The Soulmate Agency

by Ivan B

  Henry held up a small piece of paper and peered at it. “Take the opportunity to compare and contrast your days. For instance has the pairing arrangements of the afternoon been acceptable to you?”

  “Oh - it means talk about the women,” said Derek.

  “Exactly,” replied Henry, “and it rather made us all feel rather uncomfortable.”

  Derek pursed his lips. “I agree, in part, but we are all here supposedly seeking a soulmate. I guess if any of us thinks they’ve got the wrong girl, or would rather have a different one we ought to talk about it now and not come to blows over the Beaujolais.”

  Henry nodded, “Roberta’s a stunner, Riona’s a gem and Gwen’s an intelligent woman, but I’d rather like to try sticking with Willow for the moment.”

  Ben stirred, “I’m happy with Roberta.”

  Derek rubbed his hands, this was all working out well. “Gwen is the only one I’m really interested in.”

  All eyes swivelled to Cameron. He raised his hands up in submission, “I must confess that Roberta would have been my original choice, but I’ve spent the afternoon with Riona and she rather grows on you, despite the ice-glass accent.”

  “You mean cut-glass,” said Henry.

  “Do I?” replied Cameron, “Take a listen.”

  Derek interleaved his fingers and stretched, he was getting tired, normally at this time of day he’d be thinking about supper, not dinner. “We’re all grown men,” he purred, “Let’s not beat about the bush, if any of us changes their mind by tomorrow evening, they must say so. I don’t know about you, but in reality this could be a real shot at finding a good woman and it would be unfair to tag along with someone and raise their hopes when there’s no intention of continuing to meet after this week. So if we need to change partners, we should at least talk about it as civilised beings, OK?”

  There were nods all round. Henry stretched out his legs, “I don’t know about you chaps, but these feedback forms, I mean…”

  Treasa did a double flip and entered the swimming pool with hardly a ripple. She loved swimming and it gave here a decent bit of exercise. She did a couple of lengths before glancing at the clock. She climbed up the steps to get out and towelled herself down. Dinner was half an hour away, now, she thought, what to wear?

  Willow smiled as Roberta left her room. Roberta did indeed look great in her seersucker skirt and Riona’s blouse. Willow had even lent her some make-up. She briefly paused to wonder what it must be like sell nearly all your clothes as she opened up her suitcase to replenish her handbag’s supply of cigarettes. She gazed at the stock of packets of twenty that a friend had got her on a trip abroad. She mentally counted; she had one hundred and sixty left, more than enough for the remaining six days. Her eyes wandered across her case to a small pack of nicotine patches that she had thrown in at the last moment, and thought of Henry. She knew that she should give up smoking; she knew the risks and had even had an aunt die of lung cancer, so for the umpteenth time pure logic told her what she should do. However, she’d also been through nicotine withdrawal before and knew that it was beastly. She pondered; when she’d given up for her first husband nicotine patches weren’t around and maybe they could ease the discomfort. She toyed with the idea of having one last smoke, knowing that if she did it so it might never be the last smoke. She picked the entire collection of cigarette packets out of her suitcase and walked round to the back of the building where she had spotted a large industrial sized waste-bin. She opened the plastic lid and threw all the cigarettes in. Now without climbing into the bin they were totally out of reach. “Henry my boy,” she muttered, “You had just better be worth it, you had just better be worth it.”

  She marched back to her room and slapped on a nicotine patch before thoroughly, really thoroughly, cleaning her teeth. After that she used nearly a quarter of a bottle of mouthwash and extensively scrubbed her hands with some sweet-smelling soap. She knew that she was oblivious to the smell of tobacco at the moment, but also knew from her time as a non-smoker that smokers smelt. She put all the clothes she had been wearing into a plastic bag, had a shower and donned an ivory coloured trouser suit and a snow-white blouse that had some discrete white embroidery down the front. She chose some black stiletto heeled shoes, pondered, and discarded them in favour of a pair of flat open-toed black cross-strap sandals. Fifteen minutes later she was ready for action.

