The Two Lives of Lydia Bird - Josie Silver Page 0,71
I can’t think of even one person I know who I could fall in love with in two minutes. I’m deeply sceptical. Oh God – have I become a love cynic? The love of my life has left me, and now the belief in love has left me altogether.
‘Well, I suppose people have to be vaguely attracted to each other,’ she says, ‘and available, obvs, but if they’re at a speed dating event, that box is generally ticked already.’
‘I suppose it is,’ I say, accepting her empty cup as she slides off the radiator.
‘Fingers crossed for a full house.’
Half an hour later the main room is packed and there’s an air of jittery anticipation as people mill around, sticking doggedly to their friendship groups, free drinks clutched in slightly sweaty hands. I watch, detached but fascinated. I don’t have a role in proceedings now that things are under way, but I’ve stuck around out of sheer curiosity. I listen to Kate give her well-oiled welcome spiel, a more in-depth version of our earlier chat about the science behind the silent dating concept – minus her personal reticence towards love, of course. She certainly knows how to work a crowd. Everyone pays attention and people start to flick quick, furtive glances around the room. I’m impressed; by the time she’s finished they’re fired up and ready to give things a silent whirl. Everyone has been allocated their starting position and on Kate’s cue they head towards their tables, towards their first two minutes of love-inducing silence. I catch Kate’s eye; she’s frowning, and when I follow her gaze I see a woman ramming her arms through the sleeves of her coat and making a bolt for the door. I can tell by her body language that she doesn’t want to talk to Kate’s assistant, who waylays her close to the exit; her shoulders are too high, clenched up around her bright-red ears.
‘Balls,’ Kate murmurs, coming to stand beside me.
I eye the empty seat, and the guy sitting alone at the table, fidgeting. It’s embarrassing enough to be stood up in public, a double slap at an organized dating event you’ve actually paid to attend.
‘Jump in, would you?’ Kate says, matter of fact.
I laugh, and then I realize she means it.
‘I … I really can’t, Kate,’ I say.
‘It’d be a big help,’ she says. ‘I can’t get things started with an odd number.’ Her tone is businesslike; she’s not asking me to be romantic, just to help keep the event I’ve booked and she’s running on track. I look at the empty chair, feeling a bit desperate. All I have to do is make my way around the room and sit in silence; I guess I can manage that. I spend a fair amount of time alone, God knows I’m well practised. Then inspiration strikes: if we pull Ryan out it’ll balance up the numbers. I scan the tables and spot him across the room. He’s facing towards me, but he isn’t looking at me – his gaze is already fixed on the girl opposite him. My heart sinks. I can’t do it; he’s radiating sunshine-hope so bright I can feel the heat of it from here. Kate must sense I’m wavering, because she places a hand low on my back.
‘It’s just silence,’ she whispers. ‘Tune out and think about your inbox.’
She doesn’t actually push me forward, but her hand on my back is a very definite ‘help me out here’ nudge all the same. I sigh, and she takes it as reluctant acceptance.
‘You’re a trooper,’ she says.
How the bloody hell did this happen, I wonder grouchily, even as my feet carry me across the room. I don’t want to do this. I really don’t want to do this. I can’t imagine anything worse than throwing myself into the dating scene this way, silent or not. It’s been fourteen months now since the accident, and I haven’t so much as thought of another man in that way. I can’t.
As I pull the chair out, I don’t look guy number one in the eye. Even as I ease my bum on to the chair, I still can’t do it. He’s paid to look into the shiny eyes of hope and romance, and he’s getting two reluctant minutes of cynicism and despair instead. Up at the front of the room, Kate tells us our wait is over: the time has arrived to look into the eyes of the potential love of our lives. But