car. “Is he tall, dark and handsome? Bit of a Henry Cavill or more Tom Hiddleston?”

  “Well, to be honest, I’m not that sure really…”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know?” I don’t believe it. “Have you ever even met him?” My fantasy of a hunky army man was fast drifting away. I was now picturing an overweight dwarf.

  “Not technically… I’ve seen photos of him” she said with a bit more enthusiasm, “but I’ve never met him. Don’t worry, he looks like such a nice guy!”

  Max was shaking his head from the driver’s seat.

  “When are you two going to stop this charade?” He did not approve of blind dates, and I didn’t blame him.

  “It’s not me, it’s her!” I defended myself. “She insists on setting me up on blind dates however this time, she’s not met him either! He could be a freak for all she knows.”

  “James is not a freak,” Sarah piped in, “Max, tell her he’s not a freak.”

  “Leave me out of your plotting. I’m the groom tonight, not Cilla Black.”

  I suddenly regretted making such an effort with my appearance. I was having flashbacks to my date with Gerard. This would be the last time I let Sarah set me up with anyone. The last!

  It did not take us long to get the venue set up and decorated exactly how Sarah wanted it. Sarah’s parents were there to help, and it was soon a beautiful room. Ivory and gold balloons were floating from each table. Every table had a gold runner and the cake had its own special table with space for cards and gifts. It was a very elegant, two-tiered cake with white icing. There was a gold ribbon around each tier and a cake topper that simply said ‘Congratulations’. Simple and beautiful.

  Sarah’s Dad bought us all a drink each to kickstart the evening and soon enough, the guests started arriving. I was hoping to be able to stand with Sarah all night for protection against the mysterious James, but as it was her party, she had a duty to speak to everyone. I was anxiously waiting for James’ arrival and wondering what fate had in store for me. I took sanctuary by the bar, my comfort zone, and made sure I had a glass of wine in my hand at all times. I was just about finishing my third glass when…

  “Can I buy you another?”

  I turned to see a good looking yet short man. Well, he was my height when I wasn’t wearing heals, which was still short by my usual standards.

  “Oh, no thank you.” It was not often that a man approached me to buy me a drink, but I liked men to be tall. I can’t help it.

  “It’s Jenny, isn’t it? Sarah just told me where to find you, I’m James.” He held out his hand to shake mine. I was a bit taken aback. This was definitely not a G.I Joe.

  “Oh yes, James,” I shook his hand, “it’s nice to meet you.” Sarah could have sent me a text to say he was headed in my direction.

  “You too,” he had a lovely smile. In fact, he was really good looking. “I’m not usually into shaking hands but, as this is my cousin’s engagement party, all my family are over there so I thought I’d best act the gentleman in front of them.” he laughed.

  “Ha-ha, yes, that’s a good idea.”

  “So, can I get you a drink?” He ran his hand through his sandy coloured hair.

  “Yes, please,” why not? He was good looking and quite funny. How important was height anyway? We all shrink as we get older. “I’ll have another white wine, please.”

  “Coming up.”

  He moved forward to stand next to me at the bar and ordered us both a drink. He was very different to Max to say they were related. James seemed quite posh with his speech, he wasn’t from Bradford, that’s for sure.

  “So, Sarah told me you were in the army?”

  “Yes, I left a few years ago, I was an Officer. Great experience and all that but, I’m glad to have left. What do you do?”

  “Oh, my work is very exciting, I work in public services.”

  “That does sound exciting. As exciting as it was standing on guard duty for hours on end. That was tedious work.”

  He drank his Coors Light and looked into my eyes. He was really easy to talk to and kept making me laugh. We moved to a table and sat down so the height thing was no longer an issue. I wouldn’t actually mind wearing flats for the rest of my life. It would be so much more comfortable. We spoke for most of the night and I started to really like him. Maybe Sarah did get it right after all.

  “Listen, I feel a bit uncomfortable here because my family are all standing over there watching us.” He said. I looked up to check and saw the eager eyes of aunts and grandmas all glaring in our direction. “Are you free tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I know it’s Sunday and you’re probably in Church for Mass at 6am,” he smiled, “but would you like to come to mine? No funny business,” he held his hands in the air, “but I am known for my Sunday lunch. It’s famous. I was helicoptered out of Afghanistan as part of an emergency mission because the locals were hunting me down for my Yorkshire pudding recipe, and it was endangering the entire British Army.”

  “Well that does sound very tempting.” I was tempted. The more he spoke, the more I liked him. It wasn’t quite tingle-tastic, but it was very close. “Will I become a target because I’ve tasted the awesomeness of your Yorkshire pudds?” My voice sounded so common compared to his.

  “You’ll need a disguise, and I wouldn’t recommend holidaying in Afghanistan, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” When he smiled, I noticed he had perfect teeth. He must have had braces as a child. I never did, but my front teeth did not start to cross over each other until I was in my late teens, so I never bothered to get them fixed. They’re not really bad, but I can get self-conscious at times. “So, what do you say?”

