The Dating Game (3 page)

As Gill lay in bed, she had difficulty dropping off.  Should
she tell the girls what she was doing?  She couldn’t decide.  Debbie would be
appalled.  Lisa would say well done; and Angela?  Well, Angela would probably
demur and see how things panned out.  She rarely judged.  That was one of the
things Gill loved about her friend.

Angela was a gentle soul really, so Gill found it difficult
to understand how she could teach at St Swithun’s.  Unlike the grand and
posh-sounding saint’s name, the school was anything but.  It was only one step
down from the problem inner city schools in the US.  The incongruity and irony
of a school named St Swithun’s in the east end of Glasgow wasn’t lost on any of
them.

Giving herself a mental shake, her thoughts returned to the
dating agency.  For now, she decided to keep it to herself, just until she
received a few profiles and figured out how things were going to go.  If she
went on a date, then of course, she would have to let at least Debbie know. 
She didn’t want to meet some potential nutter without letting anyone in on
where she was going.

Gill found herself thinking about her failed relationships. 
She may as well start at the beginning.  Barry.  Everything before that was
just messing around.  But Barry she had loved – a lot as it turned out. 
It’s
true what they say
, she thought,
that you don’t know what you have until
it’s gone
.  They met at Strathclyde University on their first day of second
year.  Barry had been studying Metallurgy at Glasgow, but hated it, so had
changed course and university in his second year.  He decided Electrical
Engineering was more him and they had both found common ground, since Gill was
also studying Engineering.  They had chosen most of the same course modules,
were in mostly the same tutorials and lectures and quickly became inseparable. 
It came as no surprise to any of their friends when Barry proposed on the day
they sat their last finals’ exam.  Gill, in the heat of the moment, accepted. 
She wasn’t sure now, if it had been with joy and relief at the exams finally
being over, or if she genuinely had been happy at being asked to marry him. 
She loved him, of that she was quite certain, but marriage?  The big wedding
followed less than a year later, with the prerequisite amount of lace and
tulle, not Gill’s thing at all and the last time she had had formal pictures
taken of her.

Within a year the marriage was in tatters.  They should have
tried living together first.  Even though they both worked hard and were very
successful, Gill discovered that living with Barry was not quite the same as
being with him.  He was lazy.  He never cooked.  He wanted to order in all the
time.  He was more selfish than she had realised.  It always had to be what he
wanted to watch on TV; invariably sport.  They didn’t go out as much.  The
house had cost them too much and then the housing market dipped and they found
themselves in negative equity, which only led to more arguments and ill-feeling
between them.  They were both to blame, sighed Gill.  They hadn’t appreciated
each other’s good points enough and the bottom line was they had been too young. 
A year later, they were divorced.  Thank goodness they hadn’t had any kids.  At
least that was one less thing to sort out.

She still thought of Barry fondly sometimes.  He lived in
Brisbane now, had accepted a contract position not long after their divorce. 
She’d found out through a mutual acquaintance that he had married again and was
father to four kids.  Four!  She didn’t even have one.  It wasn’t a subject to
which she’d really given much thought; difficult to think about having kids
when she didn’t have a partner.  But who knew, maybe she would want them one
day.

Of course there had been other guys after Barry, but nothing
serious.  Then there was Euan. They had met at a friend’s birthday do.  It was
his smile which had captivated her.  He was handsome, but nice, not like some
guys who know they are gorgeous and play on it.  He was a perfect gentleman. 
In fact she had been the one to coax him into bed.  She wanted him and she
wanted him to want her.  Finally she had found her soul mate.  They were great
friends, shared so many likes and dislikes.  They went for romantic weekend
breaks in the country, avoided the party scene and instead toured the fine
dining circuit, both being avid foodies. They visited farmers’ markets and went
to food festivals.  Euan was a pretty good cook, but then as a chef, he was
bound to be.

