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‘Look, I’m not sure about it either, if I’m honest,’ I tell him. ‘But we won’t know if we don’t try, will we? If it’s awful then we don’t have to do it again, but I just thought it might make a change from the apps. Maybe people will be nicer if we meet them in real life.’
‘I’m not sure, Sophie. You know I’m not good with people I haven’t met before.’
‘Just ask them about themselves. People love talking about themselves. Please?’
He sighs. ‘Okay. But promise me you won’t make me do it again if I don’t like it.’
‘I promise.’
‘I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this. Distract me: tell me about your visit to the ex.’
‘The headline is that he had to sell a piece of land to fund the divorce settlement, and he’s obviously made a fortune on it because he’s upgraded the stables and bought horseboxes, as well as a swanky new office for himself. He’s even making his own cheese, would you believe?’
‘So the hidden agenda was basically to show you how well he’s doing and rub your face in it? Show you the prize you could have won?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘And how did that make you feel?’
‘Well, Mr Freud, it made me feel that my ex-husband is a complete arse.’
When we’ve finished laughing, Elliott steeples his hands and tries to look scholarly. ‘I see. Would you care to elaborate?’
‘It would be clever if any of it were his own idea, but it isn’t. The only thing that was his idea was the shooting weekend and, without our intervention, that would have been a total disaster.’
‘So you’re doing it, then?’
‘I don’t really have a choice. At least Emily is taking the lead so I can stay in the background.’
‘If what you’ve just told me is true,’ he observes, ‘there is precious little chance of that, I’m afraid.’
* * *
The speed dating is due to start at seven thirty, so I bang on Elliott’s door at seven the next evening. I’ve ordered a taxi to take us to the venue so neither of us have to worry about driving. Even though I have no intention of meeting anyone tonight, I’ve made an effort, with white skinny jeans and a blue sparkly top. Elliott opens his door, and I’m relieved to see that he hasn’t backed out, as he’s dressed very smartly in pressed chinos and yet another light-blue shirt. His cologne is woody and spicy, and I suppress an urge to lean in and give him a good sniff.
‘You look nice,’ I tell him. ‘They’ll be fighting over you.’
‘You scrub up pretty well yourself,’ he replies. ‘Are we really doing this? We could just go out to dinner instead.’
‘We’re doing this,’ I tell him firmly. ‘Come on, the taxi is waiting.’
The venue, when we get there, is not promising. It’s a fairly run-down-looking pub, the kind of place my dad would have referred to as a ‘boozer’ back in the day. The patterned carpets are faded and sticky, and the wine Elliott brings me is sour and barely chilled. A woman with dark, spiky hair and blood-red lipstick takes our money and directs us to a table to collect our name badges, along with a piece of paper and a pencil. She must be sixty if she’s a day, but her clothes and make-up are more suited to someone in their twenties. She’s stick-thin, and even the super-skinny black jeans she’s wearing hang loose over her legs. Her feet are encased in bright pink Doc Martens, similar to some of the pairs I’ve seen Bronwyn wearing. Her ‘Hello Kitty’ top strains over a chest that is suspiciously large compared to the rest of her body, and her nails are painted blood red to match her lipstick. She’s terrifying, and she’s openly sizing Elliott up, as if she’s appraising cattle.
‘Lovely to have some new faces,’ she drawls at us in a husky voice that gives her away as a heavy smoker. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very popular. The ladies are going to love you and, if they don’t, I might just keep you for myself.’ She addresses the last sentence to Elliott, and I’m horrified to see her actually licking her lips, the tip of her tongue darting out like a snake’s.
‘Look on the bright side,’ I tell him as we make our escape from her towards a motley-looking group of people that I imagine are our fellow speed daters. ‘If all else fails, you’ve definitely pulled there.’
‘Oh God, really?’ He looks horrified.
‘Relax. I’ll protect you, I promise. One bucket of water is all it takes with her sort. I saw it inThe Wizard of Oz, so it must be true.’
‘Hmm. I don’t know if that translates to the real world.’
At that moment, there’s a terrifying screech from the PA system, and we turn to face our host, who is now holding a microphone.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ she rasps. ‘Welcome to the night that could change your life for ever. Look around you. One of the people here could be your future life partner, and tonight is the night when your eyes will meet for the first time.’
‘Unlikely!’ one of the women roars. ‘I’ve been coming for six months now and I haven’t had so much as a flicker.’
