Clovenhoof (22 page)

“Do you know who I’d like to see get paired up?” she said. “Lennox there, behind the bar. They all overlook him, but he’s a lovely man. Got kind eyes. And good muscle definition.”

Doris regarded Betty with mild distaste.

“Let’s move on to Jeremy, shall we? He really has no idea how to talk to ladies in this kind of situation. He really needs to learn how to be more of a gentleman, in my opinion.”

“Oh, chivalrous you mean? That would be lovely, but a chivalrous man’s a very rare thing. It’s gone right out of fashion since the war, if you ask me.”

“Oh yes, the war. A man in a uniform never fails to impress,” said Doris.

“I think we can forget the idea that Jeremy will be wearing any kind of uniform,” said Betty, “or suddenly becoming chivalrous. The best we can hope for is that some woman will see past his unusual appearance, and unpleasant habits.”

“Where on earth is he going to meet a woman who’ll do that?” said Doris. “You saw how he put that woman off just now. It took him all of five seconds.”

“Well she wouldn’t have been any good for him anyway,” said Betty. “She’s in here every week. Needs the love of a good man, if you ask me.”

“Hmmm, you’re right. Not Jeremy then.”

“Ben’s a different matter though,” said Betty. “He needs taking in hand.”

“Taking in hand? How do you mean?” asked Doris.

“He needs an experienced woman to show him the ropes. I do believe she’s going over to him. Get the sherries in Doris, we’re in for a show.”

Ben looked up from his drink to see a tall woman approaching.

“OK if I sit with you?”

“I thought you were talking to my friend at the bar.”

“You looked so lonely, I thought it was my duty to come on over and help you enjoy yourself! I’m Sophie.”

“Ben,” squeaked Ben.

“Are you local, Ben?”

“Yes, I live just up the road.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,
lovely
!”

Sophie liked to talk so Ben sat rigidly while she told him about her family, her friends and her work as a nursery assistant. She pulled out her phone and showed him endless pictures of her cat.

Ben hoped that Clovenhoof would come and rescue him from this juggernaut of a woman but he appeared to be deep in conversation with the barman.

“Just going to the little girls’ room, I’ll be right back!”

Ben breathed a deep sigh as he relished the silence for a moment. If this was what meeting women was like he wasn’t sure he was up to it. The silence was broken by Sophie’s phone chiming as she got a message. Ben glanced sideways at the screen, which had brightened to display the message.

‘Well make sure you’re gentle with him!’
was enclosed in a cute speech bubble. Ben swallowed hard and looked up the screen at Sophie’s last outgoing message.

‘I think I found a VIRGIN!’
the speech bubble above said.

Ben screamed and bolted for the door.

By eleven, Clovenhoof was back home in his flat, wearing a smoking jacket (to make a point to himself if no one else) and casually trawling through internet pages.

It was possible to find women on the internet, he was certain. He wondered if he could specify that he’d like one that wasn’t going to stalk off if he said the wrong thing. He tried some searches. He combined ‘
ideal woman’, ‘harmless dating partner’
with ‘
will not complain’
and browsed through the results.

After a few minutes, he noticed that as well as dating sites, there were sites advertising love dolls. Love dolls? He looked at some of the sites then changed his searches to find some more.

This was interesting. He had no idea that such things were possible, and in such astonishing detail, too.

He was equipped for fornication; it was one of the perks of being a fallen angel. He’d practised more than his fair share too, but never on earth. It seemed as though things here were a bit more involved. Emotion and other distasteful elements seemed to be part of the whole experience. Perhaps he should get one of these love dolls and make sure that everything was in working order before attempting it with a real woman. They certainly had front bottoms and boobs, and compared favourably with the woman he watched through his telescope.

Nerys knocked and entered.

“It was open.”

“What happened to your salesmen?” he asked, angling the screen away so she couldn’t see it.

“Pah,” she snorted. “They got in a taxi and went off to a strip club after some bloke rang and said it was his treat.”

“Oh. No sex for you then?”

“Jeremy! We need to discuss this. I heard what you said to that girl at the bar. We’re English, and we don’t talk like that.

“Like what?”

“About sex. Well not out loud. Not between men and women.”

