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The day passed with excruciating tardiness, every minute outstaying its welcome. The more she thought about it, the greater Elsie’s dread of what could lie ahead became. By four-thirty, her nerves were beginning to get the better of her, and there was only one person she knew who could help to keep her resolve strong. Leaving Cher manning the counter, Elsie grabbed her mobile and stepped outside. Gardner Street was a buzz of busyness, the warm hum of chat and countless footsteps reverberating the length of the street. She smiled at Emma from the Vegetarian Shoe Shop as they passed one another and watched as a group of Goths crowded with surprising enthusiasm in the doorway of Cybercandy. Smiling to herself, she dialled her sister’s number.
‘Hello, Daisy Maynard speaking?’
‘Daisy, it’s me. Can you chat for a minute?’
‘No problem. Wait there …’ Elsie could hear the click-clack of her sister’s heels as she walked from her office to somewhere more conducive to a private conversation. ‘OK. What’s up, lovely?’
Elsie moved to let a dog walker hurry past. ‘Cher’s set me up on a completely daft double date tonight. I agreed at first but now I’m freaking out about it. I mean, it’s too early – I haven’t had any time to prepare, or make sure my head is in the right place. What was I thinking? This is the craziest idea. I can’t go through with it, can I?’
Daisy’s laugh was not unkind. ‘Slow down, Speedy Gonzalez! Take a deep breath and let’s look at this practically. Where are you meeting the bloke?’
‘At The Feathers, this evening.’
‘Right, a public place, that’s good. So, what do you know about him?’
‘Only that Cher fancies his boss, he’s a brother of someone she knows and he’s supposed to be a nice guy.’
‘Anything else? What he does for a living? What he looks like?’
Elsie kicked a screwed-up crisp packet at her feet. ‘Nothing. That’s the problem, Dais. How on earth am I meant to know whether I have anything in common with him or not?’
‘Well, you don’t. But that’s kind of the point of dating, isn’t it? All you are doing is meeting someone who may or may not be interesting enough for you to want to get to know him. It’s hardly rocket science, is it?’
Daisy was making sense and, as so often happened when Elsie talked things over with her sister, the situation began to look less like a forty-foot-high brick wall. ‘Thanks, honey. I don’t know what happened there.’
‘You were scared. And it’s totally understandable. Blind dates are notorious for dodgy dating encounters. But I know you’ll be fine. It’s been a long time since you last dated. Things have changed – and you’ve changed too, remember. I think you should try not to over-think this and just see it for what it is. You’re doing a favour for a friend and possibly meeting a nice bloke in the process. It’s a step, not an entire journey.’
Daisy’s words were still resounding in Elsie’s mind as she changed in the small cloakroom at the back of the café an hour later. The kooky bluebird-print dress she had hastily purchased from the small boutique a few doors away from Sundae & Cher in her lunch break with a bunch of notes thrust into her hand by a very excited Cher was sweet but casual and, teamed with her favourite red ballerina pumps, felt comfortable. Cher had loaned her a red cardigan, which completed the look. She gathered her blonde, shoulder-length bob into a relaxed up-do and held it in place with a couple of black combs. It wasn’t the most inspired dating attire, but it felt like her.
Cher went a little over the top with her enthusiastic reaction when Elsie walked into the kitchen, but Elsie accepted the compliments anyway. She needed to feel confident and, after Daisy’s pep talk, she was determined to enjoy the experience. You love surprises, she reminded herself, her fingers closing around the piece of paper from the satin box in the pocket of her coat, as she and Cher walked to the green-tiled pub near the Theatre Royal where many local shopkeepers headed after work for a drink.
The pub was already packed with post-work revellers, the loud buzz of conversation peppered with stabs of raucous laughter. Elsie had always loved this place and liked the way it had stubbornly resisted the urge to succumb to gastro-pub tweeness as so many others in the area had done. It was her father’s favourite watering hole and she had often accompanied him there in her mid to late teens when he met fellow councillors or furniture suppliers.
They squeezed through the bodies to reach the bar and waited for a full five minutes before catching the attention of Nick, the cheerful, red-faced landlord.
‘Evening, girls,’ he shouted. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Just an orange juice for me and a red wine for Cher, please.’
‘Right you are.’
‘Is Jake Long in yet, Nick?’ Cher asked.
‘Not yet.’ He placed a glass of wine in front of her and flicked the top off a bottle of orange juice to pour into a glass of ice for Elsie. ‘Early, though. He’s normally in about six. Why, you looking for him?’
‘Might be.’ Cher winked at Nick and disappeared into the crowd to find a seat as Elsie paid for the drinks.
‘Hot date,’ Elsie confided.
‘Serious? He’s too normal for Cher, isn’t he?’
Elsie laughed. ‘It’s a bit of a new direction for her.’
Nick gave an overdramatic sigh. ‘I’ve told her: if she’s looking for a real man, she knows where I am.’
