tea?’ she asks.
‘Please.’
She buzzes through to someone on her intercom, and requests that refreshments be brought in. I can’t help thinking that this means yet another person knows about my presence here and, if the help in my household is anything to go by, sometimes assistants can’t be fully trusted.
I don’t know what to think of Blair now. The glory of Thursday night’s vindication was short-lived, as I woke up the following morning and immediately had to deal with the fact that things were beyond awkward between us. I had to send him a text at seven to ask for breakfast to be served in the dining room. I couldn’t have him in my bedroom so soon after the whole wine-and-perv incident. Anyway, my mother decided to join me at the dining table, meaning I was quizzed on those questions she’d had him type for me. I almost choked on my almond croissant when she got to the sex questions, so there I was gagging, all the while hoping I wouldn’t have to look to Blair to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre.
I chide myself for thinking about him again. I have to focus. Focus on Polly and what she can do for me.
‘I’m sorry I’m so rattled.’
‘It’s fine. I understand that this process can be confronting for some.’
I try to smile. ‘You must think it strange that I’m frightened of these… dates. Well, if it gets to that stage.’
She leans forward in her seat. ‘Fear is very common. Some of my clients are in their fifties, scared to death that they’re going to die alone.’
‘Please do not match me with anyone like that. My hard limit is thirty-five.’
This response apparently amuses her. ‘So you do have an idea of what you want.’
‘Perhaps.’
Her assistant, a young mousy-blonde, enters the room with a tea tray. She does not handle herself with the same grace as Blair. In fact, she pours the tea at a very sharp angle, which makes me ‘tut’ inwardly. Not only that, but the handle of my cup is facing away from me. It’s just not very sensible.
‘Thank you, Penny,’ Polly says to her.
I laugh, feeling yet more awkward, and address the assistant. ‘Penny and Polly. That has a good ring to it. Though it should probably be Polly and Penny, considering you’re just the assistant.’ I pause, surveying the bemused look on Penny’s face. ‘I am so sorry. I’m freaking out and just saying whatever comes into my head. Everyone says this is why I can’t find a husband.’
Penny forces a smile. ‘It’s all good, ma’am.’
She nods and kind of does a half-curtsey before rushing out without another word to her boss.
I clear my throat. ‘So, now you’ve seen first-hand what’s wrong with me.’
Again, Polly is Zen. I imagine redecorating this office, making it into a Zen garden complete with giant stones and a novelty rake. I’m not in gardening clothes, having chosen a classic (albeit three-year-old) Burberry summer dress, but I’d probably enjoy it anyway.
‘How about we frame this as a positive? You’re assertive, educated and empowered.’
‘Is this you glossing me over for my profile?’
‘Don’t think of it as gloss. I need to get to know the real you so I can find someone with whom you can actually connect.’
‘That does make sense. By the way, you can call me Millie. That’s what everyone calls me. I mean, except for our new butler.’
Oh my God. Why am I bringing up Blair?
She nods. ‘Millie and Polly. I think that has a good ring to it.’
‘It does.’
I need to lower my heart rate and relax. Be chilled, Millie. Imagine you’re raking sand, calmly raking sand and making patterns around pebbles. Then maybe I’m rearranging pebbles and raking some more.
Come to think of it, I have no idea how Zen gardens are supposed to work.
‘How would you describe yourself, Millie?’
‘Uh. Direct.’
‘Ah, there has to be more than that.’
I try to stop myself from fidgeting and start to focus. ‘Sharp in a good way? I’m not an idiot,
‘Please.’
She buzzes through to someone on her intercom, and requests that refreshments be brought in. I can’t help thinking that this means yet another person knows about my presence here and, if the help in my household is anything to go by, sometimes assistants can’t be fully trusted.
I don’t know what to think of Blair now. The glory of Thursday night’s vindication was short-lived, as I woke up the following morning and immediately had to deal with the fact that things were beyond awkward between us. I had to send him a text at seven to ask for breakfast to be served in the dining room. I couldn’t have him in my bedroom so soon after the whole wine-and-perv incident. Anyway, my mother decided to join me at the dining table, meaning I was quizzed on those questions she’d had him type for me. I almost choked on my almond croissant when she got to the sex questions, so there I was gagging, all the while hoping I wouldn’t have to look to Blair to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre.
I chide myself for thinking about him again. I have to focus. Focus on Polly and what she can do for me.
‘I’m sorry I’m so rattled.’
‘It’s fine. I understand that this process can be confronting for some.’
I try to smile. ‘You must think it strange that I’m frightened of these… dates. Well, if it gets to that stage.’
She leans forward in her seat. ‘Fear is very common. Some of my clients are in their fifties, scared to death that they’re going to die alone.’
‘Please do not match me with anyone like that. My hard limit is thirty-five.’
This response apparently amuses her. ‘So you do have an idea of what you want.’
‘Perhaps.’
Her assistant, a young mousy-blonde, enters the room with a tea tray. She does not handle herself with the same grace as Blair. In fact, she pours the tea at a very sharp angle, which makes me ‘tut’ inwardly. Not only that, but the handle of my cup is facing away from me. It’s just not very sensible.
‘Thank you, Penny,’ Polly says to her.
I laugh, feeling yet more awkward, and address the assistant. ‘Penny and Polly. That has a good ring to it. Though it should probably be Polly and Penny, considering you’re just the assistant.’ I pause, surveying the bemused look on Penny’s face. ‘I am so sorry. I’m freaking out and just saying whatever comes into my head. Everyone says this is why I can’t find a husband.’
Penny forces a smile. ‘It’s all good, ma’am.’
She nods and kind of does a half-curtsey before rushing out without another word to her boss.
I clear my throat. ‘So, now you’ve seen first-hand what’s wrong with me.’
Again, Polly is Zen. I imagine redecorating this office, making it into a Zen garden complete with giant stones and a novelty rake. I’m not in gardening clothes, having chosen a classic (albeit three-year-old) Burberry summer dress, but I’d probably enjoy it anyway.
‘How about we frame this as a positive? You’re assertive, educated and empowered.’
‘Is this you glossing me over for my profile?’
‘Don’t think of it as gloss. I need to get to know the real you so I can find someone with whom you can actually connect.’
‘That does make sense. By the way, you can call me Millie. That’s what everyone calls me. I mean, except for our new butler.’
Oh my God. Why am I bringing up Blair?
She nods. ‘Millie and Polly. I think that has a good ring to it.’
‘It does.’
I need to lower my heart rate and relax. Be chilled, Millie. Imagine you’re raking sand, calmly raking sand and making patterns around pebbles. Then maybe I’m rearranging pebbles and raking some more.
Come to think of it, I have no idea how Zen gardens are supposed to work.
‘How would you describe yourself, Millie?’
‘Uh. Direct.’
‘Ah, there has to be more than that.’
I try to stop myself from fidgeting and start to focus. ‘Sharp in a good way? I’m not an idiot,
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