by Matt Dunn
Before he could lose his nerve, he took an envelope out of his desk drawer, wrote Julie's name on the front in capital letters, then walked over to the cupboard and unlocked the door. With a smile on his face, he retrieved what he was looking for, slipped them inside the envelope, and then - once he was sure the coast was clear – he darted into the hallway, crept up the stairs, and slotted the envelope into her pigeon hole.
Julie Marshall was in a quandary. She wanted to find out whether Mark had sent her the card, and yet she couldn't afford to raise his hopes – or her own, for that matter. As she'd almost confessed to Sophie, her relationship was complicated, and getting involved with Mark could only confuse things even further. Besides, she didn’t have a clue what to say to him.
She knew he deserved some sort of explanation for her behaviour since the night of the Christmas party - and especially for her behaviour on the night of the Christmas party - yet at the same time, Julie felt Mark was the last person she could tell about her home life. Despite her current living arrangements, she was a married woman, and yet she'd kissed him. How would that make her appear - and more importantly, what would Mark think of her - if he found that out?
Julie wasn't particularly proud of herself, and wanted him to understand, and yet she feared telling him might drive him away. And while she hadn't had a night out in ages, and the idea of going out for a few drinks with Mark and the office crowd tonight was actually rather appealing (especially when the alternative was a moody evening at her flat with a sulky Philip staking out his half of the sofa), she also knew she couldn't afford to get drunk and leap on Mark like she had at Christmas. The irony was, Julie felt like she needed a drink. She'd been feeling that more and more recently, and while she knew it was perhaps understandable given her situation at home, it wasn't a particularly healthy way to be.
She looked up from her laptop to see Sophie staring at her, then got up from her desk and peered out of the window, down at the huddle of smokers that had already assembled outside the pub on the corner. As one of them - an old man with no teeth - leered up at her, she stepped back from the window hurriedly and made her way into the hallway, absent-mindedly removed the brown Manila envelope she'd spotted peeking out of her pigeon-hole, and walked back into her office.
'Not another one?'
'Pardon?'
'That.' Sophie nodded towards the envelope. 'Another Valentine's card?'
'Huh? Julie followed Sophie's gaze, then did a double take. The handwriting on the front did seem familiar, although it didn't feel like there was a card inside. 'No, this is...' She tore the envelope open and peered inside, almost dropping it in shock until she realised it didn't contain as she'd first thought a bag of multicoloured condoms - albeit for someone with an incredibly deformed penis - but in fact an assorted packet of balloons.
Julie smiled to herself, aware Sophie was watching her closely from the other side of the room. The card this morning – now these. Unless the balloons were from Dave in personnel - and she doubted that, as she'd met Dave's boyfriend a few weeks ago - it had to be Mark.
She could see what he was doing, trying to remind her of the events of that evening, and considered sending him an email to say it was okay, she actually remembered everything, but to be honest, Julie was intrigued to see what he might do next. And, she realised, she was enjoying the attention. It had been a long time since someone had tried to romance her, or sent her anything like this.
For a second, Julie decided she shouldn't feel guilty about her home situation. Mark might even understand. In fact, she was sure there were probably thousands of people in the same boat as her, unable to sell up and go their separate ways. At least she and Philip were living separate lives, and while they were still married on paper, surely that was only a matter of time. But the fact that she'd taken her ring off, not said anything to anyone, and still kissed Mark... Well, she could see how that might appear a little duplicitous. She pulled the bag out of the envelope, and Sophie's laugh snapped her back to reality.
'Something amusing you?'
'No, it's just... Balloons?'
Julie smiled. 'Romantic, eh?'
'Do you know who they're from?'
'I've got an idea.'
'And?'
'And what?'
'Sorry.' Sophie turned back to her computer screen. 'I understand if you don't want to tell me.'
'No, it's nothing like that. It's just... It might be... Complicated,' said Julie, aware she was in danger of over-using that word today. 'How about you, Sophie. Get any cards yourself?'
