by Matt Dunn
'Sorry. Miles away.'
Nathan nodded back towards where he'd just deposited the card. 'As I should probably be too. Don't want to get caught red-handed.'
'Or red-carded.'
'What?'
She pointed to Julie's desk. 'The card. It's in a... Well, the envelope's red. I mean, the card might not be, but...' She swallowed loudly. 'You know, a red card? Like in football?'
'Oh yeah.' Nathan flashed her a white-toothed smile. 'Good one.'
'Thanks.'
'And Soph?'
Soph. Normally she hated it when anyone shortened her name, but coming from Nathan's lips, and in his almost East-end accent, it was... Well, sexy would be pushing it. But it still made her feel tingly.
'Yes?'
'Do us a favour, will you? Promise you won't tell?'
Sophie nodded eagerly. Even though she was disappointed, she knew she'd have promised Nathan anything.
Julie Marshall nodded a brief hello to Mia-Rose on reception, raised her eyebrows at Nathan as he barrelled past her and disappeared downstairs and into the technical support room, then walked towards the stairs that led up to her first floor office. While her route took her past Mark's doorway, and she'd usually glance in on the off-chance they could exchange a casual-yet-friendly greeting, today she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of her. Recently she'd suspected he'd been pretending not to see her. Which, she knew, was probably fair enough.
She felt pretty rotten about how she'd behaved, but then again, Julie could argue she'd had a reason for that. Besides, the alternative was to have started a conversation she didn't really want to get into, or even start something else that she might not be able to finish, and neither of those were particularly appealing options. But then again, divorce wasn't either, and she was thinking seriously about going through with that.
Instinctively, she glanced down at her left hand. She'd seen taking off her wedding ring as the beginning of the end, though in truth, the end had begun a long time before that. She and Philip hadn't had sex for the best part of a year – well, he had, but not with Julie, which was what had started off these whole proceedings - and she often wondered whether, had he not slept with that woman he'd met at the book festival, things might have been different. But she doubted it.
Julie shook her head as she walked up the stairs. Why did she have to marry a writer? Actually, she took that back. She hadn't married a writer. She'd married a lawyer. And then, when he'd had some sort of early mid-life crisis two years ago and given 'it' all up to try and become the next John Grisham... Well, that was when things had begun to change. She'd supported him for the first eighteen months, and then had needed to change her job simply so they (or rather, she) could keep paying the mortgage on their Chiswick flat. The flat which he'd refused to move out of, even when she'd confronted him about the affair.
Which was fair enough, she supposed. Philip had paid most of the deposit, both of their names were on the deeds, and besides, he had nowhere else to go (or no way of paying for it), and at least he'd moved into the spare bedroom. And while the other alternative was for them both to move out, trying to sell the flat at the moment wasn't a good idea, given what was happening with the housing market – while they'd surely get a good price for it, neither of them could subsequently afford to buy somewhere else, or even buy each other out. And all they'd invested - in the flat, and the marriage - would have been for nothing.
Julie almost smiled. As depressed as she was, it was evident the housing market wasn't, and while normally that would be a cause for celebration, she hated being in this strange, limbo-like state, unable to move on because neither of them could afford to move. Not able to get on with her life, because Philip wasn't getting on with his, and all the while, neither of them getting on with each other.
She'd read some of Philip's stuff once. It had been... Well, she'd thought she could probably have done better herself. And despite - what was it now? - twenty-seven rejections from most of the leading publishing houses and agents in the UK, Philip had refused to believe it was his writing that was the problem. Just like he'd refused to believe his behaviour was the problem in their marriage. And that had been the final straw for Julie. She'd always suspected he was a little selfish (though nowadays, she'd describe it as pig-headed), but she'd never realised how selfish until he'd informed her she was the selfish one for not allowing him to follow his dream. He'd even accused her of driving him into the arms of that woman – though Julie couldn't see how, unless the fact that she'd given him a lift to the festival was what he'd been referring to. When she'd found out, and told him she thought the two of them needed some space, he'd gone ballistic, and said she was giving up on their marriage. Julie had replied that there were some things that you just had to give up on, and she'd also meant his writing, though he'd chosen to ignore her on both counts.
