When I Fall In Love

The day passed with excruciating tardiness, every minute outstaying its welcome. The more she thought about it, the greater Elsie’s dread of what could lie ahead became. By four-thirty, her nerves were beginning to get the better of her, and there was only one person she knew who could help to keep her resolve strong. Leaving Cher manning the counter, Elsie grabbed her mobile and stepped outside. Gardner Street was a buzz of busyness, the warm hum of chat and countless footsteps reverberating the length of the street. She smiled at Emma from the Vegetarian Shoe Shop as they passed one another and watched as a group of Goths crowded with surprising enthusiasm in the doorway of Cybercandy. Smiling to herself, she dialled her sister’s number.

‘Hello, Daisy Maynard speaking?’

‘Daisy, it’s me. Can you chat for a minute?’

‘No problem. Wait there …’ Elsie could hear the click-clack of her sister’s heels as she walked from her office to somewhere more conducive to a private conversation. ‘OK. What’s up, lovely?’

Elsie moved to let a dog walker hurry past. ‘Cher’s set me up on a completely daft double date tonight. I agreed at first but now I’m freaking out about it. I mean, it’s too early – I haven’t had any time to prepare, or make sure my head is in the right place. What was I thinking? This is the craziest idea. I can’t go through with it, can I?’

Daisy’s laugh was not unkind. ‘Slow down, Speedy Gonzalez! Take a deep breath and let’s look at this practically. Where are you meeting the bloke?’

‘At The Feathers, this evening.’

‘Right, a public place, that’s good. So, what do you know about him?’

‘Only that Cher fancies his boss, he’s a brother of someone she knows and he’s supposed to be a nice guy.’

‘Anything else? What he does for a living? What he looks like?’

Elsie kicked a screwed-up crisp packet at her feet. ‘Nothing. That’s the problem, Dais. How on earth am I meant to know whether I have anything in common with him or not?’

‘Well, you don’t. But that’s kind of the point of dating, isn’t it? All you are doing is meeting someone who may or may not be interesting enough for you to want to get to know him. It’s hardly rocket science, is it?’

Daisy was making sense and, as so often happened when Elsie talked things over with her sister, the situation began to look less like a forty-foot-high brick wall. ‘Thanks, honey. I don’t know what happened there.’

‘You were scared. And it’s totally understandable. Blind dates are notorious for dodgy dating encounters. But I know you’ll be fine. It’s been a long time since you last dated. Things have changed – and you’ve changed too, remember. I think you should try not to over-think this and just see it for what it is. You’re doing a favour for a friend and possibly meeting a nice bloke in the process. It’s a step, not an entire journey.’

Daisy’s words were still resounding in Elsie’s mind as she changed in the small cloakroom at the back of the café an hour later. The kooky bluebird-print dress she had hastily purchased from the small boutique a few doors away from Sundae & Cher in her lunch break with a bunch of notes thrust into her hand by a very excited Cher was sweet but casual and, teamed with her favourite red ballerina pumps, felt comfortable. Cher had loaned her a red cardigan, which completed the look. She gathered her blonde, shoulder-length bob into a relaxed up-do and held it in place with a couple of black combs. It wasn’t the most inspired dating attire, but it felt like her.

Cher went a little over the top with her enthusiastic reaction when Elsie walked into the kitchen, but Elsie accepted the compliments anyway. She needed to feel confident and, after Daisy’s pep talk, she was determined to enjoy the experience. You love surprises, she reminded herself, her fingers closing around the piece of paper from the satin box in the pocket of her coat, as she and Cher walked to the green-tiled pub near the Theatre Royal where many local shopkeepers headed after work for a drink.

The pub was already packed with post-work revellers, the loud buzz of conversation peppered with stabs of raucous laughter. Elsie had always loved this place and liked the way it had stubbornly resisted the urge to succumb to gastro-pub tweeness as so many others in the area had done. It was her father’s favourite watering hole and she had often accompanied him there in her mid to late teens when he met fellow councillors or furniture suppliers.

They squeezed through the bodies to reach the bar and waited for a full five minutes before catching the attention of Nick, the cheerful, red-faced landlord.

‘Evening, girls,’ he shouted. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Just an orange juice for me and a red wine for Cher, please.’

‘Right you are.’

