The Dating Game (19 page)

Wednesday 21st September

No time to dwell on the exploits of the night before. 
Wednesday was chaos.  The temp had arrived, so, after a quick briefing, Gill
asked her to shadow Janice for the day.  The girl, Amanda, seemed quite bright,
which was one less thing for Gill to stress about when she went to Barcelona.

Gill cleared her desk as much as possible.  She hadn’t
scheduled any meetings for today.  Arranging meetings for the day before a
holiday was always a recipe for disaster.  Long ago she’d realised she
shouldn’t overstretch herself, although realising this and doing something
about it, were sometimes two entirely different things.

Periodically she checked on the temp, receiving a nod of approval
from Janice.  That was all she needed to know.  Breathing a sigh of relief,
Gill attacked the rest of her tasks.  Finally, she wrote a pending items list
for Janice and e-mailed it across to her.

Only once she was home, had popped a ‘fresh’ meal from the
supermarket chiller section in the microwave, and poured herself a glass of
wine, did Gill finally have time to check her personal e-mails.  There was
another progress update request from Caroline Morgan, a couple of jokes from
Christopher and an e-mail from Gary.  Gary.  When had they gone out? Screwing
up her face, Gill tried to recall exactly when she had ripped her trousers. 
Shouldn’t be too hard to remember that, you’d have thought, but she had
difficulty with which day it had been.  Ah, it was last Tuesday - a week before
her second date with Sean.  She hadn’t really thought about Gary this week, but
then there had been such a lot going on. She opened the e-mail and read,

‘Hi Gill.  Hope you are well.  Am away on
the rigs, but will be back next week.  If you are game for meeting up again,
how’s next Saturday, 28th looking? Gary.’

To say that she was astounded was too strong, but very
surprised, yes.  But then, he had said he would like to see her again.  With so
many new friends at the moment, Gill was having difficulty keeping track.

Last Tuesday seemed a lifetime ago.  So much had happened
since then, not least that she’d slept with Anton.  Plus she’d been in a
compromising position with Charlie and snogged Sean.  Her head hurt with the
logistics of it all.  She’d pack for Barcelona and then answer him.  But first,
she really must phone her parents.

As Gill lay in bed waiting for sleep to overcome her, she
replayed her last date with Anton, over and over in her head, every nuance,
every detail, until finally she fell asleep.

Anton left the laboratory some time after midnight. It had
been a long day. He’d subsisted on sandwiches and coffee. At least the hotel
wasn’t far away, he thought. He couldn’t wait to have a warm shower and then
lie in a soft bed, where he could finally let his thoughts drift to Gill and
what had happened between them. It had been every bit as good as he had
anticipated.  They had been so right together.  He felt excited about the
future.  Concentrating on the road, windscreen wipers on full, he smiled to
himself at the thought of her.  The rain was becoming heavier, making it
difficult to see.  The newscaster on the radio warned of flooding and heavy
rain and advised drivers to take extra care.

Headlights rushed towards him.  He heard a scream, which
startled him.  The impact, the twist of metal,  and the pain, occurred
simultaneously.  As he started to lose consciousness, he realised the scream
had been his own.

Thursday 22nd September

As it turned out, Gill didn’t manage to get back to Gary that
night, since the grilling she received from her mother, who had made her feel
bad for not phoning in the past few weeks, lasted more than an hour.  Gill
finally managed to get her mother off the phone by telling her she still needed
to pack.  But not before she promised to come down in a couple of months and
spend a few days with them.  ‘Your father’s not getting any younger you know.’ 
The irony of this statement was lost on her mother, older than her husband by
five years.  And they were both fitter in many ways than Gill.  In their early
seventies, their days consisted of walks by the sea, squash for her father and
tennis for her mother.  Moving to Devon had rejuvenated them.  Sometimes Gill
wished she could move to Devon, although not next to her parents, no matter how
much she loved them.  She fancied somewhere tranquil, with a slower pace of
life than in the city.  Although no London, Glasgow was busy enough to need to
escape from on occasion.  For now, Barcelona would have to do.

