The Dating Game (11 page)

‘I’m just winding you up.  Of course you should.  Plus,
you’re paying that agency through the nose for the privilege.  And, it’s good
to see you getting out and about.  You’ve had more of a social life in the past
few weeks, than you’ve had in the past few years.’

That was another truth, Gill thought.  Yes, she really
should make the most of it. She’d been very happy so far with the prospective
dates the agency had sent her, apart from the antiques dealer, she reminded
herself.  And she couldn’t fault their service. 

‘So, tell me about Gary and Sean.’

Gill gave her a potted history of the little she knew about
them from their profiles.

‘I haven’t actually replied to Gary yet.’

‘Well, no time like the present,’ said Lisa.

She waited whilst Gill extracted her mobile from her bag.

‘What should I say?’ she asked Lisa.

‘Tell him Tuesday’s fine and he should be prepared to take
you somewhere fabulous.’

‘No, Lise, really, what should I say?’

‘I dunno – yes, Tuesday night’s good.  Did you have anywhere
in mind?’

Gill dutifully typed out the message and pressed Send.

‘Done.’

They soon moved on to Lisa’s plans for the weekend.  She was
working all day Saturday, of course, Saturday being another busy day for the salon. 
But she was heading out on Saturday night with her sister and one of her
friends into Glasgow, clubbing, if Gill wanted to come.  Knowing how much of
her precious time would be taken up with the two dates she had lined up over
the weekend, plus Tuesday’s rendezvous with Gary, she thanked Lisa, but
declined saying she would have to work through most of Saturday morning,
between e-mails and housework, just to stay on top of things.  Gill told Lisa
that she was hopefully close to finding an SRC and that that would not only
take the pressure off her, but help her grow the business. 

‘It’s not before time, Gill.  That’s three years you’ve been
doing this single-handedly,’ her friend remarked.

‘Yeah, I know, but I have Janice.’

‘I know and I realise you’d be lost without her, but she’s
not a recruitment consultant, so there’s a limit to what she can help you
with.’

Gill knew she was right.  If all went well, the next thing
would be to get additional admin support, perhaps a student looking for work
experience.  Actually that wasn’t a bad idea. Why hadn’t she thought of it
before?

‘Just a sec,’ she said to Lisa.  She rooted in her bag for
her mobile and locating it, opened her calendar and diarised to investigate
hiring a student. ‘So what are you doing on Sunday?’ ‘Well, whilst you are
being fawned over by the lovely Charlie, I will no doubt be nursing a
hangover.  You know we don’t do things by halves, our family.  Amy wants to try
and stay out until everything shuts.  It always involves a taxi back, occasionally
with one of us having to ask the driver to pull over, so someone can be sick at
the side of the motorway.’

‘Nice!’ said Gill.

‘Yeah, but true.  And then I think I’ll spend Sunday in my
pyjamas watching
Persuasion
and
Spooks
.’

‘
Persuasion
?  I wouldn’t have thought that was your
thing.

‘Not my thing?  Are you mad?  Rupert Penry-Jones is in it. 
Did you see him in
Silk
?  Phwoar!  I would!  I so would!’

Gill had watched
Persuasion
several times.  She liked
classical literature and felt several adaptations were very good indeed.  And
yes, if Colin Firth or Rupert Penry-Jones featured in them, so much the
better.  You could do far worse things with your weekend than lie on the sofa
watching box set DVDs.  But surely there were better things, too?  Well, this weekend
she was about to find out.

Saturday 10th September

The forecast for the weekend was actually quite good.  Gill
got up early and spent the first half of Saturday morning paying bills, trying
to work out what to wear, and catching up on housework.  She really wished she
had time to organise a cleaner.  It would be so lovely to spend all of her
weekend doing enjoyable things like reading, watching TV or even pottering a
bit in the garden, maybe catching an occasional, and it was very occasional in
the west of Scotland, ray of sunshine.

