The Dating Game (26 page)

Tuesday 4th October

Beep, beep, beep.  Oh no, it can’t be morning already
. 
Reluctantly Gill dragged herself out of bed and stood in the shower for a good
twenty minutes.  The feel of the pressurised jets on her skin was welcome to
her weary bones.  She really needed some exercise.  First work had been the
problem, now her love life was taking up her time.  At least she had addressed
the work-life balance which had plagued her for several years.  Thanking her
Guardian Angel for sending her Angus, Gill got ready for work.

She’d received a reply from Sean yesterday, on leaving her
accountant’s, asking if Tuesday was too soon.  Foolishly Gill confirmed Tuesday
was fine.  She had felt bad for not answering him for so long.  He suggested
the bowling alley at Springfield Quay and they agreed to meet there at seven.

That morning Gill had hastily flung a casual dress in a bag,
along with some ballet pumps.  That was her outfit taken care of.

She’d have to wear those awful bowling shoes, she thought,
as she drove into town.  Nobody could look good in those.  At least her height
gave her an advantage.  She felt sorry for those less fortunate who, without
their four inch stilettos, would be minute.

The introductions with Angus were going well.  Three key
accounts had received him warmly, and he had already begun to prove his worth. 
So far he’d coaxed five of his clients over to McFadden’s Technical
Recruitment, purely on relationship.  Gill was pleased, and since she believed
in giving credit where it was due, she told him so.  Angus glowed with
pleasure.  Evidently praise hadn’t been doled out much at his last employer.

Back at the agency, Gill called Janice into her office. 
Janice left the door slightly ajar.

‘Could you shut the door, please? It’s a private matter.’

Janice raised an eyebrow in alarm.  Gill smiled and assured
her there was nothing to worry about,  ‘The exact opposite, actually,’ she told
Janice, as she took a seat.

‘Janice, you’ve done a lot for me and this agency over the
years and now, I think, with Angus starting, that we’ll be able to bring a lot
more business to the firm.  So, with that in mind, I’m raising your salary by
two thousand pounds.’

‘What!’ Janice started in her chair.  ‘Really?  Oh Gill,
that’s great!  Thanks.’

Janice came round Gill’s side of the desk and hugged her.

‘Yes, yes, steady on.  I’m only giving you a raise, because
you’re great.  Keep it to yourself, mind.’

‘Of course. My lips are sealed,’ Janice made a zipping
motion with her fingers.

A little later, Gill checked her watch. 
Oh God, is that
the time?
  She went into the outer office where the others were packing up,
except for Angus who was still tapping away on his computer.

‘Night, girls.  Have a nice evening,’ Gill told them.  As
soon as they had gone, she asked Angus, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just answering some e-mails, making some calls.’

‘Right, well, it can wait until tomorrow.  Go and enjoy your
evening.’

When Angus started to protest, Gill gave him a look that
brooked no argument.

After Angus left, Gill answered a few more e-mails then paid
some bills online.  A quick change in the toilets and she was ready to go
bowling - or at least, as ready as she was ever going to be.

The noise that greeted Gill as she entered the bowling alley
made her want to cover her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was the din of the pins
being knocked down, or the screaming youngsters.  Gill wasn’t often in the
company of children, except her nephews, and she sometimes found it difficult
to tolerate ‘other people’s children’.  She soon spotted Sean, putting coins
into a slot machine.

‘Winning?’

Sean jumped, ‘Jeez, you gave me the fright of my life!’ his
hand covered his heart, feigning heart failure.

‘Jumpy, aren’t we?’

‘Clearly.  So, are you ready?  Nice dress,’ he said with a
smile on his face.

‘Thanks,’ said Gill, wondering why he was smirking.

Sean took down his pint from where he had left it on top of
the machine,

‘I’ve booked it for seven fifteen.  Would you like a drink?’

‘Yes, but I suppose I better change first.  Now, where do I
get those hideous shoes?’

Sean grinned, pointed to the left, and said, ‘This way,
ma’am.’

As Gill changed into the red, white and blue monstrosities,
Sean paid for their two games of bowling. 
Twice the embarrassment
.

Gill just knew she was going to be dreadful at this game. 
She hadn’t bowled for years – and couldn’t have been classed as good then.