“I don’t care,” said Clovenhoof. “Apparently, I’m ugly.”

“Aw,” said Nerys, a noise that was probably meant to be sympathetic but sounded like a balloon going down. “You’re not ugly. You’re differently attractive, that’s all. Where’s Ben?”

“In his flat. Locked the door. Put the chain on. Whimpered something.”

“He’s a strange one,” said Nerys.

“Yeah, but he’s a nice guy,” said Clovenhoof. “Generous.”

He pulled Ben’s credit card from his pocket and looked at the top of the range love doll on the screen and hoped that Ben’s limit was large enough.

There was a beauty therapist’s on the high street.

Beauty therapist. Clovenhoof loved the sound of those words. There was something reassuring in them. Giver of therapies. Healer. Scientist.

A little bell rang as he stepped through the door of
Boldmere Beauty
. He looked the woman in a white tunic in the eye.

“Apparently,” he said, daring her to disagree, “I’m ugly.”

The woman stopped stacking pots of face cream and smiled broadly.

“Can you cure me?” he said.

Her smile broadened further.

“Have a seat, chuck,” she said. “And we’ll chat about that.”

Nerys sat at her office desk and chewed a pencil like an angry beaver. Those ridiculous salesmen had ruined her chances last night. She seemed to attract losers. How on earth could she meet a decent man?

She turned to Dave at the desk next to her.

“Coffee break, Dave.”

“No, I’m fine. I just got one,” said Dave.

“No, you need to get one now. With me. I need to ask you something.”

“Oh OK.”

Dave allowed himself to be shepherded into the kitchen area. Nerys shut the door so that the clients in the outer office wouldn’t overhear.

“Dave, am I attractive?”

Dave flushed.

“Yes Nerys, you are.”

“Good,” she said, pulling out her notebook and her much-chewed pencil. “So tell me my good points.”

“Your what?”

“My good points. You know. If I’m attractive then I need to know why. Give me something to work with.”

Dave blew out his cheeks and eyed the door.

“OK. You’ve got good legs. And nice eyes.”

He made a move for the door.

Nerys scribbled on the pad and sidestepped neatly to block his exit.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” he said, “you’ve got a sexy voice.”

“Yeah?” Nerys smiled. “Go on, more.”

“You smell nice.”

“My arse?”

“What?”

“Do you like my arse?”

Nerys looked up and saw that he was now blushing furiously and looking anywhere but at her.

“Er, yeah. Not that I’ve ever looked at your...”

“You’ve never looked at my arse?”

“Oh, no. It’s a great arse. Like two puppies fighting in a sack,” he added weakly.

She wrote down ‘two puppies in a sack’ and added several happy exclamation marks.

“OK,” she said, “now I need to know where my weaknesses are. Tell me what’s bad about me.”

“Uh-oh,” he said. “That sounds unwise.”

“No, no. There’ll be no repercussions. It’s a scientific process. I really need to understand what’s going on in the male mind when you look at me. Please.”

Dave sighed.

“Well you can be aggressive. Like now. And sometimes when you’ve drunk lots of coffee your breath smells bad.”

Nerys cupped a hand to her mouth and huffed experimentally.

“You don’t always listen to people,” he continued, getting into his stride now, “and I happen to know it was you who gave
‘The Dumb-ass Guide to Management’
to our boss in last year’s Secret Santa. So I’m going to say vindictive as well.”

“Good. Er, thank you.”

Dave slipped out and Nerys reviewed the list.

She’d need to verify this. She couldn’t just take Dave’s word for it, that wasn’t scientific at all, especially when he’d been so harsh.

Back at her desk, she drew up a spreadsheet. A grid of her various qualities, with a possible score of one to five. By the time she went home she had twenty copies of the survey in her handbag.

“So, Jeremy, what’s the thing you like least about yourself?” asked the beauty therapist.

Her name was Blenda. At least that’s what it said on her name badge and he assumed it wasn’t her job title.

“Well, there’s these,” he said. He showed her his hooves.

“Ah yes. It’s common to get a thickening of the toenails. You’d be surprised how many people get that. Sometimes a fungal infection will set it off. I can give you a pedicure and make those look a whole lot better.”

“Oh. OK. Well then, what about these?” He indicated his horns.

