Here's Looking at You (24 page)

‘Crazy how one bad experience can reverberate down the years like that, isn’t it?’ James said. It was so painfully apposite that Anna thought he might
know
, except he added, ‘Like when my old firm persuaded me to try a client’s fat-dissolving pills. What comes out of you is like margherita cheese. Papa John’s delivery never looked the same again.’

Anna laughed. Another lapse in conversation.

‘How’s it going with the internet dating?’ James said, eventually.

‘Useless as ever.’

‘Is it possible your profile needs another look?’

‘Oh wow, cheers! “Is it possible it’s your fault”?!’

‘No!’ James said, though with a wide grin. Anna got the feeling not many women gave him the gyp she did, and he liked it.

‘Absolutely not. Actually the thought process was more that it can
only
be something like that. Hey, why not look over your profile? I work on the internet, I do some copywriting. I also listen to Laurence’s analysis of them often enough. Could help with the view from the other side?’

‘Now?’

‘Take your mind off the height,’ James said, producing his phone and making an
indulge me
face.

‘Are you going to embarrass me?’ Anna said, feeling a constriction in her stomach muscles that was due to both the height and their history.

‘I promise I won’t. Come on, more embarrassing than the bollock I dropped at the exhibition?’

Anna laughed and put her head on one side.

‘True …’

She didn’t much like the thought of James reading her pitch to prospective partners. But she also wanted to know what he thought. OK, he was evil, but he was also bright and … attractive. Yes. She wanted the view from the other side.

Anna gave him her name on the site and waited, tense, while James muttered about the 3G signal.

‘Oh-kay, here you are.’

‘No mockery!’

‘No mockery. Unless you’ve put “enjoys the finer things in life”. Now then. Nice picture. But only three of them?’

‘Yes,’ Anna was discomfited at revealing her thought processes, ‘I don’t want anything based on looks.’

‘Laudable, but you have to date in the world we’re in, not the one you wish you were in. Stick some more up … Likes travel.’ That’s one of those one-size-fits-all statements isn’t it? Since you’re not nomadic it boils down to “likes holidays”?’

Anna giggled.

‘I’d substitute that for something more specific … hmmm. Sporty and active. Are you? No!’ James held a hand up as Anna’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of outrage. ‘Purely because sporty and active tends to be a euphemism for “boring bugger”. Or, “walks to work”. Unless you’re a tennis pro I’d leave that one out too. They can see you don’t cane the cronuts, which is all anyone’s really interested in. Which goes back to my earlier point about photos: more of.’

Anna thought what a strange evening this was, stuck dangling above London with James Fraser trying to woo men on her behalf, as her Cyrano de Bergerac.

‘Ah. OK. You say you’re a hopeless romantic?’

Now Anna felt colour rise in her face and was glad of the low light.

‘Yeah.’

‘I wouldn’t put that. Men read that as “will call me crying at three a.m. in week four”.’

‘It’s saying that I’m looking for something serious. I’m not … you know … messing about.’

‘Oh God, don’t say “tired of playing games”. That’s the most frightening phrase from a woman. It translates as: “you will wake to find me licking the blade of a Sabatier knife”.
I thought you weren’t like all the others, James. You don’t want to end up like all the others, do you, James?
’

Anna laughed and said, ‘Well what should I put, smartarse?’

‘It’s got to be essence of Anna. Make it unapologetically Anna-ish. And put “doesn’t like cats”. That’s a USP right there.’

‘Then I’ve ruled out all cat-owning men in a single swoop.’

‘Be honest, have you ever met one cat-owning man you liked?’

‘Thinking about it, no,’ Anna said, and they grinned.

‘More like, cat-owning men will be amused and intrigued. And do you really want to date Mr Liking Cats Is a Dealbreaker? He sounds like he’d listen to Noah & The Whale, eat quinoa and have erectile dysfunction.’

‘Haha. Guess not. What’s made you so knowledgeable then? Have you internet dated?’ Anna thought hah,
as if.

‘No, but I used to date-date, and the principle I applied on the hunt was, would someone I like, like this place I am going to? Internet’s the same. The more “you” you make it, the more you’ll find your sort of person. Visualise who you’re looking for and write it only for him.’

‘Hmmm. Not sure I have any idea.’

‘Have you been single for a while?’ James said, pocketing his phone again.