  Henry looked at his image in the full-length wardrobe mirror and frowned. He’d chosen a lightweight linen summer suit, a white shirt, a bow tie and a black handkerchief in his top pocket. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about such apparel, but Willow was on his mind. She’d hinted that, in her opinion, over-dressed men often thought too much of themselves. He took off the clothes and tossed them onto the bed in favour of blue slacks and a red open-necked shirt. He felt woefully under-dressed for dinner; he only hoped that she was worth it.

  Cameron arrived first in the dinning room and automatically checked the place settings. He rubbed his eyes and checked again. According to the layout, obviously set by Angela, he was at the end of the table for eight sitting opposite Roberta. Riona was next, but one, to his left and opposite Ben. He checked the other settings. Willow had been put next to him and opposite Derek leaving Henry opposite Gwen at the other end of the table. Treasa had been placed at the end of the table in isolated splendour. Like a naughty schoolboy he listened for footsteps before re-arranging the settings for the women so that they were each opposite the man they had talked to in the afternoon.

  Angela arrived late. She had received an annoying phone call from the young couple she had pictured on the front of her brochure, one of her first ‘successes.’ The call had informed her that they had applied for a divorce and therefore had requested to come off of her brochure cover. She still had over three hundred brochures ready for distribution so the call was, to say the least, unwelcome. She walking into the dining room and almost screamed when she saw the seating arrangements, however, consummate professional that she was, she managed a strangled smile. “Glad to see your all settled. I won’t join you for dinner today, but I will pop in from time to time to check all is OK; enjoy your meal.”

  She exited, without waiting for any reply, gritting her teeth. She’d tried subtlety in getting them to change around, perhaps she needed something stronger?

  As soon as they started eating their pan-fried mushrooms, soup or melon Henry glanced at Ben. “Has all this Swiftie business reduced how many weddings you get?”

  Cameron put his fork down and glanced at Henry, “Swiftie Business?”

  Henry grinned, he’d had Cameron down as a computer geek, now he was sure as Swiftie’s had been all over the papers when they had been brought in by parliament. He replied carefully, “Lord Swift's latest idea to get us to carry his wretched full ID card instead of the sensible half-measure of an enhanced driving licence. Any two adults can walk into any register office, or authorised place such as this, and get married in the time it takes to swipe the two cards.”

  Riona glanced across the table at Cameron’s plate of mushrooms. “You going to eat those?”

  Cameron grinned and shook his head. She tipped them on her plate as Ben gave a small laugh. “Actually it’s had the opposite effect. For starters some of the tabloid papers over-reacted slightly and ran long campaigns about ‘traditional weddings'. Then it became know that buried deep in the legislation was a loophole that Lord Swift never envisaged would help the church – remember he’s all for a secular state. Take your ID card into any Post Office, or other place that has an ID card reader, and you can get what is called a Matrimonial State Printout. If both parties do it then they can take their printouts to any minister of religion and get married within seven days without the formality of banns or special licences. I’ve had thirteen marriages so for this year and nine of them were using the printouts as proof of status.”

  The group conversation moved onto ID cards, Lord Swift, The House of Lords, Lord Moneypenny and his variou
s inventions and the environment. Somehow the group was happy to talk and each was happy to look across the table and see whomever they were sitting opposite. Treasa was just happy to have some adult conversation.

  Angela reappeared as the starter plates were being cleared away. She gave what was intended to be a no-nonsense smile. She resolutely announced “On the first night we usually have a progressive dinner in that the men rotate clockwise and sit opposite someone else. So Cameron would sit where Ben is and so on.”

  Nobody moved. Henry wriggled his eyebrows, “Actually I’m quite happy sitting here.”

  Cameron nodded, “See no point in moving.”

  Angela put her hands on her hips, “You might be happy, but there is the whole group to consider.”

