by John Marrs
‘Well, let me change the subject,’ he said. ‘What made you do the Match Your DNA test?’
Amy looked him in the eye, clearly relieved to be back on a topic more suitable for a first date. ‘A lot of public sector workers like me take it because we don’t have time to enter the dating scene. It sounds quite mercenary, but it’s the best way of cutting out the middle man. You know, finding that person who’s meant for you without having to go through all the nutters to get there. And you?’
Christopher’s mind raced back to the books on relationships he’d highlighted with fluorescent marker pens, excerpts of what women wanted to hear from a prospective partner. He was quite convinced he’d already reeled Amy in by simply possessing the DNA that connected them, but whatever he said next needed to hit the right emotional note.
‘I joined to find the other half who would make me whole,’ he began, and held her gaze as the books instructed. ‘I wanted to meet the one who accepts me for who I am, who loves me for all my faults and my quirks, and who will be there by my side for whatever challenges come our way.’
Christopher tilted his head slightly to one side and shrugged, almost apologetically, as if to emphasise his sincerity. A peculiar feeling enveloped him for a second time, making his head feel woozy and his skin sensitive.
Suddenly the corners of Amy’s mouth began to waver and she laughed. ‘Are you serious?’ she giggled. ‘You sound like you’ve just read that from a self-help book.’
Christopher’s mask slipped and he felt something akin to embarrassment – one of many emotions he was aware existed but had rarely experienced. ‘Have I said something wrong?’ he asked, genuinely baffled.
‘No, no, oh God, oh God,’ Amy said. ‘You were being serious, weren’t you? Oh, I’m sorry, it just sounded a bit … cringe, that’s all.’
‘Oh,’ said Christopher, still muddled, questioning whether Amazon had been recommending him the right books.
Amy leaned forward and spoke quietly but confidently. ‘Look, Christopher, this is how I see it. You and I have been Matched, which means we don’t have to do all the things we did when we were dating other people. You don’t have to stand outside the restaurant window and be deliberately late to put me on edge, you don’t have to try to impress me by name dropping the posh part of London where you live, you don’t need to subtly inform me that the magazines you design aren’t for people like me and you certainly don’t need to choose the priciest wine on the menu. We can move straight to the getting-to-know-each-other part and seeing what happens without the games. And right now – and this may have something to do with hormones, chemistry or the three vodkas and one glass of wine I’ve just drunk – but I might explode if I don’t have sex with you very, very soon. Like, now, soon.’
Christopher was taken aback. He hadn’t met a straight-talking woman like Amy before; she was beginning to excite him and he wanted to know what made her tick. The fact she was a policewoman should have scared him off, but it had the opposite effect and he could feel himself becoming aroused by their cross-purposed interaction.
‘Um, of course,’ he answered, and beckoned the waitress for the bill. He paid in cash, like he always did, and within ten minutes they were driving back to her house.
Chapter 18
JADE
Jade removed the phone from her ear and glared at it in the palm of her hand, almost as if it were the phone that was the problem, and not the fact that her Match had just told her he didn’t want to see her.
She had travelled for almost two days from England and, as she stood at the top of his driveway readying herself to meet him, she’d wondered what the hell was going on.
She must have misheard him, she told herself, and called him back. When it went straight to voicemail, she called again. And once more, just in case.
‘WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?’ she texted in angry capital letters, and held the phone in front of her, waiting for a response. None came.
Jade felt the oppressive heat of the midday sun burning her exposed shoulders and neck, so she climbed back into her rental car and turned the air conditioning on full blast. She had travelled so far and Kevin was so close, there was no reason that she could see why he would reject her.
She contemplated the farm ahead, then turned over the car’s ignition, performed a U-turn and began to drive slowly along the highway back in the direction from which she had come. She felt hurt and humiliated.
