Romantic Association - Loves Me, Loves Me Not

It turned out I had a week. After that the firm were sending Patrick to deal with a complicated case in York. Maybe it was the doubtful look she gave me that led me to assure Leonora that this wasn’t a problem.

It couldn’t be that difficult, surely? I had an expert coach and, under her strict supervision, I embarked on a regime of intensive training.

‘For heaven’s sake, don’t tell him where you used to work,’ she advised. ‘If anyone asks, you’re still with the building society. And you won’t mention that awful newspaper you take, will you?’

‘I only read it for the problem page,’ I protested. ‘That three-in-a-bed picture story last week raised a serious dilemma.’

Leonora’s derisive snort suggested she didn’t think so. ‘Make a note of some of the articles in this.’ She passed me their copy of the Guardian. ‘And try to remember your favourite programme is Panorama, not Celebrity Wife Swap. ‘

‘Patrick had better be damn well worth it,’ I muttered under my breath.

‘He is, believe me.’

I turned up early, as instructed, on the Saturday evening, feeling like a boxer fully prepared for the big fight. Or perhaps I should say a racehorse ready for the National, because I fell at the first hurdle.

‘Good Lord, Gina, you’re not wearing that, are you?’ My trainer greeted me with a scowl.

‘They’re my best jeans.’

‘You can’t possibly wear jeans to a dinner party! Come upstairs. I’ll see if I can find you something of mine.’

My heart sank as I followed her. Keen though I was to look as serious and grown-up as Leonora, I simply could not see myself in her clothes. She opened the wardrobe and began to fling things on the bed.

‘Try this one.’

Unwillingly I took off my jeans and pulled on a long dark skirt. She handed me a long dark jumper to match.

To my surprise, it made me look slim and rather cultured. I turned this way and that to let the skirt swish and admired myself in the mirror.

‘And we must decide what to do about your hair.’

‘What’s wrong with my hair?’ I said defensively.

No one ever thinks they have a perfect body, do they? Even if I could have an inch or two miraculously removed from my hips and added to my bust, I’d probably still moan that my nose was too big. But I do like my hair. It’s a sort of dark gold, thick and wiry, and springs out of my head in a cheerful, unruly manner that used to drive the teachers mad at school.

‘It’s so… young -looking. You need to have it back from your face.’

‘Let me try one of your hairbands.’ This surely would be the transforming touch, the insignia that would turn me into Leonora.

It looked gross—a freaky Alice in Wonderland, high on something. I whipped it off again, deeply disappointed.

‘Let me have a go.’ Leonora started pulling my hair back, twisting it round her fingers and sticking grips in. She was doing it into a bun.

‘I hate it like that…’ But the words froze in my mouth. A complete stranger was beginning to face me. Ethereal, mysterious and very, very serious.

‘Take your make-up off,’ said Leonora.

With surprising skill she applied a touch of bronze to the outside of my lids and a hint of kohl underneath.

‘Pearls!’ I breathed. ‘I must have pearls.’

Leonora had pearls.

The effect was stunning. I opened my mouth and shut it again.

‘The kids want to kiss you goodnight…Bloody hell!’ Mike halted in the doorway, a child in each hand.

Jacyntha was the first to recover. ‘Gina looks like a mummy,’ she said uncertainly.

Tyrone’s face began to crumble. ‘I don’t like her!’ he wailed.

‘It’s her new serious image. Doesn’t she look lovely?’ Leonora glared at her husband and children. I stuck out my tongue at them as I glided through the door.

Patrick was the last guest to arrive and, although my heart beat faster when the bell rang, it was more the feeling of embarking on a driving test than the prospect of meeting someone Leonora described as gorgeous. Mike is a dear, but you wouldn’t exactly call him good-looking, and I’d no reason to think our tastes coincided in that any more than in everything else.

So I was absolutely floored when Leonora brought him into the room. ‘You all know Patrick, don’t you? Except Gina, I believe.’ And he turned out to be—well, gorgeous! He had dark curly hair, a curvy kissable mouth and what I might have sworn was a twinkle in those deep blue eyes, if I hadn’t known him to be a serious-minded lawyer.

He took my hand in a warm, enclosing grasp. ‘Pleased to meet you, Gina.’ And for one mad moment I wanted to make it the real me that Patrick was meeting. But then I remembered how a man like this was never going to be attracted to someone who greeted him with a silly joke about solicitors. He’d want an earnest, solemn sort of girl who took an interest in the important matters of the day.

‘How do you do, Patrick?’ I responded politely. ‘Global warming is a terrible problem, don’t you agree?’

‘Er…yes.’ He looked a little startled.

‘Childhood obesity, too. And it’s so sad that people still hunt elephants for their tusks.’ I frowned in a concerned manner.

Leonora was frowning in just the same way, so I must have got it right. She shook her head, obviously astounded that I was doing so well, and took Patrick off to find a drink.

It’s amazing how you can play a role once you’ve got the costume. Dressed up as Leonora, I was that serious girl. During the starter I regaled them with my views on the Health Service. As we ate our terrine of duck, I canvassed opinions on the Middle East. Pudding was enlivened by a discussion on Chinese orphanages. Leonora was staring at me open-mouthed. I knew she hadn’t thought I could do it. Patrick was clearly stunned. He hardly said a word all through dinner, presumably mulling over the serious issues I had raised.

Soon after Leonora had served coffee, Patrick excused himself, saying he didn’t like to leave his elderly mother at home alone. The others seemed to find that they had to leave, too, and very shortly we had the place to ourselves.

‘That’s funny,’ said Mike, as we helped Leonora pack the dishwasher. ‘I thought Patrick’s mother lived in Brighton.’

Leonora sighed. ‘I suppose it was silly to think a sophisticated man like Patrick would ever go for someone who just can’t help playing the fool.’

It was a relief to change back into my own clothes and brush my hair into its wild and woolly self. I’d shown that I could do Serious, but it was nice to see Gina again in the mirror. It was still only about ten o’clock when I set off on the short walk home. For some reason, I felt a bit depressed. As I passed the pub on the corner, it occurred to me I could do with a drink. I’d held back on the rather serious wine that Mike had provided, wanting to keep a clear head for the task in hand, but there was no need to stay sober now.

I’d bought myself a rum and blackcurrant and was just looking round for a seat when…No, it couldn’t be! Elderly mother, indeed!

I was about to hide and then thought, why should I be the one to be embarrassed? Instead, I went over and greeted him with a bright, ‘Hello there!’

Patrick looked up from his pint and I saw puzzled panic cross his face as he desperately tried to work out where he’d met me before. Oh, this was going to be good!

‘You look pretty miserable,’ I observed, sitting down beside him in a friendly manner.

‘Do I?’ He edged away nervously.

‘Yes. Anyone would think you’d just been to a dreadful dinner party and had come in here to cheer yourself up.’