She watched the women around her. Most of them undulated like strippers or ground their arses into the men dancing behind them. She copied a few of the less X-rated moves and hoped she didn’t look like she needed seizure medication.
Jeremy’s hands stroked her hips and sides as they danced. She was getting hot and not just because it was about a hundred degrees. Though these days she got turned on by her washing machine’s spin cycle.
He shouted something in her ear as he leaned close. It sounded like ‘You’re so shit, Sarah’, but that would be weird to say to a date, so she assumed he’d said fit.
‘So are you!’ she shouted back, just in case he had just insulted her.
He stared into her eyes in that way. He’d definitely said fit. ‘Do you want to sit down?’
No sooner had they found a spot on one of the velvet sofas off to the side when he launched himself on her.
Hold on there, Neil Armstrong, she wanted to say. Before you take us into orbit, I’m not that kind of girl.
Only she found herself quite enjoying his kissing. And his hands. She definitely enjoyed his hands as they roamed up her legs.
So maybe she was that kind of girl. Maybe, for the first time in years, that was exactly the kind of girl she was.
* * *
On Tuesday, just as she was locking up her bike behind their office, she caught Maria-Therese and Harry getting out of his car. She wouldn’t have thought much about it if he hadn’t stared at her in such horror.
She got the feeling he and Maria-Therese weren’t just carpooling.
At least that explained Maria-Therese’s devotion to their boss. She wasn’t getting a leg up on the corporate ladder so much as getting a leg over on Harry.
By the time they all sat round the conference room table for the weekly brainstorm meeting, Harry had recovered some composure. But he turned fuchsia every time he glanced her way. Did he think she was going to grass him up?
Maybe she would have before, but not now. Instead of the revulsion she should feel at the thought of those two naked together, she found herself smiling. If Harry’s big arse made Maria-Therese weak in the knees and her ferrety face and caustic tongue gave him the horn, then so be it. Everyone deserved to be happy.
‘Even girls with fat knees,’ she explained to the table, gesturing to her drawing. Though looking at the woman on the sketch pad, the poor thing looked more like she was suffering from gout. Sarah had been awfully hung-over when she drew it.
‘A line of cards pointing out people’s flaws?’ Maria-Therese said. ‘Who’d want those?’
‘But it’s not mean-spirited,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s to show that nobody’s perfect and that the right person will love you anyway.’
Maria-Therese sneered. ‘What other … shortcomings do you propose to illustrate, Sarah?’
Giggles erupted around the table.
She wasn’t about to humour them. ‘We could have cards for all the things people usually dislike about themselves. Maybe they think they’re too short or tall or fat or skinny or they don’t like their thin lips or big feet or small …’ Do not say willy. Do Not Say Willy. Or boobs. Definitely not boobs. Though she could sketch a couple of egg cups with something about a gentleman’s handful … She’d save that one for next time. ‘Small teeth,’ she finished. ‘I don’t know. I just think it’s a nice sentiment, don’t you?’
The others nodded along with Harry. ‘It is a nice sentiment,’ he said. ‘I’m just not sure it’s commercial enough.’
‘You always say that.’ She slammed shut her sketch pad. ‘That’s it for my ideas this week.’
‘Thank you, Sarah,’ said Harry. ‘Other ideas?’
The meeting moved on and, as usual, Sarah was the butt of the joke. She packed her pens and pads away, trying not to feel so bad.
Chapter Thirty-One
Catherine
Catherine hadn’t heard back from either of the clients she’d managed to set up with Alis, so she could barely control her eagerness to hear the gossip when he rang the office.
Ever the professional though, she let him talk at his own pace. It was frustratingly slow.
‘Kiera seems nice,’ he began. ‘But she’s very uptight.’
‘Oh? How so?’ Catherine knew that Kiera sometimes got anxious, but she was devoted to her sweaty yoga sessions and was about a carrot stick away from photosynthesising, so at least she had something in common with Alis.