Jade pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger to stop herself from crying. There must be an excuse, she thought: he was too nervous to face her and she’d backed him into a corner. She considered what her reaction might’ve been had Kevin suddenly turned up unannounced on her doorstep. (Bloody elated, she thought to herself, but then again, she knew that Kevin was a lot quieter than she was.) She had gone and put him in a very awkward position and he needed time to process. She would give him that and then try again later. She told herself off for her spontaneous stupidity and seethed at Shawna and Lucy for having encouraged her to go along with this ridiculous idea.
She drove in the direction of a town she’d passed some twenty miles back. Once there, she would check into a hotel. Later, maybe even tomorrow, she would text Kevin and talk him around.
Are you stupid? Jade suddenly thought to herself. She blinked hard and furrowed her brow. Why are you blaming yourself for this? Since when have you ever let a man make you question yourself? Kevin’s the one in the wrong here, not you.
Her mind raced as a whole other host of thoughts came to her mind, reasons why he might not want to see her. She had watched enough episodes of MTV’s Catfish to know that hopeful romantics are duped all the time online by people pretending to be someone they’re not. Maybe Kevin was actually a woman putting on a deep voice when they spoke, or maybe he was old enough to be her father and hadn’t wanted to say? Or perhaps he didn’t live with his parents on the farm but with his wife instead?
That must be it. Kevin was married and that’s why he hadn’t wanted to Skype or FaceTime, in case his wife caught him. And he was probably talking to Jade on a secret, second phone his wife had no idea he owned.
Maybe he had a child too, or even several children with several wives, like the TV shows she’d watched about polygamists. After all her gloating that Kevin was different to all the scumbags Lucy and Shawna dated, it turned out that he was just the same. She punched the steering wheel in frustration.
The more thought Jade gave it, the more credible her theories became and, in turn, she became even more furious. What a nice cosy set up Kevin had with his loved ones here in Australia and a girlfriend he would string along in another country. As long as he was cautious, how could he ever get caught out? It wasn’t like his Match would travel to the other side of the world and turn up at his house out of the blue, was it?
‘She sure as hell would,’ Jade muttered, feeling her temperature rise alongside her confidence. She jammed on the car’s brakes and skidded to a halt, and after another hasty U-turn she was speeding back towards the farm, then down the dirt track towards the white buildings ahead, spitting gravel and dry earth in her wake.
The white wooden single-storey farmhouse with the silver corrugated iron roof sprawled out in several directions ahead of her. A handful of cars and trucks were parked in front of it, their windows wound down but empty. For a farm, and a dusty one at that, everything looked surprisingly clean and polished, and not as impoverished as Kevin had her believe. A hosepipe lay next to a row of colourful flowers planted in pots. There were more hanging from baskets attached to eaves. Jade was certain the place had a woman’s touch, but there were no swings or slides or children’s toys that she could see, so maybe the Williamsons hadn’t started a family yet.
Several hundred metres away, she could hear the cattle braying in a huge shed and, way into the distance, she thought she could just about make out a large flock of sheep so small, they looked like tumbleweed glued to a painting of the horizon.
; Jade turned to face the house and didn’t even need to take a deep breath before marching towards the porch door, clueless as to what she was going to say but determined to make her mark regardless. She rapped the knocker until she heard footsteps shuffling inside. Eventually the door opened and a face appeared.
The man standing before her looked just like her Match, but she knew what she felt in her gut was true.
‘You’re not Kevin,’ she began, and took two steps backwards.
Chapter 19
NICK
‘Very funny, who am I really Matched with?’ Nick asked.
‘I’m not joking. Look here.’ She held out the phone so he could read. ‘It says “Nicholas Wallsworth. Your designated Match is Alexander, male, Birmingham, England. Please see instructions below to discover how to access their complete profile.”’
‘Give me that,’ Nick said, and snatched the phone from her hand, unamused by her prank. But when he read the email himself, he realised Sally wasn’t kidding.
‘You’re gay!’ She laughed. ‘My boyfriend, strike that, my fiancé is gay!’
