Chapter 9
9
POPPY
‘Well, what do you think?’ I ask George and Ursula. Going by their expressions – including a barely visible lift of Ursula’s brows – they think I’m madder than a cut snake.
‘Sorry, just to be clear, you want us to find un suitable dates for your client?’ asks Ursula.
‘Yes.’
‘Poppy, I adore you – really – but have you gone completely mad?’ George pipes in, verifying I was right.
‘Not completely, no. Not when you consider the relevant factors.’
‘Which are?’ Ursula prods.
I need to be quick as the morning staff meeting starts in a few minutes. ‘Well, first off, as confirmed by our conversation last night, I’d categorise our client as a hopeful romantic.’
‘You mean hope less ,’ says George.
‘I mean hope ful . Greta believes in love and she’s ready to find it. I’m confident of that.’
‘Then why would we want to match her with unsuitable men?’ asks Ursula.
‘Because she asked us to.’
‘She what ?’ asks George incredulously.
‘It was Greta’s suggestion to date duds.’
‘But that’s not the writing assignment,’ he says.
‘Yes, I realise that, George, which brings me to the third consideration: Greta knows what we’re up to – that the writing assignment is just a ruse to match her.’
‘Are you certain?’ Ursula asks.
‘Positive. It was as much what she didn’t say as what did. She also kept hedging as if she was about to blurt it out.’
‘But how ? How did she find out?’ asks George.
‘Because she’s clever and she obviously connected all the dots. I did warn Anjali it was likely to happen.’
‘So, why not just tell her boss that the jig is up? Or have Greta tell her?’ Ursula asks.
‘Because Greta doesn’t know that I know she knows. If she did, I’m certain she would have brought it up last night. She’s asking for a way to maintain her part of the ruse without revealing to me – or her boss – that she knows. While being open to falling in love.’
‘But why doesn’t she want her boss to know she knows?’ asks George, his brow creased in confusion.
‘Look, Greta’s a pro. My best guess is that she wants to smash this assignment – it’s good for the magazine, she loves writing articles… She’ll also understand that Anjali’s intentions are pure and maybe she’s worried about damaging the dynamic of their relationship. Either way, we need to set Greta up with some duds. We can introduce her first real match afterwards.’
‘Poppy, I’m going to need a headache tablet before I can decipher all that,’ says Ursula drily.
‘Just trust me – we need some duds. Can you help?’
Her lips purse slightly – the Ursula equivalent of dubiousness. ‘If Saskia and Paloma sign off, I’ll find you some from the reject pile.’
‘Excellent.’
‘Wait, we have a reject pile?’ asks George.
She gives him a withering look, as if he should be relegated to the reject pile.
My eyes flick to the wall clock behind reception. ‘Come on, staff meeting.’
As we make our way to the conference room, Ursula leans in. ‘I suggest you let me explain what you’re asking. You made about as much sense as one of those Australianisms you constantly spout.’
I wouldn’t say I constantly spout Aussie-isms, but at least I’ve got Ursula on side.
‘What about this bloke?’ asks George as he slides a folder across the table.
‘Give me the abridged version,’ I reply, not lifting my gaze from the bio in front of me.
‘There may as well be “misogynist” scrawled across the top of his file in giant, red letters.’
‘Ah, that old chestnut.’ Intrigued, I pull the folder towards me, and skim read. ‘Oh, Michael – what a prince you are. He’s definitely going on the list.’
‘How many do we have so far?’
I look at my tablet. ‘That makes five. We’ve got fifty-and-still-lives-with-his-mum, the guy who’s playing the numbers game?—’
‘Sir Dates-A-Lot,’ quips George.
‘Hah, good one,’ I say, glancing up to catch George’s less-than-impressed expression.
‘He clocks up nine dates a weekend, Poppy. If he hasn’t found his someone by now, it’s probably him, not them.’
I laugh. ‘I was thinking the same thing. Right,’ I say consulting the list again. ‘There’s also the part-time naturist and every-spare-moment-in-the-gym-and-won’t-shut-up-about-it guy.’
‘I don’t know which one I’d rather date less. And where would you even go with a naturist? No shoes, no shirt, no trousers , no service.’
‘Look at you with the snappy one-liners today.’ George takes the compliment with a self-satisfied smile. ‘And Mr Misogyny,’ I add, typing in Michael’s name.
George puts down the sheaf of papers he’s holding. ‘Are you sure you want to put Greta thought all this? I like her and these men are…’ His face screws up as if he smells something foul.
