by John Marrs
Nick took a deep breath and took Sally’s face in his hands and kissed her deeply on the lips. While outwardly he was giving the appearance of not caring to meet his Match, inside Nick had a growing curiosity about the man he supposedly shared a link with.
‘Well, let’s get this over with.’ He sighed.
‘I’ll be in the Costa over the road when you’re done.’
Nick gave her a half-hearted smile, pressed the buzzer on the door, and once it opened, made his way up three flights of stairs to the reception desk.
‘Hi.’ He smiled nervously at the young receptionist who had a tattoo of a rose on her hand. ‘I’ve got an appointment with Alexander at 2.30.’
‘David Smith?’ she asked, glancing at the schedule on her screen. Nick nodded, pleased he’d changed his name. If Alexander had also requested the contact details of his pairing, Nick hadn’t wanted to forewarn him they were about to meet face to face. ‘You need some physio on your neck and shoulder, is that right?’ she continued.
‘Yes.’
‘OK, just fill out this form and Alex will be with you in a few minutes.’
Nick sank into an armchair and began to complete the brief questionnaire about his bogus ailment. Along with his name, he’d also made up the whiplash he’d received in a recent non-existent car accident.
‘David?’ A deep but friendly voice with an accent Nick couldn’t quite place came from behind him. Nick turned to find a smiling Alexander standing in the doorway.
‘Y-yes,’ Nick stammered.
‘I’m Alex,’ he began and held out his hand to shake Nick’s. ‘Come in and let’s take a look at you.’
Nick followed him into a room and perched on the physiotherapy bed as Alex sat on a fold-up chair opposite.
‘So, tell me about the pain and what caused it,’ Alex asked.
As Nick began, he hoped Alex wouldn’t ask him to go into any further detail about the accident as that was as far as he’d rehearsed his lie. But instead, Alex ran through some general questions about Nick’s health and work habits while Nick tried his best not to stare. Even Nick could admit that, like his photo had indicated, Alex was incredibly good-looking.
‘Right, if you want to take your T-shirt off for me and lie down face up,’ Alex said, and squirted some sanitiser into his hands. Nick suddenly felt very scrawny compared to Alex’s broad chest, which burst from his V-neck T-shirt.
‘I’m just going to feel around your neck and shoulders for a moment,’ Alex explained and stood behind him.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, Nick thought to himself, bracing himself for Alex’s touch, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him, like his nipples standing to attention or his penis twitching. He reminded himself that when he was drunk he’d often embrace his male friends and it’d never sparked a sexual reaction before. He closed his eyes and prayed as Alex’s hands made contact with his shoulders. And then … nothing. All he felt were Alex’s fingers poking around, digging into knots, manipulating his neck into different positions and requesting him to tilt it in various directions. Nick breathed a sigh of relief.
He turned around and lay face down upon the bed at Alex’s request, putting his face through a hole and Alex’s hands made his way down his patient’s spine, aligning certain vertebrae with an audible crack where necessary. Despite the occasional moment of discomfort, Nick felt relaxed enough to make small talk.
‘So, are you an Aussie?’
‘No, a Kiwi. I’m from New Zealand.’
‘Ah, how long have you been over here?’
‘About twenty months or so, although my visa’s running out. My old man’s not doing so good so I’m heading home soon.’
‘Oh, sorry to hear that. Are you going back for good?’
‘That’s the idea. We’re just in the process of sorting out my girlfriend’s permit to work in New Zealand. She’s a Brit.’
He has a girlfriend, he’s not gay, thought Nick, reassured that they were in the same boat. The same, straight, positively heterosexual, boat.
As Alex continued to manipulate and manoeuvre his way around Nick’s shoulders and neck, they made small talk about work and where they socialised. Nick learned that they occasionally frequented the same bars, but had little else in common. Alex was the sporty type, playing amateur rugby most weekends – he’d proudly displayed a photo of his team, Solihull Rugby Club, on the wall of his office – or spending time away with his girlfriend fell walking or rock climbing. The closest Nick came to exercise was running for a bus when he’d overslept.