‘She had a real go at me when I ordered a burger after yoga. Up till then we were getting along fine.’
‘Oh you didn’t.’ Keira was a strict vegan. Coming from the countryside, she’d even had a pet cow. And there was Alis, slathering ketchup and pickles all over her beloved pet’s cousin. ‘I’m sorry, I assumed that because you’re a vegetarian, you wouldn’t be eating beef for lunch.’ She tried keeping the accusation from her voice.
‘I aspire to be a vegetarian,’ Alis clarified. ‘Sometimes I’m not as strong as I’d like to be.’
She started wondering what other things on his profile were aspirational. ‘That was the end of the date, I guess?’
‘Pretty much, yeah, but that’s okay. I’m not sure she was really my type anyway.’
‘I’m sorry, but I did match you based on your profile. Usually when people say they’re vegetarian it means they don’t eat meat.’
He laughed. ‘I doubt anybody’s values are really that straightforward.’
‘Mine are,’ she said before she could help herself.
‘I doubt that, but you go ahead and believe what you like.’
‘I believe it because it’s true,’ she said.
‘I bet I can prove that it’s not.’
On the one hand Catherine didn’t like having her professional conversation knocked off course like this. But on the other, she did love a challenge. ‘Go ahead then.’
He thought for a few moments, then said, ‘Okay. Catherine, is it wrong to kill someone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Always?’
She thought about this. ‘Do you mean if they ask you to kill them?’
‘No, I mean murder in cold blood. Violently, like shooting someone.’
‘Then yes.’
‘Always?’
‘Yes.’
‘What if they’re about to kill ten people? Then is it wrong to shoot them first?’
She hesitated. ‘Well, that’s not a great outcome, but since killing is wrong, then yes.’
‘What about a thousand people? You could save a thousand people by killing one. Would you do it?’
‘Probably.’
‘But you just said killing is wrong.’
‘You’ve got to look at what’s worse.’
‘Ah, but then you’re making a judgement about which lives are worth more than others when you’ve already said that killing is wrong. That means a life is a life. It’s just as wrong to kill one person as it is to kill a thousand.’
‘No, there’s a question of degree.’
‘Sorry, Catherine, but there aren’t degrees of death. Either he’s dead or he’s not, which proves my point. We don’t have to be so rigid. Nothing is that simple. Even this conversation. I only rang to report on my dates.’
‘Oh well then, by all means don’t let me stop your reporting,’ she said, glad not to talk any more about death. And glad too not to think about whether he was right. Was she too rigid? ‘How was Sajeela?’
She was one of Catherine’s favourite clients, a smart, open-minded, vivacious mother of two. She had her life sorted and joined the agency to see if her equal was out there. Who was to say he wouldn’t be a horoscope-obsessed walking beard?
‘Sajeela was great!’ Alis said. ‘Thanks for setting me up with her. We had a really nice time getting to know each other. Did you know she used to live in a commune?’
Catherine smiled at his naiveté. ‘It’s my job to know things like that, and she’s a yoga instructor too. That’s why I thought you’d hit it off.’
‘Yo
u were right, we did. But I think I convinced her that I’m not for her.’
‘You what?’ It was hard enough talking clients into meeting Alis. She didn’t need him purposely putting them off.
‘Well, we got chatting about where we are in our lives at the moment. She’s so level-headed and seems really happy. But with the children and work I wondered why she’d want to invest so much effort in meeting someone just now.’
‘And what did she say to that?’
‘She agreed with me!’ He said this like it was the best outcome he could imagine. ‘Her sister convinced her to try, but to be honest her heart isn’t in it. She’s really quite happy on her own right now. Isn’t that wonderful?’
‘So you talked yourself out of another date with her?’
He was missing the whole point of her business model.
‘Yes, but it’s okay. Now she doesn’t have to keep looking for Mr Right because she’s already Ms Right. She said she’d ring you this week to talk about it.’
