Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating Page 0,40
their dates, and never had any reason to invite him over the threshold and onto the fertile ground of her hallway.
Once John arrived he’d kiss her hand in greeting, drive to the ball venue, and then, once the evening was over, drive her home again. He’d never come in when she offered a nightcap. He’d decline graciously, saying, “Something I’ve learned over the years is when to call it a night on a great evening. And that’s what this has been . . . a great evening.”
So Audrey had very little geography to go on when placing John within her dreams.
But the one place she did know—and know very well—was the inside of his car. The fluttery nerves she got before their evenings together would soften as soon as John opened the Audi’s passenger door and she slid inside. The car advertisements on TV were right to be seductive, she thought. John’s car was a perfect, purring machine. From the understated layout of the dashboard to the cream leather seats, everything about the car made Audrey feel protected. She’d smooth her hand along the inside of the door, savoring its solidity, as John walked around to the driver’s side. She’d breathe in the car’s smell and quietly thrill at the muted power of the engine as John pulled away from her street and toward their evening ahead.
This was the ground zero of her fantasies. Not the racy dreams of the younger woman; Audrey dreamt of domesticity and partnership. She pictured John picking her up from work on a rainy afternoon; of him driving them to the Lake District for a romantic weekend; of the contented routine of a Saturday-morning trip to Waitrose.
Too shy in the early stages of the evening to look directly at John, Audrey would sneak glances at his hands, so manly as he turned the wheel, transporting them through the dark streets of the city. Sometimes—if it was summer—he’d wear a short-sleeved shirt, his jacket waiting neatly on the back seat. Then Audrey would see his forearms, surprisingly muscular; his skin so even and vital-looking that she ached to lean across and touch it.
These were her favorite moments. Audrey prided herself on being in the driver's seat of life, but the excitement of a man driving her around the dark city made her feel so feminine. What surrender! She’d catch a glimpse of her reflection in the passenger window and be taken aback. The wrinkles were gone, the years of disappointment wiped out; she looked innocent and girlish, like a teenager on her first date.
Audrey stirred herself. The detective show had finished and the ten o’clock news was drawing to a close. On her lap Pickles lay still, his eyes closed. She looked at her half-drunk sherry. It was too late to finish it now; it was time for bed. Gently she lifted Pickles to the floor and brushed down her skirt. Cat hair floated in the air around her.
ALICE
Alice blew across the surface of her cappuccino and did her best to avoid looking at Sheryl’s breasts, straining to escape from their leopard-print blouse. If Alice raised her eyes to look above them she knew she’d see Sheryl smiling wolfishly over the top of her skinny latte, her lips sticky with scarlet lipgloss. Alice wondered whether Sheryl ever wore a polo neck, or any item of clothing that didn’t display a large “V” of cleavage. Didn’t her breasts ever get cold? Alice was huddled in two layers of jumper. Surely Sheryl’s breasts must cry out for a day off; a little time out from being displayed to the elements? They must dream of being wrapped in a nice, soft turtleneck.
Alice blew on her coffee again.
“So, Alice.” Sheryl licked her lips and set down her coffee cup. She minutely straightened her skin-tight skirt. “I don’t believe in beating about the bush. For a long time now I’ve been hearing what a faaabulous matchmaker you are. I’d like you to come work for me.”
Alice made a funny choking sound.
“I’d like you to resign from Table For Two with immediate effect and join us at Love Birds. Naturally I expect your clients to follow you.”
Alice tried not to let her mouth flap open.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Sheryl gave a small, pouty smile.
“But what about Audrey?” Alice asked in bewilderment. “What about my contract? I’ve made promises.”
“Promises are made to be broken, every woman knows that. There isn’t a contract in the world that can’t be got out of and