Looks Unimportant...Sense of Humour Essential Read online

  So that was it, out of thirteen responses barely a handful of acceptable men (and some of them were a bit dubious). She wondered if this was a typical strike rate for internet dating or had something on her profile attracted a large amount of weirdos? She looked down at her boobs. Probably them again, they were a curse sometimes no matter how much her flat chested friends envied them. She started replying to the few she’d earmarked but her disillusioned attitude made it hard to be enthusiastic or inviting.

  It was a bit gutting because this internet dating was really her last hope. She hadn’t made many friends in London since moving there from Norfolk a few years ago and certainly not many male friends. For a start there were the unexpected late nights at the office that had a habit of ruining evening plans. Then there was the fact the men she came into contact with through work were mostly either fellow lawyers (the ability to nitpick makes for a great lawyer but a terrible date) or people in trouble with the law (also not an appealing category). There weren’t many young people working at her law firm either, it was only a small place, so the scope for relationships there, romantic or otherwise, was very limited.

  Outside of work, she found it a lot harder starting conversations with people here than back home; they were usually in a rush, already talking on the phone or had that ‘keep away’ look so many people in the capital wore. On the few occasions she had spoken to a stranger they’d looked at her with horror as if she’d had ‘mass murderer’ tattooed on her forehead. London certainly didn’t share the relaxed, friendly atmosphere of the village she’d grown up in.

  A few more responses to her profile dribbled in over the next week. She didn’t realise just how desperate she was feeling until she caught herself considering ‘monkeyboy’ who described himself as ‘Shrek seeking a Princess Fiona’. ‘smutty10’ was also rejected for describing dating him as ‘a rare opportunity to be part of something really exciting’. The ego of some men was astounding. She rejected most of the others too (why did men think describing yourself as a big footie and rugby fan would automatically be attractive to the opposite sex?).

  Her high hopes of online dating had taken a big knock. Lucy consoled herself with the thought that she may have had to reject the majority but she only needed to find one date to this wedding. Surely in all this there was someone suitable she could drag to it? Was that too much to hope?

  *

  Despite her initial disappointment, as the days went by Lucy found herself spending more and more time on the dating website. She started finding it hard to log off, even when her clients arrived and began wondering if it was possible to become addicted to online dating.

  This morning she couldn’t stop looking longingly at her computer whilst the couple in front of her argued with each other over their wills.

  “Oh, alright Margery. £5,000 to the Royal Ballet School if we must. Just because you wanted to be a ballerina,” the man said testily.

  “£5,000 isn’t very much,” his wife complained.

  “Rubbish, they all live on lettuce leaves. Which is another reason you wouldn’t have made it if you ask me.”

  “I don’t think anyone is asking you!”

  Lucy’s mind drifted back to her messages. Would there be any new ones? She knew she couldn’t log on with clients there but she was longing to know. This wasn’t so much about her need to find a date, she’d discovered how much fun the online correspondence was.

  After two weeks of online dating she’d surprised herself by getting into a regular correspondence with three of the men who’d contacted her. A self employed businessman in the city, a music fan from Tooting, and the incredibly attractive man whose photo she hadn’t quite believed. He didn’t say much about his job but his messages were always lively and interesting. Every morning she looked forward to logging on and usually finding a message from one of them waiting. It was like having her own little community of internet pen pals. It was innocent enough stuff mostly, just what had been happening during their day, funny incidents and observations. In the absence of friends it was nice having people to tell her day to, even if they were at the end of a computer. This morning her train had been late so she hadn’t had time to check and she was suffering withdrawal symptoms.

  “I don’t see why half should go to Thurnley Historic Rail Society,” the woman was arguing with her husband. “There are plenty of other, more worthy causes.”

  They were hardly a good advert for relationships, Lucy mused. This was her third meeting with them and they were still arguing between themselves. If they weren’t careful the only cause they’d end up benefitting was her bosses’ ‘retire to France’ fund.

  “Perhaps we should come back to that part?” Lucy asked them, desperate to speed them along so she could log on to the website.

  It was another fifteen minutes before the couple could agree on the first draft of their wills and she had been able to show them out of her office. Before the door had even closed behind them she had already logged on to the dating website eager to check for messages, knowing there wasn’t long before her next client was due.

  Fantastic, there was a new message from one of them. Hang on…oh no. Lucy’s mouth dropped open in horror. The man had gone and spoilt it.

  He was asking to meet up.

  2 First date

  Lucy tried to keep calm. The whole point of signing up on the dating website had been to get a date. So now that she had one why was she going to pieces?

  Suddenly the idea of meeting a complete stranger from the internet seemed a bit mad. She’d never even been on a blind date before, not that she dated much anyway. Plenty of time for all that her dad had always said but she’d never really found the time for it. It had been at least four months since her last date. She’d met him at the lo-cost supermarket. It had seemed like a good idea at the time but it hadn’t gone well; she just couldn’t get that enthusiastic about football.

  She was going to have to get over her fears. There was the wedding to go to and she had to have a date. She agreed to meet him for lunch in the city. Lots of people around, broad daylight. What could go wrong? A million things ran through her mind, all of them bad.