‘Is Jake Long in yet, Nick?’ Cher asked.

‘Not yet.’ He placed a glass of wine in front of her and flicked the top off a bottle of orange juice to pour into a glass of ice for Elsie. ‘Early, though. He’s normally in about six. Why, you looking for him?’

‘Might be.’ Cher winked at Nick and disappeared into the crowd to find a seat as Elsie paid for the drinks.

‘Hot date,’ Elsie confided.

‘Serious? He’s too normal for Cher, isn’t he?’

Elsie laughed. ‘It’s a bit of a new direction for her.’

Nick gave an overdramatic sigh. ‘I’ve told her: if she’s looking for a real man, she knows where I am.’

‘I’ll pass the message on,’ Elsie replied, taking the drinks and winding through the throng of bodies until she found Cher proudly guarding a table with four chairs by the window. ‘Nick offered to be your real man again.’

Cher rolled her eyes heavenwards and took a large gulp of wine. ‘He can go on dreaming. I’ve heard too many rumours about Nick Plass to go there.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Jake shouldn’t be long. Aren’t you drinking?’

‘I might have one later.’ Elsie might have been thankful for a little Dutch courage, but she fully intended to go into this without the aid of alcohol.

They made themselves comfortable and chatted aimlessly about work for twenty minutes, neither of them really thinking about the subject, as the prospect of the evening ahead loomed large over them. When Cher’s glass was empty, she stood to head back to the bar but was stopped in her tracks by the sight of two men weaving through the standing drinkers. Jake Long strode in front, his impeccable suit standing out amongst the casually dressed locals, an expensive overcoat folded over one arm. He was handsome for his age – his kind dark eyes and lightly tanned skin contrasting with the flashes of silver at his temples and running through his lustrous brown hair. Cher was suddenly all coy eyelashes and shy smiles as he approached the table.

Elsie was so busy being impressed by Jake’s appearance that she forgot to look at her own date for the evening, who was waiting behind his boss, obscured from view by the crush of pub customers.

‘Delighted you could make it,’ Jake smiled at Cher, an obvious twinkle in his eye. ‘Apologies for our lateness – we had a last-minute meeting at the office.’ He extended his hand to Elsie. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too.’

‘I have a feeling this is going to be a most pleasant evening,’ Jake replied, moving to one side. ‘Let me introduce you to our most brilliant junior partner in the practice …’

As he was speaking, the young man beside him stepped forward, and instantly Elsie’s breath deserted her. Surely not …

‘… Torin Stewart.’

Jake and Cher were grinning like a pair of hungry hyenas, but as Elsie’s eyes met Torin’s, neither of them was smiling.

Forced by propriety to be civil, Elsie held out her hand. ‘Elsie Maynard. Nice to meet you.’

‘Is it?’ Torin briefly shook her hand, the shock of his warm skin on hers causing her to pull away as quickly as she could. The briefest of smiles passed across his lips before he turned to Jake. ‘I’ll get the first round in, shall I?’

Jake clapped his hands together. ‘Excellent idea. Mine’s a single malt with water, no ice. Ladies?’

‘Red wine for me. Elsie?’

Struggling to stop the room from spinning around her, Elsie wrestled her way back into the moment. ‘Same, please. Large.’

Cher raised an eyebrow and Elsie managed a weak smile in return. As Jake sat opposite Cher, she quickly turned her attention squarely onto him and Elsie sank back into her chair. How was it possible for Torin to be her blind date? After their initial meeting and the excruciating second round in Croydon, Elsie had felt sure that she and Torin Stewart were never destined to cross paths again. Yet here he was – for the third time in as many weeks. What was she going to say to him?

All too quickly, Torin returned with a tray of drinks, seemingly charmed when it came to being served quickly in the only pub in Brighton that made a virtue of its long bar waiting times – a fact attested to by a large sign over the bar bearing the legend:

We don’t do ‘fast’. Our beer is worth the wait.

‘Blimey, we’ll send you to the bar again,’ Cher remarked, raising her glass to Torin. Grinning, he clinked his pint glass against hers and then held it towards Elsie.

‘To a pleasant evening?’

Reluctantly, she accepted the toast. ‘A pleasant evening.’ Pleasant, she added to herself, meaning short …