Eventually after three years, they moved into a rented flat
together.  After what had happened with Barry, Gill hadn’t wanted to move too
quickly, or make such a large commitment, without a trial period first.  It had
proven to be an intelligent move.  Although they got on famously, shared the
chores and rarely argued, Gill sensed a change in Euan not long after they
started living together.  An evasiveness, a restlessness.  They stopped making
love as frequently.  His phone often went to voicemail when she called.  She
had just decided she needed to broach the problems in their relationship with
him, when he came home earlier than usual from work one night.  He looked
shattered.  He asked her to sit down and even though she knew what was coming
next, she made him say the words.  Why should she make it any easier for him? 
Her life was falling apart.  She wasn’t about to let him off the hook so
easily.

He’d slept with someone at his friend’s stag party two
months previously.  It wasn’t anyone she knew, but they had seen each other a
few times since.  He wanted to see where it would go.  He told Gill that she
had to admit that the passion in
their
relationship had fizzled out long
ago. 
Whose fault was that?
she wondered.  Although she was devastated,
she forced herself not to cry.  He said he would move out and would give her a
couple of months’ rent to tide her over, until she could either get someone to
share, or find somewhere else to live.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction
of seeing how much he had hurt her.  Once he had gone, she curled herself into
a ball and howled, until she cried herself to sleep.

Finally, there had been Timothy.  Not Tim, but Timothy.  He
was so charming.  She had been visiting friends in Poole and they had taken her
to the Yacht Club.  Most of the sailing crowd was very friendly, but Timothy
was truly charming, without being effusive.  He introduced his friends to her
and asked them to relate anecdotes of their sailing exploits.  To someone as
uninitiated to the sailing scene as Gill, it sounded fun and glamorous.  She’d
ended up extending her stay by four days, to spend more time with him.  Her
friends hadn’t minded that in those extra days, she had spent more time with
Timothy than them.  They were delighted to see her so happy.  Twice a month,
either Gill or Timothy would make the journey by low cost airline or train from
the south coast to Glasgow or vice versa.  Gill enjoyed the personal space she
had, not living with Timothy, and they made the most of their time together.

Then Gill had to cancel one of their weekends.  She had to
work and there was no getting around it.

‘But I’ve bought my ticket,’ Timothy told her, ‘and I want
to see you.’  Privately Gill thought those statements should have been made the
other way around.

‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t get out of it,’ said Gill,
upset.  But if Timothy had noticed her tone, he paid it no heed.  He
practically snarled at her that he would make other arrangements for the
weekend then, and hung up.

He hadn’t called her for two days.  Two days when Gill had
cried until she made herself ill and managed to do little at work, she was so
distraught.  Finally he rang, apologising, saying he was a fool and wanted to
make it up to her.  Could he come up the weekend after next?  Happily she
agreed and things reverted to normal.

One evening they were out for dinner in Glasgow and decided
to go to a bar in Bath St afterwards.  It was jam-packed, eight deep to the
bar.  Timothy had gone to the toilet.

‘Hello. What are you doing here all on your own?’

Gill initially didn’t turn around, not realising the person
was addressing her, until the voice called, ‘Gill McFadden, are you ignoring
me?’

Swivelling around on her stool, which she had scrambled to
nab as soon as the previous occupant’s
derrière
had vacated it, Gill
found herself face to face with Toby Lewsley.

‘Toby!  My God!  Is that really you?  I haven’t seen you for
years!’

‘That’s right.  Fifteen to be exact.’

‘Shit!  Are we really that old?’

‘Afraid so, but you look amazing.’

Never one to take compliments well, Gill blushed and said,
‘Thanks,’ as Toby grinned at her. It was the last grin she saw on his face, as
a fist crashed into it and sent him sprawling to the end of the bar. 
Horrified, Gill turned to see who had attacked her old friend, only for her jaw
to drop, as she saw Timothy rubbing the knuckles of his right hand.

