Looks Unimportant...Sense of Humour Essential Read online

  Looks Unimportant

  EVIE EVANS

  Copyright

  This ebook edition published 2012

  Copyright © Evie Evans 2012

  The moral right of Evie Evans to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  ‘Witched’ title font courtesy of Mischa Hof

  Contents

  Copyright

  1 Signing up

  2 First date

  3 Disaster

  4 New client

  5 You again

  6 Flirting

  7 Alibis

  8 Dad

  9 Personal visit

  10 Simon returns

  11 Jimmy

  12 Unexpected outing

  13 After kiss

  14 Winston

  15 Home

  16 Parrot

  17 The wedding

  18 Sue

  19 Last night

  20 Pouring men

  21 Aftermath

  22 Judgement day

  23 Finale

  1 Signing up

  Most people would probably agree personality is a complex area. The myriad thoughts and feelings that make up a person’s character, determine their patterns and behaviours. It’s a pretty complicated area. And yet Lucy was expected to sum hers up in one word. Her whole personality in just one word. And it wasn’t even her word either; she had to choose one from a pre-selected list. She opened the list from the dropdown and noted, disappointingly, the word ‘desperate’ wasn’t on it.

  Lucy Davenport was desperate. She caught sight again of her cousin’s wedding invitation on the table where it had sat for the past few weeks and felt yet another wave of desperation pass over her. Only seven weeks to go until the big day. Instead of making her feel happy and joyous it brought on a leaden feeling in her stomach, kind of the same effect visiting the dentist had.

  She didn’t have a date for the wedding. Nor any hope of getting one. Every man she knew, and that wasn’t many, was either snapped up, in jail, or over sixty, some of them all three. In other families this would not be a problem. At their events possibly an aunt or nephew might comment, indiscreetly, on someone’s solo appearance before being hustled away and the topic quickly changed. Not in Lucy’s family. Why hide issues when they could be aired publicly to as many people as possible? Her misfortune to be single at the time of all major family events in her life so far was starting to become a running joke. And some of her family could be very cruel.

  This cousin was from her mother’s side of the family. They were the problem. Her mother’s sister, Aunty Suzi, could give the wicked witch of the west a run for her money. Her children were no better. If Lucy’s mother were still alive she might have been a buffer but sadly she wasn’t. Her dad was too much of a pushover to offer much defence.

  Lucy gave a determined nod of her head. This time was going to be different, she was determined it was going to be different. They weren’t going to get the better of her again. So here she was registering with an online dating website. She’d never seen herself as the lonely hearts type but if the shoe fits…

  Back to the personality word list. As part of the dating profile questionnaire she had to select this one word that summed her up. She couldn’t believe some of the words that were on there: ‘stubborn’, ‘possessive’, ‘superstitious’! Who would choose one of those to describe themselves when trying to get a date? She thought the idea was to make yourself sound attractive to others not a prospective nutter. Eventually she selected ‘easy going’ because it sounded the most innocuous.

  At least the other questions were easier.

  Relationship status? Never married.

  Children? None.

  Age? 27.

  Body type? Certainly not ‘slender’ or ‘athletic and toned’. ‘Curvy’ was definitely her option. She hoped it wouldn’t attract any perverts. A heaving bosom seemed to affect some men very strangely.

  Height? She was tempted to add a couple of inches to her 5’5”, she’d always envied girls with long legs, but she decided to be honest. It would only backfire if she actually got as far as meeting anyone.

  Meeting anyone? The thought of turning up to a blind date made her stomach lurch. She’d read stories in the press about people turning up on these dates to find the other person was twenty years older / pounds heavier / inches shorter than their profile. It was enough to give you nightmares. She couldn’t believe she was doing this really. It was this or nothing though and this time wasn’t going to be nothing. Against her instincts she ploughed on.

  The fact the website had a whole interests section on sports was quite depressing too, there must be a lot of sporty people around. She wasn’t one. At this rate her profile wasn’t going to attract anyone. She ticked ‘sailing’ on the grounds she’d sailed a few times in her youth and defended her lack of hobbies by telling herself she really hadn’t had time to go out much since moving to London. Three years ago.

  Now she was being asked to add a photo to make her seem more ‘genuine’. She’d just lied about her hobbies and had almost lied about her appearance, could anything make this process ‘more genuine’? Her confidence in the whole thing was dropping with each page of the profile. Heart sinking she uploaded a photo of herself from last summer she hoped was flattering. It was tempting to load one of someone else and stay anonymous but she knew it wouldn’t help in the long run.

  Completing the final section was a tooth pulling experience. Her efforts to describe herself in a way that made her sound cute and appealing all came out pathetic and boring. How do you appear sincere in 100 words or less? It was obvious when she thought about it - copy someone else’s. Reading through other people’s profiles she could see others had clearly struggled with this part also. Well worn phrases like ‘that special someone’ and ‘a lasting relationship’ featured heavily. Others made it sound more like they were applying for a job than looking for love – ‘bob2day’ was a ‘dependable, hard working, fantastic allrounder with a willing attitude’. Lucy hoped he got the job. She wasn’t looking for love, marriage or an ‘LTR’, she just wanted a date for a wedding. She typed ‘city girl seeks male for evenings out’ then added an age range 25-40 to stop someone her dad’s age replying. If anyone replied that was.