‘What kind of wine do you have?’ Sean asked, once they
reached the bar.

‘We have red and white,’ said the sullen barmaid.

Her colleague chipped in, ‘Remember we also have that new
white zinfandel.’

Before ‘Her Happiness’ could relay this to Gill, Gill cut
in, ‘White zinfandel will do just fine, thanks.’

‘I’ll have a Stella,’ Sean added.

As they walked away from the bar, towards lane twelve, Sean
voiced what Gill was thinking, ‘She was a right barrel of laughs.’

‘I guess some people just love their job.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t like to see her on a bad day,’ said Sean,
as he put his glass on the counter.  ‘Right, have you played before?’

‘A long time ago.’

‘OK,’ Sean sat himself in the low seat, poised to process
their details.

‘What do you want to be known as?’

‘Er, how about Gill?’

‘Yep, that works.  Me, I’m always Seanster.’

‘Seanster?’

‘Yeah, blokes can’t just have their own name.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yep, it’s not cool.’

‘So it’s far cooler for a thirty-something man to have a
nickname?’

‘Got it in one.  Right, do you remember what to do?’

‘I think so.  The balls are all different weights, aren’t
they?’

‘Yes, depending on how strong you are, I would suggest a ten
or a twelve.  You’re tall, so maybe a twelve, but then if you haven’t played in
a while…’

‘I’ll go with a twelve,’ Gill stopped short Sean’s
ramblings.

‘Great, well, Ladies first.’

Horrified, Gill said, ‘Oh, I thought you’d be first.’

‘Ladies always go before gentlemen.’

Gill muttered something under her breath about not seeing
any gentlemen; otherwise she wouldn’t be in this godforsaken place.  Lifting
the green twelve ball, she put three fingers into it and walked towards the
line.  On the way she watched what she assumed was the father of the family in
the next lane, to see if she could pick up any tips.  He was no help; he bowled
with flair, even doing that little knee flick that professional bowlers do. 
There was no way she was going to attempt that.

Gill tried to swing the ball, but it was heavier than she
had anticipated.  Damn, she should have used the ten, but the holes in the ten
seemed really small, and she didn’t think her fingers would have fitted
inside.  Eventually she swung her arm back, then forward, and released the
ball.  It trundled miserably off to the side and into the gutter.

Gill watched in embarrassment as it very slowly reached the
end.

‘Daddy, I did better than that lady.  She didn’t get any
pins,’ the boy in the next lane pointed at Gill in glee.

‘Shh,’ the father said and then smiled a
‘Sorry’
at
Gill.

Gill returned to where Sean was standing and tried to put a
brave face on it.

‘I’m just warming up, trying to lull you into a false sense
of security,’ she joked, as she sat down.

‘Er, you might be doing that,’ said Sean, ‘but it’s still
you to go,’ he indicated the scoreboard which registered a bit fat zero.

Of course, Gill had forgotten that each turn consisted of
two shots.  Reddening again, she said, ‘I knew that, I was just…resting.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Sean laughed then took a sip of his beer, ‘Go
on.  Show us what you’re made of.’

That’s what Gill was afraid of.  She wasn’t made of very
much where ten pin bowling was concerned.  She picked up the twelve ball, but
when she went to throw it, her fingers didn’t come out easily.  The ball fell
clumsily out of her hand, narrowly missing her feet, as she jumped back and
then it rolled onto the family’s lane.

‘No, no, no!’
Gill looked on panic-stricken and the
mother glared at her in frustration, as Gill’s ball headed slowly towards the
pins, ready to muck up the family’s scores.

‘I’m really sorry,’ Gill apologised to the mother, who shook
her head, as if to say it didn’t matter, but whose body language said something
else entirely.

The father said, ‘Don’t worry.  I’ll go and get them to
reset the score.’

Meanwhile Sean hid behind the screen, his shoulders shaking
with laughter.

‘It’s not funny!’ Gill said, fighting a desire to slap him.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ tears ran down Sean’s face, ‘but it is
funny, really funny.’

‘Anyway, your turn now.’

Sean bowled a spare and then managed to knock down the final
pin, resulting in a third go.