  The website recommended users inform a friend before meeting up with someone. Presumably so if they turned out to be a serial killer the police stood a chance of knowing where to start looking for your body. Lucy told herself to stop being so negative. Informing a friend was a problem – she didn’t really have any. Not in London anyway. There was a woman at work she chatted with regularly but if it got round the office that she was online dating she’d be really embarrassed. In the end she decided to tell Mrs Franklin from the flat next door.

  Mrs Franklin was the only person out of the seven flats in the large Victorian redbrick house where Lucy lived who ever spoke to her. In fact she couldn’t seem to stop talking to her or anyone else that she managed to catch on their way in or out of the building for that matter. Lucy had noticed the postman had taken to sprinting down their drive. Still, she was a lovely lady in her early sixties with a passion for blue eyeshadow.

  “That sounds exciting dear,” Mrs Franklin told her after Lucy explained. “Good to hear you’re getting out a bit more, you don’t go out enough.” They were standing at Mrs Franklin’s front door after Lucy had turned down her offer of coming in for a cup of tea. She felt guilty but last time she’d gone in it had taken her two hours to get away and she needed the time to get ready for her date tomorrow.

  “No, I don’t have much time to date,” Lucy said, relieved that Mrs Franklin hadn’t laughed when she’d told her she was online dating but embarrassed that someone who was almost a pensioner was criticising her lack of social life.

  “You have to make time, whilst you’re young enough to enjoy it. What time did you say your date was again?”

  “Tomorrow at one. So that’d be okay then, if I send you a text you’ll respond?”

  “Yes, don’t worry dear. My niece has got me onto this texting business. It�
�s that button there isn’t it?” she asked holding out her mobile phone.

  Lucy showed her the right button to press with a sinking feeling that she could be sold into slavery and shipped to the Far East before Mrs Franklin got her phone working.

  “Oh, it’s so exciting,” Mrs Franklin continued, not looking like she was taking in Lucy’s texting instructions. “I remember my courting days. Meeting lads at dances, there was none of this computer stuff then, letting one of them walk you home. Then lying awake half the night afterwards thinking about them. It was so thrilling.”

  “Ye-s.” Lucy had a feeling she was going to be awake half the night thinking about someone, thinking about whether she was about to meet Hannibal Lector’s little brother. “Thanks very much. I’d better go now, got to iron something for tomorrow,” she told Mrs Franklin and edged away.

  “Of course dear, of course. You get off now and sort yourself out. I’ll wish you luck in the morning.”

  Lucy didn’t know how Mrs Franklin did it but when she opened the front door the next morning to leave for work her neighbour was standing ready across the hall. Had she rigged up an alarm to Lucy’s front door?

  “Oh, you do look nice dear. Going to wear that are you? Looks lovely on you.” Mrs Franklin came forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

  Lucy felt surprisingly touched by her neighbour’s actions. “Thanks, you’re very kind.” She pulled her front door to and picked up her bag. “Well, see you later.” Which she was sure she would. Mrs Franklin would no doubt be staking out the hallway until she returned that evening. The knot of nerves in her stomach which had woken her up early that morning gave another leap. She bet her date wasn’t going through all this. He was probably calm and composed, relaxing somewhere, not worrying about it at all.

  *

  “Wanna go for lunch later?” a voice behind him asked.

  Leander looked round from where he was reading at the kitchen table, surprised. Sebastian didn’t usually want to hang around with him, not since he’d turned sixteen. Big brothers were uncool and Leander was a much bigger brother. At thirty-two he could technically have been Sebastian’s father. The thought almost made him shudder. “You’re up then?” he commented looking at the clock. “Eleven-thirty, did something wake you?”

  “Ha, ha. So do you?”

  Leander lowered his newspaper and watched Sebastian grab a carton of milk from the oversized refrigerator. “Okay, what do you want?”

  Sebastian was about to take a swig before remembering his brother was there. “What do you mean?” he asked innocently, attempting a ‘wide eyed’ look as he grabbed a glass.

  Leander raised an eyebrow at him; the puppy-dog look hadn’t worked on him for some years now.

  His little brother made a big show of pouring the milk into the glass. “I just thought it’d be nice to spend some time together. But if you don’t want to… that’s okay. I understand,” he said in a martyred voice, also being a past master of the guilt strategy. “Don’t worry I’ll find another male role model somewhere else, now you’re rejecting me.”

  “Not working, I’ve heard it before. Besides we spent yesterday evening together, or rather I watched the film whilst you updated your Facebook page every few minutes. That’s about as together as you get nowadays.” Leander resumed reading his paper and took another gulp of his specially imported coffee. “And put that glass in the dishwasher when you’ve finished with it will you, instead of just dumping it anywhere? I found a plate under the sofa yesterday.”

  Sebastian finished the milk in almost one gulp. “What’s the point in having a cleaner if you have to do all the work yourself?”

  “She’s not your lackey,” Leander told him from behind the newspaper. “Picking up after you is not her job. And you could get the rest of the crockery you’ve deposited around your room as well.”

  Leander waited for Sebastian to protest as he usually did when asked to do something.