'I don't know,' Sophie fixed her eyes on the email she was typing, and readied the lie she'd been rehearsing all morning. 'I left before the postman came this morning.'
'And did you send any?'
Sophie's fingers froze above her keyboard. 'Just the one.'
'And did Nathan like it?'
Sophie blushed. 'How did you..'
'Just a wild guess, based on the fact that your tongue virtually hits the floor whenever you see him.'
'Is it that obvious?'
'To me, yes. To him? Hard to say. But...'
Sophie looked up anxiously. 'What?'
'Are you sure he's not gay?'
'Yes I'm sure,' said Sophie, indignantly, though she realised the only evidence she had was the fact she'd seen him delivering Julie's card earlier. And she certainly wasn't going to give up that particular piece of information.
'Suit yourself,' said Julie. 'Although...'
'Although what?
'Well, Nathan is very good looking, and yet, have you ever heard him mention a partner - of any kind?'
Sophie wondered whether Julie realised people could say the same about her. 'Well, no, but...'
'Don't you think you ought to find out, before you make...'
'A fool of myself?'
'Any declarations of love, I was going to say. Though if you're wrong, the end result would be the same.'
'Okay.' Sophie propelled her wheely chair over to her boss's desk with her feet. 'So how do I do that?'
'You could ask him.'
'I'm not so sure I like that as a plan.'
'Okay.' Julie smiled. 'I could ask him for you.'
Sophie shook her head quickly. If Nathan did indeed fancy Julie, the last thing she wanted was for the two of them to have a cosy little tête-à-tête - even if it was on her behalf. 'Bit too direct, isn't it? Besides how would you go about it, exactly?'
Julie thought for a moment. 'Good point.'
An idea occurred to her, and Sophie sat bolt upright. 'You could ask Mark Webster.'
'Mark Webster?'
Sophie nodded enthusiastically. 'Him and Nathan are good friends. And so he's bound to know.'
'Ah.'
'What's 'ah'?'
'That might be a little...' Julie stopped talking. While she didn't want Sophie to know anything about her and Mark, she did want an excuse to talk to him. 'No, you're right,' she said, standing up suddenly. 'That does sound like the best way. I'll give it a go.'
'You're going to ask him now?' said Sophie nervously.
'Like I'm going to get any work out of you today if I don't.'
Julie grabbed the back of Sophie's chair and wheeled her back to her desk, then strode purposefully out of the office. This, she realised, gave her the perfect excuse to bring up the subject of Valentine's Day. Mark was bound to crack, and if so, well, maybe now was the time to start being a bit more adult about what had happened.
Maybe.
She nipped to the toilet and quickly checked her make-up in the mirror above the sink, then headed downstairs, took a deep breath, and knocked on Mark's door.
Chapter 4
Calum was feeling extremely anxious. It was approaching midday, and the fact that he'd still heard nothing from Emma was beginning to worry him. Maybe she was testing him, but he feared it was more likely she'd simply got cold feet, and the last thing he wanted - tonight of all nights - was to be sitting on his own in a restaurant
, hanging around for someone who was never going to show up.
Perhaps she'd simply been playing him. After all, it was possible she'd been communicating with loads of guys on the site, and could have arranged half a dozen dates this evening, perhaps planning to pick the best of them on the day and go to that one, leaving the others to wait for her in vain. And if that was the case, Calum was sure he'd be one of the others.
It occurred to him his choice of a mid-range Netherlands-themed restaurant hadn't quite cut it, especially if Emma had some other wealthy suitor who'd offered to take her to one of those posh places they were always going on about in GQ, like The Ivy, or Nobu, or that restaurant where the chef swore at everyone. Then again, maybe she was ill, or she'd had an accident, and he wondered whether he should phone around the local hospitals just to see, but then Calum remembered he didn't know Emma's surname, so that might prove a little tricky. Alternatively, of course, and perhaps the simplest option - he could simply call her.
Calum picked his phone up for the hundredth time and scrolled through to where he'd programmed in her number, and then - for the hundredth time - put it straight back down without dialling. Instead, he got up from his desk and took a few deep breaths, telling himself to relax, worried if he was this nervous now, he was bound to to be a complete wreck this evening. Suddenly, Nathan's Anti-Valentine's night was looking like a much better option.