  Treasa giggled and decided to add fuel to the fire, “Hands up all those who are content with the current seating arrangements,” she announced.

  Nine hands shot into the air and Angela rolled her eyes and admitted defeat - well for the moment as she had other schemes to get the group to mix further.

  The evening passed in lazy conversation about nothing in particular and in doing so further increased the sense of group bonding and enhanced the across table pairings. So ended day one of their mutual attempts to find a soul-mate.

  Chapter 18

  Riona in Crisis

  Breakfast was a leisurely affair with people having their breakfast (those that did) in no particular order or place. Cameron chose to have coffee in his bedroom and then wander downstairs. He was deliberately early so that he could have a walk round the building and take in some fresh air. He stumbled across Riona standing in the hall; she was gazing at the screen of her mobile phone and looking troubled. He hesitated, intrusion into other people’s affairs was not in his nature, “Problems?”

  She waved her phone, ““My father is in hospital; apparently he’s had a stroke and is in a sort of half coma. He’s not expected to live, but my stepmother is hoping that he’ll regain enough consciousness to sign some adoption papers.”

  She saw the look of incomprehension of Cameron’s face and added with a soulful sigh, “It’s the son and heir thing. My step-mother has a daughter by her first marriage and she’s just produced a son. There’s no hereditary line to him, but if she can get father to adopt him he’ll become the next Lord Hardcastle.”

  Cameron’s eyes widened, “And you don’t mind?”

  She shrugged, “Can’t do anything about it, Lordships only pass to male descendants, females don’t count.”

  Cameron admired her calm demeanour. “So what happens if he doesn’t regain consciousness?”

  Riona screwed up her eyes and then shook her head, “Not a clue, I’ve rather lost track of who’s where and married to whom, though one of my aunts is due a grandchild soon, if that’s a boy they could be in line.”

  Cameron tried to come to terms with what he was hearing, could families really work like this? “But you are the only daughter. Surely everything can’t pass to some unknown baby cousin?”

  She gave a reluctant nod, “Too true, but you must understand that as far as my father is concerned I’m not a wanted daughter in fact I’m probably an inconvenience to his and her ladyship’s plans.”

  Her tone of voice and slumped shoulders said it all: she was an inconvenience, merely an unwanted daughter, not a loved daughter, just an unrequired nuisance. Cameron suddenly realised that this was the real Riona. Riona the unwanted child; Riona the girl that spend all her childhood in a succession of boarding schools; Riona who knew that families were for others and not for her. Cameron’s heart was moved, he said softly “And do you stand to inherit anything?”

  She gazed at her feet, “John reminded me that under the terms of father’s new will I’ll inherit a small cottage in Southwold and my Grandmother’s jewellery, that is if I’m still single when father dies.”

  Cameron frowned, “And if you were married?”

  Riona gave a scoffing barking laugh, “Then I’d cop the lot, except the title that is.”

  She noted the totally bewildered expression of Cameron’s face. “It’s the son and heir thing again, if I was married I might have a son and the title might come back to my father’s bloodline.”

  Cameron was amazed both at her matter-of-fact manner and her unexpected and obvious vulnerability. “What does your solicitor say?”

  Riona gave him a vacant look for a moment before replying, “Oh John’s not my solicitor, he’s my father’s solicitor’s clerk. Father’s solicitor is forbidden to speak to me and my step-mother is trying to keep me in the dark. Her ladyship has given very strict instructions that I am not to be informed of my father’s medical condition. John says that I should rush out into the street and marry the first man I can grab on the promise of a swift divorce and a handsome payoff. He says that it would right years of unjustness and that it’s a shame that he’s already married.”

  Cameron put his head half to one side and looked her in the eyes. “Well what do you want?”

  She half shrugged and looked away, her family rarely asked what she wanted. “To be treated with some respect I suppose, still I’ve been pushed about from pillar to post for enough years to know it will never happen.”

  There was no hint of her usual self-reliance, only desolation and loneliness.