Nick re-read the email then put his phone down on the kitchen counter. ‘This is bollocks,’ he said. ‘They’ve either made a mistake or someone is having a laugh at my expense.’
‘Well, it’s 99.9999997 per cent accurate, which is far more reliable than a lie detector test.’
‘Well, then, there’s still margin for error, and if there’s margin for error then errors must theoretically be possible. And this is the proof that an almighty fucking error has been made.’
‘Babe, don’t get angry,’ Sally said, stifling her laughter. ‘But that would make you the first person in the world to be mis-Matched – the only person out of about one-and-a-half billion who’ve registered. I think you need to face facts, my darling, you are a gentleman who enjoys the company of other like-minded gentlemen.’
‘Oh, be quiet, Sal.’ Nick was becoming irritated. ‘This Match Your DNA crap is just a money-making scam, otherwise they wouldn’t charge you a tenner to tell you who you’ve been Matched with. Horoscopes are more credible than this.’
‘Hey, it’s not a problem,’ Sally teased. ‘I’ve always wanted a gay BFF and it turns out I’m about to marry mine.’
Nick rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not gay, all right?’
‘Bisexual then? I don’t have a problem with that. You know I had my moments with girls when I was in uni.’
‘I think I’d have known about it by now if I were. You don’t just get to the age of twenty-seven without a single moment of attraction to another man and then suddenly you’re bisexual or gay because you’ve licked a cotton bud and a test says you are.’
‘I didn’t realise you were so homophobic.’
‘I’m not! Believe me, if I were one or the other, you and I would not be living together and about to get married. It’d open up a new world of opportunities for me and I’d be out there trying to stick my dick in a whole load of new places.’
‘You’re taking this very seriously.’
‘I just don’t want you thinking that I’m a secret closet case, because that’d mean our whole relationship was a lie. And this is the most honest relationship I’ve ever been in.’
‘Oh honey, come here, I’m only teasing,’ Sally said. ‘I don’t think you’re gay, but you must admit, it’s kind of amusing. You’re like that old R. Kelly song … “your mind’s telling you no, but your body—”’
‘You are not funny.’ Nick topped up Sally’s glass with wine and took a large gulp himself.
‘Well, I don’t know how else to react other than to joke about it, because apparently we are not destined to be together. And while the man of my dreams has yet to make himself known, the man of your dreams could be living in the next street to us. He lives in Birmingham too. What kind of strange coincidence is that? We may even already know him …’
‘Don’t be silly. And there is no “man of my dreams” …’
‘Not according to the email …’
Nick rolled his eyes.
‘Shall we see if we can find him on Facebook?’ Sally continued.
‘What?’
‘Come on, let’s see if I can find my competition.’
‘No, I don’t want to.’
‘Are you scared you might develop a little bit of a crush on your future husband?’
Nick shook his head. ‘Look, we don’t even know his surname.’
Sally took the phone from his hand and within three swipes of the keypad, paid the £9.99 required for more details. ‘Name: Alexander Landers Carmichael,’ she read out loud. ‘Age: thirty-two. Occupation: physiotherapist. Eyes: grey – like mine. Hair: dark – like mine.’ She smiled. ‘Height, five foot eight – again, like me. Babe, you do have a type, don’t you? He sounds like my double.’
‘With three exceptions – two breasts and a vagina.’
‘That should be enough information to find him on Facebook.’
‘I don’t really think I want to—’
‘Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.’
Sally typed in Alexander’s name and scrolled down through the list of postage-stamp-sized pictures that appeared. ‘What are the chances of there being four Alexander Carmichaels in the Birmingham area? I’ll use his middle name as well – there can’t be that many Landers.’
‘Just the one it seems,’ Nick replied, pointing at the screen.