But while the constant rejections from publishers hadn't seemed to dent his confidence, being rejected by Julie had sent him into a downward spiral, which was why nowadays, he hardly ever left the spare bedroom – or his laptop, though to be honest, that suited Julie just fine. The combination of a new job and her marathon training had left her without the energy to deal with Philip every night. Or at least it had suited her, up until the Christmas party. How she'd have loved to have invited Mark in. To have been able to wave the taxi away and spend some time with someone who seemed to be interested in her, rather than simply his MacBook.
She glanced back down the stairs at Mark's firmly-shut door, fearing she'd well and truly blown that now. With a sigh, she helped herself to a drink from the water-cooler on the upstairs landing, then walked towards her office, forcing herself to smile as she came in through the doorway.
'Morning.'
'Hello,' replied Sophie, brightly.
Julie dumped her bag on the floor, and eyed Sophie suspiciously. Normally, getting anything more than a sleepy grunt out of her before midday was impossible. 'Anything happening?' she asked, shrugging her coat off.
'You tell me,' said Sophie, her eyes flicking towards Julie's desk, where she'd propped the envelope up against the telephone to make sure she wouldn't miss it.
'What's that?'
Sophie shrugged. 'Well, unless it's a rather unusually-presented quote for those brochures we asked for, I'd say it's a Valentine's card.'
'Really? You shouldn't have.'
'What? It's not from...'
'I'm teasing you, Sophie.' Julie hung her coat on the rack in the corner of the office, then stared at the card from a distance, reluctant to touch it, as if that meant she'd be somehow obliged to the sender - whoever that was. Eventually she picked it up, then held it up to the window, and Sophie laughed.
'Traditionally, opening the envelope is the best way to see who it's from.'
'And this was here when you arrived, was it?'
'I couldn't say,' said Sophie, as innocently as she could muster.
'I see.' After a moment's consideration, Julie slit the envelope open with her thumbnail and hesitantly removed the card, and Sophie found herself willing it to be unsigned - the last thing she wanted was for Julie to know Nathan had a thing for her. She was sure she'd get a chance to check later when Julie took her usual trip across the road to Pret, but when her boss simply glanced at the message, slipped the card back into its envelope, then into her desk drawer, Sophie couldn't help but ask.
'Well?'
After the briefest of hesitations, Julie retrieved the card, and handed it to Sophie. 'It's sweet, I suppose.'
'And do you have any idea who your 'Seek-ret admirer' might be?' she asked, feeling a surge of jealousy as she repeated the inscription. Why hadn't she come up with something that good?
Julie made a face, though it was hard for Sophie to read. 'Maybe.'
'And?'
'And don't you have some work to do?' Julie took the card back, and Sophie gave a mock-salute.
'Yes, boss. Sorry. Point taken.'
Julie half-s
miled as she put the card back in her drawer, and wondered what her next move should be. She assumed it must have come from Mark, which she supposed was a good thing - at least she hadn't pissed him off completely - though what she was going to do about it, she wasn't sure. Unless...
She sat down at her computer, scrolled through her in-box, and found the email Nathan had sent her about tonight's event, pleased to see Mark was on the list of attendees.
'Tell me something, Sophie. Are you going to that... Thing that Nathan's organising tonight?'
Sophie looked up sharply. She'd been considering it, for the simple reason that Nathan would be there, but given the size of this morning's credit card bill, and the fact that it was two weeks till pay day, she'd doubted she could afford to go. But then again, if Julie was going, she couldn't afford not to.
'Anti-Valentine's? I was thinking I might. Why?'
'Oh,' said Julie. 'Right. I thought I might, too.'