  She licked her gold teeth, “If you’ll excuse me Cameron, I need to make a couple of phone calls.”

  He nodded and left her to walk round the building deep in thought, so deep in thought that he didn’t notice Derek and Gwen sitting on a bench in the morning sun and sharing a plate of croissants.

  Half an hour later Angela strode into the meeting room and faced the group. She was determined to be resolute. After a brief discussion around whether or not people had slept her eyes swept round the eight participants. “Anybody seen Treasa?”

  “Last seen swimming up and down the pool like a supercharged dolphin,” drawled Willow, “Seems far too energetic for my liking.”

  Angela decided to be firm and offer the opportunity of different pairings. “This morning, until coffee, we are going to break into two groups of four. The groups will be in two different rooms, but discussing the same material, which is designed to help us to continue to get to know one another.”

  She consulted her clipboard, “So if Gwen, Willow, Derek and Henry could go into the Library, it’s marked ‘Nigella,’ the rest of you could stay here.”

  The four trooped out like little lambs and she inwardly smiled; maybe, just maybe, she was getting things back on track.

  Once in the Library, a room of oak bookshelves with hoards of leather bound books that looked like they hadn’t been moved for aeons, Henry didn’t sit down. He turned to Derek and Gwen, “Look, I don’t know about you, and there’s no offence intended, but personally I’d rather split into pairs.”

  Gwen and Derek looked at each other, nodded and agreed. Gwen, almost immediately, apparently, did a U-turn. She looked at Willow, “What about you?”

  Willow gave a toothy grin, “Pairs is OK by me.”

  They all laughed. Gwen and Derek settled down in the Library while Henry and Willow slunk out and across the corridor into a small sitting room called Narcissus, which had just enough room for one upright high-backed two-seater settee that was placed in front of the window overlooking the driveway.

  Back in the lounge Cameron stirred, he hadn’t really listened to Angela, he’d been deep in thought. He looked at Roberta, decided that her intrinsic beauty was not for him, and nervously leant forward. “Look I know we’re supposed to stay here till coffee, but would you two mind if I took Riona outside for a minute?”

  Riona raised an eyebrow, Roberta didn’t bat an eyelid. “Go ahead.”

  He led Riona out and Roberta turned to Ben, “Wonder what all that was about?”

  Ben put his head to one side, “He’s a private sort of person, group discussions are probably way off his agenda; still I’d rather be here alone with you.”


  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Cameron took Riona into a large lounge where there was a group of settees circled around an open fireplace and sat her down on the end of a five seat settee. His heart was in his mouth. What he was about to do could be considered foolish in the extreme, was totally out of character for him and yet… He stood in front of Riona like an uncertain waiter. “I’ve been thinking about your phone calls,” He wrung his hands together and then blurted out, “Well you could always marry me. I wouldn’t want a handsome payoff, but I would like to help you get one over on your family. It all seems so wrong, so very wrong.”

  He noted something akin to fear in Riona’s eyes and swiftly added, “But let me make it clear that it would be a platonic marriage, I’m offering out of friendship not love; well I don’t know if it’s just friendship because I don’t know what love is, but yesterday, when I got to know you I…”

  He regrouped himself slightly, “I just knew you were a special person.”

  He ran out of breath and out of words.

  Riona stared at him for a full two minutes and then spoke in such a soft voice Cameron could only just hear her. “Are you really serious? You would marry me for no personal gain and just because we’ve become friends?”

  Cameron detected in Riona’s voice a mixture of bewilderment and longing. Longing to have a friend who wanted to be a friend because of who she was and not what she was and bewilderment at his offer. “Really serious. No strings, no pay-outs, just a helping hand.” He said gently.

  Riona licked her teeth and lips, “It would be rather good to see my step-mother’s face if I turned up with a husband.” She paused before muttering, “And Mrs MacLeod doesn’t sound too bad either.”

  She suddenly jumped bolt upright and gave Cameron an intent stare. “You sure, I mean really sure?”