  It was submit time. Another opportunity to question whether this was a good idea or not and revisit her greatest fear − what if someone she knew recognised her on the site? Another glance at the wedding invite decided it for her. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She’d just have to take the risk.

  Lucy read over what she’d typed once more before finally making her mind up. She clicked submit.

  *

  ‘You have one new message’ flashed up on Sebastian’s laptop. He put down the can of cola he was drinking so fast he nearly spilt it all over the keyboard. Lucky he was logged on, if you didn’t get to these messages early enough you could lose out. He quickly clicked on the link, glancing over his shoulder to check his bedroom door was shut. His geography homework would have to wait; he couldn’t resist checking out the latest entry.

  It seemed to take ages for the page to load. “Come on, come on,” he willed it, one eye on the door, conscious his mum could walk in at any moment. He didn’t want her catching him on this website, she’d go mad. Again. After what seemed like forever the webpage finally opened displaying the message he’d been sent.

  About the right age, professional job in the city, knowing how to sail would be useful. A photo of a woman was attached. He had to wait again for it to load, drumming his fingers impatiently on the s
eat of his chair. He’d have to ask for a faster laptop for Christmas, this was pathetic. He was glad he’d waited when it loaded though; the young woman in the photo looked fairly hot, a bit uptight maybe, but pretty. She sounded just what he had been looking for.

  He clicked reply.

  *

  Adrian Townsend accepted the cup of coffee from his secretary with his usual leer. He didn’t notice the filthy look she gave him but continued smiling to himself as he leaned back further in his office chair. He was feeling pleased. The last batch of phones from Korea had sold well despite their dodgy source.

  A glance at one of the piles of phone boxes stacked on the floor around the yellowing walls of his office told him he was almost out of stock of the counterfeits, he’d have to get onto his contact to see if they could source some more. It was a nice little earner and he’d worked out a system so head office would never find out, not if he was careful. Yes, it had been a good year so far.

  His computer bleeping drew his attention. Leaning forward he saw it was another alert from the dating website. The message opened and he was glad to see the woman had included her photo, he didn’t bother with them unless he could see what they looked like. Even then it was very hit and miss, one had reminded him of his school headmistress. Maybe there were some men that went for that but not him.

  The girl in the photo looked a nice little cracker; her dark brown, chin length hair framed a heart shaped face with hazel eyes and she had the kind of figure he liked. It had been a while since he’d bothered with any dates and he was in the mood for some fun, perhaps he’d reply to this one. He was just composing something suitable, funny but not too lascivious, not to start with, when his secretary buzzed through.

  “Yes Julie?”

  “Your wife’s on the line Mr Townsend.”

  He sighed. What did she want now? “Okay, put her through.”

  *

  Lucy tried to keep a straight face despite not being sure if the woman was joking or not.

  “So ‘little Winston’ is a pet rat?” she asked the client sat on the other side of her desk.

  The woman pushed some unnaturally black hair back from her face. Lucy managed to drag her eyes away from the numerous piercings she had around her nose and mouth to hear her confirm it.

  “Yes. He’s my baby and I can’t believe that bastard’s trying to keep him,” the woman, Mrs Williams, told her, looking like she was on the verge of tears. “He knows how much he means to me, that’s why he’s doing this. You will get him back for me, won’t you?” The threatened tears spilled over, running down her cheeks, taking much of her mascara with them. Lucy hoped Mrs Williams’ piercings were rust-proof as she delved in her bag for a tissue.

  “Here take this,” Lucy told her, finding one and handing it over. She’d never fought a case over a rat before in her, so far, short legal career but there was a first time for everything and he obviously meant a lot to his owner. Alleged owner. “Well Mrs Williams, we’ll just see what we can do about that. Your divorce happened when?” she asked, grabbing her notebook.

  “Finalised last week. I should get round to changing my name back but I can’t think of anything whilst he’s got my baby…”. She dissolved into tears again.

  “Of course not,” Lucy told her, her voice calm but sympathetic. “Pets are normally viewed as property by the court in divorce settlements. Was, er, Winston not awarded to either of you?”

  “No. I didn’t think to mention it at the time,” Mrs Williams cried, smearing mascara round her face with the tissue and sniffing loudly. “Harry knows he’s my pet, didn’t occur to me he wouldn’t let me pick him up with the rest of my stuff. My lawyer was a bit useless, he didn’t even mention it. That’s why I’ve come here.”

  “It was a bit remiss of your lawyer. Let’s establish your ownership first. Did you own Winston before you got married?”

  Mrs Williams stopped sobbing for a moment and looked at Lucy like she was stupid. “I was married 6 years. They don’t live that long love. Three years, maybe a bit longer if you’re lucky.”

  “Right, so you bought him whilst you were married?”

  “He was a birthday present from Harry.”

  “And Harry was your husband?” Mrs Williams nodded. “So how old is he? Winston I mean, not your ex.”

