Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating (57 page)

‘And look round here.’ John took her hand excitedly and steered her to the side of the house. Alice peered up the stone passageway that led to the back garden. Something on the left caught her eye.

‘My bike!’ she exclaimed. And then she saw something else. ‘You’ve bought me a stand! My very own bike stand!’

‘It’s just a little something to make you feel at home,’
John explained bashfully. ‘Besides, now that you’ve got a better bike, it seems a shame just to lean it against a wall.’

‘I love it!’ she declared. And she did. She rushed forward to examine her bike and stand. The bike had, perhaps, been the biggest surprise of the last six months – or rather, the person who gave it had. Audrey had barely looked her in the eye the week she’d resigned, and Alice had reconciled herself to being given the silent treatment for the entire month of her notice. She didn’t mind; she understood why Audrey thought she deserved it. But bit by bit Audrey had thawed. She’d started including her in office discussions, and had even bought her a coffee when she’d uncharacteristically popped out to buy the staff cappuccinos. But despite the rapprochement, Alice had never expected a leaving do, and much less a leaving present.

‘It’s second-hand,’ Audrey had declared as she’d wheeled the bike into Luigi’s. ‘It was Maurice’s idea.’

Alice had been so moved, it had been all she could do to blink back a tear. The bike was perfect, and the pannier was huge and roomy. Before she could even think to stop herself she’d heard herself ask aloud: ‘Audrey, do you know if any of the first five clients you matched are still married?’

‘Good heavens, I’m a matchmaker, not a miracle worker!’ Audrey had replied in surprise. ‘Actually, it turned out that one of the couples might only have married so the wife could stay in the country. I’d never have matched them if I’d known – I could have been an accessory to an immigration crime! No, the only couple I believe are still together are my second cousin and his wife. We haven’t been in
touch for years, but the last I heard they’d had three children, and I’ve no reason to doubt they’re still going strong.’

Alice wished with all her heart she’d had the courage to ask Audrey before. And so, by way of relief and thanks, she’d taken Audrey into a quiet corner and shared with her the only thing she had to give: knowledge. Audrey’s mouth had fallen open when Alice told her about Sheryl’s moneymaking strategy. She’d been so astounded she couldn’t speak for several minutes. Alice felt a deep flush of shame that she’d ever – even fleetingly – suspected Audrey might be capable of the same.

‘That’s appalling!’ Audrey had finally spluttered. ‘Unforgivable! The poor clients . . .’

And she’d promised to use the information wisely. There’d been none of the power-crazed zeal Alice would have expected from her when handed a stash of ammunition to use against Sheryl. Just a serious nod, and a declaration that she’d see to it that things were put right. Alice knew Audrey would do the right thing. And because of the new
entente cordiale
she’d reached with her boss, there was no bitter aftertaste to her leaving.

John broke Alice’s reverie with a squeeze of her hand, and they made their way back to the front of the house.

‘So,’ he teased her gently. ‘All that’s left is for us to decide on a name for this new business venture of ours.’

‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that!’ Alice announced excitedly. ‘You know how ours is going to be a dating agency with a difference? How we’re going to use our experiences
to offer the full service to finding love . . . life coaching, confidence building, dating etiquette
and
matchmaking!’

John nodded, smiling at her animation.

‘Well, I think that sounds old-fashioned – but in a good way! Our clients will get the personal touch. We’ll go through the dos and don’ts of dating demystify all the unwritten rules to help people be confident, have fun and fall in love. We’re going to look after them like their best friend ever, or a wise old aunt.’

John laughed. ‘Please tell me we’re not calling it “Auntie John”?’

‘What I mean is, we’ll be looking after our clients in a way that nobody does any more; really taking the time to get to know them. It’s the kind of service people used to get before computers and profit margins. So if we’re giving the personal touch, we should
be
personal. We’re Alice and John:
Miss Brown and Mr Smith
!’ She looked at him expectantly.

‘You want to call our agency “Miss Brown and Mr Smith” . . . ?’ John mulled it over. ‘Well, it’s not sugary. And it’s not a nauseating pun like Love Birds, or A Fine Romance . . .’

‘It’s honest.’

‘It’s certainly old-fashioned . . .’

‘It’s us!’

‘Yes . . .’ John mused. ‘But I think we can do better.’

‘Oh?’ Alice tried not to sound disappointed. She watched him survey their new premises as he made a show of mulling things over. The street was quietening down for the evening
and she thought she could hear the gentle lapping of the sea. The autumn evening sunshine bathed John’s skin in gold. He looked exotic, like something precious – more precious than she could ever have imagined for herself. And then he turned away from the red front door, his blue eyes twinkled and his face broke into a wonderful smile.

‘Forget “Miss Brown and Mr Smith”!’ he grinned. ‘I think “Mr and Mrs Smith” has a much better ring to it!’ And he took both of her hands in his and dropped down on one knee on the pavement. ‘I love you, Miss Brown,’ he said softly. ‘The day I met you was the luckiest day of my life. Would you please do me the honour of agreeing to become my wife?’

Alice’s heart leapt and she fell to her knees and kissed him, down there in the evening sunshine on the pavement. She’d known she’d been right all along to believe in Prince Charmings, to have fantasies and be a shameless romance-aholic. She’d been right to believe that one day she’d find a man who wouldn’t care that she wore cardigans, rode an old-fashioned bike and preferred gardening to nightclubs. And now here she was, happier than she’d ever thought possible, being pulled up into a standing position and being swept into the arms of her very own Mr Right. And they were about to head off into the sunset. She squeezed him ecstatically as she imagined the life they’d have together: Alice the matchmaking gardener and her perfect Prince Charming, John Smith!

Enormous thanks to the army of fantastic people who made this book happen . . . Maggie, Sarah and the team at Ed Victor; Charlotte, Nicola and everyone at Quercus; and Fiona Carpenter for the cover . . . you have been my dream team and I’m forever grateful.

Thanks also to the MTV Press girls, who first gave me the confidence to write by laughing at my press releases (in all the right places), and to Maddy, for matchmaking me with the world of books. Plus thanks to Mum, Dad and the myriad babysitters, without whom this book could never have been written.

Finally, extra big thanks to Nige for having enough confidence in me to stand back and watch my career disintegrate and our bank balance diminish, all in the pursuit of chick lit!