  “There’s this really great café in Notting Hill, you’ll love it. My treat?”

  No protest and Sebastian was offering to pay? Now Leander knew there was something wrong. “What have you done?” he asked resignedly, laying the paper down on the table.

  “Nothing! Jeez, can’t I even treat my brother to lunch?” Sebastian was back at the fridge again, this time looking through the shelves. Although stripping the fridge bare was a regular occurrence whenever he stayed over, Leander got the idea he was trying to avoid looking at him.

  “Sebastian?”

  He seemed to have found something at the back of the fridge that was particularly interesting. “Go on your own then, you don’t have to take me,” he said without looking round.

  Leander was starting to feel nervous. The last time he’d seen this behaviour Sebastian had broken a new camera he’d lent him. “What’s going on? Why are you so anxious for me to go to this café?”

  Sebastian gave up on the fridge and looked around the kitchen in a desperate attempt to think of another way out.

  “Come on,” Leander told him, “or I’ll tell your mum about your detention from school.” That got his attention.

  “You promised! She’ll ground me if she finds out.” Sebastian stared at him, frustrated. He knew Leander wasn’t one for idle threats. He was going to have to come clean. “I did it for your own good. I want you to remember that,” he started nervously.

  Leander’s heart sank. “Oh my god, what have you done now?”

  Sebastian leant back against the fridge. “You know I can’t stand Barrie?”

  “Her name’s Carrie and she’s a very nice person.”

  “Well you should date someone normal who doesn’t carry a little dog around and kiss the air.” Sebastian moved round the table to where Leander was sitting and solemnly laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time you settled down.”

  “Oh really? Thanks for the advice but I’m not ready to settle down, I don’t want to do the family thing. You’re more than enough.”

  “All these different girls don’t do it for you either bro, I can tell. Mum says you get through them like water.”

  Leander wondered who else his stepmother discussed his love life with.

  “You haven’t been the same since…” Sebastian knew Leander didn’t like her name to be mentioned so he didn’t say it. “I decided you needed help so I’ve sorted it for you.”

  “What d’you mean, sorted it?” he asked, genuine concern developing now. Sebastian was a very bright kid with a lot of available resources. That suddenly seemed a bad combination. What had he done?

  Sebastian rummaged under the table for his backpack and produced one of the said resources. A tablet PC he’d begged Leander for last Christmas. A few taps and Leander was looking at a profile on a dating website. His. “No, no!” he exclaimed sitting bolt upright. There was his picture too! How many people had seen that? What if his staff saw? His clients? “Oh no.”

  “You’ve had some lovely replies, well some scary ones too, but I think you must be quite a catch. I filtered them out and selected the one I think is the best match for you. There are a couple of others too, as a backup if this one doesn’t work out.”

  Leander glanced up from the computer screen, a look of horror on his face. “What d’you mean, ‘this one’?”

  “Her.” Sebastian brought up another profile. An attractive girl with pretty features. Her profile said she had an hourglass figure. Well he had the type right at least, he’d give him that.

  Leander pointed angrily at the screen. “Delete my profile right now. And under no circumstances are you to contact anyone on this site. Then I may not actually kill you.”

  Sebastian looked away. “Too late.”

  Leander froze. “You’d better be kidding.”

  “I’ve just saved you the trouble of having to arrange the first date. I’ve asked her out for you,” Sebastian told him with a pleased look on his face.

  Leander fought a sudden
urge to strangle him. He liked to keep his private life private and now there was a whole profile about him on the internet, not to mention the embarrassment if people found out about his little brother arranging a blind date for him. “What?” he managed to utter through clenched teeth.

  Sebastian was enjoying seeing his normally calm and in control brother lose it big time. He chuckled. “Calm down, it’s only lunch. In that café in Notting Hill, not far from your office, not too swanky or expensive. We don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

  “I’m going to leave an impression on your arse in a minute! Cancel it now,” he ordered, shoving the tablet back at Sebastian. Jumping up he ran his hands through his hair. What if his friends found out or his staff? He stopped suddenly. “She doesn’t know where I live does she?”

  “Course not.” Sebastian glanced down at his watch, another present from Leander. “Might be a bit late to cancel now though, you’re meeting her in an hour. She’ll probably have left already.”

  “What! Don’t you have a contact number? Just ring her.” He jabbed at the tablet still displaying her profile.

  Sebastian shrugged. “I can’t. She wouldn’t give a phone number in case you turned out to be a crank.”

  “Me?! She could be anyone - a 65 year old granny, a 20 stone weight lifter. She might not even be a woman!” Leander protested.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “You’re going.” Leander pointed a finger at him. “You go and explain. It’s your mess.”

  “Ah. Got a chemistry tutorial this afternoon.” Sebastian checked his watch again. “Better leave now in fact,” he told him, switching off the tablet PC. “Look here’s the name and address of the café.” He dropped a piece of paper onto the table as he tucked his tablet into his backpack.

  “I AM NOT GOING!” Leander shouted, reaching breaking point.

  “Alright, keep your hair on. Guess she’ll just sit there for an hour or so before she realises she’s been stood up. She looks like a stable person, she’ll get over it…eventually.”