Blenda examined the top of his head.

“Hmm, interesting double crown you’ve got there. A good haircut is what you need, and maybe some massage oil to soften the scaly build-up. Don’t you worry, I’ve seen it all before.”

“That sounds OK. Are you sure it will make a difference?”

“Definitely. There are many things we can do for you. Some gentlemen like to have their teeth whitened too. It can take years off you, would you be interested in that?”

Clovenhoof exhaled and wondered if he’d be able to use Ben’s credit card.

“Yeah, let’s do it all.”

Blenda beamed.

“We can make a start right now if you have the time to spare?”

“Oh yes, I’ve got nothing pressing in my schedule for today.”

Clovenhoof found the hoof buffing a fairly pleasant sensation, and conversation with Blenda seemed an easy thing, like floating downstream.

“So what’s made you decide to do all of this?” she asked him.

“I’m supposed to find a partner,” he said, “and it seems as though I’m not up to scratch.”

“You sound as though you’re not all that keen on the idea yourself.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t know what to think about the whole thing. It seems as though men want women for the washing, the ironing or the sex, but nobody’s allowed to say that. You can get all of those things if you pay for them, but nobody’s allowed to say that either. I haven’t even started to try and understand why women would want men.”

Blenda laughed.

“Do you know what I think? I think that for some people, paying for those things is exactly the
right
thing. There’s this terrible pressure to have a partner, I see a lot of it in here, and it’s just not the answer for everyone.”

“Yeah, I think maybe you’re right.”

Clovenhoof settled back to enjoy his treatment and wondered when his love doll would be delivered.

“What have you got so far?” Ben asked.

Clovenhoof read out his latest attempt.

“Experienced and charismatic lover seeks pneumatic babe for hell raising fun.”

Ben thought for a moment.

“You want a woman with big boobs then?”

“Yeah.”

Clovenhoof was merrily basking in the knowledge that he was now irresistible. He’d checked himself out in the mirror a dozen times since returning from Blenda’s and was delighted anew every time. He’d even bought some buffers for his hooves, so he could keep them in tip-top condition. They said ‘
Boldmere Beauty’
on the back, which made him smile when he looked at them.

That evening he had sat down at the computer to compile a profile for online dating. He’d toned it down from ‘
molten-hot love machine’
in case it alarmed people. All of the stock phrases and odd terminology were confusing him. He needed help with it and had called on Ben for assistance.

“Sounds good,” said Ben.

“The bit I’m not sure about,” said Clovenhoof, “is all the code. You know. ‘GSOH’, which really means ‘fat’.”

“No actually, ‘bubbly’ means ‘fat’.” said Nerys, coming in.

Clovenhoof scribbled a note
‘bubbly=fat’
.

Nerys checked the wording he’d got so far.

“Experienced? That’s code for ‘old’.”

“I’m probably older than you think,” Clovenhoof said.

“OK. Go with that then.”

“Mention the rock star thing!” said Ben. “Women will go for that.”

Clovenhoof made another note.

“Jeremy, have you had a haircut?” Nerys said, staring at him.

“Yes,” he said. He gave a twirl and grinned.

“Ooh, and teeth whitening too?” Nerys nodded in approval. “Looking good. Is that why you put ‘charismatic’?”

“Yup.”

“Hm. I wonder if you should maybe say ‘enthusiastic’ instead?”

“Are you saying I’m not charismatic? I can’t put ‘experienced and enthusiastic’, it makes me sound like a long-term loser who just hasn’t got it right yet.”

Clovenhoof went into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He’d need some fortification if this was going to continue.

Michael was leaning against the counter, sipping a White Russian.

“She might have a point,” he said.

“Oh no. Please don’t tell me that you’ve come to mock me for looking for a date?”

“Mock you? Oh no, I would never do that. I do wonder what you’d want with a woman though.”

“What I’d want? Well you’re so keen to see me settled on earth, I’d have thought that you’d be all for it.” Clovenhoof’s eyes narrowed. “Except of course, you can’t.”

“Can’t what?” said Michael diffidently.

“Screw,” said Clovenhoof. “Bonk. Bang. Dip your wick. Fuck. Make whoopee. Shag.”

“Really, Jeremy.”