He walked out of his office, navigated his way through the maze of desks where the admin team sat, and was hovering by the kitchen, wondering whether his usual late-morning black coffee was a good idea given his white shirt, when he bumped into Sophie. Calum liked Sophie, and under different circumstances – if they didn't work together, and more importantly, if he weighed a stone or two less and had about a hundred times more self-confidence – he might have asked her out.
'Hey, Calum,' she said, pleasantly. 'You're looking smart today.'
Calum blushed. 'Thanks. You too. Not that I don't think you look smart every day. Well, maybe 'smart' isn't the right word...'
He'd begun to sweat, so Sophie changed the subject in an attempt to put him out of his misery. 'Will we be seeing you tonight?'
'I hope not,' he said, then he felt guilty for his lack of faith in Emma. 'I mean, no.'
'Hot date?'
Calum blushed again. 'Well, yes, actually.'
Sophie's eyes widened. 'Ooh. Good for you. You kept that quiet.'
'Well, we've only just met, and...' Calum lowered his voice. 'To be honest, Sophie, I'd appreciate a woman's advice, if you've got a minute?'
Sophie peered down the stairs towards Mark's door and realised Julie must still be in there. While she was slightly worried her boss had been making a serious point when she'd joked about not getting any work out of her today, she could probably spare Calum a few minutes. 'Sure,' she said, sitting down on the sofa by the window and patting the seat next to her.
Calum glanced anxiously round the office. The middle of the first floor was open-plan, and he didn't want to be overheard by one of the gossip-happy admin team, or by Mia-Rose, who'd just appeared in the kitchen. 'Not here,' he whispered, leading Sophie through the double doors by the top of the stairs and onto the office's roof terrace, where the half-dozen or so smokers who worked at Seek would occasionally disappear for a crafty cigarette.
'It's just...' Calum pushed the doors firmly shut behind them. 'We met on line, and we've been chatting for a couple of weeks, and tonight's the first time we're actually meeting...'
'Tonight's the first time you're meeting?' Sophie tried not to look shocked. 'On Valentine's Day?'
'I know, I know. So I was wondering. What do women look for in a man?'
Sophie puffed her cheeks out, trying to ignore the description of Nathan that had just popped into her head. 'Blimey, Calum. That's a big question. I mean, there's obviously attraction, but I suppose you also want someone who's kind, who makes you laugh, who's honest...'
'Honest?' Calum swallowed hard. Why hadn't he told Emma he lived with his mum? 'Okay. But what if the attraction thing isn't necessarily there? I mean, what if you like someone, and you get on well, but there's no, you know, spark?'
'Hmm.' Sophie leant against the iron railings overlooking the courtyard behind Spank-o-rama then recoiled quickly at the coldness of the metal. 'As far as I'm concerned, there's got to be a spark. Don't you think?'
'Yeah. I suppose.'
'Is that what you're worried about? That you don't feel a spark with this... What's her name?'
'Emma. And no. I think she's perfect. I'm more afraid it'll be the other way round.'
Sophie rested a hand on Calum's arm, and he had to stop himself from flinching at the unfamiliarity of a woman's touch. 'Calum, how can there not be? She's agreed to go out with you, and on Valentine's Day. She wouldn't be doing that just because there's nothing good on TV this evening.'
'Maybe. But it might simply be because she doesn't want to be alone tonight.'
'That's hardly likely. Trust me, we girls know it's better to be on our own than with the wrong person, so if she wants to be with someone tonight of all nights, the most special day of the year for lovers, then she must think you're pretty special. And pretty special to have asked her.'
He coughed awkwardly. 'She, um, asked me, actually.'
'I'm impressed. And there you go. She sounds dead keen.'
'So why hasn't she contacted me this morning?'
As if on cue, his mobile bleeped, and Calum was in such a hurry to get it out of his pocket he nearly dropped it off the roof. He made a face at Sophie, then nervously peered at the screen.