‘Leave my girlfriend alone,’ he spat at a terrified Toby. 
Timothy was a good six feet two and broad and muscular, to Toby’s five feet
seven, slim frame.  Keen not to catch Gill’s eye, lest he be subjected to
another physical attack, Toby moved away from them, as Timothy grabbed her coat
and said, ‘We’re leaving.’

Shell-shocked, Gill didn’t know what to do.  She wanted to
check Toby was all right.  A barman was already handing him some ice to put on
his jaw.  But she sensed it might work out worse for Toby if she tried to
apologise for Timothy’s behaviour.  What the hell just happened?  Timothy had
never shown himself to be jealous or violent before.  Timothy’s actions were
downright unspeakable.  She felt outraged, confused and more than a little
scared.  What could she do, though?  Either she had a showdown, refused to get
in a taxi with him, or they went back to her flat and she didn’t mention it
until the next day when they would both be sober.  She chose the latter option
and numbly followed him out of the bar.  Once in the taxi, Timothy was
sweetness itself, acting as if nothing had happened.

Gill wasn’t sure how she got through the rest of the
weekend, but she did.  She could have won an Oscar for her performance.  She
knew what she had to do.  After waving him off at the airport, she waited until
she had confirmation his flight had landed and then she texted him, saying she
didn’t think they should see each other anymore and that she had been appalled
by his behaviour.

That was the start of a series of obscene, threatening
calls, texts and eventually e-mails and letters.  He had even turned up unexpectedly
at her flat one night.  Fortunately she wasn’t alone.  Debbie was with her,
having a girly night in, eating chocolate buttons and watching animated films. 
Romcoms were out at that point, for obvious reasons.  When they didn’t answer
the buzzer, which he pressed continually, Timothy started screaming at Gill
from down below in the street.  Unfortunately one of the neighbours had come
out to ask him what the hell was going on and Timothy had pushed past him into
the stairwell, knocking him to the ground.  He had bounded up the stairs two at
a time, and started hammering at the door, telling her to open up, he just
wanted to talk.  Gill was terrified, but didn’t want to call the police, as she
had
loved him.  Then it became apparent he was trying to break down the
door. Debbie was petrified, too, but already had her mobile out, dialling 999.

The door had partially given way and Debbie and Gill had
locked themselves in Gill’s bedroom, when with great relief, they heard the
sirens.  How they hoped they were coming to Gill’s.  The kicks suddenly stopped
and they heard voices.  There was the sound of a key turning in the lock and
then the voices entered her flat.

‘This is the Police.  It’s safe to come out now.’

Heart pounding, Gill helped Debbie unbarricade the bedroom
door, in front of which they had dragged the chest of drawers.  She opened the
door and came face to face with a young policeman, with his female partner. 
Debbie followed her and shaking, they both sat on the sofa and gave the police
a statement.  Gill also told them about the attack on Toby and the threatening
calls and other nasty correspondence.

‘Looks like we were just in time,’ said the young
policeman.  ‘You were lucky.  We had an earlier call about the disturbance.’

After all the details had been taken, Gill showed the police
out.

Gill was called upon in due course to give evidence in the
assault on Toby and on Timothy’s threatening behaviour towards her.  He was
given a suspended sentence and ordered not to go within five hundred metres of
either of them.

Some sweet dreams she was having, thought Gill.  More like
nightmares.  She really could pick them.  What was so wrong with her, that she
couldn’t find someone who loved her and wanted to be with her and treat her
well, without being jealous, or going off with someone else, as she wasn’t
enough for them?  Exhausted by her depressing journey into her past, Gill
finally drifted off to sleep.

Next day, Gill was again gripped by indecision both over
whether joining the dating agency was a good idea, and also if she should tell
her friends or not.  No matter, no time to think about it.  Today was going to
be a busy one.  Her morning routine was one of military precision.  Alarm went
off at six o’clock, no snooze button for Gill, straight into the shower then,
towelling her hair dry, she would traipse into the kitchen and open the
cupboard which contained her Colombian Roast coffee.  If there was one thing
Gill couldn’t give up, it was  coffee;  her major, although not only, vice. 
But it had to be the real thing; none of that instant muck for her.  Maybe she
had been Italian in a past life.  As she opened the packet and spooned three
scoops into the
cafetière
, Gill was already running through the day’s
agenda in her head.

