I get comfortable on the sofa under my summer-thin double duvet and look at the nest of tables beside me. The top one is crammed with goodies. A bowl of mixed ice cream takes precedence, but there’s also a glass of Disaronno and ice (Baileys would be too much even for me), together with some savoury cheese balls and a small block of fruit and nut Galaxy chocolate.
With Classic FM on low on the radio, I’m all set to reacquaint myself with Elliot, knowing I’m surrounded by a barrage of cushions and comfort food should the going get tough.
Chapter 32 – Mission Accomplished
Yay! I’ve finished Opaque. Oh my God, what an ending. Since starting it, I’ve bought some of Jack Myler’s later ones and am looking forward to getting to know his DCI Ted Dayley. I don’t think I’ve ever been to Rotherham (maybe passed through, like a lot of people do with Northampton), so it’ll also be fun. I don’t know if fun is the right word for crime, but getting to know the place should be interesting.
What did I learn from last night? That office parties are all the same. Put supposedly professional people in a room with lots of alcohol, music and flashing lights and they think it’s a school disco where it’s perfectly acceptable to get off with the married boss.
Today’s two items ticked on my ‘dater’s shopping list’ are: Don’t get off with the married boss (especially if it puts your job at risk) and Do dress up for the hell of it because you know it makes you feel better.
This past month has been a real rollercoaster of emotions. I’ve met some wonderful guys and some… let’s just say more interesting characters. I hope my column has helped rather than hindered your decision to place a profile should you be single and wish to find the love of your life. While there’s no guarantee to finding him or her that way, as long as you’re careful you can have a good time. Don’t take it seriously and you may be surprised. Or you may find the partner of your dreams in a supermarket because you’re not quite tall enough to get something off a high shelf and he just happens to be there at the right time.
I feel my face flush as I write the last bit, so delete it back to ‘good time’. The fantasy’s over anyway. The first of June, reality’s back.
Out of curiosity, I check tallgirlnn1 and there are four messages. One I report, as it’s gross, and two ‘no thanks’ (one from Venezuela and the other from Edinburgh – I love Edinburgh, especially having read some of Ian Rankin’s Rebus, but I’m not into long-distance relationships, although part of me wonders whether it might be Donald Mk 2). The last is from a gorgeous-sounding guy called ‘Milton 6ft4’ (he can tick the ‘Oh, and did I say tall?’ box). He says he’s intrigued by my profile and would like to know more about me. He lives in Northampton and has ticked pretty much every box I’ve ticked. Although the project’s over, he’s irresistible and for the first time in over a month, he’s a guy I can be honest with, so I pour my heart out to him (in a non-sentimental way, of course) telling him all about me – the real me, not the temporary ‘me’.
Despite encouraging my readers to persevere, the last month has convinced me that internet dating isn’t for me, so with my reply to Milton 6ft4 sent, I click on the ‘hide my profile’ button. I’m tempted to delete it, but something tells me to wait a while.
“Izzy?”
Donna. Very pretty but very anxious. She’s intent on a spot on my desk and I follow her gaze. Her right thumbnail is scoring a line back and forth in the fake wood. “Have you heard from Duncan?” I ask, looking at her face.
She shakes her head, still staring and fiddling.
“I wouldn’t worry. You’re still meeting him, right?”
She nods.
“Where?”
Finally looking at me, she mumbles, “Beckett’s Park.”
“Public yet romantic.”
“Yes, so I can’t cause a scene.”
“Oh, Donna, I’m sure it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“But why else meet me at lunchtime? He wants to get it over and done with, so he knows it won’t take any longer than an hour.”
“Or he can’t wait until tonight.”
“So he doesn’t waste a whole evening.”
“Anyway, it’s not long now. You’ll know in a couple of hours and knowing is best, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.”
I can see that nothing I say is going to help, so I give her a commiserative smile and she plods back to her desk.
As Donna’s busy for lunch, I decide to stay in. Before I dig out my sandwich, I refresh my tallgirlnn1 page and ‘Milton 6ft4’ has replied. He says he’s suitably impressed and loves independent women with a strong character who can hold a decent conversation. I smile as I read on and an excited shiver runs through me when I reply and click on ‘send’. I can’t believe having dated over forty men that it should be the first one as the real me that gives me goosebumps.
I can’t concentrate on my work although looking at the clock every five minutes probably doesn’t help the time go any quicker.
I keep checking the corridor and she finally walks through the double doors. It’s obvious she’s been crying.
We meet halfway and walk into the ladies. I go to put my arms round her as she sobs.
“Donna, what happened?”
“It’s...” She sniffs and blows her nose on a very soggy and grubby-looking cloth hankie. It looks horribly familiar. I’m staring at it and remember where I’ve seen it before: on a desk, surrounded by packets of food, particularly a half-eaten jam doughnut. She’s been to see Mike? Oh no, please don’t tell me they’re back together.
“I met up with Duncan.”
I nod and let her continue, breathing a sigh of relief but can’t help the feeling of impending doom.