  “He was two last December,” Mrs Williams replied looking a little calmer now they were talking about Winston.

  “So he’s two and a half already?” Lucy pointed out wondering if Mrs Williams realised that with the tortuous pace the English justice system worked at, Winston may not be around by the end of the case.

  “I know he probably hasn’t got long left. That’s why I want him with me so I can make his final days happy.” She began sobbing again.

  “Right. I just don’t want you to waste your money, if we can’t get him back…in time.” Lucy told her gently.

  “I don’t care about the money, I’ve got to do something. He’s my baby,” she repeated, her mascara filled tears forming grey streaks on her cheeks. “I’m not from London, see. I don’t have any family here. He’s all I’ve got.”

  “Of course.” Lucy was beginning to feel sorry for her; it was heartbreaking watching her cry so. Mrs Williams’ comment about being alone in London touched a note with her too. “Did you pay the vets bills?” she asked, pulling herself together.

  Mrs Williams looked confused. “There weren’t any.”

  Lucy looked up from the notes she was taking. “You never had to take him to a vet?” she asked.

  “No. Is that a problem?” Mrs Williams queried, looking worried.

  “It may make your case a little more difficult to prove if your ex-husband decides to claim he’s the owner. As he bought him if he can show records of the sale they would back his case. If you had paid vets bills they would be tangible evidence towards proving he was your pet not your ex-husbands.”

  Mrs Williams started crying again.

  Lucy quickly continued. “We’ll just have to show you were the one that took care of him at home, spent the most time with him. That’s true is it?”

  “Oh yes,” Mrs Williams said, wiping her eyes with what was left of the soggy tissue. “I looked after him, fed him, changed his bedding, gave him cuddles.” Her face brightened. “I used to let him sleep in my bra. I’ve probably got a photo somewhere,” Mrs Williams told her opening up her purse and looking through it.

  “Great,” Lucy told her, trying to sound pleased.

  *

  Viewing pictures of Winston lying in Mrs Williams’ cleavage had taken until Lucy’s lunchtime. It had been a couple of days since she’d added her profile to the dating website so after running out quickly to buy a sandwich from the shop on the corner she was back in front of her desk, logging onto her account with a mixture of excitement and dread. Would there be any responses? If there weren’t, she had a feeling she would be gutted. If there were, she was terrified of what the men would be like.

  Young junior lawyers at her law firm didn’t rate large offices, not even medium sized ones. Then again, not many lawyers with offices in the heart of London had what anyone would call a big office; the real estate was too expensive. Lucy’s office was just big enough for a desk and a bookcase and to make up for the lack of window had a glass panel next to the door instead. It was from this Lucy ensured her monitor was angled as far away as possible as the webpage loaded. Internet dating probably wasn’t the done thing for lawyers at Knowles, Locke and Mallory.

  She held her breath as she checked for messages. There were thirteen. A small thrill ran through her that she’d had some responses. She clicked on the first one. His details loaded with a photo.

  ‘Ranjit99, 28 years old. Divorced, legal, 4’9” (145 cm)’. Legal? She didn’t even know what that meant. 4ft 9in? She knew she was on the short side but that was pushing it. Hoping this was just a bad start she quickly selected the next message.

  ‘Mike, 42 years old, tall dark and handsome’. He ma
y have thought he was but his photo showed he was possibly a little delusional. Next.

  The third was 60 years old. So much for the age filter. Next.

  ‘34 years old, solvent, loves cooking’. The photo showed a reasonable looking bloke. It wasn’t exactly true romance but compared to the others so far he was a prince.

  The fifth one’s main selling point was he had his ‘own hair and teeth’. Lucy wasn’t sure if he was being ironic or not. She took him at his word when she saw his username - ‘2good2btrue’, and deleted him.

  Her enthusiasm level was rapidly dropping as she went through them. Starting to fear what she would find she tried the next. ‘Carlsberg don’t make boyfriends’ it read, ‘but if they did…’. Lucy clicked off.

  These were hopeless. Slumping back in her chair she pushed her sandwich away, her appetite suddenly gone. Was this it? Was this what she had signed up for? Where were the normal men? The ones that didn’t believe they were god’s gift and who had a sense of humour? Perhaps this was why these men had ended up on the dating website. She stopped that train of thought, after all she was on the website too.

  Deciding she might as well see it through to the bitter end she went through the rest. One described himself as a ‘successful business tycoon and multi-millionaire’ but looked more like the man who ran the corner sandwich shop. Would a multi-millionaire really be on this dating website? She deleted him. Luckily the next three read quite well and one of them was a real knockout. It was probably a fake photo but he was still a better option than most so far. Her mood brightened slightly. Fortunate as ‘philip_101’s profile was next: ‘University educated civil servant seeks female who can hold their own in a debate.’ Wow. She was surprised women weren’t knocking down walls to meet him. ‘coffee_lover’s appeal for a ‘fellow Nerdling’ didn’t appeal either. Where did these men come from? The last one said the profile had been set up by his friends. He made it sound like he wasn’t interested so Lucy decided she wasn’t either.