Coffee ready, she added a spoonful of sugar.  OK, so she
needed to lose some weight, but she was more concerned with the side-effects of
aspartame than whether sixteen calories in a spoonful of sugar was going to add
pounds to her already slightly overweight frame.

She took a sip of her newly brewed coffee then returned to
her bedroom to dress.  She was grateful that she sent her clothes to Full Steam
Ahead to be ironed, as at least she didn’t have that to deal with as well. 
Already keeping on top of housework proved hard enough.  Her two bedroom flat
in Shawlands, although roomy, was manageable, just.  Turning her head upside
down, Gill used her diffuser to help dry her naturally wavy hair.  It was a
curse having long hair in many respects, but she simply didn’t suit short
hair.  Makeup applied in less than two minutes, she returned to her tiny
kitchen, and resumed her coffee.

Fetching a probiotic yoghurt from the fridge, she quickly
drank it, and then shoved the papers she needed for that day’s meetings into
her briefcase.  A final glance around the room and she headed out to catch the
bus.

It was another drizzly day, not uncommon in the west of
Scotland.  Opening up her brolly, she braced herself against the wind and
rain.  It was always a toss up whether to put up an umbrella at all.  Gill
couldn’t count the times she’d lost an umbrella to the fierce winds which swept
the west coast, snapping spokes or turning the umbrella inside out.

Only three hundred metres to the bus stop, it was still far
enough for Gill’s trousers to be soaked by the time she reached it.  At least
it had a shelter.  She smiled briefly at the occupants already waiting for the
bus and sank into the furthest away corner of the bus shelter, trying to escape
the elements. 
Whose idea was it to be green?
she chided herself. 
In
Scotland?  With weather like this?
  She had a perfectly good Audi parked
outside the flat.  The bus was due at six fifty.  Of course it turned up late,
at two minutes past seven.  She could already see the next bus behind it. 
There was nothing truer than the saying after all.  They did all come at once. 
It never ceased to amaze her how buses were late this early in the morning. 
There was still virtually no one around at that time.  What held them up?

After twenty minutes, Gill arrived at the building she
shared with a solicitor’s, a dental surgery and a plastic surgeon.  McFadden
Technical Recruitment took up a quarter of the Victorian townhouse.  She had
taken out the lease a few months after her split from Timothy.  The events
surrounding it had made her re-evaluate her life and although she didn’t yet
have her work/life balance quite right, at least now she was doing something
she loved and that she was good at.  Plus being her own boss made a huge
difference.  Even if she worked long hours, it was
her
company that was
benefiting and it gave her great satisfaction.

It was a standing joke with Donal Sullivan, the eldest
partner of the law firm, Sullivan, Sullivan & Beattie, as to who would be
the first to arrive at the office each morning.  It was always either Donal or
Gill.  Most people arrived at a more reasonable time, usually after eight. 
Today the storm doors were still locked, so Gill guessed she had beaten him by
a fraction.  Right on cue, she saw his Mercedes turn the corner, as she put the
key in the lock. She waved to him, and he raised his hand in greeting.

Gill unlocked her own office and then after turning on all
the lights, went through to the small kitchen area to switch on the kettle. 
Time for her second coffee of the day.

Gill’s office was separate to the Reception area, so clients
didn’t see her workspace, giving her complete freedom to do with it as she
liked, including scrawling her thoughts across one of her two whiteboards. 
Instead she met with clients in one of the two well-proportioned meeting rooms.

The morning flew by, as Gill had a couple of meetings with
new candidates and soon it was two o’clock.

Janice had popped in to give them tea and coffee a few
times, and Gill had been grateful for the chocolate biscuits laid out on a side
plate.  Having missed lunch, she was starving.