Always first to arrive, Gill checked her e-mails at the
station.  Damn.  She’d forgotten to reply to Gary.  She typed fast. 
‘Gary, about to go to Barcelona.  28th should be fine.  What did
you have in mind?  Gill.’
  Short and to the point.

As she waited, she noticed another e-mail arrive from
Caroline Morgan.

‘Dear Gill.  Please find attached two
more profiles.’

Realising she wouldn’t be able to read them easily on her
phone, she dug in her carry-on bag for her tablet, booted it up and logged into
her e-mail again.  There, better now.

Candidate Profile

Name – James McArthur

Age – 48

Lives – Edinburgh

Occupation – Company Director

Qualifications – MSc Marketing

Height – 5’ 10’

Marital status – Divorced twice, four children

Smoker – Y

Interests:  Stock market, cars, white water rafting,
good restaurants, wine, movies.

Further information:  I set up my first company at
twenty-five.  I have dabbled with many industries since.  I own several homes
in France, Spain, the US, as well as
pieds à terre
in London and
Morningside.  I split my time between them when I can.

Looking to meet:  A lady who enjoys travelling and who
appreciates wine.  Must love cinema.

Gill scanned the first profile.  Company Director from
Edinburgh,  OK.  Height fitted. Divorced twice – ouch!  That was a big no-no. 
Once was unlucky, twice flagged up warning signs.  At forty-eight, his kids
could be anything from thirty downwards.  Stock market – so, he found financial
dealings and probably world affairs interesting – certainly more than she did. 
From the head and shoulders shot included, he appeared quite stocky.  The image
was very proper, almost as formal as a passport photo.  The black suit did
nothing to detract from his bulk.  Gill also didn’t like the way he bragged
about setting up a company so young.  It was very ‘look at me,’ which Gill
despised.  Likewise, mentioning his homes around the world, screamed show-off.

Gill felt sure many women would be delighted to receive
James’ profile, and consider him a real catch, but she wasn’t particularly
interested in material wealth.  As long as she had enough to live the life she
currently led, she was happy.  No, he wasn’t for her.  His eyes held no
warmth.  She’d like to say his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but that
slight twist of his lips couldn’t even be classed a smile, more a grimace.  It
almost looked as if it pained him to smile.

White water rafting – well, she’d always fancied that, a
throwback to dreams of her adventurous youth, when she would have tried
anything daring - hence the dreaded, never to be repeated bungee jump.  But
she’d have to wait for another opportunity, as she certainly wasn’t going with
Mr Arrogant – Mr I Display My Wealth For All To See.  He was into cars, too,
probably had one for every day of the week.  And Morningside, well that made
sense. You couldn’t be as wealthy as he was, and not boast a home in the most
luxurious neighbourhood in Edinburgh.  He didn’t interest her at all, from his
affluence to the severe military haircut; Gill simply wasn’t taken with him.

She turned her attention to the second profile.

Candidate Profile

Name - Mark O’Hara

Age – 35

Lives – Prestwick

Occupation – Consultant

Qualifications – MBChB from Glasgow School of Medicine

Height – 5’ 7”

Marital status – Single

Smoker – No

Interests:  Motocross, rally driving, speedway, music,
squash.

Further information:  I recently took up a new post as
Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon. I come from a large family, all doctors.  Also
in a band, play guitar.

Looking to meet:  Someone who wants to socialise and
enjoy life.

Gill began to read, but not without first scrutinising his
photo.  He appeared to have strawberry blond hair.  Ginger.  Hmm.  But he had a
lovely smile, which did reach his eyes, unlike James’.  He was a Consultant –
another highflier then; quite short, though, at only five feet seven.  A
non-smoker.  That deserved a tick.  Another black mark for James – a smoker.
Mark, too, seemed to like cars and bikes.  He played squash.  Gill had played
once and for three days afterwards, had felt as if she’d broken her wrist,
unable to type, not even in a ‘one finger at a time’ fashion.

