Page 10 of Read Between The Lines

As I navigated to the ‘Contact us’ section of the app, a little green dot on my screen lit up to indicate that my match was online.

I miss you. I’m sorry we didn’t manage our date last night. Are you okay? xoxo

The message flashed up before I could block him.

‘No, I am very much not okay. And neither will you be by the time I’ve finished with you, Brian bloody James,’ I said out loud in lieu of typing it. ‘You can take your xoxo and stick it up your?—’

‘That’s the spirit.’

I looked up to find Leo Taylor standing in front of me.

‘Oh’ was all I managed in response. Why did he have to be here, once again catching me at a vulnerable moment? Didn’t he have other things to do on a Saturday? Five-a-side football or something else equally energetic and noisy? He struck me as being exactly the type to be grunting in Christ Church Meadow doing show-off squats or ridiculous one-hand push-ups, while the rest of the world tried to enjoy a peaceful picnic brunch in the park.

‘I wanted to check that I’m okay to go back to my usual table. I’ve not been permanently banned or anything, have I?’ he asked. To my sensitive ears, it sounded more like a pass-agg statement from a man used to getting his own way, than a question.

I pretended to be considering my answer. In truth, the decision to ban a patron was way above my pay grade, but a wicked part of me wanted to make him squirm after the ‘Kat Fisher, catfisher’ comment yesterday.

‘I’ll try to keep my feet off the furniture,’ he added, in a manner which I’m sure he thought was utterly disarming.

I glared at him, wishing I dared tell him where to go. I’d much prefer not having him around to remind me of my momentary loss of control yesterday. But I was self-aware enough to know that he was merely the convenient whipping post for my Brian James-related anger.

‘Try isn’t good enough. How about you’ll promise to keep your feet off the furniture?’ I said sternly.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said. His arm twitched as if he was fighting the urge to salute.

I frowned. Was he taking the mickey? Who, in the UK, said ‘ma’am’ in normal conversation?

‘Kat will do just fine,’ I said.

‘Yes, Kat. Happy to obey.’

‘Good. Because I’ll be watching you.’

‘Lucky me,’ he said, deliberately misinterpreting my comment. ‘Great chat. I’ll be over there again.’ He gestured in the direction of the business section.

‘We close at four on Saturdays,’ I responded, wishing I had a better comeback.

‘Duly noted.’

I watched him walk away with that irritatingly easy stride of his, so perfectly sure of himself. Just before he sat down, he turned to look back towards me and I quickly pretended to be checking the clock on the wall. There was no need to inflate his robust-enough ego.

Right, what was it that I’d been doing before Leo Taylor came and distracted me with his demands for attention? Ah, that was it. The complaint to SO Ox. I needed to get a move on. Another message from the Scammer Soldier had pinged up on the screen in the meantime, which made it clear that he hadn’t given up on trying to win me over.

I’m so sorry about the misunderstanding yesterday, hon. I really want to explain everything to you, but I have to go through a post-mission debrief so unfortunately I’ll be out of contact for a couple of days. Take care in the meantime, gorgeous, I’ll be thinking about you every second until we can be together at last. Speak soon xoxo.

He was sticking to the plausible excuse playbook, just as Leo had said he would. I flashed a V sign at the screen. The sheer cheek of the guy to still be trying it on with his excessive use of pet names and flattery. What did he take me for? How had I ever fallen for someone who ladled it on with a trowel like that? It was so obviously dodgy now I’d woken up to reality.

I started typing my complaint email to the app, explaining everything that had happened, asking them to investigate, and take down the fake Brian James profile as a matter of urgency. Given all their advertising banners stressing the importance of users’ safety, I was confident that they would take my concern seriously. Sure enough, within minutes of me sending the message, I got an automated response saying that my issue would be looked into immediately and I would be told the results of their investigation within twenty-four hours. I sighed. I suppose twenty-four hours was better than nothing, but I couldn’t help fearing what trouble Bogus Brian could cause in that time. I forced myself not to think of it. There wasn’t anything else I could do, for now.

* * *

The normal work routine helped settle my still nagging anxiety somewhat, although I did find myself avoiding both the crime and the business sections. I processed loans and returns, read a book about a unicorn saving the world to a bunch of extremely enthusiastic under-fives for Saturday Story Time, which soon dealt with any last lingering remnants of the hangover, and finally tracked down the contact details for a local author to arrange an event. It was good to be surrounded by a different bunch of readers who didn’t know what had happened to me. Everyone except one particular individual, of course, whose presence I did my best to ignore even though I caught him watching me on several occasions with that penetrating gaze of his. He was probably terrified I was going to chuck him out again. Served him right.

At lunchtime, I retreated to the break room and curled up with a battered copy ofGaudy Nightby Dorothy L. Sayers which had been taken out of circulation for repairs. There was nothing like an old favourite to help distract me from reality and boost my mood with some much-needed escapism.

I was reluctantly about to return to library desk duty when the SO Ox app pinged on my phone.

Dear Ms Fisher,

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