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My cat yawns. I hope that my outfit doesn’t produce the same reaction in my date.
‘I don’t want to send out the wrong signals,’ I reason with my feline friend. ‘If I sex it up too much, he’ll think I’m easy. If I go in jeans and a top, he’ll think I can’t be bothered to make the effort.’
Archibald stretches out, flexing his claws and burying them into the duvet. If I ever brought a man back here I’d have to get new bedding as this lot is slowly shredding due to Archie’s attentions.
‘Help me,’ I implore. ‘I need advice.’
Then comes Mike’s familiar knock at the door and I hurry down to answer it, aware that the clock is ticking away and that I’m due at a trendy wine bar in Milton Keynes in less than half an hour.
‘Wow,’ my neighbour says as I fling open the door. ‘You look amazing.’
I stand and smooth down my dress, palms clammy. ‘You really think so?’
‘Hell yes.’ He ruffles his newly cut hair and frowns. ‘Special occasion?’
‘Hot date,’ I tell him, puffing out my breath uncertainly.
My neighbour looks taken aback, as well he might. It’s a bit like the Pope announcing that he’s going to a lap dancing club. Mike’s face darkens further. ‘Who with?’
‘No idea,’ I admit. ‘For reasons best known to myself I have allowed my mad mate to fix me up on a blind date.’
Now Mike looks completely shocked. ‘You’re kidding me?’
‘No.’ I glance at my watch. ‘And I hate to hassle you but I’m going to be late and that’s never a good start.’
‘No,’ Mike agrees, still perplexed. ‘No, it’s not.’
‘Are you sure the outfit’s OK? I’ve been asking Archie but he’s useless.’
‘Well, I’m no Gok Wan.’
‘I don’t want to give off the wrong signals.’
Mike is suddenly serious. ‘If you’re trying to say that you’re a stunningly beautiful woman that any man could fall in love with, then the dress works.’
‘Thank you,’ I say awkwardly. Me and compliments are not a ready mix. A simple ‘you look OK’ would have done. ‘I’d better be going. What was it you wanted?’
‘Nothing,’ he says with a shrug. ‘Just at a loose end again. Thought we might do another film? I’ve got Young Victoria on DVD.’
Mike knows that I’m a sucker for my historicals. Now I’m torn. I’d much rather stay at home and have a quiet night in with him watching a film than put myself through this torture. Actually, at this particular moment I’d rather have my fingernails torn out than go on this date. I think about calling the mobile phone number I’ve been given, along with the name of Lewis Moran, so that I can pull out. But then I think that’s rude and I was brought up to be polite and nice. However much I’d like to, I can’t leave Lewis in the lurch. I’d hate for someone to do that to me.
‘Tomorrow,’ I say to appease Mike. ‘Let’s do it tomorrow. Then I can fill you in on all the gore.’
‘I could cook dinner or something,’ my friend offers hesitantly.
‘No, don’t worry. I’ll eat and then I’ll come round later. Nine-ish?’
‘It’s a date,’ he says, and we both laugh uncomfortably.
Then he registers that I’m fidgeting. I still have my jewellery selection to make and, already, my time is running out.
‘I’ll go,’ Mike says. ‘Leave you to it. Have fun.’
‘Wish me luck.’
‘Yes,’ my neighbour says as he turns to head home. For the first time in months he does look miserable and my heart goes out to him. What awful timing that I’m going out for once. ‘Good luck.’
And, as this is my first date with a new man in over nine years, I think that I’m going to need it.
Chapter Seven
The Blah-Blah Bar is already busy when I arrive. I am thirty-five years old and am standing at the door, scared to go in by myself. Ridiculous, I tell my inner wimp. Women row the Atlantic single-handedly these days, they base jump, they free climb, they run countries. Walking into a bar unaccompanied is not that difficult.
I steel myself and go inside. My courage only falters slightly when I see that everyone else in here is under twenty-five. Where do women of my age go to socialise when they want something sophisticated? I wouldn’t mind coming here with a bunch of the girls from the salon, this is just up their street, but as a venue for a date? Who chose this? Was it Lewis Moran or was this Gerry’s idea of fun? That should worry me and it does.