  “I’d love to.” Sarah will flip when she finds out, she’ll be booking a double wedding.

  “That’s great!” he got his phone out of his pocket. “Put your number in there and I can text you my address.” I entered my number and he started to call it. “Just checking in case you put a fake number in there. I don’t want to be expecting you at my door and opening it up to a randomer or, God forbid, Megan Fox.”

  “Oh, the horror. You’d be so disappointed.”

  “Incredibly so.”

  We heard my phone ringing and he was satisfied.

  “Great, you can save my number too,” he said, “I’ll text you later on with my address and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of wine perhaps?” I hated going places empty handed, it seemed rude. Especially if someone was cooking for me.

  “Don’t worry about that, I have plenty of wine. Just bring yourself.” He smiled. “Unless you happen to know Megan Fox?”

  “No, sorry, never met her.”

  “Damn.” He clicked his fingers, then reached to touch my hand. “Just us then.”

  Ok, there were some sparks as soon as he touched my hand, I’ll admit it. Butterflies suddenly flew through my stomach and I felt my cheeks burning up.

  “It’s getting late so, I think I’ll be off. I can get things ready for tomorrow then.”

  I looked at the time on my phone and it was almost midnight, I could not believe how quick this night had gone. I needed to find Sarah and fill her in, but when I looked around the room, I saw her leaning on Max who was carefully supporting her. She was pissed. No, she was beyond pissed. She was wasted. I’ll have to tell her tomorrow night when she was recovered.

  “It’s been lovely to meet you,” we both stood up, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, you will.” He held out his hand.
“It’s been a pleasure.”

  We formally shook hands for all to see, but he winked at me before he turned away. I heard my name being called from behind me. It was Max.

  “Jenny, I’ve called you a taxi if that’s ok? Sarah is pretty pissed so I’m going to get her straight home. I’ll give you some money.”

  “No, no that’s fine I don’t mind.” I didn’t live too far away so it wouldn’t cost much anyway. “Just tell Sarah I’ll call her tomorrow night.”

  “Are you sure? I feel bad, and Sarah will kill me if she finds out I left you on your own.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m a big girl. I’ll go wait outside for it.”

  I gave him a hug goodbye and waved goodbye to the audience who had been watching mine and James’ first meeting. My taxi didn’t take long to turn up and before I knew it I was walking through my front door and running up my stairs to the bathroom. I should have peed before I left the venue.

  I passed Bing who was sprawled out on the stairs. He was looking smug.

  “What have you done?”

  I didn’t have time to wait for his answer, I was bursting for a wee by now. I pushed open the door to the bathroom but should not have turned on the light. If I hadn’t turned on the light, then I wouldn’t have seen it. I would have been ignorant to Bing’s crime and gone to bed all relaxed and happy with an empty bladder. But no, I switched on the light, and there it was. Floating in the toilet was a dead mouse. I hate my cat.

  8

  It wasn’t difficult to find James’ apartment building, although I had never been to this part of Ilkley before. He must be very wealthy. My experience of apartment buildings were entrance doors where the locks were broken, cigarette ends all over the ground, a communal post area with piles and piles of unopened junk mail and the unmistakable smell of urine. This place though was something else. There was a doorman who was expecting me for starters.

  “Seventh floor, Miss Jenny. I’ll get the elevator for you.”

  “Thank you.” I said politely, fighting the urge to call him Geoffrey. How rich was this guy that he could afford to live in a building with a doorman? A doorman that was actually well mannered and happy to be working on a Sunday? My mother would approve.

  I stepped into the elevator and eagerly made my way up to James’ floor, wondering what kind of life he lived. I’m not poor by any means but there’s comfortable living and then there’s luxury. I drive a three-year-old Citroen C1, he might drive a brand-new Audi. I own a small, two bedroomed house, he might own several houses. I have a cat, he might have a tiger, who knows?

  When I stepped out of the elevator I was met with the smell of new carpet. Everything was pristine. The pastel painted walls were unblemished, unlike my own hallway which had traces of the arsehole cat’s claws. There was not a speck of dust in sight. As well as a doorman, these people were paying for cleaners too. I’d hate to think how much it cost to buy one of these apartments… but then I was curious too. As soon as I get home, I will be checking Zoopla.

  James’ apartment was one of four on this floor. I quickly checked myself in my compact and then knocked on the door, expecting a butler to greet me, but it was James. He looked better proportioned today although I was wearing flat sandals.

  “Hello, right on time.” He stepped to one side as I walked in and took my coat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come. You might have had second thoughts this morning.”

  “How can I turn down the world’s best Yorkshire puddings? It’d be very un-Yorkshire of me.”

  “That is true, would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Please.” Wine would hopefully help to ease my nerves. I’m not used to afternoon first dates with a man. And lately, I’m not used to dates where I had already met the man, even if it was only the night before.

  “What would you like?”

  “White, please.” My favourite.

  “Which white would you like?”

