Different Genes

  Philip had sent a contact request to five women in Senior’s Dating. Louise was the oldest. He had promised himself the company of a younger woman, but had been attracted by Louise’s photograph.

  ‘Always good to diversify,’ he told himself. He had complete confidence in his ability to attract a new woman. Almost by instinct, he tried a slightly different approach with each of his targets. He decided to be very direct with the ‘older woman’, Elouise.

  Hi. It’s Philip here. You clicked the ‘enable contact’ button on my profile on the Dating Website. There is a smart new restaurant which has recently opened on Bexhill seafront, and I would like to take you there for lunch. When would be a good time to ring you?

  ‘Well he doesn’t waste time,’ thought Louise. ‘Obviously used to closing a sale without argument.’

  It was a long time, since a man had bought her lunch. ‘Bexhill-on-Sea, hardly a den of wickedness,’ she smiled to herself, and she was flattered by the quick response. She sent Philip her phone number and said she would be in from 7 pm.

  Simon’s first message arrived early on the same afternoon.

  Dear Elouise,

  Thank you for allowing me to make contact with you. I feel I should tell you a bit more about myself, but I’m not sure what to say. I see you paint watercolours. I am terribly ignorant about painting, but willing to learn. I did my degree in graphic design, which was pretty progressive for the 70s, but not at all artistic. We created images by using straight lines, geometric shapes and mathematical angles. I do hope you reply. Would there be a good time to catch you on ‘chat’?

  With kind regards,

  Simon

  Louise read Simon’s message several times. She revisited his profile picture and tried to imagine him sitting at his computer. She began to think about composing a reply. The phone rang.

  “Elouise? It’s Philip. I know I’m early, but I couldn’t wait to talk to you.”

  “Oh, hi. It’s Louise by the way.”

  “Are you busy this Sunday? I’ve got a viewing with a client at 11.30, and we could meet for lunch after.”

  ‘So he can have another viewing,’ Louise laughed to herself.

  “Just a minute, Philip, I need to check.” She glanced at the blank calendar on the studio wall.

  “Sunday is fine. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Do you know Bexhill?”

  “Yes, my mum used to live in Fairlight, and I often took her to the De La Warr Pavilion for tea.”

  “Let’s meet in the Pavilion foyer then, just outside where they have all those odd art exhibitions. Say 12.15? I’ll book a table at Merton’s for 12.30.”

  “That sounds nice. How will I recognise you?”

  “I’ll be the guy in a suit. See you then.” And he put the phone down. Louise dialled 1471 and wrote down the number. She texted Gillian.

  I’VE GOT A DATE

  GO LOUISE! Came the almost instant reply.

  The phone rang again. Louise was worried it might be Philip.

  ‘I hope he doesn’t hassle me,’ she thought.

  It was Gillian. “Come on then, tell me all about him.”

  “There’s not a lot to tell really. He’s an estate agent. He seems to know nothing about art. I think he wants to check if I am in need of refurbishment.”

  Both girls giggled. Louise explained about his profile, the short phone call, and Philip’s direct approach.

  “He’s probably used to dealing like that in his business. You will invite me over to Spain won’t you, when you move in together?”

  “Ha, ha, very funny. Seriously, Gillian, do you think I’ll be safe?”

  “You’re meeting in a public place. He’s hardly likely to try and assault you in the De La Warr Pavilion foyer. Give me the phone number, I’ll check it out for you. Might be worth looking up the restaurant on Trip Advisor, as well. Look I’ve got to go. Catherine will be home in a minute, and I promised her a special tea. I’ll email you.”

  Louise went straight to Trip Advisor.

  Merton’s Restaurant on Bexhill Seafront: Modern cuisine with a twist 4.5 stars

  ‘Amazing food, but rather expensive for lunch,’ said the first reviewer.

  ‘I suppose he will offer to pay, but I’d better take some cash just in case. I hope he doesn’t expect anything back from his investment’. She spent the next half hour wondering what to wear.

  Gillian’s short email reassured her.

  The phone number is for Sussex Estates in Bexhill. It’s an independent chain of Estate Agents with five branches. The owner is a Mr Philip Travers. All looks legit. Gx

  Louise looked up Sussex Estates on her computer. There was a staged photograph of Philip Travers and three female negotiators outside a branch in Seaford. He was smart, but not tall. The suited saleswomen in their high heels rather overshadowed him. Suddenly, Louise realised that she had completely forgotten about Simon.

  Sunday soon arrived. Louise dressed carefully trying to look effortlessly smart. She wore a plain, dark green, long-sleeved dress which showed off her hair, and a smart winter coat. She chose flat shoes, not being sure of his height. Philip was ten minutes late. Louise watched him climb the short staircase at the entrance to the De La Warr Pavilion and step into the foyer. He was shorter than average, almost petite and immaculately dressed in a tailored grey suit with a deep blue tie. He spotted her immediately and approached her with confidence. He took her hand and kissed it with a flamboyant air.

  “You are even more beautiful than your photograph. Sorry I’m late. The buyer wouldn’t stop talking. I hope you are hungry. The food in Merton’s is very good.”