‘Right, mate, that should just about do you for today,’ said Alex. ‘You were a bit knotted but it wasn’t too bad back there. Give it another week and, if the symptoms persist, make another appointment to come and see me.’
‘Great, thank you,’ replied Nick, throwing on his T-shirt and jacket. As he got to his feet feeling a little light-headed, he spotted Sally through the window, three floors below in the coffee shop. He smiled to himself, reassured that this hiccup hadn’t spoiled their plans. The person he was destined to spend the rest of his life with was sitting on the opposite side of the road, and not standing in the same room as him.
After shaking hands, Nick made his way towards the reception desk. He held his phone up to the machine scanner to pay, realising how foolish he’d been for even worrying about the possibility of being gay. This was proof, he told himself, that the DNA tests were a con.
He glanced towards the treatment room just as Alex turned his head. And suddenly, as their eyes made contact, Nick felt himself take a sharp, involuntarily gasp of breath. His heart began to beat wildly and he could feel his eyes widen. His stomach felt like it was about to turn over, and by the look of sudden bewilderment on Alex’s face, he could tell he was feeling exactly the same thing.
‘Here’s your receipt.’ The receptionist smiled, breaking Nick free from the spell. He hurried down the stairs and out of the building in a panic.
He stood on the pavement for a moment, leaning against the wall and hoping the gentle summer breeze might cool down his flushed face. What the hell was that? he asked himself.
When his sharp, shallow breaths gradually became deeper and his heartbeat began to self-regulate again, he made his way towards Sally.
‘Well? How was it?’ she asked anxiously, as he sat himself down on a stool beside her.
‘Yeah, fine, but he’s not my type.’ Nick smiled, and forced himself to laugh.
‘So I’m not about to lose my fiancé to a man?’
By the tone of her voice it sounded like she was trying to make a joke, but he could tell her question was genuine.
‘Did you honestly think that might be the case?’
‘No. Well, maybe. A little. Yes.’
‘Of course not,’ he said reassuringly, comforting her with a peck to her forehead. As she stretched her arms out and wrapped them tightly around him, Nick’s eyes glanced across the road and up three storeys to the clinic, where he knew he’d left his heart.
Chapter 25
ELLIE
There must be something wrong with him, Ellie thought to herself, as she read another of Tim’s text messages.
Barely an hour of their waking days passed without one sending the other a message. At the vibration of the phone in her pocket she would will meetings to move faster just so that she could read what he had to say next. She’d already cast aside her pay-as-you-go phone number and given him her private contact details, and while there’d been no instant physical attraction to Tim when they’d met at the pub days earlier, there was definitely something about his presence that she found endearing.
Tim had been self-deprecating about his choice of a career as a systems analyst – ‘dull as hell’ is the expression he’d used – while Ellie was more ambiguous about hers. She’d informed him she worked for a large company in the City, but when he inquired specifically what the firm did, she was deliberately vague, informing him it had something to do with economics and had left it at that
. She knew if their friendship were to flourish into something more, she couldn’t lie to him forever. But for the time being, she enjoyed pretending to be a regular person and hoped he’d not ruin it by looking her up online.
It had been an age since Ellie had taken any real notice of a man, after a long line of disappointments. Her last few dates were only interested in using her as a networking opportunity or as someone to pitch potential business investments to. Others, be they on dates one, two, three or four, inevitably found a way to bring up the subject of her wealth. It was an instant turn-off when she realised their own insecurities had left them in fear of being emasculated by her, and it turned out that many men believed an independent, rich and attractive woman like herself was a threat who required controlling.
Back in her twenties, Ellie believed she could fall head over heels for someone even if she hadn’t been Matched with them. After all, it’d been happening for thousands of years before the gene had been detected. But as time marched on and she passed the threshold of her thirties, she’d lost faith that she could ever find common ground with somebody who was not genetically Matched to her. She’d experienced sparks on dates but they’d always fizzled out after she’d learned their true intentions. She found herself wondering what Tim’s angle was and now she was trying to find fault, becoming almost disappointed when there was nothing about him to criticise.