‘I’ll pass the message on,’ Elsie replied, taking the drinks and winding through the throng of bodies until she found Cher proudly guarding a table with four chairs by the window. ‘Nick offered to be your real man again.’
Cher rolled her eyes heavenwards and took a large gulp of wine. ‘He can go on dreaming. I’ve heard too many rumours about Nick Plass to go there.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Jake shouldn’t be long. Aren’t you drinking?’
‘I might have one later.’ Elsie might have been thankful for a little Dutch courage, but she fully intended to go into this without the aid of alcohol.
They made themselves comfortable and chatted aimlessly about work for twenty minutes, neither of them really thinking about the subject, as the prospect of the evening ahead loomed large over them. When Cher’s glass was empty, she stood to head back to the bar but was stopped in her tracks by the sight of two men weaving through the standing drinkers. Jake Long strode in front, his impeccable suit standing out amongst the casually dressed locals, an expensive overcoat folded over one arm. He was handsome for his age – his kind dark eyes and lightly tanned skin contrasting with the flashes of silver at his temples and running through his lustrous brown hair. Cher was suddenly all coy eyelashes and shy smiles as he approached the table.
Elsie was so busy being impressed by Jake’s appearance that she forgot to look at her own date for the evening, who was waiting behind his boss, obscured from view by the crush of pub customers.
‘Delighted you could make it,’ Jake smiled at Cher, an obvious twinkle in his eye. ‘Apologies for our lateness – we had a last-minute meeting at the office.’ He extended his hand to Elsie. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You too.’
‘I have a feeling this is going to be a most pleasant evening,’ Jake replied, moving to one side. ‘Let me introduce you to our most brilliant junior partner in the practice …’
As he was speaking, the young man beside him stepped forward, and instantly Elsie’s breath deserted her. Surely not …
‘… Torin Stewart.’
Jake and Cher were grinning like a pair of hungry hyenas, but as Elsie’s eyes met Torin’s, neither of them was smiling.
Forced by propriety to be civil, Elsie held out her hand. ‘Elsie Maynard. Nice to meet you.’
‘Is it?’ Torin briefly shook her hand, the shock of his warm skin on hers causing her to pull away as quickly as she could. The briefest of smiles passed across his lips before he turned to Jake. ‘I’ll get the first round in, shall I?’
Jake clapped his hands together. ‘Excellent idea. Mine’s a single malt with water, no ice. Ladies?’
‘Red wine for me. Elsie?’
Struggling to stop the room from spinning around her, Elsie wrestled her way back into the moment. ‘Same, please. Large.’
Cher raised an eyebrow and Elsie managed a weak smile in return. As Jake sat opposite Cher, she quickly turned her attention squarely onto him and Elsie sank back into her chair. How was it possible for Torin to be her blind date? After their initial meeting and the excruciating second round in Croydon, Elsie had felt sure that she and Torin Stewart were never destined to cross paths again. Yet here he was – for the third time in as many weeks. What was she going to say to him?
All too quickly, Torin returned with a tray of drinks, seemingly charmed when it came to being served quickly in the only pub in Brighton that made a virtue of its long bar waiting times – a fact attested to by a large sign over the bar bearing the legend:
We don’t do ‘fast’. Our beer is worth the wait.
‘Blimey, we’ll send you to the bar again,’ Cher remarked, raising her glass to Torin. Grinning, he clinked his pint glass against hers and then held it towards Elsie.
‘To a pleasant evening?’
Reluctantly, she accepted the toast. ‘A pleasant evening.’ Pleasant, she added to herself, meaning short …
Jake and Cher immediately launched into animated conversation, their body language screaming attraction as they did so. Torin sipped his beer slowly, his eyes never leaving Elsie. Doing her best to present an unaffected air, Elsie returned his gaze, smiling pleasantly as she desperately scrabbled for suitable topics of conversation to make the evening pass quickly.
‘I take it you’re a solicitor?’
‘I prefer lawyer – bit of a fan of the US terminology, I’m afraid. But yes, that’s what I do. How about you?’
‘Assistant manager of a retro ice cream café.’
This appeared to surprise him. ‘Oh? Whereabouts?’
For a split second, Elsie was tempted to concoct a fake address to ensure he couldn’t find her, but then common sense prevailed as she realised Jake or Cher would gladly furnish him with the correct information in any case. ‘In North Laine – Gardner Street. I work for Cher.’
‘I see. So, who’d have thought us two would meet up again like this, eh?’
Instantly, Elsie felt her insides clench into a knot and she looked down into her already half-empty wine glass.
Torin gave an almighty sigh and muttered something into his beer.
Suddenly irritated by this, Elsie glared straight at him. ‘Sorry? Didn’t catch that.’
‘I said it’s a shame you can’t be more civil, given the circumstances.’
‘Excuse me? I am being civil, thank you very much. I’m having a drink with you and making polite conversation. I fail to see what else I need to do to increase my civility.’
Torin held up his hands. ‘Well – not do that, for a start.’
‘Do what?’
‘Fly off the handle. Totally overreact to everything I say. You’ve done it every time we’ve met and it hasn’t once been warranted.’
