Cathy Glass - Run, Mummy, Run

She waited until Grace had left her office and closed the door behind her. ‘Hello Belinda. What can I do for you?’

‘I’ll be quick because I know you’re busy, but I just had to tell you. I have an introduction for you! Already!’

Aisha heard the excitement in Belinda’s voice and knew she should have felt it too. ‘Yes?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Let me explain. By the time you left yesterday evening I already had three gentlemen in mind. All absolutely charming and meeting your criteria. So, in keeping with my usual policy, I telephoned each of them with a few details about yourself, and from that I was able to proceed and select one. He’s so right, Aisha, so absolutely right! Perfect. You’re very lucky indeed.’

Aisha admired the diplomatic way Belinda passed off the rejection of her details by the other two; they were probably looking for someone younger, she thought, or more vibrant, or both.

‘Now, before I go any further,’ Belinda continued, ‘there’s something I need to clarify with you first. I am right in thinking you are happy meeting someone from a different ethnic background? That is what you said, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’

‘Good. I wanted to be certain because it’s obviously important.’

‘It could be to some,’ Aisha said, and felt the familiar niggle of irritation. ‘Is he white?’

‘Yes. Now let me tell you a bit about him. He’s thirty-six, a bit older than you, as you requested. He’s a graduate engineer, and tall – you said you like tall men. He works for a large multinational in the City, in fact not far from where you work. He sometimes travels on business, but he’s more than happy to take his partner whenever possible. Don’t worry though, I’ve already explained it would be difficult for you with your career. He has his own house. His car is a BMW, which he changes every year. Without doubt he’s completely sincere in his wish to have someone important in his life again, and is over the break-up of his marriage, which I understand wasn’t his fault. He loves what I’ve told him about you and hopes you will allow him to telephone you. This will be his first introduction, Aisha. Like you, he’s very particular about the type of person he is looking for.’

Belinda stopped and Aisha latched on to the one sentence she would rather not have heard: the break-up of his marriage. ‘He’s been married before then?’ she asked.

‘A long while ago, when he was young. Too young, he told me. As I said yesterday, Aisha, men of his age will have either been married or have cohabited in a long-term relationship, and if they haven’t, I would hear alarm bells ringing. It could suggest commitment issues.’

Aisha wound the telephone wire around her little finger as she pictured the look on her parents’ faces if she were to introduce a divorcee, regardless of how long ago it was, or whose fault it had been. Divorce didn’t happen in her family in India, and given the choice, her parents would have doubtless preferred a never-married doctor or accountant from Gujarat, but her father no longer had those connections so that wasn’t an option.

‘Does he have children?’ Aisha asked.

‘Two, but he doesn’t see them. His wife remarried straight after the divorce and encouraged the children to look on her new husband as their father. He told me he didn’t want the children upset by a court battle so he left them in peace. Which I think was highly commendable, don’t you?’

‘I suppose so,’ Aisha said and let the telephone wire go with a twang. ‘Why did the marriage break up? Did he tell you?’

‘He said he would like to discuss that with you personally, but I understand his wife was having an affair.’ Belinda seemed to hear Aisha’s hesitation. ‘Aisha, you can’t possibly make a decision until you have met him. And when you do, I’m sure you’ll be as impressed as I was. He’s charming, absolutely charming. In fact, if I wasn’t happily married I’d be quite tempted myself.’ She gave a little giggle.

Aisha hadn’t thought of Belinda as married, and it was heartening to have this first-hand example of a woman combining a career and marriage so successfully; no one at her level at the bank seemed to have managed it.

‘Well? What do you say?’ Belinda asked. ‘I’ve put a lot of work into this, Aisha, and I wouldn’t have suggested him if I didn’t think he was absolutely right.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry. I understand. So, what happens now?’

‘I’ll give him your phone number and he’ll call for a chat.’

‘And he won’t mind if we don’t go ahead and meet?’ Aisha asked, needing a get-out clause.

‘No, of course not. But you must give it a chance.’

‘All right then,’ Aisha said. ‘There’s no harm in us having a chat.’

‘Excellent. His name is Mark. I’ll tell him to phone your office. Tomorrow lunchtime?’

‘Yes, between one and two o’clock, please.’

They said goodbye and she hung up. Mark , she thought. No surnames at this stage, only first names. Mark. She tried to picture him, but beyond him being tall and white it was impossible, for in truth Belinda had given her very few details.

The rest of the day was very busy and that evening she had a report to write for a meeting the following morning so there was little time for worrying or idle speculation. It was only when she was alone in bed and drifting off to sleep that her thoughts turned to Belinda and Mark, and with it came the inherent worry of what she had committed to. Oh well, I can always wind up the conversation with an excuse , she thought; that’s assuming he phones at all. And the more she considered the chances of him phoning the less likely it seemed he would.

The following day her morning meeting overran and by the time she arrived back at her desk it was one fifteen. She asked Grace if there had been any phone calls; Grace said there had been four, but when Aisha looked at the note Grace handed her she saw they were all business calls. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Aisha asked Grace to switch the phone line through to her office while she went to lunch as she usually did. She then sat at her desk, took her sandwich box from her bag, opened the carton of orange juice, and tried to concentrate on the correspondence Grace had left for her. The phone rang almost immediately and she sprang to answer it, but it was a disgruntled customer who had asked to speak to the manager. Eager to clear the line Aisha apologized profusely for the banking error and promised to look into it personally. With the customer pacified she replaced the receiver. Two minutes later the phone rang again with another unhappy customer. Aisha again apologized and said she would look into it. Ten minutes passed before the phone rang again and when Aisha answered she knew straight away it was different. A friendly warm male voice, not complaining – far from it, a little hesitant, she thought. ‘Is it possible to speak to Aisha, please?’

‘Speaking.’

‘Hello Aisha, this is Mark. I hope you’re expecting my call?’

‘Yes, I am, Mark. Hello.’

She heard his small sigh of relief and the pause before he said: ‘Good. Excellent. Now, where do I go from here? I don’t know about you, but all this is new to me. Maybe I should start by telling you a bit about myself? That’s what Belinda said I should do.’

‘Yes, please do,’ Aisha said, and smiled to herself at the image of this grown man taking his instructions from Belinda.

‘Well, I’m six foot one, so you won’t lose me in a crowd,’ he joked, ‘and I like the usual things – theatre, cinema, travelling, a drink in a country pub. I enjoy my work and it takes up a lot of my time. But when I can, I play squash, and I swim. I’m a member of my local gym, but I don’t use it as much as I should. Occasionally I watch television, the late-night films mainly – they help me to unwind. I like most food, but I’m particularly partial to Italian and Indian. There are some excellent restaurants close to where I live and they’re not helping my waistline at all.’