It’s funny the things that hurtle through your brain when you’re heading towards a possibly life-changing situation. All day, alongside the usual ‘Will he turn up?’, ‘Will he like me?’ and ‘What will we talk about?’ questions, other issues – such as whether the blue printed White Stuff dress and orange scarf I had chosen after several hours of trying on seemingly every item of clothing I possessed was, in fact, the correct choice – joined in the onslaught on my consciousness.
Mick had noticed my distractedness as soon as I arrived at work, but left it until almost the end of the day to question me.
‘Alright, Parker, what’s up?’ he asked, striding back into the Bat Cave with a mug of tea and an air that said he wasn’t going to let me go until he received a satisfactory answer.
As it was less than an hour before I was due to meet Sebastian, nerves were threatening to remove any remaining shreds of sanity I still possessed and support was badly needed. So I told him everything: Wren’s advert, the speedy reply, the unexpected name of my possible stranger and the worries I had been battling since yesterday.
‘Wow. No wonder you haven’t been with it today. Are you excited?’
‘Yes, of course I am. I’ve thought about this guy so much since Christmas and gone through about every scenario possible in my mind. I want it so much to be him that I’m meeting today …’
‘But?’
I searched his face for reassurance. ‘But what if the picture and the person I’ve built up in my mind don’t match the reality?’
Mick rubbed the stubble along his square jawline. ‘You can’t worry about things like that, Rom. I guess what’s important is that you’re willing to find out either way. Just focus on the excitement and you’ll be fine.’
His pep talk certainly helped to bolster my self-confidence. An hour later, walking towards the venue for our meeting, I felt like a changed woman. It was just a coffee, I reminded myself, not a marriage proposal. I could do this!
I was almost at the entrance to the glass-fronted café when my mobile rang. ‘Are you there yet, bab?’ Uncle Dudley asked, his exuberance instantly making me smile.
‘About three steps away,’ I whispered.
‘Ooh, we’re so chuffed for you, we are. Your aunt has been cooking all day she’s been that nervous. The galley looks like the swanky cake counter in Selfridges Food Hall now.’
‘I’ll have to pop over and sample some of those, then.’
‘Make sure you do. We’re proper rooting for you, sweetheart. You have a fantastic time and let us know how you get on, OK?’
Ending the call, I paused at the entrance to the coffee shop, straightened my dress and, heart in mouth, walked in.
With ten minutes to spare, I ordered a caramel macchiato and found a seat by the window. The lights around the beautiful red sandstone church in the centre of the modern shopping centre were starting to come on as dusk began to fall, making everything feel magical, while a cloudless sky arced over the considerable crowds of people as they made their way home from the city shops, banks and offices. As I watched them I thought about the stranger, about Sebastian – that name was going to take some getting used to – and wondered how close he was to me right now. Was he as nervous as me?
A polite cough summoned me from my reverie. Standing next to my table was a well-dressed man with wavy blond hair and blue eyes. By my estimate, he must have been in his mid-to late thirties and appeared to be rather nervous.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I very much hope so. I’m Sebastian. Sebastian Myers. May I sit down?’
The weight of crushing disappointment was breath-stealing as I forced a smile at the random stranger who wasn’t my random stranger, mentally kicking myself for investing so much thought and emotion into this meeting. I felt like the whole coffee shop could see just how much of an idiot I was feeling.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. Your reply only had your Encounters box number on it,’ Sebastian smiled, ‘and I can’t spend all night referring to you as “BE1712”, can I?’
Wait a minute – all night? Who said anything about all night? As far as I was aware, this was just a coffee. Either Sebastian was getting ahead of himself or else Wren was guilty of gross misrepresentation on my behalf.
‘I’m Romily. Nice to meet you, er, Sebastian.’ There was one bright spark in the quagmire of discouragement I was experiencing at that moment – at least now there was little danger of me ending up as one half of a couple that would have sounded more at home in the register of a home for retired theatre luvvies. Have you met Sebastian and Romily, two of our most senior residents?
‘Can I say, before we do anything else, how attractive you’re looking this evening?’
‘Thank you.’ More than a little concerned by the lascivious twinkle in his eye, I decided to cut to the chase. ‘Look, there’s clearly been some mistake here. You’re not the stranger I met at Christmas.’
From his nonchalant expression it was blatantly apparent that Sebastian had no intention of even trying to pretend he was. ‘I know I’m not. But I could be just what you’re looking for.’
Argh! Standing quickly I clutched my bag to myself. ‘Well, thank you very much for meeting me. Um, have a nice life.’
‘Romily! Wait!’ he called after me as I bolted out of the coffee shop. ‘We could have a brief encounter all of our own!’
No, thank you!
I didn’t stop running until I was several hundred feet away. My head was spinning, the disappointment of finding a dead-end in my quest tempered by the utter hilarity of meeting Sleazy Sebastian. I was just about to call Wren when I heard running footsteps and heavy panting behind me. Turning, I was amazed to see my aunt and uncle dashing towards me, faces flushed and bodies protesting at the effort.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘Well,’ Uncle Dudley panted, leaning his hands on his knees to catch his breath, ‘you left the coffee shop so fast we had to run to keep up with you.’
‘Hang on, you were just in there?’
