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Chapter Thirty-One
Tonight was the night. Although I was trying to play it cool, I was excited about my date with Charlie.
Since he’d got back from Australia, we’d either messaged or spoken every day. At first it was a bit formal, discussing fixing my car. He’d suggested that we didn’t go through insurance companies, explaining that his family used one of the UK’s finest car and body repair centres and promising that because they gave them so much business, they would ensure that the car would look practically new by the time they’d finished.
I’d given him the green light, so they’d collected it on Tuesday afternoon. Then on Wednesday night when we spoke on the phone (I know, an actual telephone conversation rather than messaging—so rare these days), he’d asked if we were still on for that dinner on Friday night.
I was tempted to follow the ‘dating rules’, act all aloof and pretend I had forgotten, but instead I just said yes. We’d agreed to meet at Sexy Fish in Berkeley Square as he’d assured me that, despite the short notice, he’d be able to get us a table, so it was all arranged. He’d texted me this morning to check that we were still on for tonight and I’d swiftly confirmed. Now I was about to leave the office to see Josh at Annabel’s salon for a pre-date blow-dry.
‘So have you Googled him yet?’ said Josh, who I’d just been filling in about my forthcoming dinner with Charlie.
‘I thought about doing that this morning, but I couldn’t remember his surname, other than the fact that it starts with a C. Christie? Chrombie? Something like that,’ I said, racking my brain to try and remember what I’d written down during our conversation. ‘All the notes I made about getting the car fixed are at home,’ I explained. ‘Also, after going on a load of failed online dates, this time I’ve decided to do things the old-fashioned way and just find out more about him by having a conversation over dinner. I don’t want anything I see on Facebook or anywhere else online to taint my opinion of him before we meet.’
That and I also didn’t want to lose precious hours social media stalking him like I’d done with Lorenzo. But I was too embarrassed to tell Josh about my past behaviour…
‘Well, if you say so, Soph,’ he said, rolling his eyes. I guess guys in their early twenties like him did everything online, so the old-fashioned way was far too alien for them. ‘Personally,’ he continued, ‘I’d like to know that my dates aren’t serial killers before I meet them, so I always search for them on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, and LinkedIn, and see what pictures come up in Google too. Why else was the internet and social media invented?’ he laughed.
‘Really?’ I said, raising my eyebrows. ‘And you reckon that looking at a guy’s Instagram page is going to tell you whether or not they’re a nutter? Serial killers don’t generally post photos of their victims after the fact. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’ve gone out with people from Grindr, and that’s probably no better or worse than me meeting Charlie in the middle of a road,’ I added.
‘True,’ he conceded. ‘Oh well, Soph, either way it will be interesting.’ There was that word again:interesting. ‘Hmm,’ Josh continued, ‘at least he seems nice, and by the sounds of it he’s loaded!’
‘I’m not bothered about that, Josh. He’ll need to have more than a fat wallet to impress me,’ I said cheekily.
‘You little saucepot!’ he said, giggling as he added the last few waves to my hair.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I replied innocently. ‘Of course, I was referring to his intelligence, charm, ambition…’
‘Yeah, yeah, Soph.Whatever.I think you’re forgetting how well I know you. Remember, us hairdressers know our clients inside out. That includes your secrets and your sense of humour! There,’ he said, showing me the back of my hair in the mirror. ‘You’re all done.’
‘Perfect,’ I said, smiling with approval. I stood up, and Josh started undoing the velcro strip at the back of my neck to remove my gown.
‘Yes, Sophia!’ he said, walking around me to check me out at every angle. ‘Lookinghot! So what are you hoping to get out of tonight? Snog? More?’ he asked cheekily.
‘Hmm…well, probably not ‘more’ tonight, Josh, but I definitely wouldn’t say no to a lovely, long passionate kiss for starters,’ I said, slyly letting out a loud laugh.
‘Sounds like a plan, Soph!’ he said as he went to the cloakroom area to get my jacket. He peered through the salon window. ‘Looks like your taxi’s outside, darling. Go get him, tiger!’
As the taxi dropped me off outside the restaurant, I started to feel the gentle flutter of butterflies in my stomach. Why was I nervous?
Remember, it’s just like going for a work meeting. You’ve had a few dates now. You’ll be fine, said Reasanna encouragingly. Roxy and Bella had both messaged me to wish me good luck too, which helped.
I took a deep breath and stepped through the door opened by the smartly dressed doorman in the bowler hat.
It had been a while since I’d been here, but it still looked as glitzy as I remembered, with sea-green onyx floors, Damien Hirst bronze mermaid sculptures, a glossy black crocodile slinking across the back wall, fish lamps ‘flying’ above the scarlet lava-stone-topped bar and super-soft leather banquette seats. I’d deliberately arrived twenty minutes early so that I could head to the swanky loos, with floor-to-ceiling back-lit marble, for a final outfit, make-up and hair check. I scrutinised myself in the mirror. The waves in my hair looked good –loose and effortless. Make-up was natural again, but with a bold scarlet matte lipstick.
I’d kept my outfit simple too: a fitted royal-blue bodycon sleeveless dress which just skimmed my knees and covered my breasts enough to be classy. All finished off with a pair of matching blue suede Louboutin shoes. Whilst I’d been dressing less designer lately, seeing as I already had them and this was a special occasion, there was no point them just sitting in my dressing room gathering dust. I was even tempted to message that guy Javier from Match.com who’d offered to buy me a pair every month with a photo captioned,‘See, I have my own shoes, thank you.I don’t need a man to buy them for me.’
Yes. I was happy with how I looked.
As I climbed the stairs, I saw him sitting at the bar. He spotted me too, smiled and rose from the stool.
‘Sophia! Gosh, you look stunning!’ he said, eyes falling out of their sockets. Well, considering he had seen me bare-faced with hair tied back when we’d met, I’d imagine for him, this was a bit of a transformation.
‘Thank you, Charlie,’ I said.
‘Our table is ready,’ he said, giving a nod to the waiter and directing me to a table tucked away in the corner by the window with a full view of the restaurant. I spotted Naomi Campbell two tables down and a Hollywood actor whose name currently escaped me over on the other side of the restaurant. Clearly this place was still drawing in the celebrities, but right now, nearly three weeks after we’d first met, I was only interested in finding out more about Charlie. Oh, and desperately praying that he didn’t turn out to a) be some weirdo, b) have any strange fetishes, or c) have a penchant for making pornos.
As the starters and then the main courses arrived, the conversation flowed fairly freely. He mainly asked questions about me. What I did for a living, my family, what my hopes and dreams were for the future, which was quite deep for a first date. Well, that’s if this was a date? At times it felt like I was being interviewed (in fact, perhaps I should have emailed Charlie a covering letter like that Roger Green had sent to me on Match.com), but he listened and nodded intently, and I figured that he was just taking an interest. Either that or I was indeed being quizzed to see if I ticked the boxes on his seemingly extensive ‘ideal girlfriend/wife’ checklist.
