Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating by Eleanor Prescott Page A

always thought she was a bit of a cold fish; a bit too eager to talk about her charity work. It does get a bit vulgar when she flaunts it in your face. But don’t worry! I’ve got just the woman for you!’ Audrey started to swivel purposefully in her chair again. ‘She’s a perfect match. In fact, that’s why I’m phoning – to see if I can arrange a lunch date. Her name is Hermione Bolton King. She used to be married to a fabulously successful stockbroker and did very well outof the divorce. She’s got a six-bedroom house on the Holly Bush private road. You know, with the fountain and the electric gates?’
    A few minutes later Audrey put down the phone having secured Max’s permission to instigate a date with Hermione. Honestly, he could have sounded a bit more enthusiastic, she thought bitterly. She couldn’t think why he hadn’t liked Penelope Huffington. She’d put a lot of thought into that match; he could at least have given her a second try. But never mind; he’d adore Hermione. And what an impressive house Hermione had, with its conservatory made entirely from hand-blown Venetian glass. Max was bound to be impressed!
    She looked at her watch and frowned. It was 11.30. Where the devil were her flowers? They’d normally arrived by 11.00.
    She swung open her door and bristled into the main office.
    ‘Is everything all right, Audrey?’ Bianca asked sweetly.
    There were no flowers anywhere.
    ‘Yes, yes.’ She forced a civil tone, casting her eye around the flowerless desks. ‘Right, well, I’m very busy.’
    She sailed back into her office and shut the glass door behind her. If the flowers hadn’t arrived by midday she’d have words with that florist.
    She decided to cheer herself up by calling President Ernie. Audrey believed it a business imperative to keep up a personal relationship with the Dating Practitioners’ Society president.
    Audrey had first met Ernie when Table For Two was inits infancy and she was a rookie matchmaker. Ernie had already been in the business for twenty years, and what he didn’t know simply wasn’t worth knowing in the first place. With his silver-grey hair and taut figure he cut a dash at the Society meetings and was always full of clever ideas about how they could pull together. He was touching sixty now, and Audrey was dreading the day he decided enough was enough, and retired.
    ‘Audrey, how wonderful to hear from you!’
    ‘Good morning, Mr President!’
    Despite Ernie’s protestations, Audrey insisted on addressing him this way. A world without hierarchy was a world going to the dogs.
    ‘So, you’ve heard the news about Nigel at Cupid’s Cabin then?’ he gossiped importantly.
    ‘Which news in particular?’ Audrey tried to keep her tone light. She hated to look anything less than one hundred per cent informed on industry tittle-tattle.
    ‘Well, you didn’t hear this from me, but I know I can trust you. Nigel’s laid off Beverly!’
    This
was
exciting news. Audrey was glad she’d phoned.
    ‘He’s got so few clients now,’ Ernie continued blithely, ‘and they’re deserting him in droves. Sheryl at Love Birds has been getting several disaffected Cupid’s Cabiners banging on her doors each morning. I tell you, Nigel’s in hot water. He’ll be out of business by the ball.’
    ‘Goodness!’ exclaimed Audrey dizzily.
    ‘I’m surprised you’ve not had any of his Cupid’s Cabiners over your way . . .’
    ‘But of course we have!’ Audrey blustered. ‘I just didn’t want to rub poor Nigel’s nose in it. The last thing he’d want is everyone gossiping.’
    ‘I quite agree.’
    ‘But isn’t it awful? What do you think has gone wrong over there?’
    ‘Far be it from me to speculate, but I bet it’s got something to do with what’s going on at home. Nigel and Marjorie have been having problems. Apparently Marjorie’s developed a roving eye and Nigel’s jealous of any man she comes into contact with. He won’t leave the house in the