  Does it matter?

  “Erm,” I followed as he led me to the dining room and there was a display of various bottles on the counter. What a collection! “I’m not that fussed really, they all look good.”

  “I picked these out thinking they would best compliment the food. You were drinking white last night so I left the red and rose in the cabinet.”

  Cabinet? He has a wine cabinet? He actually has that many bottles of wine that he needs a wine storage unit. I’ve never owned a bottle of wine long enough to constitute putting it in storage. The longest I’ve ever stored a bottle of wine was last year when I had flu and couldn’t drink any, so it stayed in my fridge until I was better. Usually it would have been devoured over a weekend. By ‘weekend’ I mean opened on a Thursday night in anticipation of the weekend. One needs to prepare oneself.

  “Erm, any wine is fine for me.” I smiled. Until now I had always considered myself a connoisseur. Clearly, I know nothing. Not only is this guy wealthy, more importantly he knows wine. I was liking him more and more. He carefully selected one of the bottles and pulled out the cork with a corkscrew. There was no screw top wine in this room.

  I could smell the beef cooking away nicely in the oven. I could almost taste it. He handed me a glass.

  “Would you like a tour?”

  “I’d love one.” I thought he’d never ask. I had been dying to have a look around ever since I walked in.

  “Good, well, this is the dining room.” The table looked small in comparison to the room itself, but he explained it was an expandable table for when he hosts dinner parties. That was another good sign, he loved to cook. I hate cooking. I don’t have the patience to be buying ingredients and following recipes from celebrity cookbooks. You always have to spend a ridiculous amount of money buying herbs and spices and flavourings that you’ve never even heard of and would never normally buy. By the time you’ve finished, you’ve spent a small fortune and wasted several hours making one meal. Years go by and those ingredients have all gone out of date in the back of the cupboard because you’ve never needed to use them again. In my opinion, it was best to leave the cooking to the professionals. By professionals, I mean the chefs at Chang’s Chinese Takeaway who love me so much they send me a Christmas card every year.

  We were about to exit the dining room when there was a faint beeping coming from another room.

  “Oh damn, the foods ready.” He looked at his watch. “Please, take a seat.” He walked towards the table and pulled out a chair for me to sit down. “I’ll be right back with dinner and then we can resume the tour once we’ve finished.”

  “Sounds lovely.” I said, suddenly feeling aware of my very Yorkshire accent next to his. I wonder if his parents are posh too. If I ever meet them, I’ll have to make some changes, so they don’t think I’m too common.

  My desire to be nosey was suddenly taken over by my hunger pangs. I love Sunday dinner. A plate full of tender beef, perfect Yorkshire puddings and crispy roast potatoes, vegetables too. And all of it swimming in thick, hot gravy almost spilling over the sides. Amazing. If I was ever on death row, that would be my last meal. That with a side order of fish and chips, of course. My stomach suddenly made a very loud churning noise, as though telling me off for teasing it with thoughts of food. I took a sip of my wine and had to stop myself downing the whole glass. It was the nicest wine I had ever tasted, and it tasted expensive. It was definitely not Blossom Hill.

  I tried to distract my hungry belly by having a look around the room. I could not see the wine cabinet, but there was a beautiful unit by the wall. There was nothing on top of it. Usually people decorate units with photos, vases, tacky ornaments, but this one was bare. Maybe it was new and he had not yet decided how to accessorise. Men aren’t always too sure about buying knick-knacks.

  “Here we go!”

  James re-entered the room with two plates with steaming hot food on them, I couldn’t wait to dig in. He placed it in front of me and I was suddenly confused. Where was all the food? I had skipped breakfast for this. There w
ere two very perfectly symmetrical yet very small Yorkshire puddings, three small whole carrots surrounded by twenty peas (yes, I counted), five small new potatoes which had been roasted still in their skins and a tiny bundle of beef held together with a string. Where I come from, your plate should be overflowing with food for this kind of meal. If you were presented with this at a Toby Carvery, you’d be asking for your money back.

  “Oh, almost forgot!” he jumped up from his chair and went to the unit by the wall and slid open the door. It was a hot food storage unit, now it made sense. Maybe the rest of the food was in there. Silly me.

  He came back to the table with a very small jug which contained the gravy, and that was it. No trays of proper roast potatoes or mashed swede or extra Yorkshires, just gravy. He carefully dribbled a very small amount on to his Yorkshire puddings and then offered it to me.

  “Thank you.” I took the jug and carefully poured some on to my food, not wanting to make a mess. Growing up I had often heard the phrase ‘how the other half live’, I didn’t know it referred to food and the lack of it.

  It did not take us long to eat our food, surprisingly. We managed to find a lot to talk about in the short space of time. He told me about his travels around the world whilst I daydreamed about Chang’s and what I would be ordering tonight. Actually, so what if he served tiny portions of food? It might do wonders for weight loss. We finished the bottle of wine and he opened a second bottle.

  “I’ll clean up later, how about the rest of the tour?”