Chapter Sixteen #2
‘I’m sure that I’ll find it interesting,’ he said, flicking his thumb through the pages. ‘As a historical document, if nothing else.’
‘Gabe, it’s not a historical document! It’s … you have to promise me that you’ll read it without prejudice. Pun intended.’ Tess tapped him with the philosophical joke book he’d given her. ‘Like me and Plato and his platypus.’
‘I don’t think it’s a pun if you’re simply repeating one of the words in the title. Anyway, I’m not prejudiced.’ Gabe sounded a little huffy. ‘And it’s just a novel.’
‘Like I said before, it’s arguably the greatest novel ever written in the English language and also, arguably, the greatest opening line of any novel …’ Tess said in what she hoped was a tempting way.
‘Go on then,’ he said, nudging her, the faintest suggestion of a smile lifting up the corners of his mouth. ‘I can tell that you’re dying to tell me the first line.’
‘Keen but not dying …’
‘You’re practically vibrating,’ Gabe noted. It was true, they’d come to a halt and she was bouncing on the spot in her red Adidas Gazelles. ‘What is this first line then? Give it your best shot.’
Tess clasped her hands together. Almost as if she was in prayer. Praying to the fiction gods that Gabe would see the error of his never-read-a-novel ways. She had his full attention and she was going to sell this like she was pitching bamboo socks to The Sunday Sentinel readership.
‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife,’ she said in her best, clearest, although also slightly breathless voice. ‘Fucking genius, right?’
‘Well, it does beg the question why a single man of good fortune would necessarily want a wife?’ Gabe mused.
They were on the move again. ‘One could posit the theory that he’d no longer be in possession of a good fortune if he was to get married.
Perhaps if he were happily married, he’d no longer be so invested in his business, and his fortune could dwindle.
It’s also worth considering that they had large families back then and children are always expensive––’
‘Oh my God, thank you for ruining Pride and Prejudice for me. What happened to not being prejudiced?’
‘I am going to read it in an extremely expansive frame of mind,’ Gabe declared with what appeared to be sincerity. ‘And of course I’ll be interested to see why you love it so much. I can’t think why my opinion of the book would have any effect on your enjoyment of it.’
‘Because I could never be with some … be friends with someone who didn’t like it at least even a little bit.’ It wasn’t what Tess wanted to say, she wasn’t even entirely sure what those words might be, but it would have to do.
‘Jane Austen is arguably one of the greatest living writers in the English language …’
‘Now, you’re taking the piss out of me …’
‘So, I’m sure all those millions of fans can’t be wrong.
’ Gabe gave her a sideways look. Tess wished that her face was impassive, a blank mask.
That she was one of those people who other people considered enigmatic.
A mystery. A puzzle. But no, she was frowning.
Her lower lip jutting out in a ridiculous pout.
‘Tess, I promise that I will read it with a mind so open that it lets in the rain.’
‘Look, it’s no big deal,’ she managed to say with something approaching lightness.
‘It clearly is a big deal to you and I’m honoured that you want to share your favourite book with me.’ It was the perfect thing to say. ‘However, there are some other novels I’ll need to read first if you agree to the rather entertaining little scheme that I’ve come up with.’
‘The famous proposition?’
‘The very same.’ Gabe brushed his arm against hers, in a way that felt deliberate. A moment of connection. Reassurance. ‘There’s no need to look so worried. Hopefully, it’s a good thing. Even an enjoyable thing.’
‘To do with the library?’ Tess clarified because for one giddy moment, their skin touching, she’d thought that Gabe meant the two of them. Doing enjoyable things.
‘Of course to do with the library. What else would it be to do with?’ Gabe asked with a bemusement that was, on reflection, crushing.
Tess’s ego had taken so many knocks over the last three years, and in the last three weeks in particular, that she wasn’t sure it would ever go back to its original shape. ‘I think you’ve kept me in suspense long enough.’
‘Well, yes. Not my intention.’ By now they’d reached the Tate Modern, its imposing and austere structure looming over them. ‘Let’s sit.’
Tess was going to have to stay in a suspended state for a little bit longer, as she let Gabe guide her through the gardens that separated the building from the riverside.
He didn’t touch her, but steered her, his hand at the small of her back but not quite making contact, so she was still sure she could feel the heat of his palm through two layers of cotton.
There was a bench tucked away in a leafy corner. Gabe presented it to Tess with much ceremony, like she was an elderly great aunt who couldn’t stay on her feet for much longer.
