Three’s a Crowd (17 page)

Rachel frowned. ‘Who else is coming?'

‘Lexie, of course. She's been held up waiting for Scott – as usual.'

‘You asked Lexie?'

‘I thought it'd be fun. So did she.'

‘Yeah, fun at my expense.'

Catherine turned to face her squarely, hands on hips. ‘Well, someone's certainly got an attitude,' she scolded. ‘You were the one who wanted me to include Lexie in everything.' She gave her head an exasperated shake. ‘Look, I know this is hard, that's why I'm trying to inject a little fun into it. But Rachel, this is not just about you not having a boyfriend, this is about you avoiding a relationship. I think we both know that's what you've been doing, and maybe for good reason. But your time is up, you've got to start to put yourself out there, and whether you like it or not,' she pointed in the direction of the computer, ‘this is how it's done these days.'

This was what really annoyed Rachel about Catherine – she had this infuriatingly accurate insight at times, at least where other people were concerned.

‘But you'll be pleased to know I brought something to ease the pain,' she said, plucking a bottle of champagne out of a cooler bag.

Ah, another of Catherine's gifts; she could always be relied upon to bring the booze.

‘I'll get some glasses,' said Rachel, turning for the kitchen.

‘Make sure they're clean,' Catherine called after her.

When Rachel returned with freshly rinsed champagne flutes, Catherine had set herself up at the coffee table, sitting cross-legged on a cushion on the floor, shoes kicked aside, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose, while Elvis stood sentinel over her laptop. ‘Well, flutes even? Wonders never cease.'

Rachel grabbed the bottle and began to tear off the foil. She really needed a drink.

‘So I've been doing some research,' said Catherine. ‘You have to approach this like a business.'

‘Sounds romantic.'

‘There's nothing romantic about it at all.'

‘Super!' Rachel exclaimed, popping the cork.

‘No, I mean of course the romance will come, it should come. But if you let romance get in the way of finding a partner, you may overlook some extremely viable prospects.'

‘“Viable prospects”. Now I'm getting hot.'

There was a knock at the door so Rachel put the bottle down and sauntered up the hall to answer it.

‘Hi, Happy New Year!' Lexie chirped, lurching at her with a kiss and hug. ‘Sorry I'm late, you didn't start without me, I hope?'

‘No, I've just opened a bottle.'

‘I brought one too!' she said happily, raising hers. ‘This is going to be fun.'

For the spectators more than the participant, Rachel thought dully.

Once they were ensconced in front of duelling laptops at either end of the coffee table, their glasses charged, Catherine commanded their attention.

‘Okay, Rendezvous is by far the most mainstream, respected site, so that's the best place to start. ‘So type in r-e –'

‘I know how to spell rendezvous, Catherine,' said Rachel.

‘Okay, but don't forget the .au or else you'll end up on the American site.'

‘Nothing wrong with that,' said Rachel. ‘I might hook up with George Clooney.'

‘Yeah, George Clooney is on Rendezvous,' Catherine said deadpan. ‘Besides, he's gay.'

‘He is not,' said Rachel.

‘He
so
is not,' Lexie agreed. ‘I don't believe that rumour for a second.'

‘Whatever, he's not in the ballpark,' said Catherine. ‘Now the idea is to browse first, get a feel for what's out there. Enter your basic search parameters – I'm thinking . . . thirty-five to fifty –'

‘Fifty? I don't want someone that old.'

‘George Clooney is pushing fifty,' Catherine reminded her.

‘Yeah, but he's clearly an exception,' said Rachel.

‘Okay, forty-five,' she revised. ‘Within fifty kilometres of your postcode, looking for a short- or long-term relationship . . . now, press enter and off we go!'

Rachel propped her chin in her hand as she scrolled down through the opening lines. ‘
Love is friendship on fire
. . . What does that even mean? Oh, here we go,
Looking for that exceptional lady with eyes of fire
. Fire is hot, obviously. Ha, I made a pun.'

