Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating (32 page)

‘I’ve been so rude,’ Alice said suddenly. ‘I haven’t asked you what you do for a living!’

‘It’s a long story,’ John fudged. ‘One for another day . . . hopefully.’

‘I’d like that.’ Alice smiled nervously and looked him in the eye.

‘So would I,’ John replied, meeting her eyes and holding their gaze. ‘I’d like that very much.’

‘Can I get the matchmaker, please? The matchmaker?’ the
Gazette
photographer hollered.

‘Yes. Here I am!’ Audrey parted the wedding guests like a torpedo thundering through the sea.

‘Oh!’ The bride’s face froze as Audrey barged into position alongside her and the groom. ‘Maybe we should get Alice too?’

‘Is she another matchmaker?’ The photographer clearly wanted to get the shot in the bag and head home as soon as possible.

‘She’s one of my assistants,’ Audrey interjected authoritatively.

‘But she really was pivotal,’ the bride added.

‘Alice!’ the photographer yelled grumpily across the chatting congregation. ‘I need Alice!’

Moving as fast as she could in case the photographer shouted her name again, Alice joined the threesome in front of the lens.

‘Congratulations!’ she whispered happily to Jennifer and Jason. Ten seconds later the photographer grunted he had
all he needed. Audrey immediately stepped forward and started issuing him with print instructions.

‘We’re so glad you could make it!’ Jennifer took Alice’s hands and smiled radiantly. ‘We’ve so much to thank you for!’

‘Hear, hear!’ agreed Jason. ‘We’ll name our firstborn Alice in your honour. If it’s a girl, of course!’

‘Well . . .!’ Alice laughed. ‘But really, you don’t have to thank Table For Two. You both did all the hard work.’

‘Ah, but without you . . .’ Jennifer said with a twinkle. ‘I’ll be aiming this at you later,’ she added conspiratorially, nodding towards her bouquet and winking.

Alice blushed, but luckily both bride and groom were immediately surrounded by a group of well-wishers.

‘Well, that went swimmingly.’ Audrey rejoined her, adjusting her hat and straightening her suit jacket. ‘Another victory for Table For Two!’

‘It’s the happy-ever-afters that make it all worthwhile,’ Alice murmured, her eyes drinking in the glow emanating from Jennifer and Jason.

‘Yes, well, let’s not stand around gawping,’ Audrey chided tartly. ‘The place is chock-full of potential clients! Circulate!’

Alice moved into the crowd, happy to put some distance between her and her boss, who was already handing out business cards. If Audrey thought she was going to start soliciting clients, Alice said to herself, she could think again. This was the happiest day of Jennifer and Jason’s life, and there was no way she was going to use it as a business opportunity. So she busied herself by chatting to
a collection of elderly aunts, much to Audrey’s obvious irritation.

All too soon Jennifer called for the single women to gather so she could throw her bouquet. Alice hung back, trying to make herself invisible. There was no way she was going to venture into the heaving throng of women, hands emptied of drinks for maximum catching ability, elbows pointing at fierce angles for the best jumping trajectories.

As Jennifer turned and threw the bouquet, Alice noticed Audrey rise from the crowd and make a muscular effort to catch the falling flowers. But she was beaten by a springy twenty-something who squealed with delight and trotted over to her boyfriend to show him her winnings. Alice saw Audrey’s fleeting expression as the bouquet was whisked from her reach, a few tantalizing centimetres separating her from her happy-ever-after. For a moment she looked despondent. And then, a second later, her old expression resumed, and she loudly declared that she shouldn’t even be in the bouquet throng, being the happily married lady that she was.

Alice turned away, filled with guilt. She almost wished she didn’t know Audrey’s secret. Ever since John had told her, it had felt like a blessing and a curse. A blessing because John was single. The memory of yesterday’s meeting, of him leaning forward in his chair, smiling his lovely crinkly-eyed smile right at her, made her so happy she almost laughed out loud.

But then there was the curse. Why had Audrey lied about John being her husband? If she was single, why didn’t she
just come out and say so? Audrey never mentioned any friends, just told endless stories about John. But if John wasn’t really in her life, who was? Maybe the nine-to-five of Table For Two
was
her life?

And what if – a nagging voice kept asking – what if Audrey pretended she was married to John because, in her heart of hearts, that was what she wanted? What if she was hopelessly in love with him? What if the thought of that love being fulfilled was the only thing that got her through each day?

Alice zigzagged through the guests to the ladies’ toilet. She closed the door and leant her head against the mirror, willing the image of a lonely, lovelorn Audrey to disappear from her mind. But then her vision flooded with a fresh image from the dream she’d had last night – a dream where John was slowly leaning towards her and she was just moments away from his kiss. Guilt and happiness intertwined confusingly. Alice exhaled shakily, her breath forming a small cloud on the mirror.