She sat.
Gabe sat.
They both sat.
He appeared deep in thought.
Tess realised that she was clenching her jaw. She unclenched and sighed. ‘You have a count of three to tell me, or I’m going!’
‘Well …’
‘One!’
‘It occurred to me that … well …’
‘Two!’
‘It’s very hard to marshal my thoughts when you have––’
‘Three!’ Tess stood up, all the better to put her hands on her hips and give Gabe her flintiest look. Sometimes it could even thwart Claire when she was at her most micro-managing worst. ‘What is it?’
‘A bespoke event where you enjoy a series of short romantic interludes with a variety of characters from literature,’ Gabe said quickly and a little desperately. ‘It will be fun. Flirtatious. A light-hearted way to spend an evening.’
That was it? That was the mysterious proposition. Tess knew for a fact that disappointment was written all over her face. If Shania Twain’s ‘That Don’t Impress Me Much’ ever assumed a human form, it would be Tess in that moment.
‘Speed dating? You want me to go speed dating with a bunch of characters written by authors that have been dead for more than seventy years, which means that they don’t get modern society and they certainly won’t get me. I can’t take much more …’
‘There’ll be snacks!’ Gabe interjected as if that might seal the deal.
Although … depending on what the snacks were, it possibly might.
‘Please, Tess, sit down. I’ll try to explain my thinking in a direct and not at all long-winded way,’ Gabe said, his hand making the lightest contact with Tess’s wrist.
His voice, his touch were both gentle. In fact, he hadn’t been sarcastic for a good ten minutes, which had to be killing him. He must really want Tess to give the green light to whatever bonkers idea he’d come up with.
Tess sat back down and folded her arms. Her presence, rather than storming off – as much as someone could storm off with any real gravitas when they were wearing dungarees with strawberries on them – was permission for Gabe to get to the fucking point.
‘So, I think we can both agree that the dates with Heathcliff and Rochester were not a success. I’m not apportioning blame, merely stating the facts,’ he added, which was fair enough.
Heathcliff was famously a wrong ’un, which had been a good eighty per cent of his charm.
She hadn’t even googled Rochester until he’d started spouting some deeply troubling sentiments.
So, if blame was being doled out … ‘I could have made better choices,’ Tess admitted glumly. ‘Which is the story of my life.’
‘Let’s not dwell on any unpleasant or upsetting past events and focus on the future, where I will select no fewer than six dates for you.
Ten minutes a date, though if you’re getting on well, we can play that by ear.
Maybe a longer, second date at another time …
’ Gabe was really warming to his theme, rubbing his hands together as he contemplated matchmaking Tess with … it didn’t bear thinking about.
‘No philosophers,’ she said very firmly. ‘I’m nixing Nietzsche.’
When Gabe turned his whole body towards her and smiled, his face scrunching up in the most delighted and delightful way, Tess realised that the other Gabe smiles she’d seen had been lacklustre approximations of what was clearly the real deal. ‘Did you just make a philosophy joke?’
Tess wasn’t going to smile back but she couldn’t help it. It had been a fancy bit of alliteration. ‘You’re obviously a bad influence on me.’
‘I’ve never been a bad influence on anyone,’ Gabe said a little sadly. ‘I’m a firm believer in regular exercise, sleep and optimum levels of hydration.’
He did eat dim sum and drink beer, so he wasn’t without vices. Nobody could be as buttoned up as Gabe and not let rip sometimes. All that lean strength from regular exercise and clean living, the stern face he did so well …
‘Are you all right? I thought we’d be in the shade here, but if it’s too hot, we could move?’ Gabe enquired solicitously, with absolutely no idea that while he was planning an exciting dating adventure for Tess, she was lowkey perving on him.
‘I’m fine,’ Tess said, fanning her heated face with her hand.
‘So, where were we? No philosophers. Is that what you were talking about when you said that you were going to read some novels? Because, to be honest with you, I’m a bit worried that someone who’s a legendary non-reader of novels will set me up with a series of dud dates. ’
‘I’m going to throw myself into this little project with great enthusiasm and diligence,’ Gabe said earnestly. ‘Like your good friend Nietzsche, I believe in embracing challenges in the pursuit of personal excellence.’
‘But you don’t even know what my type is,’ Tess pointed out. ‘I don’t want to end up with Mr Collins or Uriah Heep.’