When the meetings were over, Gill came and sat on the corner
of Janice’s desk.  ‘How’s it been?’

‘Busy but manageable.’  Gill didn’t doubt it.  Janice could
have managed an army unit, had she been asked.

‘Good.  I’m going across the road to see if they have any
sandwiches left.  Do you want anything?’

‘I got you a sandwich when I was out,’ Janice reached for a
paper bag on the other side of her desk.

‘Oh thanks, you’re an angel.  What did you get?’

‘Ploughman’s.’

‘You’re a life saver,’ Gill smiled, accepting the sandwich. 
‘If my three o’clock turns up early, can you tell them I’m tied up?  I need
some time to go through my e-mails.’

‘No problem,’ and Janice proceeded to run through the phone
messages she had taken for Gill that morning.

With the list in her hand, Gill entered her office and
closed the door.  As she sat down, she took off her shoe and rubbed her foot,
wishing she had broken in her new shoes properly before wearing them to work.

Clicking on her Inbox, she sighed as she saw the sheer
volume of e-mails sitting awaiting her attention.  She clicked into her
personal e-mail, as she bit into her Ploughman’s.  Scrolling down, she hovered
over one which read Profile, from Caroline Morgan.  Opening the e-mail she
read,

Dear Gill

Thanks for choosing Happy Ever After to
help fulfil your relationship needs.  Please find attached the profile I have
compiled for you.  Should you wish to make any changes, please advise.  On
receipt of your confirmation, I will send your details to the first few
candidates, with whom I have already matched you, based on the answers you
provided.

Please also find attached our list of Dos
and Don’ts for Dating.

Regards

Caroline Morgan

Gill clicked on the first attachment.

Candidate Profile

Name:  Gill McFadden

Age:  37

Lives:  Glasgow

Occupation:  Company Director

Qualifications:  BEng

Height: 5’7

Marital status:  Single

Smoker:  No

Interests:  Socialising with friends, going to the
cinema, eating out, Zumba, travelling and ice skating.

Further information:  From Glasgow, I qualified as an
engineer, but then moved into Recruitment Consultancy.  I set up my own agency
three years ago.

Looking to meet:  Someone in their late thirties to
late forties, who is open, honest, fun to be with and who can be relied upon. 
It would be good to meet someone who is open to trying new activities.

Gill read and re-read it. Apart from the ice-skating, (where
on earth had she dreamed that up?  She hadn’t been to an ice rink since she was
in her late teens); the rest of the profile looked OK.  Decisively she pressed
reply and told Caroline that the profile was fine and she could go ahead.

Sitting back on her swivel chair, she exhaled noisily, blew
her hair out of her eyes and cast a glance across her desk, taking in the
mountains of work amassed there.  She needed some free time.  This dating
agency had been a good idea.  She was sure of it.  Feeling lighter, she picked
up her mobile and texted Debbie,

‘What u up to tonight?’

She ate her Ploughman’s greedily, as she waited for Debbie
to reply.  If her friend didn’t reply within five minutes, it meant she was
probably elbow deep in cow or de-worming a dog.  Debbie had her own veterinary
practice about ten miles outside the city, in the countryside.

When no immediate reply emitted from her phone, Gill turned
her attention to the headings of the many e-mails cluttering up her Inbox,
trying to work out which were the most urgent.

Gill had published two ads on the local jobsite search
engines a few days ago and so far she had received two hundred and seventy-four
applications.  She had only had time to read through fifty of them. 

Gill chose to leave the CVs until later, clicking instead on
an e-mail from the Sales Director at a national Heating company she recruited
for.  Jotting down on her notepad to call the candidates tomorrow morning
regarding potential interview dates, she moved on.