For her date, Gill plumped for a cream, v-necked short
sleeved shirt, showing just a hint of cleavage and paired that with
rust-coloured, linen, three-quarter-length trousers.  She married that with amber
earrings which Christopher had bought her one Christmas.  She pinned her hair
up, with just a few loose tendrils falling around her face.  She looked, she
thought, very feminine.  Too tall and slightly too heavy to be considered
dainty, at least she looked pretty.

It was unseasonably warm for September.  Last September it
had rained almost every day.  She had been quite glad to be heading off for a
long weekend with the girls to Amsterdam.  That reminded her, she really must
organise the insurance for their upcoming trip to Barcelona, but first things
first - she had a date to think about.

With such fine weather, Gill decided to make her way to
Glasgow by bus.  Going into town on a Saturday always proved a little chaotic. 
She just hoped there wasn’t a football game on today.  The season had started a
few weeks ago and the city was always torture to be in when a few rowdy fans
chose to spoil it for everyone.

Cars were backed up for several hundred metres and the
traffic was slow moving, but 999 they got going again and edged over the Clyde
and into the city.

Gill wanted to arrive at
Civitavecchia
with enough
time to spruce herself up, make sure she looked fresh, and that her hair hadn’t
fallen down more than it was meant to.

She hopped off the bus in Hope St and ambled towards
Buchanan St, which was busy with Saturday shoppers.  She ducked through into
Royal Exchange Square, gazing up briefly at the old Stirling’s Library.  She
hadn’t been in it since its conversion to a museum, she realised.

Checking the traffic on Queen St, she made her way across
into Ingram St, towards where the recently opened Italian restaurant stood.  It
had received excellent reviews and had been praised by a national newspaper
restaurant critic.  Gill was keen to try it, and just hoped she wouldn’t be too
nervous to enjoy her meal.  In Anton’s company she had felt relaxed.  She hoped
it would be the same with Sean.

She arrived fifteen minutes early.  Should she go in,
freshen up and sit down somewhere, and wait for him to turn up?  Or, clean up,
come back out and go in again in twenty minutes?  No, what if he saw her?  Then
she’d look ridiculous.  But, surely she’d recognise him.  Deciding that the
least idiotic option was to wait for him, she approached the door and went in.

She saw him straightaway, but his eyes weren’t on the door. 
Either he expected her to see him, or he assumed she wouldn’t be early.  He was
texting, concentrating on the buttons as he typed out a message.  His head was
slightly bent forwards, but she could still clearly see his face under his mop
of black curls.  He was handsome.  The toilets were to the left hand side. Sean
was sitting to the right. Should she sneak to the toilet to check she was
presentable and that her makeup hadn’t sweated in the September sun?  Or should
she just approach him?  She had no chance to deliberate further, as just then
Sean looked up and his face creased into a huge smile.  He raised his right
hand in greeting and dropped his phone into his pocket with his left.

Gill made her way to his table, feeling pretty nervous.

‘Hi, Gill, it’s grand to meet you,’ Sean kissed her on both
cheeks.

‘Very Mediterranean’, Gill joked. ‘Nice to meet you, too.’

‘Ah well, I’m from Galway, so we’re European all right. 
What would you like to drink?’

She noticed he was drinking Guinness.

‘Could I have a glass of medium white wine, please?’

‘Sure you can.  Just you sit yourself down there, and I’ll
take care of it.’

Gill sat down as Sean went to the bar.  She
loved
his
accent.  Irish accents always did it for her, but Sean’s was particularly
hitting the spot.  He did look quite young.  She knew he was only thirty-five,
two years younger than her, but he barely seemed thirty.  His photo hadn’t done
him justice at all.  And he scrubbed up well, too; gone was the unkempt look
from his photo.  So, he had made an effort.  Good.  When he returned, he leant
across her slightly to place her drink down and she breathed in the smell of
his aftershave – not too noticeably she hoped.  It wouldn’t do for it to seem
as if she was trying to drink him in.  He scored a comfortable eight for
presentation.

‘So, Gill,’ said Sean, as he sat opposite her. ‘This is my
first time, so can you be gentle with me?’

