sometime?’ And he had scrawled the number of his mobile phone.
The second envelope, hand-delivered as promised, contained a small photograph of Alistair, whom she wouldn’t haverecognised if he’d run her over in his blue Volvo. Still, he looked perfectly presentable and considering he was shy, the note enclosed with the photo was written in a masterful hand.
‘Have I made a complete pig’s ear of this attempt to ask you out?’ he had written with endearing candour. ‘I assure you, I’m not the hopeless case you must by now think I am. A few more salient details – I’m a barrister, divorced, three children, healthy income, detached house, fond of theatre, opera, Scrabble and Maltesers. Now I’m embarrassed again – I sound like a one-man dating agency. Enough. If you would like to contact me, my number is ... If the prospect is too awful, please throw note and photo away and pretend this never happened. But I hope you don’t.
Yours respectfully, Alistair Kline.’
This was the kind of thing that happened to Liza. It was the kind of girl she was.
When Dulcie accused Liza of being a flirt, Liza declared she wasn’t. Men simply liked her; she didn’t do anything to actively encourage them. The way she acted towards men was never contrived.
‘Do I flutter my eyelashes at them? Do I flash my cleavage?’ she argued. ‘Do I clutch their biceps and tell them how big and strong they are? No I do not. I never do any of that. You do.’
This was true, Dulcie couldn’t deny it.
‘I’m married; it doesn’t count. Anyway, that’s harmless flirting. Amateur stuff. You’re the professional. You don’t make men think you’re flirting with them, you make them think you’re in love with them. Dammit,’ protested Dulcie, ‘you make the poor sods think they’re the only person on the planet worth being with.’
‘You’re jealous.’
‘Of course I’m jealous! I want to know how you bloody do it.’
Having witnessed the phenomenon a million times, Dulcie had an inkling. She suspected it had something to do with Liza’s dark-brown eyes and the way she looked at men when she was talking to them, the way she concentrated on them with such total absorption, the way she smiled
.. .
Sadly, it didn’t appear to be copyable. Dulcie had tried it a few times herself on her own in front of a mirror, but — being brutally honest here — all she’d looked was constipated.
There must be an art to bewitching men, and you either had it or you didn’t. Dulcie could do standard flirting — she giggled, she joked, she could make men laugh, which was something —
but she was never going to be in Liza’s league. Which was a shame, because it was undeniably a handy knack to have.
Yet Liza, in turn, envied Dulcie, because attracting men might never have been a problem but staying interested once she’d got them was something else again.
She didn’t know why, she simply couldn’t do it. Something to do with a low boredom threshold, maybe. She could adore them initially, fall head over heels in lust, love — whatever — think this is it, this is the big one ... then after four or five weeks the old, niggling tell-tale signs would begin to surface. She’d got to know them, she was up to date with the stories of their lives, she’d heard all their best jokes. Insidiously, boredom started to set in. While they were still enraptured by Liza, Liza found herself noting — and becoming increasingly irritated by — the way they cleared their throats, scraped their forks on their dinner plates, revealed a penchant for irritating catch- phrases, watched endless reruns of Star Trek .. .
It was a failing over which she had no control. Liza thought she must be a hopelessly shallow person, happy to pick the icing off the cake but uninterested in the sponge underneath. Once she grew tired of someone, there could be no going back. The adrenaline had seeped away, the spark was gone. Another relationship bit the dust.
It was sad. Liza sometimes wondered if she would ever meet a man who didn’t bore her witless.
She so badly wanted to. She wanted to be normal, to marry someone and have childrenand grandchildren. She wanted to share a life with them, not a few giddy weeks. At the rate she was going, she was going to end up a sad old maid.
This was why she envied Dulcie, who might now be hell- bent on divorce but who had at least spent the last six years married to the same man.
Chapter 2
Liza pulled up outside the Songbird at one o’clock. It was a newish restaurant several miles to the west of Bath, whose delights — or otherwise — she had intended to investigate a fortnight ago but a streaming cold had put paid to that. When you were a restaurant critic, a sense of smell and fully functioning tastebuds were a bit of a must.
But the Herald on Sunday needed the piece in order to make the printer’s deadline, and it had to be faxed through before tomorrow. Luckily, although most restaurants didn’t open for lunch on New Year’s Day, the Songbird did.
Liza briefly checked her reflection in the car’s rear-view mirror. It was amazing the effect a nondescript mousy wig, minimal make-up and a pair of unflattering spectacles could have. She was never recognised. Never chatted up, either. No men cast admiring glances in her direction.
She was so uninteresting they seldom even acknowledged her presence. She became invisible.
It was an experience that never failed to entertain Liza. Handy, too, when you didn’t want the publicity-hungry restaurateurs to know who you were.
Mark was already there, waiting for her, when she entered the restaurant. An ex with whom she had stayed on friendly terms — because he might be mad about Star Trek but at least he shared her passion for good food — he greeted Liza with a grin and a kiss on her un-made-up cheek. A dining companion was another must-have in Liza’s line of work, enabling two meals to be assessed rather than just one. It also meant thestaff’s curiosity wasn’t aroused by the sight of a woman — albeit a mousy one — lunching alone.
‘You look well,’ Mark told her, when the waiter had taken Liza’s sensible navy-blue mac. ‘New outfit?’
She was wearing a high-necked cream blouse, brown cardigan, calf-length beige pleated skirt and sturdy lace- ups. Mark adored the subterfuge; it gave him a kick. When he shared these meals with Liza he frequently found