‘I’m going to be working in London on Tuesday. Do you fancy joining me for dinner before I get the last train home?’ Tim texted.
‘Yes, that’d be lovely,’ she replied and felt a rush of warmth inside.
While she had yet to experience that immediate love that 92 per cent of Matches reported experiencing within the first forty-eight hours, Ellie still felt that Tim was something special. No two couples were the same and, in some cases, all-consuming love could take weeks, so she wasn’t worried. The longer she spent in his company, the more she would feel herself thaw.
But whether he was special enough to reveal her secret to, she had yet to decide.
Chapter 26
MANDY
The front door to the modest detached house that Richard had once called home opened as soon as Mandy set foot on the driveway.
Chloe stood in the porch, a beaming smile across her face. This was a very different version of the suspicious woman Mandy had crossed paths with at the memorial service.
‘Come in, come in,’ Chloe ushered, and Mandy nervously followed her through the hallway and into an open-plan kitchen. A woman she recognised from the church was perched on a stool by the breakfast bar. There wasn’t a lot of resemblance between the siblings, or mother and son for that matter, but there was something about the way they looked at each other that somehow told Mandy she was supposed to have been a part of this family. She could feel the pull of her Match even here.
Behind the frames of the woman’s glasses were the eyes of a grieving mother who was still coming to terms with the loss of her child. Mandy held her hand out to shake hers, but instead, the woman grabbed her by the shoulders and held her in a tight embrace. ‘Thank you so much for agreeing to come,’ she whispered in her ear.
‘OK, Mum, you can let go of her now. Mandy, this is our mum, Patricia,’ Chloe said.
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ said Mandy.
‘And you, and call me Pat,’ she replied, looking her son’s Match up and down. ‘Richard would have just adored you!’
Mandy felt herself blush.
‘Look at her, Chloe. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’
Chloe nodded from the other side of the breakfast bar where she was preparing their cups of tea. Mandy glanced around the kitchen and dining room, looking at the family photographs which covered the top of a sideboard. Pinned to a cork noticeboard was an order of service she recognised from Richard’s memorial next to his medal for completing the London Marathon. She could feel Pat’s eyes absorbing her, but it didn’t make her uncomfortable.
‘Richard wondered what you’d look like,’ Pat said eventually. ‘When he did the test, he wondered who’d been chosen for him and where you’d live. I don’t know if Chloe told you, but he loved to travel and I think he’d have gone to the ends of the earth to be with the one he was Matched with.’
‘I’m only about two hours away, just outside Essex.’ Mandy smiled. ‘So he wouldn’t have needed to travel far. Do you know why he did the test?’
‘For the same reason everybody else does, I think. I know at twenty-five he was young, but all he ever wanted to do was settle down and have a family of his own. The test wasn’t around when Richard’s dad and I met, of course, but we were together for twenty years before he passed away and I don’t think we argued once. Richard wanted the same kind of relationship; he didn’t want to leave it to chance.’
‘What did you think when you found out what had happened? About the accident …’ Chloe asked and passed a mug of tea to Mandy.
‘It sounds silly when I’ve never even met him, but I was devastated,’ Mandy admitted. ‘I guess it’s like when people find out they can’t have children … the choice has been taken out of their hands and they mourn the loss of something they never had. I felt like that. Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?’ The thought of children sent a pang through her. Despite what had happened in the past, she had taken many tests and found that she was indeed able to conceive. She’d always thought herself lucky that she wasn’t one of those poor women she spoke of. But now she’d lost everything – Richard, the chance of ever having kids, a future …
‘Don’t be silly,’ Pat said to her and placed her hand over Mandy’s. ‘You have lost exactly the same thing as us, it’s just that we were fortunate to have him with us for his whole life. What you’ve lost, well, it’s just so unfair.’