  They crossed the road and walked towards the restaurant. An over-attentive waiter took Louise’s coat. He showed them to a window table, which overlooked the sea. Drinks were quickly ordered, and menus placed on the table. Louise noticed that the waiter kept withdrawing into the back of the restaurant to cough discreetly into a tissue. She hoped he wasn’t infectious.

  “Choose whatever you want,” instructed Philip. “I have an account. It’s all tax deductible.”

  ‘Nice to know,’ thought Louise. Somehow eating a tax-deductible meal felt a little too businesslike. Philip told her about his clients, how he had grown his chain of offices, and his plans for the future. He described his house in Spain, recommended different dishes on the menu, and made a point of addressing the waiter by his first name. His phone rang twice during the meal, and he made no attempt to mute his voice, so as not to disturb the other diners. Louise enjoyed the food, and was genuinely interested in everything he told her. She wondered when Philip would ask her about herself. By the time they reached the dessert, she realised that he was a far more accomplished talker than listener. Louise could concentrate on eating, as she would not be required to talk, apart from the occasional nod of agreement. She tried to imagine how Philip coped when asking clients to describe their accommodation preferences, and eventually came to the conclusion that he probably told his clients what they needed, and they were persuaded by his self-confidence. He was articulate, intelligent, and very self-centred. She tried not to compare him with Charlie, but the similarities kept confronting her. After the meal, he invited her to take a walk along the promenade.

  “I am expecting a couple more calls, but I could fit in a walk,” he offered.

  Louise refused on the grounds that she had arranged to meet a friend later that afternoon. “You really need to concentrate on your business, Philip. I wouldn’t want to distract you.” Her sarcasm went unnoticed.

  Ten

  Talking to Simon

  Simon’s mail from Senior’s Dating had arrived on the previous Monday afternoon. He had been at a client’s house in Sedlescombe updating an agricultural-foodstuffs website. The client noticed Simon repeatedly checking his phone.
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br />   “Is everything alright, Simon?”

  “Yes, of course, sorry. I’m just expecting to hear from a friend after a hospital appointment.”

  Simon put his phone in his pocket, gave his full attention back to the client’s computer screen and priced up the last of the sacks of grain.

  He packed up slowly so as not to appear hurried.

  “I hope that’s you sorted. Any problems let me know, will you? I’ll send you my invoice.”

  And Simon was soon in his car driving back to his house in Battle.

  He drove slowly up Battle High Street past the Abbey towards the main roundabout. A left turn and sharp right led him to the entrance to his drive. He parked his car at a careless angle outside his house and unlocked the front door. He warmed up his computer while the kettle was filled and beginning to boil.

  He read the email from Senior’s Dating.

  Senior’s Dating Update

  Congratulations. Our client, ‘Elouise’, has enabled contact with you after reading your profile.

  You now have two options.

  1.You can send our client an introductory message with more details about yourself.

  2.If you see a blue dot by our client’s name on your account page, you can chat directly.

  Simon clicked on his account page. He looked at the page layout and was impressed with the website design. Sadly, there was no blue dot. He opened ‘word’ and began to draft a message.

  Dear Elouise,

  Thank you for allowing me to make contact with you. I feel I should tell you a bit more about myself, but I’m not sure what to say.

  A sudden thought overwhelmed him… talk about her… not yourself.

  I see you paint watercolours. I am terribly ignorant about painting, but very willing to learn. I did my degree in graphic design, which was pretty progressive for the 70s, but we dealt in straight lines and mathematical angles. You have beautiful eyes… he deleted the last four words… I do hope you reply. Would there be a good time to catch you on ‘chat’?

  Simon felt sick. He edited his post one last time and pressed ‘send’.

  Louise finally made contact with Simon on the day before she had lunch with Philip. She felt very disloyal to both of them, though Gillian had reassured her that making multiple contacts on an internet dating site was not considered to be two-timing. She had been flustered by Philip’s direct approach on the Friday and felt unprepared for a date. When she finally replied to Simon on the Saturday morning, she said she would be unavailable to ‘chat’ until the following Tuesday. She couldn’t cope with the idea of building a relationship with more than one man at a time.

  Louise had woken early on the Monday morning after her lunch with Philip. She felt disappointed and needed to rationalise her thoughts. She made herself a coffee, turned on her computer and signed in to Senior’s Dating. Simon’s name popped up in a chat box.

  “I know you said Tuesday, but I noticed you were online. Is now a good time to chat?”

  Louise felt herself blush. “Yes, now is a very good time to chat. I’m just drinking a coffee.”

  “Filter or instant?” The ordinariness of his question amused Louise.

  “Instant. I’ll make a proper pot of filter later, before I start painting.”

  “What are you painting? Is that a correct question to ask when someone is painting?”

  “I had started a rural street scene in Spain, but I’ve given up now. I think I’ll do something autumnal.”

  Simon tried to imagine Elouise in her studio surrounded by canvases and paint brushes. He wanted to ask what she wore when she painted, but thought that might sound a bit of an intrusive question.

  “Will you paint all day?”

  “Probably not. I’ll stop mid-morning, and then go out for a sandwich. It will break up the day.” Louise worried that she had made herself appear lonely. Simon felt more hopeful.