‘Your first time?’ Gill repeated, her tone a mixture of
perplexed and horrified.

‘Yes, meeting someone through the agency,’ his eyes twinkled
at her.

Realisation dawned and Gill tried not to burst out laughing
and failed miserably.

‘You didn’t think…?’

‘Just for a second…yes…I did,’ she said, struggling to
regain her composure.

‘Well, I’m hardly Brad Pitt, but even I’ve managed to
address that issue by now.’

‘Anyway,’ said Gill, eager to change the subject, feeling
that joking or not, touching on the subject of Sean’s virginity and when he
lost it, was no way to start a date, ‘Who recommended the restaurant to you?’

‘Oh, one of my friends, Gail.  She started working here
part-time in the evenings to get some extra cash, just after it opened.  She
says it’s been booked up solid since then.  She obviously wasn’t kidding.’

Gill’s glance took in the restaurant part of
Civitavecchia
,
where only two tables were unoccupied.  Both had reserved signs and presumably
one was theirs.

‘I booked for half one.  I thought we could have a drink and
get to know each other a bit before eating.  To tell the truth I was a bit
nervous and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be such a mess that I’d
dribble spaghetti down my shirt.’

Gill laughed.  Sean was very likeable, had an easy manner
about him.  She thought briefly of Anton.

They chatted a bit about work and then Gill quizzed him on
music.

‘Yeah, I came over to Scotland to go to the RSAMD, but I
liked it here and so I just stayed.  I have a lot of friends here now.’

‘You never thought about going back?’

‘Sure I did, but I haven’t yet and I’ve been here more than
a decade now.’

‘That is a long time,’ Gill agreed.  ‘You’ll have seen a lot
of changes in Glasgow then.’

‘Oh yeah, particularly new pubs opening up. Not so many
closing down.  Of course there’s the smoking ban, too.’

‘That’s right, you smoke, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I know, it’s a terrible habit, but I only do it to be
sociable.’

This argument didn’t convince Gill, but she let it go.

‘So you’re reduced to standing outside in the rain or under
one of those huge heaters they have in beer gardens?’

‘Pretty much.  You can barely breathe when you walk out of a
pub these days for the smog that smokers have created.’

‘Sir, your table’s ready.  Would you like me to take your
drinks over for you?’ the waitress asked.

Saved by the bell
, thought Gill, grinning as she sat
back whilst the waitress placed their glasses on a tray.  They then followed
her through the busy restaurant to a well-appointed table, away from the noisy
bar, the kitchens and the toilets.

‘That’s better,’ said Sean, once the waitress had provided
them with menus and announced that today’s specials were for antipasto:
Involtini
di Speck con Mozzarella
; for pasta:
Spaghetti alle Vongole
– neither
liked clams so that wasn’t an option; and for main course, the special was
Porchetta
,
Sardinian suckling pig.  The waitress had explained that this was a special
treat, usually only available if ordered twenty-four hours in advance, as it
required a lot of preparation.  But a party which had ordered it, and paid the
fifty percent deposit required, had just cancelled, so the
Porchetta
was
being made available to all diners.

‘I can never decide whether to have the specials, as that’s
likely to be the best they have, or whether it’s just the restaurant offloading
all the stuff they have left!’

Gill laughed. ‘I know what you mean.  I once tried wood
pigeon as I was told it was to die for. It was nothing special.’

‘Doesn’t surprise me.  OK, let’s give this place the benefit
of the doubt.  It’s had good reviews and every time a waiter walked past me
with food earlier, I was like the Bisto kid with my nose in the air.  Plus I’m
starving.  You?’

‘Well, I had some cereal this morning, but yes, I could
eat.’

‘What do you fancy?’ asked Sean, unfolding his napkin and
laying it on his lap.

I think I’m going to have the
Involtini
to start,’
Gill said.

‘
Involtini
?  Ah, the Wild Boar.  Yeah, that looked
good.  I might have the
Caprese
Salad.’

