Page 5 of For Love or Money
‘But there’s just no spark.’ She could have added that she knew his real name was Aloysius and she couldn’t see herself dating someone with such a ludicrous name, but that would be mean.
‘Oh, don’t you think so? I mean, I feel a spark.’
‘You can’t feel a spark, because I don’t. It takes two. It’s like starting a fire by rubbing two sticks together. You can’t do it with one stick.’
‘Actually, I think you can. I was a boy scout, you know.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. Well, if you know of a way of sparking off all by yourself, I don’t want to hear about it.’
‘Oh.’ Al’s shoulders slumped despite the cold. ‘Okay, then. Well, goodnight, Lesley. It was a pleasure meeting you.’
‘You too,’ she said as she opened the gate. ‘Enjoy your cake.’
Al stood watching as she walked down the path and opened the door. When she turned to close it, he gave her a little wave and a regretful smile.
That hadn’t been a bad evening all in all, she thought, as she went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She put her piece of cake on a plate and carried it through to the living room, and was about to flick on the light when she saw that Al was still standing outside, fiddling with his phone and looking furtive. Curious, she watched from behind the curtains, wondering what he was up to. A couple of minutes later, a cab pulled up and he hopped in.
Hah! So he did live in Blackrock after all, Lesley thought, chuckling to herself as she drew the curtains. He hadn’t been kidding when he said walking by her house wasn’t his most direct route home. No wonder he didn’t want to ask her back to his place. Still, she couldn’t help admiring his initiative. And she had to admit it was flattering that he’d resorted to subterfuge just so he could walk home with her. She could definitely chalk tonight up as a success, she thought, feeling quite pleased with herself as she switched on the TV and flopped onto the sofa. Being single again was going to be fun.
3
‘So how was it before Gandalf turned up and you all got kicked out?’
The following Monday morning, Lesley was sitting in her friend Romy’s living room, telling her about Dinner Dates, while Romy’s two-year-old son, Luke, was busily emptying the contents of a CD rack, chattering happily to himself as he stacked them up on the floor. Romy was a property developer and worked from home, so Lesley often called round for a coffee break on weekdays.
Lesley cupped her hands around her mug and thought. ‘It was ... convivial,’ she said, landing on the word with satisfaction.
‘Convivial?’ Romy scrunched up her nose. ‘You didn’t meet anyone interesting, then?’
‘No. One guy did chase me home, though.’
‘Oh! Well, in that case, I think you can call it an unqualified success. What was he like?’
‘Pretty fit, but in a nice, normal sort of way – not all man boobs and unputdownable arms. But there was no spark.’
Romy gave her a look, but said nothing.
‘What?’ Lesley shrugged. ‘I’m decisive. It’s one of my best qualities.’
‘You’re too quick to write people off. They might surprise you if you gave them a chance.’
‘They might. And you know I hate surprises.’
Romy laughed. ‘I just think you might miss out on someone great because you don’t feel some instantaneous spark.’
‘Katrina’s always telling me the same thing – only she’s more worried I’ll miss out on the perfect pair of jeans.’ Lesley was just as quick and decisive when it came to shopping as she was about potential dates. ‘She made me go to the Dundrum Centre with her last week for a girlie shopping day.’
‘Doesn’t she know you at all?’
‘I know! I think she imagined it’d be like one of those movie montages. You know – the pair of us on a moving walkway, laden down with posh shopping bags, laughing and pointing stuff out to each other.’
‘Having salad and fizzy water for lunch, and getting your nails done to an upbeat soundtrack.’
‘Yes! Anyway, she soon regretted it. She kept moaning at me that I hadn’t even looked. But I’m like Sherlock. I take it all in in one fell swoop – wrong neckline, frilly sleeves, clingy material, not my colour … it’s like my superpower.’
Lesley had spent most of the day hanging around in doorways, playing with her phone while Katrina had gone through every single rail of clothes, item by item. Then they’d move on to the next store, where she’d begin the painstaking process all over again.
‘I don’t know how she ever gets anything done. She was always the same with men. She once went on three dates with a guy called Skunk! Three! I mean, his name wasSkunk– that’s all you need to know right there.’