‘She asked us to. Besides, I gave her Harrison’s bio and it took her less than a day to call me in a panic. And it’s a valid concern, as there’s every chance he’s her match. And not just because we chose him and we’re good – but it was the way she talked about him. If we do this, she gets to fulfil her end of the bargain without revealing to Anjali that?—’
‘That she knows … I know , Poppy. Blimey, this is like that episode of Friends when everyone finds out about Monica and Chandler.’
‘Oh, I love that one,’ I say.
‘I know .’
We look at each other for a beat, then burst out laughing.
‘Right,’ I say a few moments later. ‘Let’s set up our client with some duds.’
Greta
I put the last biography back in the folder and close it, then rest my hand on top. I may have sent us down this path, but it’s still a lot to take in.
Poppy and I are at The Daily Grind – our unofficial office for the duration of my assignment, as away from Nouveau , we can talk candidly about my writing assignment and everything it entails. Wary – and a little weary – I look across the table at her.
‘What do you think?’ she asks.
What do I think? I think I’m bonkers for agreeing to this assignment in the first place and even more bonkers for asking Poppy to set me up with men like these just so I don’t have to admit to Anjali I know what she’s up to. I also think I’m about ten seconds away from marching into her office and putting a stop to this ridiculous gambit.
Poppy cocks her head to one side and regards me with a half-smile. ‘You can be honest with me, you know.’
Is she teasing me or alluding to the GREAT HAIRY SECRET I’m keeping from her and Anjali?
If it’s the latter, can I trust Poppy with the entire truth? While I mull over this conundrum, she waits for me to say something, her kind smile fixed.
‘Well, I think you’ve managed to find five reasons why women my age find dating so horrible,’ I tell her, my eyes flicking to the folder. She chuckles and I join in despite myself. ‘I know I asked you to do this, but we’ll have to change the title of the series to “Dating Horrors of London”. It was supposed to be about avoiding the shallows and dating in the deep end – having meaningful dates… And this is so far from the original concept…’ I sigh. ‘I’m being contrary, aren’t I? Difficult, even.’
She presses her lips together as if she’s stopping herself from revealing something. It’s unnerving, especially as her eyes are still firmly locked onto mine.
‘Can I ask you something, Greta?’
I nod, dread surging through me. I feel like I’m driving straight towards a cliff at full speed. But maybe Poppy has a parachute in her matchmaker bag of tricks.
‘When we spoke a couple of nights ago – about Harrison – you seemed quite taken by him.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so. I mean, I’m just going by what’s on the page, of course, but…’
I trail off again, my thought lingering in the air between us. I can’t finish it because I’d be admitting that some biographical information and a photograph – one I can’t stop looking at – has affected me. And crushing on someone I’ve never met is almost as pitiful as crushing on Luca for as long as I did.
‘So,’ says Poppy, pulling me from my self-deprecating thoughts, ‘does that mean you’re legitimately interested in finding love?’
And there it is: the dreaded question, the one that blares yet another person knows what’s going on inside my head – and my heart. My best friend? Fine. But my boss? And now a professional matchmaker? Horrifying.
I may as well take out an advertisement on one of those billboards in Oxford Circus that says, ‘I am thirty-five and single and it’s only just occurred to me that I may have left it too late to find love and start a family!’
And if I do admit to the truth to Poppy, then what? Do I have to date these horrible men? Will Poppy still match me with Harrison?
Oh, to hell with it.
‘Yes. Yes, I am interested in finding love.’
Poppy’s face lights up with a wide smile. ‘That’s great news, Greta. Thanks for being so honest with me.’
It’s a relief, speaking my truth – and to someone other than Tiggy. Possibly because Tiggy and I have very different perspectives on love – and life, come to think of it. Even though she’s supportive, I don’t think she truly understands that what began as a muted, niggling sensation a few weeks ago has taken root, is growing legs, and all other suitable idioms.
‘So, now what?’ I ask. ‘Wait – you said this is great news? In what way?’
That enigmatic smile appears again. ‘Because now I know our objective – the real one – what it is that you want.’
‘You mean, instead of what Anjali wants for me?’
I clap my hand over my mouth. Having just told Poppy my deepest desire, now I’ve revealed I know there’s a ‘secret’ plan afoot.
Poppy’s response is to laugh, though I don’t think it’s at me. ‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘but you should see your face right now.’
I drop my hand and sigh again. ‘Cards on the table?’
She nods.
‘I know Anjali only brought you into Nouveau Life for me – to help find me a partner. It’s glaringly obvious.’
‘I gathered you knew.’
‘Really? Oh no! Do you think Anjali does?’
‘At the moment, no. I think she’s too excited to see that you’ve figured it out.’