And as Julie composed a message to Nathan confirming her attendance, Sophie hurriedly clicked on her 'Outlook' icon, found the email Nathan had sent her, and did exactly the same thing.
Chapter 3
Calum had been sitting at his desk for the best part of an hour, alternating between staring at his mobile and hitting 'refresh' on his Hotmail account. He knew messages would come in automatically, but it was nudging ten o'clock, and seeing as he'd heard nothing at all from Emma, he was starting to worry that his phone - or even the internet - might be broken.
Perhaps he'd been too flippant earlier. Maybe his text had been a bit, well, unromantic - after all, today was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year. He began to fear he was being stupid, going out for a first date on Valentine's Day, and wished he'd insisted on a different night - that way, he'd have avoided all this pressure. But it had been Emma who'd suggested they meet this evening, and Calum had been too worried about putting her off to say no.
He took a deep breath, and reminded himself it was just a date - both today, and tonight. At least he had a date, and more importantly, as far as his office-cred was concerned, he didn't have to go to Anti-Valentine's for the third year running. As much as he enjoyed bowling (one of the few 'sports' he was good at), Calum didn't want the reputation of being a regular fixture there. Which reminded him...
He got up from his desk and walked downstairs. Mia-Rose was juggling the usual first-thing-in-the-morning influx of phone calls on reception while trying to sort the mail, and as he passed her desk she rolled her eyes at him and he smiled coyly back. Calum liked Mia-Rose, but since she'd joined the company last September, he'd been too shy to say more than a simple hello or goodbye to her whenever he walked through reception. He'd even stood in the queue behind her in Pret A Manger once, trying - and failing - to pluck up the courage to start a conversation, and had ended up thinking his soup choice of 'chicken' when he'd reached the counter had been pretty appropriate.
'Nice suit,' she mouthed, and he blushed, and mouthed an embarrassed 'thank you' back, then headed down into the basement and popped his head round the doorway of the technical support room. Nathan was on a call, so Calum waited until he'd heard the usual 'have you tried turning it off and on again?' followed by 'you're welcome', then he cleared his throat.
'Morning.'
Nathan looked up, frowned, then checked his watch. 'Surprised to see Sales in before midday,' he said, replacing the phone receiver on its cradle. 'And dressed like a grown-up, too.'
Calum grinned at him. 'Well, someone has to make some money for the company.'
'So what's with the suit? Due in court later?'
'No!'
'Got an interview, then?'
'Something like that,' said Calum, awkwardly.
'Well, as long as you're back for half-five. I don't want to be the only drooling drunk this evening.'
'I... Um... Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.'
'Oh yeah?'
'I can't make it.' Calum could feel his chest swelling with pride. 'Tonight.'
Nathan raised one eyebrow. 'Why not? Don't tell me you've got a hot date?'
'Well, yes, actually.'
'You're kidding?'
'Thanks a lot!'
Nathan made a guilty face. 'Sorry, mate. Didn't mean it like that.'
'That's okay. Although I'm not sure if she's hot or not. I mean...' Calum stopped talking, mainly because Nathan's expression suggested he'd need to explain himself. He walked further into the room, then pushed the door shut behind him. 'We met on line.'
'Really? You kept that quiet.' Nathan sat back in his chair and folded his arms. 'So, who is this mystery woman?'
'She's called Emma.'
'Nice name. And does the rest of her measure up?'
Calum perched on the corner of the adjacent desk. 'Well, we've not actually, you know...'
'And tonight's the night?'
He nodded. 'Yup.'
'So, where are you going? Your place? Hers? A hotel?'
'No, I mean we haven't actually met. Not the other. Although of course we haven't done that, either.'
Nathan shook his head. 'You sly old dog. Why didn't you say anything?'
'Well, you know. Internet dating, and all that.'
'Calum, I don't know if you've noticed, but you work for an internet company. People do everything online nowadays. There's no shame in meeting a woman that way.'
'Yes, but...' He jabbed a thumb towards the door. 'I didn't really want anyone here to think I'd been, you know, looking. For a woman.'