'Well?'
'It's a text,' he said. 'From Emma.'
'Well, there you go, again!' Sophie smiled reassuringly. 'Aren't you going to read it?'
He turned his attention back to his phone. He almost didn't want to know what it said, convinced by now it was bound to be bad news, and yet, even though it said 'me too', and was signed off with a smiley face, he didn't feel much better. The message was hardly dripping with enthusiasm, and while Emma had told him it was difficult for her to text at work, he couldn't help feeling disappointed at what was hardly the most exciting of emoticons.
Calum tried not to feel depressed. On the plus side, she was still coming, and even if she was turning up begrudgingly, he still had a date, and on Valentine's Day, and he hadn't been able to say that for a long, long time. Besides, a smiley face was better than a miserable one, surely? And certainly better than nothing at all.
He stared at the message again, trying to work out exactly what it meant. He was so hoping everything would go well tonight, and it would therefore be the end of this internet dating lark. The process hadn't been fun, but then again, nor was having your offer to buy drinks for random women in bars turned down, or smiling at any girl who caught your eye on the tube only to have them look at you like you belonged in a care-in-the-community scheme, or picking the exercise bike next to someone attractive in the gym then watching them get straight off theirs because you'd forgotten to spray yourself with deodorant that morning, or trying to make eye contact with women on Tottenham Court Road without bumping into someone coming the other way. But Emma... Everything about her had felt different, so much so he'd been sure she was the one who could put him out of his misery. He'd waited so, so long to get to this evening's date - so long, in fact, that he didn't want the slightest thing to go wrong. And this? While it wasn't perhaps wrong, something about it didn't feel quite right.
Calum stood there and thought about what he knew about her. Emma was the same age as him – at least, she'd said she was, though having been burnt before, Calum had tried to check that, and had been reassured that at least her cultural references had seemed the same as his: she loved 'The Office' and Coldplay, and while anyone could of course have said that, you had to be his age to know who Lana Del Rey was, or find the Inbetweeners funny, and Emma had passed both those tests. She read Heat magazine, and liked the X-Factor, and despite one misu
nderstanding, where he'd thought she'd told him she loved curry, but it turned she'd said 'Corrie', they actually seemed to have a lot in common.
Though perhaps he'd come across as too desperate. Given his behaviour before he'd met her, he may as well have been walking around wearing a sandwich board like those men on Oxford Street with the ones that advertised golf equipment sales, except his said 'please go out with me'. And maybe Emma's muted response today was simply a reaction to that. Perhaps she was trying to tone him down a little, or to get him to lower his expectations.
The idea of sandwich boards had made him feel hungry, so he tried to think about something else. Suddenly, he heard a loud throat-clearing, and he looked up to see Sophie hopping from foot to foot.
'Calum, it's cold out here...'
'Sorry.' He realised he'd been so preoccupied he'd forgotten she'd had been standing there. 'What does it mean?' he asked, handing her his phone.
Sophie studied the message. 'Well, what did you send her, exactly?'
'This.' Calum reached across and scrolled up to his earlier message, and Sophie frowned at the screen.
'Well, I'm no expert, but I think it means she's looking forward to seeing you later too.'
'Yes, but...' He stared at her helplessly. 'It means more than that, really, doesn't it?'
Sophie smiled. 'Calum, it's normally us girls who pour over every detail, every subtle nuance in messages like these. Not you men. You're just supposed to take them at face value.' She nudged him. 'Or smiley face value.'
Calum smiled weakly at her joke. 'Come on, Sophie. You're in marketing. You should understand that this internet dating is like a shop window, only it's like there's just one of everything, so if you see something you like, well, until you've actually got your hands on it...'
'So to speak.'
'Sorry. But you know what I mean. And maybe I'm putting too much pressure on tonight, but Emma's the one person I've met who seems to like me for me. And who doesn't expect me to play second fiddle to their cat.'
Sophie laughed, though she felt a little sick at the same time. 'It looks like it's worked for you.'