Perfect Match

by Zoe May

  ‘I missed you too, sweetheart. Now come in,’ she says, beckoning me inside.

  As I walk into the hallway, I can’t help noticing a few cobwebs, which have collected dust along the ceiling.

  ‘I got all your favourite things,’ Lyn says, as she opens the door to the living room, where the TV is already on.

  I take in the goodies on her coffee table: Thorntons chocolates, Jaffa Cakes, Hobnobs, jam roly-poly cake, pink wafers, lemon sherbets and Haribo. The lava lamp is on, the wax molten rising and falling in gloopy blobs. The glitter ball makes the room dazzle and after a couple of weeks away, I couldn’t be happier to be back.

  ‘Oh wow, Lyn!’

  She smiles, her eyes twinkling. ‘Tuck in, love!’

  ‘Is it my birthday or something?’ I joke as I sit down and reach for the Thorntons.

  ‘Nah, I just felt like treating ya, didn’t I?’ Lyn says, looking pleased with my reaction as she carefully lowers herself into her chair before straightening up her quilted gilet.

  ‘Oh, thanks Lyn. You shouldn’t have, but thanks.’

  She shrugs. ‘It’s nothing,’ she says but I really am touched.

  I pull open the Thorntons and pretend to inspect the chocolates menu inside for a moment just because Lyn and I don’t really do emotion. I don’t think it’s very ‘East End’ and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable even though I know she’s gone to a lot of effort.

  ‘So, tell me all your news,’ Lyn says, pointing the remote at the TV to turn it down. ‘Where’ve you been, eh?’

  ‘You won’t believe it if I tell you!’

  ‘Oh,’ Lyn laughs wickedly. ‘Try me, love!’

  ‘I’ve been at the Shard,’ I tell her, before biting off half a chocolate.

  ‘Oh yeah…’ Lyn doesn’t sound too impressed.

  ‘Not, like, visiting, I’ve actually been staying there! Living there!’

  ‘What’s that you’re eating?’ Lyn asks, eyeing my chocolate.

  ‘It’s… Umm…’ I glance at the menu. ‘Crunchy Praline. It’s good.’

  ‘Pass it over.’ Lyn gestures towards the box, finds a Crunchy Praline chocolate and hands the tray back to me.

  ‘So, what do you mean you’ve been staying at the Shard? How’d you afford that, then? Don’t tell me you’re selling yourself, are you?’ She asks as she nibbles her chocolate.

  ‘Well, not quite…’ I trail off, thinking, as I select another chocolate.

  I mean, Daniel does pay for everything, he does buy me a lot of gifts, and we do have sex a lot, but that’s not prostitution, is it? It’s just a totally financially imbalanced relationship; it’s fine.

  ‘You’re not a prossie, are you, Sophia?’ Lyn asks in a rapt, conspiratorial tone. ‘You are looking a bit different, actually, with them clothes. You are, aren’t you?’ she asks excitedly.

  ‘No! No! I’m not a prostitute!’ I insist.

  ‘Oh…’ Lyn deflates a little. She was no doubt hoping for her own one-to-one Secret Diary of a Call Girl-style gossip session.

  ‘I’m just seeing this guy who lives at the Shard,’ I tell her.

  ‘What you chatting about – “guy who lives up the Shard”? I thought you said you weren’t doing prostitution?’

  ‘I’m not!’ I cry. ‘He’s my boyfriend. We just met!’ I insist, exasperatedly.

  ‘Just met!’ Lyn scoffs. ‘Yeah, ‘cause I just met Warren Buffet down the laundrette. I just ran into him, I did.’

  I can’t help giggling. ‘No, seriously!’ I tell her the whole story and she listens intently, with a curious expression of cynicism and intrigue.

  ‘And you’re sure he’s not some kind of… I dunno… Weirdo? One of them fifty shades types?’ Lyn asks, reaching for the Jaffa Cakes.

  ‘Oooh! Maybe…’ I grin naughtily as Lyn tears open the pack.

  ‘You don’t want him tying you up in his red room of whatever it is, Sophia, even if it is at the top of the Shard,’ she says, taking a Jaffa Cake before passing me the pack.

  An image flashes through my mind of Daniel spanking me in a darkened room, and it isn’t entirely unpleasant. I pull myself back to the present and reach for the pack of Hobnobs instead.

  ‘Let me show you a photo, Lyn. You won’t believe what he looks like!’

  I get my phone out of my bag, choose my favourite photo of Daniel: the one I took of him when we were at South Bank and the sun was setting in the distance.