‘What are you up to?’  Lisa peered over her shoulder. 
‘Might have known you’d still be attached to a computer somehow.  We’re on holiday
remember,’ she plonked herself down on the bench next to Gill.  ‘So, who’s
that?’

‘Another potential date.  Mark.  He’s a doctor.’

‘Ooh,’ Lisa’s eyes already displayed dollar signs.

‘Don’t even think it – he’s only five feet seven.’

‘And?  We’re all the same height…’ She didn’t get to finish
her sentence, as Gill broke in,  ‘Lying down, I know.’

‘He’s cute, though, for a ginger.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Gill agreed, just as Angela and Debbie walked
up to them.

‘Hello, love,’ Debbie embraced first Gill, then Lisa. 
‘Bumped into this one at the cash machine.  So, how are we all doing?’

‘What’s that you’ve got there?’ Angela strained to see, as
she set her bag down on the bench.

‘That’s Mark,’ Lisa filled her in.

‘Mark?’ asked Angela and Debbie together.

‘The agency sent me two more profiles,’ said Gill.

‘Really?  Let’s be having them,’ Debbie’s enthusiasm was
catching, as all four friends huddled round Gill’s tablet.

‘Why don’t we wait until we’re on board?  We really should
get going,’ Gill checked her watch.  ‘The train leaves in ten minutes and we
still need to buy tickets.

‘OK, get a wriggle on, girls,’ Lisa bossed them.

The packed train meant standing room only.  No chance to
discuss the profiles.  By the time they reached Prestwick Airport, the girls
were pretty hyper.

‘I’m so glad we booked Speedy Boarding,’ Lisa said,
rummaging in her bag for her boarding pass.  ‘Look at the size of the other
queue.’

‘Yes, but we paid an extra forty pounds between us, just to
board the plane earlier,’ Angela’s cynicism shone through.

‘Well, it’s done now.  Let’s just be glad we don’t have to
push in with all the rest of them,’ Debbie jerked her thumb in the direction of
the three hundred-odd passengers jostling each other behind the Wait Here line.

‘That was much more civilised,’ Debbie said, once they had
all taken their seats. 

A large woman, one of the last people to board the plane,
tried to put her three carrier bags into the overhead compartment, but there
simply wasn’t space.  She managed one and then asked Gill and Angela to move,
so she could access the window seat.  Angela stared at her.  The woman had to
be twenty stone plus.  She really thought there was going to be room for her in
the window seat, plus her two bags?  How had she even sneaked the bags past the
airline’s checks?  Angela and Gill slid out of their seats to let her pass,
catching a whiff of body odour which would have knocked out a World
Championship boxer.  When they sat down again, Angela practically had to hug
Gill to get away from the woman who now occupied one and a half seats.

‘How long’s the flight?’ Angela whispered to Gill.

‘Two and a half hours.’

‘If nobody sits beside them,’ Angela inclined her head to
where Lisa and Debbie sat, undisturbed, would you mind if I moved over there?’

Sympathising, Gill said, ‘Of course not. I’m going to read
anyway.’

‘Great,’ Angela’s relief was almost palpable, if
short-lived, as a woman came along with a young boy and asked Lisa to move up.

‘I can let you past, but I want an aisle seat.’

The mother regarded Lisa with notable disdain.  Muttering
something indistinct to her son, the boy then wriggled past to the window
seat.  Seemingly content, the girls then paid no attention to him, until he
started kicking the back of the seat in front of him, occupied by an elderly
lady.

‘Could you stop doing that?’ Lisa glared at him.

The boy said nothing, but redoubled his efforts.

‘Quit it!’ Lisa said sharply.  The boy started to cry.  The
stewardess appeared just then and Lisa stopped her, ‘Excuse me, can you seat
this boy elsewhere?  He’s kicking this lady’s seat.’

‘I’m afraid the flight’s full,’ the stewardess said
apologetically.

‘Well, can you seat him with his family?  He’s being a
nuisance.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’  The stewardess then asked the boy
where his mum was.

