He clears his throat. ‘Was it a personal matter?’
‘Nope.’
‘OK then. Ah, was it about the Scottish awards for—’
‘Nope.’ Jesus, this man cannot take a hint.
‘Tell me later?’ pipes up Gordon from the photocopier.
‘Oh sure,’ I lie, just to piss Patrick off. And it works.
‘You’re so bloody childish!’ he moans. ‘Piss off, the pair of you.’
I suspect Patrick’s missing Leanne and her perky breasts, but I have more important things to think about . . . like how to meet up with Tom without hounding him. I reach into my bag for The Rules of Engagement and scan through the pages, looking for a clue . . .
When you start dating, be keen but don’t overdo it. Appearing overly keen is the equivalent of turning up to a date in a wedding dress embroidered with the names of your future children.
This man has a fucking screw loose. I grab my notepad, and the email Dylan sent to Natasha earlier falls out.
‘Right,’ I think. ‘Smart-arse has offered to help, so I’ll let him.’
My fingers begin texting:
OK Maharishi, here’s a dilemma: how do I get this guy to meet me without my instigating it? I can’t wait around forever, I’m on a copy deadline. Cat
I don’t hear anything for two bloody hours, until I’m on the crowded train home and he calls me.
‘Maharishis were spiritual leaders, you know, not dating experts.’
‘Wait, how can you call yourself a dating expert when you’ve told me twice that you don’t date?’
I move down the train and out the way of a man who smells like he’s shat himself, ending up beside a women standing up, reading Cosmopolitan with both hands. I admire her balance.
‘Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of experience. Anyway, to answer your question, I suppose you’ll have to sneakily find out where he’ll be and then bump into him. I wouldn’t normally advise this, however; you should be waiting for him to—’
‘Deadline, Dylan.’
‘Fine. What does he do for a living?’
‘He’s a dentist. Not mine, my sister’s.’
‘Interesting. Think you can convince your sister to make herself an emergency appointment?’
The train bumps to a halt and the woman beside me almost falls over. Ha!
‘I guess so, but I don’t really see—’
‘She’ll go there with her bullshit toothache, and when she’s done she’ll announce she’s forgotten her purse and call you to drive down with it. If he wants to see you, he will appear when you arrive. Then you act like you’re not that bothered to see him, but in a sexy way. I’d give it an hour tops before you hear from him.’
‘That’s awfully devious,’ I reply, impressed and disgusted at the same time. ‘You really are horrendous. But fine, I’ll try it.’
I hang up before he has the chance to do it first and get straight on the phone to Helen, sure she would fake her own death if it might help me get together with Tom.
*
Helen’s fake appointment is at half past twelve the following day. She calls me at ten to one, shrieking dramatically, ‘YOU MUST COME IMMEDIATELY. I APPEAR TO HAVE FORGOTTEN MY PURSE!’ forgetting that I put her up to this in the first place.
‘Aye, all right, Meryl Streep – I’ll be there in ten minutes. Does Tom know I’m coming?’