In the next few shots, Gill at least managed to stay in her
own lane and even hit a couple of pins, with first a score of one and then
three.

‘That’s not bad,’ said Sean magnanimously.

‘Oh shut up!’ said Gill, good-naturedly.

Finally over her embarrassment, Gill was now quite enjoying
herself.

‘Have you eaten?’ Sean asked.

‘No, why?’

‘I thought I might get us some fries whilst we’re bowling.’

‘OK, sure.’

‘Do you want anything else to drink?’

‘Eh?’ Gill glanced at her three-quarters full glass of wine
and then at Sean’s empty glass.

‘No, I’m fine, I’ve barely touched my wine,’ she said
pointedly.  But her barb was lost on Sean, who headed to the bar.

Sean won a hundred and eighty-four to sixty-seven, but at
least Gill had improved.  The fries were actually quite good, but Gill realised
she needed a soft drink to go with them.

‘I’m just nipping to the toilet. I’m going to get myself a
Coke on the way back.  Do you want one?’

‘No, I don’t drink the stuff, but I’ll have another Stella,
thanks.’

Gill tried not to frown and just enjoy their evening, but
the niggling thought wouldn’t go away.  Last time Sean had drunk too much in
her company, he’d become a complete arse and embarrassed her.

This time around, Gill was actually doing quite well.  On
her fifth frame, she already had ninety five points, a vast improvement on last
time.  She seemed to be getting the hang of it.

Deciding she’d be a little bit more daring, Gill thought
she’d try the fancy footwork the father in the next lane favoured.  Maybe it
wasn’t that difficult after all.  Concentrating hard, Gill swung and
bloody
hell, what’s happening?
  Gill’s right foot crossed the line, milliseconds
before she let go of the bowling ball; she slipped on the waxed surface and
both legs shot up in the air.  The ball trundled happily toward the pins and
unbelievably Gill scored a strike. Not that she was particularly caring about
that.  She was more concerned at having just flashed her knickers for everyone to
see.  Hurriedly she adjusted her dress so that it covered her.  She made a
mental note never to wear a dress when bowling again.  Thank God she hadn’t
been wearing a G-string.  She tried to pick herself up off the greased lane,
but kept slipping.  Eventually, between sliding on her bum in the direction of
the booth and Sean coming to her aid, a tad late in her opinion, Gill was able
to stand up.

‘Are you all right?’ Sean asked; face half concerned, half
amused.

‘Not really, no,’ Gill could already feel a bruise forming
where she had fallen on her tailbone. She ran her hands gently over it, ‘Ow!’

‘Have you hurt yourself?’

‘Mainly just my pride, but I hit my lower back when I fell.’

‘Sit down a second.’

Gill tried, but it was too painful. ‘I can’t.  It hurts.’

Seeing Gill’s strained face, Sean eventually said, ‘OK, game
abandoned, let’s get you home.’

As they stood waiting for the taxi, Sean said, ‘Who knew ten
pin bowling was an extreme sport?’

Gill threw him a warning glance which he ignored.  Sean, not
noticing, continued, ‘I mean, short of wrapping you in cotton wool, there
couldn’t really be a safer sport than ten pin bowling.  It’s not a contact
sport, or rather, it’s not meant to be.’

Sean rambled on in this vein as they waited for the taxi to
arrive.  Gill was ready to throw a wobbler.  She wished he would just shut the
hell up.

The taxi drew up and Gill, assisted by Sean, got in.  ‘Well,
Gill, I hope you feel better soon. Sorry the night had to end like this.  Put
some ice on it and get some rest,’ Sean said, as he pecked her on the cheek,
then patted the driver’s door, to let him know he could go.

‘Oh and Gill,’ Sean called to her just as the taxi started
to pull away, ‘Nice pants!’

Gill sat thinking,
What?  Is that it?
  Wasn’t he
going to come and make sure she was OK, prepare her an ice-pack?  No, Sean
might be cute and Irish, with a lovely lilting accent, but his heavy drinking
and lack of sensitivity had finished him off as far as she was concerned.
Boyfriend material he was not.

Wednesday 5th October

Next morning Gill sported a huge bruise, the size of the palm
of her hand, on her left thigh.  Her tailbone was a peculiar colour, starting
to go purple and was particularly tender.  Bloody ten pin bowling!  Never
again.  Bloody Sean!  Ditto.