  “Have you been on this site long?”

  “No, just a few days, it’s all a bit odd somehow.”

  “The words ‘Senior’s Dating’ put me off a bit.” Simon risked a joke, “You haven’t got a zimmer frame, have you?” He suddenly felt anxious. What if she really did have a zimmer frame?

  Louise laughed, “No zimmer frame, just aching legs when I climb the three flights of stairs to my studio.”

  A second chat box opened. It was Philip.

  “Hello Louise, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed yesterday. I do hope we can do it again.”

  “Simon, I’m sorry, the phone’s ringing I have to go. My name is Louise by the way. I would like to chat again.”

  “Philip, yes lunch was delicious. Look sorry the phone is ringing, I can’t chat now. I’ll get back to you.”

  Louise came out of chat. She needed to learn how to cut off a conversation. You can only invent a certain number of phone calls.

  She got dressed, made a pot of coffee and began to paint… and think.

  Louise’s style of painting changed with her mood. This morning’s effort was a quickly executed flurry of autumn colours with a faint trace of distant blue hope. She stepped back and regarded the painting. She couldn’t decide if it was a complete mess or an example of spontaneous genius. She would revisit it later.

  After a swift sandwich in ‘The Ostrich’, she hurried back and wrote several drafts of a message to Philip, before clicking ‘send’.

  Dear Philip,

  It was lovely to meet you yesterday, and to hear all about your business and your plans for the future. The food in the restaurant was excellent, and it was very kind of you to insist on paying.

  As you know, I have only recently joined Senior’s Dating and I am still finding my feet. I don’t think I am ready yet to start a serious relationship, so it would be fairer to you, if we didn’t meet up again.

  I do hope you find a suitable match.

  With best wishes,

  Louise

  The reply came back quickly.

  Dear Louise,

  Thank you for your message. I am very disappointed, as I have always wanted to be seen with a slim blonde on my arm. However, I do understand.

  If ever you need the services of an estate agent, I would be more than happy to quote you beneficial terms.

  Kind regards,

  Philip

  Louise smiled. ‘I just might take you up on that offer, Philip Travers!’

  Louise clicked ‘disable contact’ by Philp’s name. She felt a bit mean, but was not prepared to take the chance of him popping up unexpectedly in the chat area. She noticed that Simon was online, and decided to risk further contact.

  “Sorry I cut you off suddenly this morning. The phone was only from a call centre, but, by the time I realised, it was too late… you had disappeared.”

  “I thought I might have upset you with my zimmer frame comment.”

  “Oh no, you made me laugh!”

  “Did you finish your painting?… How long does a painting take?”

  “Anything from five minutes to several years. Yes, I finished it.”

  “Are you pleased with it?”

  “I’m not sure. I can’t decide if it’s a masterpiece or a complete mess.”

  “You could send me a photo. I can’t paint at all, so I would think it was wonderful.”

  Louise began to like Simon’s online personality. He had a gentle humour which charmed her.

  “Louise, I realise this question is something of a cliché, but is it possible we’ve met before? Your photo looked familiar.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t recognise your photo, and my visual memory is pretty good. Perhaps you’ve seen me somewhere locally? You live in Battle, don’t you?”

  “Yes, do you go to Battle a lot?”

  “
Hardly ever, I’m afraid to say, but I do like Battle. It’s a beautiful town.” Louise tried to think where Simon might have seen her.

  “I live in Robertsbridge. I have a friend in Brighton who I often visit. My mum used to live in Fairlight.”

  Simon paused, “I’m thinking. No, I can’t think where I have seen you.” He struggled to continue the conversation. He didn’t want her to go, but neither did he want to appear too pushy.

  “What have you got planned for the rest of your day?”

  “Not much. I might ring my friend Gillian in Brighton… I’ve known Gillian since university. She’s gay, but I’m not, in case you were wondering.”

  Simon smiled. She was losing coherence, so there was just a chance she wanted to please him. He hoped she would be like this, if he got the chance to meet her.

  “So is there a queue?”

  “A queue for what?”

  “A queue for people who are allowed to phone you?”

  Louise was aware that he was starting to flirt with her. She felt a lift to her spirits.

  “I am an ex-teacher. You have to form an orderly line.”

  “Can I have your phone number, please, Miss?”

  “I’ll think about it,” and Louise playfully closed the conversation.

  Within a few minutes she had messaged Simon her home number. She expected the phone to ring straight away, but it didn’t. Instead another chat box opened.

  “Louise, I’ve just remembered where I saw you. You were walking away from a funeral in Fairlight. A man from your group came and spoke to me while he smoked a cigarette.”

  “Yes, that was me. And the man would be Karen’s husband, Michael. Karen is my cousin, though I used to call her Auntie Karen.”

  “Was it the funeral of someone close?”

  “My mother. She died four weeks ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. I miss her terribly. I am still sorting her bungalow.”

  “Can I ring you tonight?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The talk of a death had banished any further flirting. Simon tried to remember the willowy female shape which he had spotted in the distance close to Fairlight Church. He wondered if a mother’s passing felt different, if you were adopted.