  Lyn takes a quick look at it. ‘Pretty boy,’ she tuts, handing the phone back to me and reaching for another Hobnob.

  ‘But Lyn, look at him,’ I whine, shoving my phone towards her. I know it’s bad, but I’d kind of hoped that after the disappointing way Daniel left the party last night that I might be able reignite my enthusiasm for him by telling Lyn about our relationship, but she’s not even interested.

  ‘I am lookin’ she says. ‘He’s a pretty boy, ain’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, but…’ I slump a bit. Pretty boy?! Louis Tomlinson is a pretty boy, Joey Essex is a pretty boy, Justin Bieber is a pretty boy, but this is Daniel. Everyone can see that Daniel is way more than just a pretty boy. Daniel’s a beauty boy. A beauty man… A beautiful man, come to think of it. I try a different tack.

  ‘Don’t you think he looks like that actor, from Twilight?’ I ask, holding my phone near her face. Lyn flicks her eyes towards it.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Robert Pattinson, from Twilight…’

  ‘I don’t know none of that shit,’ Lyn scoffs. ‘Twilight,’ she tuts, batting my phone away. ‘That stuff’s for kids, ain’t it? He’s a pretty boy.’

  ‘Hmmphh…’ I give up and put my phone aside, grabbing a handful of Haribo instead.

  Lyn leans forward and starts cutting the chocolate cake. I shove a few Haribo into my mouth, feeling a bit let down. I suspect Lyn probably also feels a bit disappointed that I’m not a prostitute.

  ‘So, what’s my Lyn been up to?’ I ask, changing the subject, as Lyn cuts off a piece of jam roly-poly.

  She tells me the latest news about ‘our Marg’ and ‘our Charlie’, and how the three of them spent an evening hanging out in the hot tub in the garden. She mentions how Tom’s been popping over a fair bit but fortunately, he doesn’t seem to have given anything away about the party and Lyn still seems completely oblivious. In fact, as usual, she’s completely preoccupied with his love life.

  ‘Can’t find a nice girl. I don’t understand it.’ She shakes her head. ‘He’s a handsome lad, ain’t he?’

  ‘Definitely.’ I nod, a little too enthusiastically. I really need to work on my lying skills.

  ‘He says he’s happy on his own, but I ain’t havin’ none of it. I keep tellin’ him, he ain’t getting any younger. He needs to find someone. He needs to settle down,’ Lyn insists. ‘Me and my Alfie, we’d been together 15 years by his age. Who’s gonna take care of him when he gets old? Who?’

  ‘Lyn, I’m sure he can take care of himself,’ I point out, not wanting to mention that I’m pretty sure Tom’s gay and just hasn’t come out of the closet yet.

  ‘Nah, but when he’s older. Frail, like. Who’s gonna take care of him then?’

  ‘You’re older, Lyn and you don’t need anyone to take care of you!’

  Lyn scoffs. ‘I had Alfie all them years. And you don’t know my Tom. He likes to be looked after, that lad. He don’t like to be alone.’

  I smile sadly, knowing the feeling.

  ‘You two should give it a shot, you know,’ Lyn says, through a mouthful of cake. ‘You get on alright.’

  Sometimes I think that when Lyn was young, all you really needed in order to marry someone was just to ‘get on alright’. As long as you got on alright, it didn’t matter about all the other stuff – a spark, sex appeal, a good job, status. People just married the mates of their mates, they didn’t hold out for Mr or Miss Right, thinking they were one swipe away from perfection. Lyn and Alfie just got on alright and then built a loving relationship based on respect an
d companionship rather than fireworks. The stuff that bonded them wasn’t a mutual interest in travelling or jogging or any of the other clichéd crap people bang on about on dating sites, they just got on alright, and the life they built together became their mutual interest.

  ‘Lyn! I have a boyfriend now, remember?’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘Your posh pretty boy, eh? My Tom may not be rich but he’s got a good heart, Sophia. People can lose their money overnight. You gotta find someone with a good heart,’ she tells me.

  ‘Daniel has a good heart!’ I insist brightly.

  ‘Hmmm…’ Lyn places a piece of cake onto my plate.

  Suddenly my phone buzzes.

  ‘Oh, that’s him.’ I quickly read the text.

  Just heading to Windsor Gatehouse, sure you don’t want to join? Xx

  ‘Oh my God, Windsor Gatehouse!’

  ‘You what?’ Lyn chips in.