John pulled up at the Four Seasons hotel, walked around the car to the passenger door and helped Janey step out of the car. She smiled gratefully. She was scared stiff. He tucked her arm into his and guided her up the steps and into the lobby.

Tonight was his second booking with Janey, and it was her long-dreaded annual company do. Janey worked in insurance and her colleagues sounded particularly cut-throat. When her husband suddenly left her and their three small children to take up with a woman half her age and two-thirds of her dress size, she hadn’t wanted to tell her coworkers that her world had fallen apart. It wasn’t the sympathy she’d been afraid of; there wouldn’t be any of that. It was how her personal circumstances would inevitably be used against her. Any meetings she might miss would be attributed to childcare issues and her priorities would be questioned; if her sales targets weren’t reached it would be put down to her fragile state of mind. All this was ample ammunition for her to be overlooked for promotion, a promotion accompanied by a salary rise
that she needed now more than ever. So she’d decided to keep her marital problems private, and struggled on without anyone knowing her misery.

And she’d done well. Her colleagues were none the wiser, she’d not missed a day of work and her targets had been achieved. But life was about to throw two more obstacles in her way.

The first had been the wedding of an old, dear friend, to which her ex and his new partner were also invited. Non-attendance wasn’t an option. Humiliation by attending alone and seeing her ex canoodle with a woman with a taut, childless body and eyes that weren’t crêpey from crying seemed inevitable. But then another friend had suggested Janey stick two fingers up at her ex by booking herself a handsome, pretend new partner for the day. And that gentleman escort had been John.

The second obstacle that had loomed ominously in Janey’s calendar had been the unavoidable matter of the company party. Spouses always attended, and for Janey to turn up solo would have caused a stir. But if her colleagues were to find out her marriage was over
but simultaneously
meet her hot new man, Janey would seem strong. Promotion might still be on the cards. So Janey redialled Geraldine’s number and retained John’s professional services again.

And here they were, on the day Janey had been dreading for so long.

John heard her take a deep breath as they stepped into the function room, so he put a calming hand on the small of her back to reassure her. He knew his mission. He was
Janey’s devoted new boyfriend, and he was happy to play his role. Women like Janey – ordinary women who, through the hard knocks of life, had lost their confidence – were why he did his job. He wanted to help women who’d been dreading attending a can’t-get-out-of-it event without a partner; women who’d lost belief in themselves and their own attractiveness; women who’d lost the security of being one half of a couple. John’s job was to see them through whatever event had been causing them sleepless nights. Showing them affection, assuming a role they needed him to play, was part of the deal. These women were compliment-starved; nobody noticed what they wore or how they did their hair. But praising their appearance, holding their hand or stroking their back when someone important might see – these things helped bring them back to life, helped them hold their heads higher and shine again. Seeing a woman begin to believe in herself was the greatest job satisfaction ever.

Of course, when he explained to friends what he did for a living – that he was a gentleman escort – the reaction was always the same:

‘Oh my God,
you’re a rent boy
!’ they’d shriek. ‘So you
have
to have sex with the women, right?’

The truthful answer, which invariably disappointed the questioner, was no. Clients had to sign a strict contract of behaviour. In it Geraldine carefully set out the parameters of John’s services: his ministrations were to be strictly gentlemanly. Hands might be kissed in greeting, brief kisses on the lip or cheek might occur, but clothes were to remain
on and sexual contact was strictly forbidden. He was not to enter the client’s home either before or after the date (if the lady was not ready when he arrived he was to wait on the front step or in the car). If the event took place in a hotel he was to stay on the ground floor. Bedrooms were not to be visited under any circumstances.

The contracts were there for John’s benefit. In eleven years he’d only ever had a couple of clients who’d tried to overstep the mark, and he’d been grateful to refer them to the terms of the contract and point out that he wasn’t
allowed
to take things further. Such a refusal was less demoralizing for the client. It wasn’t personal, it was the contract!

But the overwhelming majority of women were happy to keep the relationship as intended; John was an attentive partner for the night, who turned up when needed and disappeared when not. Usually he’d be booked two or three times by a client, after which her life would have moved on and she’d no longer need him. Nobody blurred the lines or believed his role-playing was anything more than just that.

Nobody except Audrey Cracknell.

John smiled lovingly at Janey as she introduced him to her colleagues. He pretended not to notice them ogle him in surprise. He slipped into his role, buying everyone drinks, joining – but not dominating – the conversation and letting Janey shine. Her colleagues would later compliment her on her brave handling of her marriage collapse and her immediate bagging of a new man, and Janey would leave the event walking taller than she had on the way in, with the
sparkle in her eyes reinstated and the feeling that, deep down, no matter what her husband had said and done, she, Janey,
still had it
!

As Janey chatted to her colleagues, John didn’t see a browbeaten career woman, an exhausted single mother, or a heartbroken divorcee. He saw a woman – an intelligent, beautiful, independent woman. He smiled. He didn’t think he’d be hearing from Janey again.