Catherine was starting to realise that Alis wasn’t only making it hard to find him a date. He might make it hard to keep her clients.
‘Alis, it’s nice that you two hit it off and you were able to … explore Sajeela’s motivations together. But the idea was to introduce you to someone to go out with. Not to convince someone to be alone.’
‘Oh right. Sorry about that.’
She sighed. ‘It’s all right. I’ll ring you by the end of the week with more options, okay? In the meantime I’ll update your profile on the meat-eating issue … Just one thing before I go. You seem to spend a lot of time talking about the other person. Would you say that’s normal?’
‘Who’s to say what’s normal?’
‘No, I mean, do you do it a lot on dates?’
‘Well I like to get to know a person by connecting with them.’
‘And that’s fine, but maybe you could connect without dissecting her? Is it something you’d like to consider?’
‘Is this where your coaching comes in?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
It was probably the tip of the iceberg.
‘When are you free to meet?’
She got the feeling that Paul was going to be a more straightforward project than Alis. Her rough-and-ready Australian client only needed smoothing around the edges. A little buff here and there and maybe some tucking in or sharpening up.
‘I see you’re wearing your new outfit,’ she said when she saw him on the steps beneath the Doric columns of the National Gallery. With his more relaxed haircut and patterned Paul Smith shirt, he looked like fun. Successful but fun. Armed with a bit of inside knowledge, her clients were going to love him.
‘I dress to impress!’ He looked curiously at the building. ‘I didn’t expect a museum today. I figured you’d want me waxed or maybe learning the difference between sushi and sashimi.’ He caught her expression. ‘I do know the difference. And you thought I was a total cretin.’
‘No, a cretin wouldn’t wear Paul Smith. Come on. We haven’t got much time and we need to go somewhere else after this.’
He trailed behind her as they snaked their way between the tourists inside. ‘So if it’s not a sushi lesson, are you going to tell me why we’re here?’
‘Simple. Since quite a few of our clients are mad about art, I’m giving you a crash course on some of the more popular artists.’
‘Aw, no, seriously? I’m not much of a student, ya know.’
‘Well you’ll have to pay attention today. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.’
She led them to the back of the ground floor where, for the next thirty minutes, she briefed him on the Impressionists. His interest surprised her, and made her grateful for all those days she spent in Washington’s museums trying to validate her new life.
When his eyes didn’t glaze over too badly, she risked moving on to Hogarth – one of her favourites. She loved how he combined beautiful art with moral commentary.
Paul whistled, startling the guard sitting in the doorway. ‘You’re packing in a scary amount of knowledge, Catherine.’
‘Too much?’
‘Nah, I’m a man. I can take it.’
‘This is just an overview really. I don’t pretend to be an expert,’ she said. ‘And I did study up a little for our trip today.’ She hesitated for a second, unsure about exposing more. ‘But I spent a lot of time in museums when I first moved to Washington.’
‘Ah that’s right, your time in the US. You never told me anything about that, you know.’
‘I know,’ she said, moving on to the art in the next room.
Even after a decade she disliked thinking about the end of her US life, but it still sometimes ambushed her from unexpected corners. When Richard had left their home she’d assumed it would be for a night or two, tops. She’d texted to ask where he was. When he hadn’t answered, she’d started ringing him. It had just gone through to voicemail.
She’d felt sick knowing she was hurting him. He didn’t deserve this.
But she couldn’t help how she felt.
And she couldn’t lie to herself. Part of her was relieved that it was out in the open. Now that someone else knew her feelings, it must mean they were real. She really was feeling this.
He finally returned her voicemails three days later. ‘Have you left me?’ he asked.
‘Left you? You’ve left me!’
‘No, I’ve given you space to think. I told you that. Do you know what you want?’ For all the emotion in his voice he could have been asking his bank’s call centre for an update on his balance.
‘Richard, can’t we talk about this in person?’ Her eyes pricked with tears. Guilt, fear, sadness? Yes, yes, yes.