  ‘Daniel’s going to Windsor Gatehouse, you know, that fancy restaurant where all the celebs hang out?’

  Lyn looks blank.

  ‘One sec, Lyn.’ I quickly type a reply.

  Can’t, catching up with Lyn. Maybe we can go next week? Have a good time. Miss you x

  I put my phone back down. ‘Sorry, Lyn.’

  ‘You sure you don’t wanna go with him?’ Lyn asks, looking a little uneasy as she cuts another slice of cake.

  ‘No, are you serious?!’ I look at her pretty face, the table full of treats, the flat screen TV. Much as I’d love to check out Windsor Gatehouse (I mean, who wouldn’t?), there’s honestly nowhere I’d rather be right now than with Lyn in her cosy front room.

  ‘I’ve missed you, Lyn,’ I tell her, meaning it.

  ‘I’ve missed you too, love,’ she says.

  My phone buzzes with another text from Daniel. Sure, Monday? Xx

  Perfect.x, I quickly type back before Lyn and I settle down to watch Come Dine With Me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Looking good, Sophia,’ Ted says, nodding approvingly as he flicks through my latest paper, which I spend five hours editing last night to make up for having been a bit off my game at work recently.

  ‘Thanks, Ted,’ I feel a small swell of pride, before quickly checking myself. The day I start taking pride in this job is the day I can officially declare my true writing ambitions dead.

  Ted leans back in his chair, scanning the pages.

  ‘You must have been working on this over the weekend,’ he observes.

  ‘Well, yes, you know…’ I give a little shrug, as if it’s nothing to me to spend Sunday night working on obscure medical research papers. ‘I just wanted to do a good job,’ I tell him, nobly.

  ‘Well, I’m glad,’ Ted says, flicking through. ‘It’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into this. It’s looking nice. Very pristine.’

  ‘Great!’ I smile politely, while inwardly cringing. I always find it a bit cringeworthy the way Ted describes my copy as ‘pristine’ or ‘clean’ – another favourite of his, as if my writing is some sort of fancy bathroom.

  Ted looks at his watch; it must be around 11am as I spent the morning finishing it off.

  ‘Take an early lunch, if you like,’ Ted says. ‘And I’ll go over this.’

  Suddenly my mood does actually lift. Lunch! Now he’s talking.

  I head over to Sandra’s desk and convince her to take a break from her latest fungal research tour de force. But before we leave, she quickly checks Betsy on the webcam.

  ‘God, she’s huge,’ I gasp, taking in Betsy’s rotund body. She’s so heavily pregnant that her little hamster feet no longer reach the ground, they just protrude from the sides of her furry body.

  ‘Any time now!’ Sandra says. ‘She’s really swollen up. Poor thing.’

  Sandra strokes her computer screen, as if Betsy will somehow be able to sense her touch. I try not to laugh.

  As we walk to the cafe, Sandra fills me in on all the details of Betsy’s pregnancy. We pay for our food and while we’re settling down at a table at the back, I check my phone. A picture message has come through from Daniel of one of his designers looking forlorn. It’s captioned: News about the cabinet didn’t go down well!. I send a sad face emoji and a laughing one, followed by a snap of my sandwich with the text: From boring cafes to Windsor Gatehouse! Excited about tonight! x I click send, picturing me and Daniel stumbling merrily out of the Windsor Gatehouse later this evening. Perhaps there’ll be paps waiting, and they’ll think he’s Robert Pattinson and our photos will end up in the papers. Maybe I’ll be in tomorrow’s Metro!

  I’m just about to tear open my sandwich, when I spot Chris through the window walking hand-in-hand with that girl. That beautiful Victoria’s Secret model-esque girl I spotted him in here with a few weeks ago. Is she the girl Chris is dating?! The figurine-painting girl from his work who likes listening to battle games chat. She leans close, slipping her hand casually under his suit jacket as they approach the café.

  ‘Oh God,’ I mutter, realising they’re coming into the cafe.

  ‘What?’ Sandra looks up from stirring her soup.

  ‘It’s Chris.’

  ‘Oh! Chris!’ Sandra casts her eyes around the café looking for him, before spotting him and Victoria’s Secret girl come in.

  ‘Chris,’ she calls out, but he doesn’t hear her over the hubbub.

  ‘Leave it, Sandra! He’s with a girl. Let’s just leave them be.’ I laugh awkwardly, while finally ripping my sandwich open.