As she eased on her dress, wincing at the pain, Gill smiled,
remembering her impromptu date with Liam that night.  At least she couldn’t
injure herself in an art gallery, she thought, unless one of the exhibits fell
on her.  She shouldn’t tempt fate.  Knowing how clumsy she was, anything might
happen.  Actually, she was kind of hoping anything might happen, or rather
something.  She chuckled to herself, as she checked her phone once again for
news of Anton. Nothing.  Nothing from Sean either.  Screw Sean.  He was
history.  She, Gill McFadden was going to stop taking shit from men.

She couldn’t have asked for a better day at the office, which
was a relief, as the paracetamol from lunchtime hadn’t kicked in yet.  Her
mobile beeped and she picked it up.  It was just a text from a client
confirming their meeting.  Still nothing from Sean, asking her if she was OK,
but what had she expected?  He was a fun guy to spend some time with, but not
one you could rely on.  A bit like some of the others she had met recently. 
Her thoughts turned to Anton.  Just as quickly she dismissed them.  No good
came of going there.  Gill made a few notes, then went out and asked Angus if
he could join her in the conference room in fifteen minutes.

By early evening, when she packed her staff off home, Gill
was feeling better.  Another few painkillers had helped.  Since the exhibition
was in a gallery, Gill felt it appropriate to dress up.  She shrugged out of
her shift dress, freshened up and wiggled with difficulty in to her clean
dress, cursing at the pain as she zipped it up.  She thought about how much use
she was getting out of this green silk sheath, that she’d originally bought to
go out with Anton.  Thank goodness for twenty-four hour dry cleaning.

As Gill changed her jewellery and brushed her hair, she
realised how much she was looking forward to her date with Liam.  It also
dawned on her, that unlike her recent dates, she didn’t know very much about
him.  No profile.  She was almost flying blind.  But, he’d rescued her in
Barcelona and hadn’t chewed a piece off her yesterday when she’d hit his car,
so he must be one of the good guys, she reasoned.

Gill called a taxi and ten minutes later arrived at the
Lambkin Gallery.

Standing uncertainly on the pavement, Gill glanced around for
any sign of Liam.  It was seven thirty five.  She was getting better at being
late.  She’d certainly learned some things from this dating caper.  Just then,
Liam’s frame appeared in the doorway and he came down the steps.

‘Hi,’ he smiled, kissed Gill on the cheek and said, ‘Shall
we?’

Gill nodded and let him escort her upstairs into the
gallery, the palm of his hand resting lightly on her lower back, as he ushered
her into the exhibition.

As they entered the room, Gill saw perhaps ten people in
addition to the serving staff.

‘These are great,’ said Gill truthfully.  ‘I mean, I know
nothing about photography, but I know what I like and these are pretty
amazing.’

‘They are, aren’t they?’ said a voice behind them.

Gill turned around and came face to face with a small man,
about five feet four, with ginger hair and the most freckles she had ever seen
on one person.  She looked at him enquiringly and, just as Liam went to
intervene, the man said, ‘Julian Summers.  Pleased to meet you. Thanks for
attending my exhibition.’

‘Ah,’ said Gill, understanding, ‘Very nice to meet you, I’m
Gill, Liam invited me,’ she turned to Liam for affirmation.

‘And I’m very glad he did, too.  Liam, how are you, my
friend?’ Julian clasped Liam’s arm with one hand and shook his hand with the
other.

‘Very good, Julian.  The exhibition’s amazing.’

‘Thank you.  It’s been a long time putting it together. 
Walk with me and I’ll explain my thoughts, then I will leave you to yours,’ he
smiled charmingly at them both.

Gill and Liam followed him to the opposite end of the
gallery.

‘Here we begin, with my Asian section, photos taken in
Hanoi, Phnom Penh and Ho Chi Min City, before moving on to Cambodia.  This one
is the Mekong River in Laos; what a beautiful country.  This is Muang Ngoi
Neua.  Anyway, I digress.  I wanted to point out simply that we have structured
the exhibition by continent, and where there are too many exhibits for one
continent, we have sub-divided it by region.  So for example Russia and the
Urals, the Nordic countries, and Southern Europe are classed separately.’