‘Well, there’s that at least. Oh, Poppy, I’m mortified . Anjali – the woman I admire most in the world – thinks I’m such a sad case, she had to engage you.’
‘Hey, I don’t see it that way. She cares about you and she wants you to be happy. That’s all this is.’
‘I suppose,’ I admit. ‘That’s the other reason I haven’t said anything – I know she means well. Are you going to tell her that I know?’
As I await Poppy’s reply, I suck in a deep breath and hold it. The thought of all this being out in the open is equal parts relief and humiliation, so I’m not sure which answer I want.
‘I don’t think we need to. At least, not right away.’
‘Really? But I thought you’d— Actually, I don’t know what I thought.’
‘I meant it when I said your case was my top priority and I’ll do everything in my power to make you a match – either with Harrison, or someone else.’
‘And them?’ I ask, grimacing at the folder.
‘Well, if you don’t want to reveal to Anjali that you’re in the know…’
‘Right.’
‘How about this? You go out with two or three of these men,’ she says, lightly tapping the folder, ‘write about the dates, and once the series is established, we switch gears and you meet your real potential matches?’
‘That sounds exhausting.’
‘But doable?’ she asks with raised brows.
‘But doable, yes.’
‘And look at it this way: there’s a lot to be said for kissing frogs when you’re dating. It helps narrow down what you want in a partner, especially the non-negotiables.’
‘Such as not being a misogynist who essentially wants a housekeeper and thrice-weekly sex,’ I say, referring to Michael.
Poppy laughs again. ‘Exactly.’
‘Poppy?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I am not going out with Michael. Not even a little bit.’
She smiles. ‘Consider him struck from the list.’
I sit back against my chair and reach for my nearly empty coffee cup, taking a sip. My face screws up as I swallow – it’s gone cold.
‘Excuse me, are you Greta?’ a young woman asks. She’s wearing a forest-green apron with The Daily Grind’s logo embroidered on it and is holding two takeaway cups.
‘Er, yes, I am.’
‘These are for you,’ she says setting the cups on the table.
‘But we didn’t order these,’ I say. I’m especially confused because there’s no table service here.
She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. ‘They’re from him.’ She turns and I follow her line of sight. Ewan is standing near the counter and smiling at me. I lift a hand to wave and he waves back.
‘Enjoy,’ says the young woman. Before I can thank her, she turns and goes back behind the counter.
‘Do you know him?’ asks Poppy.
‘Er, yes.’
‘Then invite him over,’ she says, that familiar lilt of laughter in her voice.
I catch Ewan’s eye and wave him over.
‘Hello, you,’ I say, my mouth stretching into an involuntary smile as he approaches.
‘Hello.’ We stare at each other for several seconds.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I say, realising, ‘where are my manners? This is Poppy Dean, my… er, colleague. And this is Ewan— Actually, I don’t know your last name.’
‘Wilder,’ he says to Poppy. ‘And did I get your order correct?’ he asks, motioning to the cup in front of Poppy. ‘Strong tea, white, no sugar? That’s what Harry behind the counter said.’
Poppy’s eyes widen slightly and she shoots me a look, then her eyes swing back to Ewan. ‘You have got that right and thank you, Ewan. That’s very thoughtful.’
‘A pleasure. I guessed you might be Greta’s colleague. You seemed to be working quite hard and I thought you might like another round, so to speak.’ Ewan seems shy suddenly – or perhaps embarrassed. It’s hard to tell, as I don’t know him that well. ‘I’ve overstepped, haven’t I?’ He shakes his head. ‘Or worse, intruded .’
‘No, not at all,’ says Poppy. ‘And how do you two know each other?’ she asks.
‘From here, actually,’ Ewan replies.
‘How nice,’ she says with a smile. Then she glances at her watch. ‘So sorry, but I’ll need to take this to go. Greta, I’ll be in touch later so we can get started on our project.’
‘Right, yes.’ And then she’s gone.
‘I didn’t mean to chase her off,’ Ewan says as he watches Poppy leave.
‘No, no, you didn’t. We were done anyway.’
‘Oh good,’ he says, seeming relieved. ‘So, an interesting project you’re working on?’ His eyes, filled with interest, land on the folder.
‘Er, yes.’
Interesting, but also horrific , I think but don’t say. ‘Did you want to sit?’
I should probably be getting back to Nouveau , but what’s another ten minutes away from the office? Especially when I need some respite after my meeting with Poppy.
‘I’d love to, but I’ve got to get back to work myself,’ he replies.
Oh .
‘How about tomorrow? Ten-ish?’
‘Perfect,’ I say, my disappointment dissipating instantly.
Ewan flashes me a grin, then heads towards the counter just as the barista calls out his name.