‘What a flight,’ Angela said, delighted that they had finally
landed.  ‘I thought I was going to be sick.  That woman reeked.  I don’t think
she’d showered for a week.’

‘I know.  She should have been made to buy two plane seats
and a can of deodorant,’ Gill said, as she reached in her bag for her passport.

It was peak time at
Prat de Llobregat
airport and
several flights had just deposited their passengers on the tarmac.

‘Wow, feel that heat,’ Lisa said, positively jubilant.

‘I know, it’s glorious,’ Gill basked in the sun during the
short walk from the plane steps to the terminal building.

Forty minutes later the girls entered the main section of the
airport, in search of the tourist information centre.  They wanted to know
exactly where to get the train, as they found the signs difficult to follow.

‘This airport’s lovely,’ Lisa said awe-struck.  ‘Just look
at these shops.’  Knowing that shops had the same effect on Lisa as a siren
calling a sailor, Gill grabbed her shoulders and turned her away from them.

‘Train’s not bad. Quite comfortable actually,’ Angela
reclined in her seat.

‘Yes, just a bit busy,’ Debbie hated crowds.

They alighted at
Passeig de Gràcia
and walked the ten
minutes to the hotel on
C/Boqueria
, passing shoppers laden with bags
from
El Corte Inglés
, as well as top designer names.  Lisa appeared to
be in heaven.  Debbie regarded the cool, Catalan women; always expertly
coiffed, with makeup as flawless as if applied by a professional, sunglasses
perched on their heads. Parents held the hands of their chattering children, as
they tried to identify a café where they could have a drink.

‘Is it much further?’ Lisa moaned.  ‘My feet are killing
me.’

‘Well maybe you should have worn something more practical
than heels, for travelling?’ Angela glared at her in exasperation.  Although
they were friends, those two rubbed each other up the wrong way most often.

‘I think it’s just down here,’ Gill consulted the map and
then said, ‘Yes, see the sign?’

The girls looked up, and sure enough the sign for their
hotel stood out fifty yards ahead.

The receptionist spoke good English and soon sorted them out
with their keys.  A porter showed them to their adjoining rooms.  They were
both family rooms.  The Hotel Opera didn’t appear to have simply double or twin
rooms.  Debbie and Angela took the first room, which comprised a single bed and
bunk beds. 

‘We won’t be in it much,’ Angela said, taking in the small,
but neat accommodation.  A functional en suite was off to one side, but there
was a serious lack of wardrobe space.

‘Thank God I’m not sharing with Lisa.  Five coat hangers?’
Debbie said in disbelief.

Once unpacked, the girls went next door to hurry along Gill
and Lisa.

Gill opened the door to them.

‘Hey, your room’s huge!’ Angela took in the room, twice the
size of their own, which boasted a balcony overlooking the street.

‘Aren’t they all the same?’ Gill asked.

‘No, ours is miniscule compared with this and we have bunk
beds.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Lisa burst out laughing.

‘No, I’m not, and it has practically no wardrobe space,’
Debbie pointed accusingly at the large walk-in wardrobe, next to the girls’ en
suite.

Gill felt bad, as Debbie and Angela obviously had a raw
deal.  ‘Do either of you want to swap with me?’

Angela shook her head and Debbie said, ‘It’ll be fine. 
We’ll be out and about all the time. We’ll probably be too pissed when we get
back to care, anyway.’

‘I knew there had to be a reason to get pissed,’ Lisa’s face
brightened.

As they were so hungry, having eaten nothing since a quick
bite at the airport that morning, they decided to eat somewhere close by. 
Avoiding the main drag, with the aid of their map, they soon found
Plaça
Sant Josep Oriol
and headed for
Bar del Pi
, which was thronged with
people.  All of the tables outside were taken, so they ventured inside to see
if a free table could be found.  On the verge of giving up, they spotted two
couples coming downstairs and quickly nipped upstairs to nab their table. 
Bar
del Pi
was decorated in dark wood and not a lot of light entered, but it
was an institution in Barcelona and much frequented by Catalans and tourists
alike.