Julian turned on hearing his name and, waving to the caller,
he rested his arm on Gill’s and said, ‘Please excuse me.  I hope you have a
lovely evening.  Liam, make sure this young lady gets a drink,’ gesturing to
the waiters circulating with
canapés
and glasses of champagne.

‘Will do.  I’m sure tonight will be a huge success – enjoy
it,’ Liam clasped Julian’s hand briefly, before he headed off to catch up with
the lady smiling expectantly at him.

‘He seems nice,’ said Gill.

‘Yes, he is,’ Liam said distractedly, as he tried to attract
a waiter’s attention.  Two glasses of champagne soon found their way into Liam
and Gill’s hands and, raising his glass, Liam toasted, ‘To Julian’s success.’ 
Gill raised her glass and uttered the same words.  She had just lowered her
glass to take a sip, when Liam raised his again, as an afterthought and said
cheekily, ‘and to bumping into people – literally, in your case!’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Gill, feeling a warm glow that
she couldn’t attribute to the champagne.

They walked around the gallery, Liam adding a bit of history
which the placards below the photos didn’t tell.  It became clear that Julian
and Liam were good friends.  He knew when Julian had shot many of the
photographs.  Gill felt as if she understood a lot more about the photographer,
from the commentary she received from her date.

Once they had toured the entire exhibition, stopping only
once or twice, to sample the
canapés
, Liam asked Gill which was her
favourite exhibit.

‘I think the black and white photograph of the little girl
in the strawberry field in Korea, with her face covered in strawberry juice.’

‘Yes, I liked that one, too.’

‘What about you?’

‘Funnily enough, another one of a child.  The little Cuban
girl sitting in the window of her apartment, drinking from a bottle of water,
as she watches the children in the school playground below her.’

‘Yes, that’s an incredible photo.  He really does have a way
of capturing the moment, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, but then I wonder how many shots he has to rattle off,
before he gets the one he wants.’

‘True.  Thank goodness for digital, eh?’

‘Yeah.  It must have cost photographers a fortune, back when
they had to develop almost every photograph.’

‘I know.  I can remember having to put in my twenty-four and
thirty-six exposure films.  Now you can get everything straightaway.

‘It’s certainly convenient, but not all of those photos in
the exhibition were taken digitally.  In fact probably only about half.’

‘Oh?’ Gill raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘Yes, some, due to when they were taken, were shot with a
35mm SLR and others simply because, as Julian tells me, he doesn’t get the same
level of satisfaction when shooting with a digital.  With a traditional camera,
more skill’s involved,  you
have
to create the picture; adjust the
shutter speed, you have more control, whereas with a digital it can be done
pretty much automatically.  Julian swears his best photos are those taken with
a medium format camera, when the conditions, subject and moment are right.’

‘I didn’t realise that.  So do you know all this just from
talking to Julian, or do you dabble in photography yourself?’

‘I dabble.  I’m nowhere near as good as Julian, but I’ve
entered a few photos in
National Geographic
and won a couple of prizes.’

‘Wow, that’s amazing!’

‘Thanks,’ Liam grinned.  He glanced around the gallery,
which now held around two hundred people.  ‘There’s the Press,’ he pointed out
a tubby, short man with greying hair, to Gill.

‘How do you know?’

‘Press pass around his neck.  They reckon Julian’s the next
big thing, so they wouldn’t want to miss this.’

Gill watched as the man stopped a waitress and piled a
selection of
canapés
onto a plate, before swilling back some champagne.

‘Would you like to go somewhere else?  We’ve probably seen
all there is to see here, and I’ve done my good friend bit, too,’ his smile
revealed small, even, almost perfectly white teeth.

‘Sure,’ Gill was delighted.  She’d had a lovely time; Liam
was charming and great company.

‘How about coffee at My Place?’

Gill, taken aback, didn’t know how to respond. 

Liam laughed, ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist.  I’ve wanted to say
that, ever since it opened two months ago.  It’s a new coffee shop on Great
Western Rd.’