Catherine rolled her eyes. ‘Here's one –
Having achieved everything in life, the only thing missing now is you. Are you the one to share with me the best of what life has to offer?
'

‘Wanker,' Rachel grunted. ‘If he's achieved everything in life, how come he's on the internet looking for a date?'

‘Oh my God!' Lexie exclaimed, wide-eyed. ‘Listen to this –
It's cold outside, rain is falling and wind is lashing the trees. Inside it's warm, the fire is glowing and I've poured two glasses of red. One for me and one for DOT DOT DOT
!'

‘You're making that up,' said Catherine.

‘Sadly she's not,' said Rachel flatly, before taking a gulp of her champagne. ‘This is a really bad idea, Catherine.'

‘Look,' she said, ‘unless they're in advertising or marketing or something, you can't expect them to be good at writing a catchphrase. Click on one you like the look of and read his entire profile.'

They went silent for a while, sipping their drinks and perusing the talent, for want of a better word.

‘They're all accountants,' said Rachel after a while.

‘How do you know that?' asked Catherine.

‘Hello! They're all “professionals” in “financial services”.'

‘Well, given the global financial crisis, maybe they're trying to avoid the term “investment banker” or “stockbroker”.'

‘Or “retrenched”,' Rachel muttered.

‘What is it about
The Shawshank Redemption
?' asked Lexie, frowning at the screen. ‘It's like, everybody's favourite film.'

‘It's a good film,' said Catherine. ‘Nothing wrong with that.'

‘And why do all these big chunky boofheads call themselves “athletic”,' Rachel wanted to know.

‘I noticed that too,' said Lexie. ‘And they're all after girls who are “slim” or “athletic”. I bet their idea of an athletic girl is different from their idea of an athletic guy.'

‘Listen to this one,' said Rachel. ‘
My ideal partner would be slim, blonde or fair hair, shoulder length, five/five to five/nine in height, feminine, toned but not muscular, and wear a nice perfume
. Could he be more specific?'

‘He's just being efficient,' said Catherine. ‘He knows what he likes.'

‘Unlike this one,' Rachel went on. ‘
Looking to settle down and live life at a frantic pace
.'

‘I'm confused,' said Lexie.

‘You're not the only one,' said Rachel. ‘He goes on –
Someone who knows how to have fun, but also show restraint. Must have a wicked side but be well balanced
. And schizophrenic, clearly.'

Lexie started to giggle.

‘You're both bringing a very negative vibe to this whole thing,' said Catherine.

‘Hold on, I think I've found the one!' Rachel declared. ‘
I do bonsai and am interested in camellias and heritage species roses
.'

‘Oh, dear,' said Lexie. ‘Why would you admit to that if you were trying to get a date?'

‘It could be worse,' said Catherine, ‘he could be into trains.'

‘I wasn't finished,' said Rachel. She cleared her throat importantly. ‘
I am also interested in light railways and their history. I have constructed a steam railway in my garden which combines several of my hobbies
.'

They looked up from the computer screens then, meeting each other's eyes, and that was it. All three broke into uncontrollable fits of laughter, until Rachel was rolling on the floor, Lexie had tears running down her cheeks and even Catherine couldn't catch her breath.

She was the first to recover, however. ‘I promise you, I've heard so many stories about people finding their perfect match this way. We just have to persevere, surely we're going to have to get to the good ones soon.'

So the three of them resumed their positions and focused on the screens again.

‘Hey, here's a catch,' said Catherine. ‘This one signs off with
No frumps with too many lumps please
.'

Rachel and Lexie gasped.

‘What's he look like?' Rachel asked.

‘He's got a head like a shin of beef.' Catherine often reverted to her suburban roots when she had a few drinks under her belt.

‘What exactly does a shin of beef look like?' Rachel asked her.

‘I don't know,' said Catherine. ‘My mother used to say it all the time.'

‘Listen to this,' said Lexie. ‘
And ladies, when I say “slim”, I mean size eight to ten, not twelve to fourteen
.'

Rachel was topping up their glasses. ‘Okay, what I don't get is, are there actually women who would read that and sigh with relief that they're an eight to ten and therefore in the running? If there are, they need a good slap around the head.'