‘That depends on what you’re going to do. Have you told your boss how you feel?’
‘No.’
‘Start there and then let me know what you want.’ He hung up.
That wasn’t the man she knew. In all their years together she’d never known him to be so cold. So how well had she known him after all?
She tried being as normal as possible at work, not to betray the fact that her husband had walked out on her. But he was right. She had to talk to Jose. Because whatever she was feeling wasn’t going away. It was getting stronger.
She felt like throwing up by the time she decided she had to say something. She brought her salad into Jose’s office as usual. ‘Richard has left,’ she said.
‘What?’ He sprang from his chair to envelop her in his arms. ‘I’m so sorry, Catherine.’ She was so happy to be there that she nearly didn’t say anything else. This was what she wanted – why risk her next words?
‘What happened? Do you want to talk about it?’
Typical Jose, she thought, never afraid to get down and dirty in the emotion. ‘We’ve been having some problems.’ No, that wasn’t true. ‘We’re having problems.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure I’m as committed to Richard as I should be. I’m not sure how happy I am.’
She searched his face, looking for some clue that he understood what she was saying. Suddenly his face reflected that aha moment as he caught on. He said, ‘There’s someone else?’
She nodded.
‘And it’s serious?’
Again, she nodded. ‘I think it is.’ She took a deep breath and ploughed on. ‘I’m not sure he feels the same way though.’
Jose made his that’s-the-cutest-thing-I’ve-ever-heard face. ‘Then why don’t you ask him?’ His tone was playful.
‘What if he doesn’t feel the same way?’
Jose smiled. ‘I guarantee he does. Ask him.’ He took her into his arms again as she murmured, ‘Jose, do you feel the same way?’
His hug tightened as she went on. ‘I’ve felt so amazingly close to you these past months and I know it’s only been a little while but I’m nuts about you.’ It was much easier saying these things with her face buried in his neck. ‘I feel like my whole world has opened up because of you, and I don’t want to go
back to the old one. I told Richard the night we went out.’
He pulled away from her, holding her by the shoulders.
She knew she’d made a mistake as soon as she saw his face. He looked surprised, shocked and then, worst of all, horribly embarrassed. She wanted to take it all back.
‘I’m so sorry but you’ve got the wrong idea, Catherine. I don’t think of you in that way. If I gave you that impression I’m really sorry. I live with my girlfriend and, actually, I’m going to ask her to marry me.’
She felt like she might faint. Only her pride held her upright.
‘Oh yes, right, well …’ she whispered. ‘There you are then. Thanks for clearing that up.’ She picked up her uneaten salad and backed from the room. He didn’t stop her.
She could hardly believe what she’d done. Was she deluded? Hadn’t there been something between them? They got along so well and she loved so much about him. He had to feel the same way … though if she’d stepped away from her emotions she’d have seen that he was as friendly with all the volunteers.
Except for the lunch dates, he’d never singled her out.
She did step away from her emotions then. She stepped as far away as she could, until she was out of reach of their impact.
That’s when she knew it wouldn’t be fair to go back to Richard. Just because Jose didn’t feel their connection, she did. It wasn’t fair to go back to a relationship that Richard would always know was the consolation prize. Besides, whatever she’d felt about Jose, delusional or not, she and Richard didn’t feel for each other.
She left Washington within the month. Richard drove her to the airport.
‘Will we ever be friends again?’ she asked. She knew she had no right. She couldn’t help herself.
‘I can’t make any promises,’ he said.
‘That’s all right. I don’t deserve any.’
‘We always were friends, Catherine,’ he said. ‘Maybe that’s been the problem.’
He hugged her briefly at the check-in, and turned away, waving over his shoulder.
So their actual goodbye wasn’t the emotional car crash she’d feared. He’d never been overly demonstrative anyway. And her feelings were already safely packed away with the luggage.
Match Me If You Can Page 23