“And everything’s great!” She beams but I’m still waiting for clarification. Positive me anticipates a ‘Oh, Mike just lent me this because he thought I was upset. Duncan’s the love of my life and...” but realistic me is expecting ‘Duncan’s dumped me and Mike was soooo sweet. I don’t know why I ever let him go.’ I do.
“Duncan said he was really sorry...” Uh oh.
“...that he’s been working so much. There’s been some kind of animal flu going around and it’s like Noah’s ark at his surgery.” My insides give a little high-five. Not that I think that’s possible but...
She giggles and all’s alright with the world again, at least Donna’s little part of it. I watch her wash her face before going back outside. She skips down the corridor and back to her desk. I shout “Well done,” after her, but her mind is clearly in DonnaAndDuncanLand.
So I go to the kitchen and get us two celebratory cans of fat Coke and two plastic beakers with which to toast the happy couple.
She’s on the phone; I pull a chair up from an empty neighbouring desk (the pet advisor/film reviewer – we’re a talented lot – only works part time) and pour out the Cokes.
“I know. Yes, really well… happy? Seems to be… me? Of course, I can’t wait. Tonight? Sure. Yours or mine? Sounds lovely. I’m missing you too.”
I don’t need to guess who she’s talking to.
“Me too… okay, bye… yes, bye… me too… love you… ahhh… okay, bye.” She laughs before finally putting down the phone.
“What’s this?” she asks, looking at the drinks.
“A toast.”
“I like toasts.”
“To Duncan and Donna,” I say loudly. “My favourite double Ds.”
She swallows a gulp of Coke and bursts out laughing, sending a large dribble of liquid down either side of her mouth. I grab a tissue from her desk and hand it to her.
“Fanks,” she says, still full of Coke.
So it’s true. I’ve just seen it for myself.
I make an impromptu visit to reception after a phone call from a supplier informing me of an impending parcel. Marion likes to know these things, which makes it my colleaguely duty to go and warn her (nothing to do with what Donna told me of course). And there he is. Mike, in the twenty-p
lus-stone flesh, a little too close for innocence.
I can’t help grinning as I walk to the perspex screen.
“Good afternoon, Izzy,” he says pulling away from Marion.
“Afternoon. How are you both?”
They look at each other quizzically as if I’d meant something by it, which of course I had.
“Good… thank you…” Marion says slowly.
I turn to him. “And how are you?’
“Fine, thanks.” He smiles and I can see a hint of leftover lunch in his teeth.
“Great. Marion?”
“Yes, Isobel.”
“I’m expecting a parcel. It’s samples, no hurry.”
“Certainly. I shall ring you when it comes in.” This is more than she’s said to me in a while, and the most pleasant.
“Thanks.” I head for the main office double doors, but turn back to look at them both. “Bye, Marion.”
She smiles.
As Mike picks at a tooth – not the fooded one – with his right index fingernail, I say, “See you, Mike,” then wink and head back to my desk.
With time running away, I go about finishing the article so it’ll reach William’s tray by the deadline. I click open the Notes document and look the final version of the shopping list.
Don’t do (in no particular order)
- Trainers with smart suit
- Greasy hair or dirty fingernails
- Il/legal offspring or geriatric
- Too short
- No arse/weighs less than me
- Boring conversation (accountant)
- Couch potato
- Nauseatingly smooth
- Geek or trainspotter
- Old-fashioned (pipe/slippers)
- Addiction of any kind
- Wants kids or has brats
- Judge a book by its cover
- Moustache or beard unless goatee
- Too feminine or over emotional
- Hard drugs or smoking
- Too ugly or self-indulgent pretty boys
- Orange suntans/leathery skin
- Slurps his drink or eats like a pig
- Never left Northampton
- BO and other smells
- Sweats like a pig
- Ignorance
- Have wandering eyes
- A short temper
- Judge too quickly/be negative
- Assume poor = no ambition
- Worry what other people think
- Fall asleep on your date
- Wear a wedding ring/be married
- Let your head rule your heart
- Gold digger/money flasher
- Assume hard exterior = hard interior
- Think you’ve seen everything
- Give up if your date bottles out
- Dismiss the first dress in the shop
Do (in a very particular order)
- Tall
- Funny/good conversation (binman)
- Pay compliments
- Non-smoker
- Ethics
- Intelligent
- Be honest if no spark
- Smart appearance (clean hair etc.)
- Pay attention
- Have some ambition (i.e. not a layabout)
- Be genuine
- Keep up to date with current events
- Judge a book by its cover
- Passionate
- Try new things (including fish and chips, speed dating and gay bars)
- Likes similar music/interests etc.
- Have fun
- Well travelled/interesting
- Sort out things that are bothersome (how old am I?)
- Likes animals
- Tall
- Remember your date’s name
- Rugby physique
- Watch out for a suntan circle on finger
- Pays his way
- Have, or at least like, modern technology
- Have a medium patience level
- Have a medium tolerance level
- Think about a person’s feelings
- Stand up for yourself and others
- Keep your psychiatrist’s head in reserve
- Have a good time, sober or otherwise
- Learn another language
- Dress up because it makes you feel better
- Read good poetry
- Oh, and did I say tall?