  I know my advice is good, but wow! In the space of two weeks since I last saw Chris, it looks like he’s laid down some serious moves. He never told me how their dinner date went at that cute place with the gingham tablecloths he messaged me about, and if I’m honest, I was so wrapped up in my bubble with Daniel at the top of the Shard that I didn’t really give it much thought.

  I take a bite of my sandwich as Chris pays for his lunch at the counter. He seems to be buying the girl’s as well, but after he’s paid, she takes her drink from the barista, grabs her sandwich from the tray Chris is holding and then they move away from the queue and just sort of linger by the door.

  ‘What’s up?’ Sandra asks, as I take another mechanical bite of my sandwich, while looking over.

  ‘Nothing,’ I reply. ‘Just curious.’

  The girl plants a kiss on Chris’ lips and he smiles, laughs at something and leans in to kiss her again. They kiss tenderly, oblivious to everyone else bustling around them, until eventually the girl turns to leave, cup and sandwich in hand.

  ‘He’s on his own,’ I observe flatly.

  Sandra looks up from her soup.

  ‘Shall I call him over?’ she asks, before she calls his name across the café anyway.

  Chris turns and scans the tables, looking a little confused until his eyes land on us and his face lights up. He does that crinkly smile, before carrying his tray over.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, as he approaches.

  I get up and give him a quick hug.

  ‘Hey. Long time, no see!’ I blurt out, without thinking, as if he and I are used to seeing each other all the time. Not the mention the fact that it’s only been a few weeks since I last saw him.

  Fortunately, Chris doesn’t seem phased. ‘Yeah, sorry about that. Work got crazy and I’ve been dating my arse off too, thanks to you!’

  I laugh awkwardly, before Chris turns to say hello to Sandra.

  We rearrange our trays to make space for him and he sits down to join us.

  ‘So! Hard to miss you and your new girlfriend over there,’ I comment in a tone that was meant to be jokey, but comes out unintentionally bitter. Sandra shoots me an odd look and I can’t help wondering what’s wrong with me. Am I into Chris now that I’ve seen him with a hot girl? Am I just as shallow as Eugene Onegin, who rejected Tatyana when she was a nobody only to decide he wanted her later when she was married to a prince?

  ‘Oh!’ Chris laughs, and a faint blush in spreads across his cheeks. ‘Bit of a PDA? Sorry about that!’r />
  ‘No, I mean, good for you! It’s great! You guys look so… happy! Loved-up. I mean, it looks like things are going really well! Haha!’ I ramble on.

  I take a sip of my coffee, cursing myself. What’s wrong with me? Why am I acting so weird?

  ‘Things are going surprisingly well actually!’ Chris says. ‘Do you know what?’ He unscrews the cap of his drink. ‘She said one of the things she liked about me was that I seemed genuinely interested in her! She said it was refreshing to date a guy who actually asked her questions rather than just spoke about himself the whole time.’

  He gives me a nudge. ‘That’s thanks to you, Sophia!’

  I smile. ‘Great! Ha! Glad to be of service,’ I trill awkwardly, before rearranging a piece of wayward lettuce back into my sandwich.

  ‘So, you two are official?’ Sandra asks.

  ‘Yes!’ Chris replies, his eyes wide, as if he doesn’t quite believe it. ‘We discussed it last weekend. She said she doesn’t want to date anyone else so we agreed to be “exclusive,”’ he says, doing air quotes.

  ‘Oh, wonderful! Congratulations!’ Sandra gushes, ever the romantic. ‘Was she not staying for lunch?’

  Chris explains something about a big restructuring project that his girlfriend, Laura, is working flat-out on, meaning she had to rush back to the office.

  ‘Yeah, I barely get to see her at work. She’s in meetings pretty much back to back,’ he sighs, taking a bite of his wrap.

  ‘That sucks.’ I take a sip of my coffee.

  Chris shrugs. ‘So, how are things with you guys?’

  Sandra jumps in, telling him about Betsy and her pregnancy.

  ‘She’s ready to pop!’ Sandra tells him, a look of worry passing over her features. She’s no doubt dying to get back to the office so she can check to see how Betsy’s doing on the webcam.

  ‘Oh, dear. What’s the gestation period for hamsters? I know for mice, it’s around 20 days, but is it the same for hamsters?’ Chris leans closer, looking genuinely fascinated.

  ‘Well it varies according to hamster type,’ Sandra explains. ‘Besty’s a Roborovski hamster and their gestation period is 22 days - a few days longer than a mouse’s. Betsy’s been pregnant for 21 days now so really, she’s due any minute.’