'Why not? I'm sure they look for a lot worse. In fact, I know they do. I've seen what's on their hard drives.'
'Maybe.' Calum sighed. 'But there's still a stigma if you can't find a partner the normal way, isn't there?'
Nathan shrugged. 'Why? There are still bookshops, but it's not as if anyone laughs at you for ordering stuff from Amazon? And isn't this really just the same kind of thing?'
'Well, not quite...'
'Still, what are you worried about?'
'It's just...' Calum sighed. 'I don't know what she looks like. And so I'm worried she might look, you know, better than me. And if that's the case she...' He stopped talking. Nathan had raised both eyebrows this time, as well as both palms in a 'stop' gesture.
'You don't know what she looks like?'
'No. She contacted me. And she didn't have a photo up. But we got chatting, and it turns out we have a lot in common, and so tonight we're...'
Nathan was shaking his head incredulously. 'I'm sorry. You don't know what she looks like?'
'Er, no.'
'And you're still going out with her?'
'It's not all about looks, you know?'
Nathan opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again.
'And besides,' continued Calum. 'I'm hardly, you know...'
'What?'
'Brad Pitt.'
Nathan laughed. 'You're not exactly arm pit either. I take it you had a photo on there.'
'Yup.'
'Of you?'
'Of course.'
'In colour?'
'Why wouldn't it be?'
Nathan grinned. 'You being a ginger, and all that...'
'Nathan, for the millionth time, my hair's...'
'Strawberry blond. So you've said. And I'm just kidding, so what are you worried about?'
'That she might be out of my league, and therefore doesn't fancy me.'
Nathan shrugged again. 'Why wouldn't she? Besides, by the sound of things, she does already. She wouldn't be meeting you otherwise, would she? And certainly not tonight.'
'Maybe.' Calum's eyes flicked around the room. 'But there's one thing...'
'Which is?'
'I may have lied a little about my...' He coughed awkwardly. 'Physical dimensions.'
'Christ, Calum. What kind of dating site was it?'
'Not that. My height.'
'How much did you lie, exactly?'
Calum held his palm a couple of inches above the top of his he
ad. 'About this much.'
'What on earth for?'
'Because you had to fill it in on your profile. And women like men over six foot tall.'
Nathan rolled his eyes. 'This is internet dating, not Alton Towers. You don't have to be a certain height to, you know, go on the rides.'
'You'd be surprised. Plus everyone else on there spends their weekends water-skiing or bungee-jumping except for me, so I worried if they thought I was short as well...'
'Yeah, right,' said Nathan. 'They say that, but in reality, each of them is probably a sad loser who still lives at home with his mum, so I wouldn't... What's the matter?'
'I still live with my mum,' said Calum, quietly.
'What?'
'Since my dad died. She's not been well, and she's got no-one else, and...' He stared miserably down at his feet. 'Thanks, Nathan. That's something else I haven't been honest about. Now I feel even worse.'
'But that's different. You're looking after your mum, by the sound of it, not the other way round. And that's a good thing.'
'You think?'
Nathan smiled reassuringly. 'I wouldn't worry about it. She's on a dating site, and she hasn't even put up a photo, so I'd say you're allowed a few exaggerations or exclusions yourself.' His computer pinged at the arrival of an email, and he glanced briefly at the screen before hitting 'minimize'. 'Though why do you think she hasn't?'
'I don't know. Maybe she's shy?'
'Doesn't sound like it. She contacted you, after all.'
'Maybe she's...'
'Disfigured? Only got one leg?'
Calum laughed - briefly. 'I was going to say 'famous', but your suggestions are probably more likely. Though she said I wouldn't be disappointed when we met.'
'Okay. So she's good looking, but she hasn't put up a photo. Which might suggest something else.'
'Which is?'
'You already know her. Or at least, she knows you.'
'I don't know anyone named Emma. Or that many girls full stop, come to think of it.'
'You might have yourself a stalker!'