‘Ah,’ Gill regained her composure.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wish I hadn’t explained now.  I’d have loved to hear your
response to what you thought I meant,’ and with a wicked grin, he clasped her
hand and headed towards Julian, who was explaining to a minor celebrity, the
significance of the photograph of the fruit pickers in Poland.

At a suitable moment, Liam jumped in, ‘Julian.  That’s us
off.  Great exhibition.  Even better than I’d hoped, and busy,’ Liam opened his
arms in a gesture which included the whole room.

‘Yes, I’m really pleased.  I’ve already had some interest in
five of the photographs.  Three are already sold – deposits taken.’

‘That’s brilliant, Jules.’

‘So, where are you two fine people off to now?’

‘My Place.’

Julian raised an eyebrow then looked approvingly at Gill. 
‘This man moves fast.’

As Gill made to correct him, Julian stopped her, ‘I’m
joking.  I introduced Liam to My Place.  I practically live there.  Have the
double shot caramel latte, if you dare,’ he winked at Gill.

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

They said their goodbyes and collected their coats.

‘Do you want to walk or take a taxi?’ Liam asked.

‘Let’s walk.  If my feet get too sore, we can take a taxi
then.’

‘Done.’

They walked along Byres Road, and up towards the Botanic
Gardens. Gill noticed Liam was only a couple of inches taller than her, so
around six feet, considering the heels she had on. As she openly appraised him,
it struck her that recently she’d taken a liking to men with blond hair.  She’d
never really thought about it before she started this dating agency lark.
Liam’s hair was longer than Anton’s – kind of fluffy.  There she went again,
drawing comparisons.  Would this ever stop?  Wrenching herself back to the
present, Gill listened to Liam’s voice.  Its timbre was surprisingly deeper
than Anton’s, whose English, although notably foreign, was quite melodic to
listen to.

Five minutes later, they reached My Place.  Gill loved it
immediately.  Bookcases lined the walls and patrons relaxed in plush sofas and
overstuffed armchairs, sipping coffee and reading or chatting with friends. 
The décor gave it a lovely, homely feel.

Interestingly, it appeared to be table service, unlike the
majority of trendy coffee shops.  Liam secured them a table and said, ‘Are you
hungry?’

‘Well, I could eat,’ she admitted.

‘Good.  I was hoping you’d say that, because I’m starving.’

They pored over the menu together, with Gill deciding on a
Brie and Cranberry Wrap and Liam on a Steak Baguette.  They also ordered a
glass of wine for Gill and a Guinness for Liam.

‘So,’ Gill asked, when their drinks had been set in front of
them and she’d taken a sip, ‘how’s your car?’

‘Fine, thanks.  My friend checked it over and as I
suspected, it’s only superficial damage.  A hundred and fifty pounds for the
bumper, even though it’s colour coordinated, which I thought wasn’t bad.’

Gill agreed.  She’d been envisaging about eight hundred
pounds for a respray and repairs.

‘Is a cheque OK?’ she asked.

‘Are you good for it?  It won’t bounce?’ Liam teased her.

‘I think you’ll be fine.  Should I make it out to you or
your company?’

‘Just me.  The car’s mine, not the company’s.  We use vans
at the firm.’

Gill had brought her cheque book with her, so she could
settle her debt this evening, never one to be beholden to others.  When she
reached for her bag, Liam stopped her,

‘Leave it for now.  I want us to enjoy our evening.  I’m not
here because you owe me money,’ he said pointedly.

Gill reddened and Liam smiled.

‘You’re even prettier when you blush, did you know that?’

Not knowing how to answer that, Gill said nothing.

‘I like you, Gill,’ Liam lowered his voice.

‘I like you, too,’ Gill was quick to reply.

‘No, I
like
you.’

Now Gill really did turn red.  Inside she was pleased, but
she was unaccustomed to men being so forthright, particularly Glaswegian men,
who were renowned for their reticence in discussing their feelings.

Liam stared at Gill intently, but not in a way that made her
feel uncomfortable; just long enough for her to realise he meant what he said.

Then, without warning, he changed the subject back to
Julian.  He talked of the importance of this debut exhibition, the kudos it
could bring his friend, and more importantly the visibility it would give him
in the photographic world.

‘That’s really good, isn’t it, that he’s already sold
several photographs on the opening night?’ said Gill.