Damn, now he’d chosen a salad and she was having a meat dish
for starters, and she really wanted the
Porchetta
for mains, but how to
do that without seeming like the pig she was about to order?

‘Oh, and what’s caught your eye for the main course?’ Gill
asked.

‘I’m definitely having that suckling pig.  That sounded like
the dogs bollocks.  I mean, it sounded really good.’

Deciding stuff it, she was hungry and she was also having
the
Porchetta
, she told him of her choice.

‘I like a girl who likes her food.  Sorry, I mean, who’s not
afraid to order a normal meal, instead of just a salad,’ Sean twirled his wine
glass lightly in his hand.

Gill realised she didn’t feel nervous with Sean.  She was
warming to him.  It was too early to tell if there was a spark between them or
not, but he was certainly entertaining company.  She hadn’t taken offence at
his comment.  She was slightly overweight, but not enough that she expected
jibes about it.  Besides, she did love food.

The waitress returned, just as they were deciding on the
wine.  In the end they opted for a bottle of a traditional red Sardinian wine,
Cannonau
. 
Gill had had it before and loved it, but Sean professed that it was his first
time.  This time Gill didn’t blush.

As they waited for their starters, they chatted about music
and who they liked and didn’t like. Sean couldn’t stand rap either, nor was he
particularly enamoured of the acts which shook their booty or botty as was so
often the case, he said.  He loved rock music and indie music from the
nineties, some pop music and even some heavy metal.  He didn’t go to classical
music concerts, but he did occasionally listen to it, depending on his mood.

Gill thought Sean was quite small for a rugby player.  She
didn’t follow rugby but she’d seen some of these guys on TV and they were huge,
six feet five, six feet seven.  He was quite slim, too, fit looking.

‘So how often do you play rugby?’

‘Not as much as I’d like. Once every two weeks or so. 
Depends when we can get enough guys together to play – there are always the
fair-weather players who run for the hills at the least spot of rain.’

Gill smiled, so Sean continued,

‘Yeah, I used to play a lot back home and was a member of
Galwegians Rugby Club, which is a great place, great craic as well, but it’s
not the same playing here.’

‘Could you not play for a club here, too?’

‘I could, if work commitments didn’t mean that sometimes I
have to let the guys down and I don’t like doing that.’

Admirable
, Gill thought. 
Reliable
.

The waitress arrived with their wine and asked if they’d
like to try it.

‘No, just go ahead and pour it, please.  I’m sure it’ll be
fine,’ said Sean.

The waitress poured a glass for Gill first and then
proceeded to fill up Sean’s glass.

When she had finished and was about to place the bottle on
the table, he joked,

‘Oh it’s half a glass you’re giving us now then, is it?’

The waitress was a bit confused and moved as if to top up
his glass, but Sean said,

‘I’m just joking with you.  It’s fine.’

Once the waitress had gone, Sean said, ‘Shall we toast
then?’

‘OK.  What do you want to toast to?’

‘To the lovely woman sitting in front of me.’  Seeing Gill
turn crimson, he added hurriedly, ‘And to meeting new friends.’

There was a slight pause, when Sean’s gaze fixed on her for
a second longer than was truly necessary, and then Gill jumped in with,

‘So, you like hurling?’

‘Oh, I love it.  It’s my favourite sport, even more than
rugby.  I’m really lucky.  There’s a club in Glasgow that I’ve played for since
I moved here.  We play matches a couple of times a month.’

‘That’s lucky.  But, correct me if I’m wrong – is it a mix
of hockey and shinty?’

‘Well, I suppose, but of course there are some rules which
are different even to those two.’

Since Gill didn’t know the rules of any of the three sports,
she decided to leave it at that.

‘So what would you normally be doing on a Saturday
afternoon?’ Sean asked Gill, just as a voice called, ‘Sean! I can’t believe
it’s you.  How are you?’

‘Dougal!  I’m grand.  Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in ten
years.’

‘That’s ‘cos you haven’t been home for ten years!’