Pat’s words gave her the reassurance she needed that she wasn’t letting her emotions get the better of her. ‘I didn’t think anyone else would understand,’ she said quietly, and swallowed hard.
‘Would you like to see his bedroom?’
‘Mum,’ interrupted Chloe. ‘Give her some time, she’s only just got here. It might be a bit much to take in.’
‘No, it’s all right, I’d love to.’ Mandy nodded and followed Pat towards the stairs.
‘Richard moved out to go to college, then came home, and left again when he went travelling,’ Pat explained. ‘Chloe used to joke that we should have had a revolving door installed for him because he was always coming and going. Then when his personal-training business took off he saved up for a deposit on a flat.’ Pat opened the door ahead of her. ‘Go on in and have a look around if you like. I’ll give you some privacy.’
Richard’s bedroom was tidy and spacious. Mandy made her way towards a wall decorated with hundreds of photographs of his travels around the globe: Australia, Asia, South America, Eastern Europe and even Alaska. Next to his bed was a wardrobe which housed his shirts and trousers, all neatly pressed, she found. Mandy ran her fingers over a chunky-knit jumper and drew it up to her face to smell – but all she could detect was fabric conditioner.
She moved towards an armchair in the corner of the room, which had a scarf draped over the back. She picked it up and inhaled deeply, desperately wanting to feel a connection with him. Suddenly, Mandy’s legs felt like they were about to give way as the scent of Richard’s aftershave and him hit her. She couldn’t fully describe the sensation, but she later likened it to sinking into a warm, soapy bath or falling into a strong, reassuring pair of arms.
Then suddenly, to her surprise, Mandy found herself beginning to cry. Looking at photos of Richard and meeting his family was one thing, but actually breathing in his scent was something completely different altogether. It knocked her for six, and she had to steady herself against a chest of drawers before leaving the room. Closing the door behind her, she had to wipe the tears from her red-rimmed eyes.
There and then she knew that she was more deeply in love with a dead man than she could have ever thought possible.
Chapter 27
CHRISTOPHER
Christopher opened the sash window to let the smoke seep out from the kitchen and into the air outside. He cursed himself for using too much chilli oil in the skillet.
The fillet steaks were too burned on the outside for his liking, so he heated up a microwaveable bag of peppercorn sauce and closed the kitchen door, so Amy couldn’t hear the bell ping. He’d already encouraged her out of the kitchen, boasting that steak, home-made sweet potato wedges and sauce were his signature dish, one of the many lies he’d used on her. He couldn’t help himself; something within him needed others to be impressed by him: his actions, his appearance, his work – and now his anonymous killings. Tonight, it was his food’s turn to take centre stage.
His wounded thumb – savagely bitten by Number Nine – still ached under the bandage five days later but Amy had had no reason to doubt him when he told her he’d clumsily trapped it in the bathroom door.
Christopher blamed sleep deprivation for the overcooked meat. Since he’d met Amy, it was proving nigh on impossible to grab more than a few hours at a time. She stayed over at his house on alternate nights as it was much closer to her job at the Metropolitan Police’s HQ, and her sexual appetite was almost as insatiable as his. This meant that the time he’d usually spend monitoring the whereabouts of the rest of the Numbers on his list had to be crammed into the nights he spent alone.
Amy was proving to be an added complication in an already complicated life. He’d had girlfriends before, but she was truly different for the fact that in the three weeks since their first date, he had yet to fantasise about killing her. She was his Match and he considered that someone like him could possess genuine feelings for anyone. Her presence was throwing him off kilter, yet there was a quality about her that made him want to keep her around, at least for the time being.
Christopher removed the cooked potato wedges from the oven and arranged everything symmetrically on their plates. He added organic salad leaves and a splash of balsamic vinegar, and carried their dinners to the table in his dining room. He then dashed back into the kitchen – an act completely out of character – to hide the empty food packets at the bottom of his pedal bin.