Auntie Mags flashed a contrite smile at me. ‘It was my idea. I was worried about you meeting a stranger all alone. We were just round the corner from your table. I’m sorry, chick.’
‘We even had disguises,’ Uncle Dudley admitted, holding up a threadbare trilby and a pair of dark glasses.
The thought of my aunt and uncle engaged in a covert surveillance operation was too funny for words, its effect magnified by their guilty expressions. I burst out laughing, startling a Hare Krishna follower who was handing out leaflets outside Primark. And such was the release after all the recent tension, anticipation and disappointment that, for a full five minutes, I shook with laughter, tears streaming down my face and my sides aching, while Uncle Dudley and Auntie Mags stood helplessly by. When it finally subsided I was exhausted, but feeling a million times better.
‘I take it you’re not too upset it wasn’t him?’ Auntie Mags asked as she hugged me.
‘I’m relieved it wasn’t him. He was so sleazy and suggestive he made Leslie Phillips look reserved.’
‘And it means your chap is still out there,’ Uncle Dudley added.
‘Absolutely. Onwards and upwards.’
Initial disappointment (and cringe-worthy conversations) aside, today had turned out to be an important step for me. As I mulled everything over later that night, I realised that the experience had only served to strengthen my determination to find the man who kissed me. I had seen him for the briefest of moments in February, I now possessed photographic proof that I hadn’t dreamed the whole thing and I carried with me the well-wishes of the people who loved me and the countless strangers who believed in what I was doing. With all this in my favour, how could the quest fail?
Well, I said I might have a breakthrough to report, and in a way I have. I now know that my mystery stranger is not called Sebastian!
Considering how nervous I was before meeting the man who’d replied to the Encounters ad, you would think I’d be devastated to find that it wasn’t the man I met. But honestly, it was the best ever result. My handsome stranger was kind, honest and completely gorgeous – but the guy I met today had none of these qualities. He was an opportunist who didn’t even match the description in the advert.
So my handsome stranger is back to being PK for the time being, which feels a much better name than Sebastian! It did make me wonder what his name is (and kick myself for the millionth time that I didn’t ask him what it was at Christmas). I suppose the point is that his name doesn’t really matter. When I find this lovely guy, I won’t care a bean if he’s a Rupert, Bill, Dave or even Juan. (It would be quite fun to introduce a Juan to my parents, though …) The important thing will be that I’ll have found the man who made my whole world stop when I met him.
Like Uncle Dudley says, this whole episode just goes to prove that my handsome stranger is still out there – so keep your fingers crossed for me!
Rom x
‘How many more times do you want me to apologise? The wedding planner lied, not me. I’m sorry about the bunny ears, but what could I do?’ D’Wayne faced us, his brow furrowed as he protested his innocence once more. To be fair to our manager, we knew it wasn’t his fault, but Jack and Tom found D’Wayne’s propensity to rise to the bait just too tempting to ignore.
We were sitting in the melamine splendour of Harry’s, primarily to hear the latest juicy details of the millionaire gig after Tom had called an impromptu band meeting.
‘I think we should let up on him now,’ Wren said, shaking off the ‘oooohs’ from Charlie and Jack. ‘No, I’m just saying. D’Wayne’s arranged some really good bookings for us this year – apart from the tights gig and the bunny gig – and let’s face it, it’s a lot better for us than when Jack and Tom were organising things.’
‘Hey!’ Tom protested.
‘She has a point,’ Charlie conceded, receiving an accusatory glance from Jack. ‘Although Tom might just have come up trumps with this gig, eh, mate?’
Tom made no attempt to disguise his disdain. ‘Cheers.’
With perfect timing, Harry chose that very moment to bring over his mama’s secret recipe doughnuts.
‘I take it you all kissy-kissy made up, now huh?’ he grinned as we descended like locusts on the hugely calorific but thoroughly amazing golden twists of sugary gorgeousness. ‘Good. I need my customers to be ’appy, you know? All this English down-in-the-mouth I am seeing from you is not so good for my business.’
Jack brushed sugar from his chin and grinned at Tom. ‘So what’s the news about the millionaire gig?’
‘It looks like everything is set,’ Tom said, in between mouthfuls of doughnut. ‘Justin – my boss – told me he’s arranged it all for us, including a dressing room, a P.A. so we don’t have to bring ours, accommodation nearby the day before and the night after the gig. He’s even covering our travel expenses. So what we’re basically looking at, people, is an all-expenses-paid trip to London!’
This was fantastic news, and exactly the thing to take my mind off the temporary hiatus in my quest. I could see the excitement washing over my friends; even D’Wayne’s eyes were sparkling at the prospect.
Wren squealed. ‘It’s like a dream! I can’t believe they want us. This is serious stuff.’
‘Yes, it is,’ D’Wayne conceded. ‘It’s a great coup, Tom. You did good.’
‘Good? I did more than good, I think you’ll find. Julian said that he’d recommended us to two friends already, purely on the strength of our demo CD and our “can-do” attitude. And trust me, Jules is the kind of guy that doesn’t get impressed very often.’
Wren clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. ‘Please heaven let us get more of these! I want to kiss my credit card bills goodbye!’
‘I hear you, sister!’ Tom adopted a Southern Baptist drawl. ‘And all the people said …’
We raised our hands and chorused: ‘A-men!’