When all’s said and done, you can write a list as long as the back of your forearm (mine’s a shoe size eight – another piece of useless trivia for you), but when you meet the man of your dreams, you can throw that list out of the window… please don’t because that would be littering). You can write all the dos and don’ts in the world, but they may well not mean a thing. You can try on all the dresses in all the shops in town, but the chances are you’ll go back to the first shop and buy that first dress because it’s the most comfortable, most flattering, and the one that has your name written in invisible ink on the inside label. You’ll know that moment when you realise the two of you are destined to be together – the moment you realise that your soulmate was right under your nose all the time.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the project is officially over. With more tech goodies promised, I look forward to getting back to normality. Revising it one last time, I make a couple of small changes, press Ctrl and P to print it off, then take it to William’s office.
Donna’s singing away. Despite her being one of those annoyingly naturally cheerful people, I’ve never seen her so happy. And that’s saying something.
It seems to be catching as Janice is chatting away jovially on the phone and smiles at me as I reach for William’s door handle.
There’s no sign of him so I put the article in his in tray, patting it as I do so, like I’m wishing it bon voyage, and go back to my desk.
As I reach it, William’s walking down the corridor. He smiles at me. “Glad it’s over?”
I must look puzzled as he continues. “Your dates. Grand job, by the way. Sir Edward’s very impressed.”
“Thank you.” I feel myself blushing.
“Last one in the tray?”
I nod and sit down.
“Thanks,” he says, and walks back to his office.
I’ve barely started looking through my emails when I see there’s one from William asking me to go and see him.
He’s staring at his computer screen, so I creep in and sit down opposite.
“Ah, glad you’re here,” he says, as if he’d forgotten his request.
“Oh?”
“There’s another project I want to talk to you about.”
I imagine another thirty-one somethings in thirty-one days and my clichéd heart sinks. “Is there?” I murmur.
“Yes, something a bit more permanent. I’m just waiting for a call to confirm. You here ’til five?”
I’m curious. “I am, or later if you need…”
“Five will be fine.”
As I turn to leave, William stands up from behind his desk, grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. He looks into my eyes. “First dress in the first shop,” he says, before kissing me.
This is the William I’ve come to know – the passionate man who’s not afraid to show his feelings. The kiss is tender and quite overwhelming, and, as we peel apart, he smiles and I must look shocked because his expression changes.
“Oh God! Sorry,” he says, and steps back.
“Please don’t be. It was lovely. It… you just took me by surprise.”
He still looks crestfallen and backs away to behind his desk.
I sit down again then take his hand and lean forward. I want to kiss him again but the phone rings. He studies the phone’s display and sighs. I point upwards and he nods.
“I’d better…” he says.
‘Sure. Talk later?”
He nods and picks up the phone.
As I stand, I glance at the bookshelf behind him and the file with my name on it. Next to it is something I’d not
noticed, or never registered, before: The Complete Works of John Milton.
Walking to the door, I’m about to grab the handle when something catches my eye. I look over at the coat stand and alongside his suit jacket is a dress cover. The zip is partially open and as I look closer I catch a flash of pale turquoise.
THE END
Locations featured in The Serial Dater
Chapter 1: The Picturedrome, Kettering Road
Chapter 2: The World’s End, Ecton
Chapter 3: The Charles Bradlaugh, The Mounts, Northampton town centre
Chapter 4: Former Jade restaurant, The Pavilion, Kettering Road
Chapter 5: The Hilton Hotel, near Junction 15 of the M1 motorway
Chapter 6: Frankie & Benny’s then Cineworld Cinema, Sixfields
Chapter 7: The Greyhound pub, Milton Malsor
Chapter 8: The Aviator, Sywell Airport
Chapter 9: Groove bar, top of Gold Street (often closes/changes name)
Chapter 10: Chicago’s, Market Square, Northampton town centre (currently closed)
Chapter 11: The Moon on the Square, Market Square, Northampton town centre
Chapter 12: Peterborough Greyhound stadium
Chapter 13: The Britannia pub, The Lakes, Bedford Road (on the A428)
Chapter 14: Heather’s, Kingsley Park Terrace then later the Cock Hotel, Kingsthorpe
Chapter 15: Speed dating at The Cock, Kingsthorpe
Chapter 16: The Red Lion at Brafield-on-the-Green, near Cogenhoe
Chapter 17: The Red Hot Buffet, Sixfields (subsequently burned down!)
Chapter 18: The Romany pub, Kingsley/Kingsthorpe Hollow
Chapter 19: The Grosvenor Centre then a random café along Fish Street, Northampton town centre
Chapter 20: Abington Park (top half, near the bandstand)
Chapter 21: Delapre Park, London Road
Chapter 22: White Elephant, Kingsley Road/Kettering Road corner
Chapter 23: The Four Pears at Little Houghton
The Serial Dater Page 32