They simultaneously squinted at the thumbnail photograph and Sally tried to click on to his profile. However, Alexander Carmichael’s privacy settings wouldn’t enable anyone who wasn’t his friend to look any further. But even from the small picture, both recognised he was a handsome man. His lantern jaw sported dark stubble, his hair had a slight curl and touched his collar, his lips were full and his eyes were wide and warm.
‘I’ve got to hand it to you, babe,’ Sally said. ‘Your DNA has really good taste in men.’
Chapter 20
ELLIE
Andrei opened the car door for Ellie and she followed him along the canal towpath and into the building ahead.
‘You don’t have to come inside, I’m sure it’ll be OK,’ she told him, fairly sure there was little danger lying in wait for her in the provincial pub.
‘This is what you pay me for,’ Andrei replied in his husky Eastern European accent, and went inside to scout the room regardless. Throughout his three years in her employment, he had proven he was worth his weight in gold, having taken punches and even a broken bottle thrust into his chest for her. Ellie turned her head to see the other two members of her security detail in a car parked behind the one she’d arrived in.
‘OK,’ she conceded, ‘but don’t let him see you. Be subtle, I don’t want you scaring him off.’
‘Subtle is my middle name,’ the six-foot-five-inch hulk replied, his tongue placed firmly in his cheek.
Once given the all-clear via text, Ellie entered the Globe country pub in Leighton Buzzard and glanced around with trepidation. Back in her early post-university days she’d often frequent similar pubs to take advantage of their cheap Sunday lunches with all the trimmings. It had reminded her of home. Now when she went out of an evening, it was all pompous wine bars, exclusive members-only clubs and grandiose dining.
She spotted her DNA Match sitting alone at a two-seater table with a partially drunk pint glass in front of him. Tim too looked anxious, as his eyes flitted around the pub until they met Ellie’s. Ellie hoped he hadn’t recognised her from the newspapers. She’d deliberately dressed down in a casual pair of jeans and blouse and had tied her hair back. She’d kept her make-up to a minimum and left her expensive jewellery in the safe at home.
A broad grin spread across Tim’s face as he waved. As she arrived at the table, he stood up to shake her hand, drew her in close and gave a peck on the cheek. She went for a second kiss on the other cheek, but caught him clean on the nose instead. Both laughed and after the initial introductions and pleasantries, Tim went to the bar to get he
r a drink. He returned to the table with her Hendrick’s gin and tonic and a second beer for himself in his hands. Two packets of salt and vinegar crisps dangled from his mouth.
‘Sorry, but I’m starving,’ he said, dropping them on to the table. ‘I’ve got a massive workload on so I came straight from work and skipped my dinner. Help yourself.’ He opened up one packet and offered her some.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled, and took a couple of crisps to be polite. She could picture the horrified expression on her personal trainer’s face if he were to witness her eating carbs after 6pm.
The conversation between them flowed just as easily as it had by text message, as if they were two old friends who hadn’t seen each other for some time and who were picking up where they’d last left off. They swapped stories about their dreadful dating histories, Tim tried to convince her that Quentin Tarantino was the greatest film director of all time while Ellie extolled the virtues of a macrobiotic diet. They shared barely any interests, but neither seemed concerned. He spoke about his work as a freelance systems analyst and computer programmer, while she told him she was a personal assistant to a CEO in London. She was too scared she would intimidate him if she revealed her real job, and was so convincing about her role that she began to believe her own mistruths.
‘So do you believe in this Match Your DNA thing?’ asked Tim, a few hours into their date.
‘Yes. I take it from your tone you’re not convinced?’
‘I’m not going to lie, I was a bit unsure at first,’ he said, ‘and I only signed up because one of my mates convinced me to. Now he’s pissed off because he still doesn’t have a Match after two months and I found you within a week. But even then, I wasn’t sure if it was the real deal – it sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it? That there’s only one person in the world who’s, like, really, completely, linked to you through your DNA and who you’re supposed to fall head over heels in love with … But then you walked into the pub and I thought my stomach had just fallen out of my arse.’