‘That's a little politically incorrect, Rachel,' said Lexie.

‘Well, I didn't mean it literally.'

Lexie blinked. ‘Don't you mean the opposite? You meant it “literally” – like in a book, like literature. It's made up.'

‘No, it's the other way around.'

‘Is it?' She looked at Catherine for confirmation, and Catherine nodded. ‘God, now I feel stupid.'

‘You shouldn't,' Rachel reassured her. ‘People do it all the time. It's one of my bugbears.'

‘We could put that in your profile,' said Catherine. ‘I'm just bringing it up now.
Must literally know the meaning of literally
.'

‘And be able to spell and punctuate.'

‘I'm with you there,' said Catherine. ‘You know, even fully grown, fully qualified lawyers are writing emails like teenagers now. No capitals, they don't even seem to have a clue what an apostrophe is.'

‘Don't get me started,' said Rachel.

‘Anyway, I think this might be the best way to go,' said Catherine. ‘You put up your profile and they can come looking for you.'

‘So you're saying if we build it, they will come?'

‘Here's hoping.' Catherine raised her glass and took a drink, before setting it back on the coffee table. ‘Okay, so there are a couple of standard boxes we have to tick before we get creative with your blurb. Postcode, height –'

‘I don't know how tall I am,' said Rachel. ‘At least not in metric.'

‘You're the same height as me,' Catherine dismissed, keying it in.

‘Am I?'

She nodded. ‘Since high school.'

‘Oh.'

‘Body type is next . . . I think we should go for
a little bit overweight
.'

‘No she isn't,' Lexie protested.

‘Define “a little bit overweight”,' said Rachel. ‘I mean, how long is a piece of string?'

Catherine frowned. ‘What are you trying to say?'

‘Just that isn't everyone a little bit overweight?'

She shrugged. ‘I'm not, Lexie isn't.'

‘But people always underestimate their weight, and how much they drink, stuff like that. It's an accepted fact, doctors actually allow for it,' Rachel added knowingly.

‘So are you saying that if you put
a little bit overweight
, they'll assume you're a sumo wrestler?'

‘Maybe.'

Lexie was reading off the screen. ‘I think you should just put average,' she decided.

‘But when they meet her . . .' Catherine left the rest to their imaginations, and Rachel's imagination was seeing herself in a sumo-wrestler costume.

‘Look,' she said, trying to hang on to the rapidly diminishing shreds of her self-esteem, ‘according to some chart somewhere, maybe I am strictly above my ideal weight, but compared to the population around me, I think I'm pretty average.'

‘Actually, that's a good point,' Catherine nodded. ‘The general population is becoming more obese, so you probably are average. I'll go along with that.'

Somehow Rachel didn't feel like it was a victory.

‘Next is
Don't have children
, obviously, but we should tick
Want children
, I assume?'

Rachel shrugged. This was getting serious. ‘I guess.'

‘You don't want kids?' asked Lexie, trying to hide her horror at the idea.

‘No, I do, I suppose, I mean, that's normal, right? It's just hard to imagine, the way my life is right now.'

‘It won't be when you meet the right man,' Lexie said encouragingly.

‘Which is the object of the exercise,' Catherine murmured, reading the list on the screen. ‘
Education level
– well, I suppose we can fudge it and say
university
, even though you never graduated.
Occupation level
–
clerical/admin
. Hmm, that's probably not going to look good – why are you just doing clerical work if you have a degree – but what can we do?'

Open another bottle, Rachel decided, getting up. They'd emptied the first.

‘Oh, don't open that for me,' said Lexie when Rachel came back from the kitchen with the bottle she'd brought. ‘I have to drive.'

‘Well, I don't,' said Catherine. ‘Pop the damn thing.'

‘How are you getting home?' asked Rachel.

‘I'll call Martin, or a taxi.'

‘I can give you a lift,' Lexie offered, getting to her feet. ‘Do you mind if I make myself a cup of tea, Rach?'

‘Sure, if you don't mind teabags?'

‘That's all we have at home,' she assured her, walking over to the kitchen.