Something about the strange circumstances made Anna risk the truth. It was pointless trying to look cool. She’d never be a steampunk courtesan.

‘Since forever. I mean, not forever … Seven years or so.’

‘Woah.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

‘No, I meant woah, seems unlikely.’

Anna acknowledged this as the polite thing to say, a platitude.

She shrugged.

‘I saw someone for eighteen months after uni. Joseph. We lived together for a while. He was nice. And at university I had a horrible boyfriend called Mark who used to refuse to kiss me before we did it and criticised my appearance all the time. I’m glad I don’t have my nineteen-year-old attitude of “anyone’s better than no one” anymore.’

Someone should do a study on the disinhibiting effect of talking at altitude, Anna thought.

‘Jesus,’ James said, turning. ‘He sounds … bleak.’

Anna thought:
he never set me up on a stage and called me an elephant, James
.

‘I don’t even think I’ve ever been in love.’

‘Lucky you,’ James said. ‘Gives you the upper hand.’

‘That’s cynical!’

‘I mean it though.’ James stepped over to top up his champagne, lifting the bottle from the crunchy slush of the ice bucket. ‘Still none for you? Might help. Dutch courage and all that.’

‘Small one?’ Anna said. Groo, champagne again.

James poured a half measure and held it out. ‘You don’t want to let go of that seat do you?’

‘Haha. No.’

‘Makes sense. If this capsule became detached from The Eye and we plummeted into the Thames, you’d probably survive if you kept hold of the bench. You could paddle to the riverbank with it under you like a life float.’

‘Oh
screw you
,’ Anna laughed, as James planted the base of the champagne glass next to her and held it there steady, until she could find the will to let go and grab it.

She appreciated his mixture of teasing and genuine thoughtfulness. He returned to the window and she managed a quick hard swig of fizz, clashing the glass against her teeth in her haste. She had two more slugs, and it was gone.

‘I mean, I’ve
liked
people …’ – oh no, now her chatter was being driven by alcohol and altitude. ‘But I can’t say I’ve ever had that overwhelming, whole-body sensation of all-consuming love for one person. Someone I feel like I’ve been waiting for my whole life. Someone who understands me and I understand him and it’s like we’re best friends … who can’t keep their hands off each other.’

James turned.

‘Not completely sure that kind of love exists beyond rom coms. Or the first week, anyway.’

‘Thanks for the encouragement,’ Anna said.

‘Ah, sorry. Don’t ask the man whose wife is being diddled by another for views on romance.’

‘She’s met someone else?’

‘A model. He’s twenty-three. I have some insight into how the first wives of rock stars feel.’

‘Is he hot?’

‘No he’s a hand model, he’s got a head like Frank Sidebottom. Yes he’s “hot”, thanks, Dr Feelgood.’

They both laughed until she sensed James was thinking about his wife, and it faded. James Fraser being made to feel physically inferior was an interesting notion.

‘Think you’ll get back together?’ Anna asked.

‘Ah, I dunno. If you’d asked me that recently I’d have said a cautious yes. Now I don’t know.’

‘But you want to?’

‘Apparently, I do. Not sure why.’

‘Because you have that all-consuming rom com love for one person?’

‘Because I’m a glutton for punishment.’

They lapsed into silence.

‘OK, so let’s recap the new Anna profile.
Historian—
’

‘That makes me sound sixty-eight years old and like I use a battery-operated nasal hair trimmer.’

‘
But I’m not the sort who’s ancient and uses a battery-operated nasal hair trimmer. Think the kind of woman who’d fearlessly investigate a cursed mummy’s tomb holding a tiki torch alongside Indiana Jones
.’

‘Wouldn’t that be an archaeologist?’

‘Hush! Finish it with:
I’m hot. I hate cats. For brunch I like omelettes in baps. Call me
.’

‘Hahahaha!’ Hot?
Not that hot and not your type
. ‘You’re quite good at this, I guess.’

‘Oh, the disbelief in your voice,’ James said, smiling. ‘I have a lot of responsibility you know. I run all my clients’ social media accounts. One false move on HootSuite and the Scholl insoles reputation could be toast.’

And amazingly, they were back at street level.

When they stepped out of the doors, they were still laughing. Anna had forgotten they were with a group.