‘Everything good with you two?’ Jake interjected, the glow of a successful date illuminating his expression.
Elsie and Torin smiled politely and, satisfied, Jake returned his attention to Cher.
Elsie lowered her voice and leant towards Torin. ‘I beg to differ. You were completely full of yourself when you “rescued” me from the security guard and then you proceeded to stalk my sister and me around that store.’
‘I was pleased to help you,’ Torin hissed back. ‘And I wasn’t stalking anyone. You were the one walking against the arrows and your sister was perfectly charming, as I recall.’
Elsie ignored him and drank her wine, looking across to the clock above the bar. Twenty minutes? She had only endured twenty minutes so far? Elsie had promised Cher an hour – but if their conversation continued to head down the dicey road it was careering along, it would be impossible to keep her promise. Reeling in as much of her anger as she could, she took a breath and returned her stare to his.
‘This is getting us nowhere. I think we should change the subject. I don’t want another fight and I would hazard a guess that you don’t, either.’
The fury in his eyes softened. ‘I don’t. What else can we talk about?’
At a loss for anything more creative to suggest, Elsie said, ‘Tell me about your job,’ instantly reprimanding herself for sounding like advice from a 1950s manual on successful dating conversation topics: Show an interest in his career …
So Torin explained about the kind of law he practised, what it meant to be a junior partner, what his ambitions for the future were and how he had made the decision while at primary school that he would study law.
‘Classic case of going into the family business,’ he explained. ‘Only my mother’s side of the family, not my father’s. Dad owns a music shop in Hove – about as far removed from law as you can get.’
‘And you knew from the age of – what – eight or nine that you wanted to be a lawyer?’ Elsie momentarily forgot her consternation, the fact of his early conviction startling her.
‘Yes. Why, is that so surprising?’
‘It’s not, I suppose. But I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do with my life when I was that age, apart from have fun and maybe one day appear in Neighbours. In many ways, I still don’t really know if there’s a career that would fit me perfectly. But I love what I do, so that’s fine for me for now.’
She could see him relax and was surprised at how much relief this brought her.
‘There’s a lot to be said for job satisfaction. I see many people struggling in my profession because they’re trying to live out someone else’s expectations for their career, not pursuing something they are passionate about. Kids fulfilling their parents’ ambitions at the cost of their own.’
‘And you?’ The question was out before she realised it, far more personal than she was intending.
‘Thanks for asking. I count myself as one of the lucky ones because I love what I do.’
‘I’m going to attempt to beat Torin’s bar time,’ Jake grinned. ‘Same again for everyone?’
All agreed apart from Elsie, who decided it was safest to revert to orange juice for the remainder of the evening. As Jake left, Cher grinned at Torin.
‘I hope Elsie’s told you about the new exciting venture she’s embarking on?’
‘No, not yet. Tell me.’
‘A community choir!’ Cher replied before Elsie had the chance to speak. ‘And they’re meeting in my café.’
‘I’m impressed,’ Torin replied, and Elsie could have sworn she saw a flicker of genuine sentiment in his expression. ‘Is this something you’re experienced in?’
‘No. But then the point of it is to create something new, not regurgitate an old method that has been used before. We’re going to sing a variety of songs and the emphasis will be on fun.’
Sensing their conversation was safely set up, Cher made her excuses and headed towards the Ladies’. Torin folded his arms and leant back in his chair. ‘So, you know how to have fun, after all?’
So much for your sincerity, Elsie thought, her hackles rising. However much she might have hoped they could have a civil conversation, it was obviously not going to happen. Ever. ‘I do, as a matter of fact. Which just proves that you know nothing whatsoever about me.’
‘It was merely an observation. I guess everyone else must see a different side of you than I have so far.’
Go figure, Torin. ‘I guess they must.’ She looked at the clock again. Five minutes had dragged their heels past since she last checked. This was going to be the longest hour of her entire life …
‘Please don’t be offended. I just have a knack of getting the measure of people very quickly, which I know can be unnerving. It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid. I can accurately sum up someone’s character often within a few minutes of meeting them.’
Elsie couldn’t believe his smugness. ‘You mean you’re quick to judge people? I don’t see that as a skill. I see that as a flaw.’
‘Oh really? Well, I’ve already worked you out, Elsie Maynard.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t possibly know that much about me.’
‘I think you’ll find I can.’ He sipped his pint and scrutinised her for an uncomfortable moment. ‘Are you challenging me to prove it?’
The gall of him! Well, Elsie reasoned, there was only one way to haul him off his high horse. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
Rubbing his hands together, he began. ‘Right. Well, from your blatant misunderstanding of me and misreading of my motives, I can conclude that you have had very little experience of men – one or two serious boyfriends at most. From the small indentation on the third finger of your left hand I can see that one of those relationships resulted in marriage; from the absence of a ring now and your noticeably prickly nature towards men in general I assume that this marriage came to an end, perhaps some time ago. Am I correct?’