Bryan Oliver, she hadn’t heard of, but the subject, Terms
& Conditions, made her think he could well be a new potential client and
her assumption proved correct.  Quickly she brought up his company’s website
and ascertained that they were in the Aerospace industry.  Glancing at her
watch she saw she didn’t have enough time to go into detail with him before her
three o’clock.  She’d call him afterwards.  A small company could never have
enough new business.  And on that note, she made another reminder to herself to
investigate hiring another recruitment consultant.

She managed to answer a couple more e-mails, before Janice
buzzed her to tell her that her candidate had arrived.

The interview had gone well.  She had spent the rest of the
afternoon tackling some of her massive To Do list.  It was with relief that
Gill looked at her watch and saw it was six o’clock.  Time to go and meet
Debbie.

‘Hi, how are you?’ Gill lent forward and kissed her friend on
the cheek, as she rose to meet her.

‘Good thanks.  Sorry I was so late in replying, but…’

‘I know,’ interrupted Gill, laughing, ‘you had your hand up
a cow’s arse.’

‘You’d be amazed how much less disgusting that is than some
of the things I do,’ Debbie smiled.  ‘Anyway, you’ll be glad to know I’ve
showered.  Assisting at a calf’s birth can be messy.’

‘I bet you the cow thought that, too.  Do you sedate them?’

‘No.  Natural birth for them generally.  Animals are not
wimps like us humans.’

‘This from the woman who only had gas and air at Olivia’s
birth.’

‘Well, I thought I would practise what I preach, although I
have to admit later I really wished I’d gone for the epidural, but by then it
was too late to change my mind.  She was on the verge of popping out.’

Suppressing a shudder, Gill asked her friend what she wanted
to drink and attracted the barman’s attention.

‘Hi, can we have a large glass of Pinot Grigio and a vodka
and coke, please?’

‘Sure,’ the barman smiled at her, leaving them to their
conversation.

‘Gill, do you honestly not notice the way people look at
you?  Sorry, the way men look at you?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Erm, the admiring glance that barman gave you, or perhaps
the sidelong glances he was giving you before he came over, and,’ Debbie
gestured towards the bar, ‘is still giving you now.’

 ‘You’re imagining things,’ Gill said dismissively.

Just then the barman returned with their drinks, his shy
glance sweeping over Gill as he placed their drinks on the table.  Gill blushed
slightly as he smiled at her.

‘I told you,’ said Debbie after he had gone back behind the
bar.  ‘He’s surprised to see you twice in one week, since you haven’t been here
with us more than once a month recently.’

‘He’s just being nice,’ Gill insisted.  ‘Anyway he’s not my
type, too slim.’

‘What, you want a big fatty do you?’

‘No, but I mean he’s not broad enough.’

‘Gill, you don’t have a type.  You’re just too picky.’

‘Well, excuse me for having standards,’ Gill retorted
marginally offended.

‘Oh, don’t go in a huff, you know what I mean.’

Not one to stay annoyed with Debbie for long, Gill said,
‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘Well, I know you can’t be pregnant,’ Debbie joked.

Gill looked at her sternly. 

‘Sorry…’

‘I’ve joined a professional dating agency.’

Debbie’s vodka and coke sprayed out of her mouth and all
over the sofa they were sitting on.

‘You’ve what?’ Debbie shrieked, then slunk down low in her
seat, realising she had shouted out loud.

Keen not to draw any further attention to them, Gill
whispered, ‘You heard.’

‘A dating agency?  Really?  No point asking why of course,
but, really?’

‘Yep. I saw an ad on a bus.’

Debbie gawped at her friend as if she were deranged and had
just admitted to joining a satanic cult.  ‘Oh, that’s OK then.  If it was
advertised on a bus, it must be a reputable company,’ she said in despair.

‘Oh, c’mon,’ Gill said impatiently. ‘of course I checked it
out.’  Actually the furthest she had gone was to read their credentials and
testimonials on their website, but on reflection she had seen something about
them belonging to an association, like ABTA.  No, ABIA.  She gathered it must
be similar to the ABTA scheme for the travel industry, but for dating
agencies.  She made a mental note to check it out and see exactly what it
covered.