‘Have a good ride?’ a wiry little man in a bright green coat, beret and houndstooth trousers said, slightly sneerily.

Anna noticed a theme to the expressions on the faces of those waiting for them. It was something unfamiliar to her. So unfamiliar it took a moment to decode the emotion.
Envy.

Really? James’s colleagues were envying them their private trip for two? Their burgeoning pretend-romance and their secret couple jokes?

Anna thought how often envy could be completely cured by knowing the prosaic truth.

James hadn’t expected to enjoy the bowling but when they got to the retro bar-diner in the All Star Lanes, it was actually larky fun. And despite some major last-minute,
what the hell are you doing
second thoughts on James’s part, Anna’s presence really made it so much more pleasurable.

She was great with everyone: relaxed, friendly, but effortful. Perhaps she started off wary, but with the help of alcohol, she became herself. And as she’d instinctively homed in on Lexie as the nicest person there, James approved of her taste.

He imagined how Eva would be right now. Listening to Harris or Ramona with her slightly-judgy-but-inscrutable Sphinx cat face on, he guessed. Then drifting back to James’s side to say slighting things that would’ve made him feel slightly nervous, if proud that he was with the coolest girl in the room. She never made him feel good enough either, he realised.

He tried to think of a higher quality of Eva’s that wasn’t the sort of superficial thing that impressed you as a teenager. Kind? Pass. Considerate? Hmmm. But you know, he didn’t need to date a charity worker or soup kitchen volunteer. No need to get all emo in his self-pity.

When he’d called his sister Grace to tell her about Eva leaving him, she’d said:
she always seemed a bit dismissive of you. But you like people like that.
He said: do I?
Yeah.
The mean girls. And the mean boys.

He didn’t know anyone who’d pass The Grace Test in fact, but it was a test worth passing.

If Eva returned, what would his family think of her second time around? Not much, he feared. Oh well: it wasn’t about what they wanted, was it?
If
he got her back. He found it hard to imagine the alternative. He’d had no practice at not getting what he wanted.

Speaking of having sufficient practice at something, he noticed that Anna could really do with some bowling lessons. She was lamentably bad, hooting with goofy laughter every time she barely grazed the pins. Eventually, James decided he couldn’t watch her sling another ball uselessly down the gutter.

‘Can I offer some constructive criticism?’ he said, bounding up to where she stood, taking over in the guise of being an over-attentive new boyfriend.

Anna brushed her russet-black curls out of her face and looked impassive. She was teaming a cocktail dress with patterned tights and silly bowling shoes and looked very sweet.

‘First of all, why are you bowling that weight? It’s like a concrete cannonball. It’s about half
your
body weight.’

She blushed. The ultra-sassy, smart Anna blushed at the mention of her weight. Women were bizarre sometimes.

‘It … Uh. I liked the pearly colour.’

James grinned.

‘Oh-kaaaay. Well, can I suggest this, which is possibly not as appealing a hue, but much better for the purposes of you knocking things down.’

He took her ball and swapped it for another, supporting it underneath with a palm as she slotted her fingers into the three holes on top.

‘Swing it,’ he said, demonstrating with a sweep of his arm. ‘Keep your eye line fixed on where you want it to go and try not to drop the ball like a dead body down a rubbish chute. Flowing motion …’ he gestured. ‘You hate me for this, don’t you?’

‘I think you’re worse than Fred West, and own some of his knitwear,’ Anna said, making James laugh loudly.

Anna swung the ball back and forth, and crashed it onto the lane from a small height. She watched it veer to the side and take out three pins before clattering out of sight.

‘Better …’ James said, one hand on the back of his neck. ‘Still a bit “Fling Pin”. Can I make a wild guess? You were useless at sports at school?’

James smiled again and she smiled politely and yet looked mildly disconcerted. He was being pretty cheeky to her this evening, admittedly. He just wanted to make her laugh. She was sharp, and he really enjoyed sparring with her. If she was a colleague, he might look forward to going to work.

‘Mind if I demonstrate? Look, you already hate me as much as a serial killer, so there’s no more hate room.’

‘You’d
think so
, wouldn’t you?’ Anna said. ‘Oh, go on then.’

‘Right, so, if you’re like this …’ He stood behind her, and as she held the ball and swung, he guided her arm. With a lurch as she threw it, they were momentarily thrown against each other.