Virtually Perfect (4 page)

'...What?  No...' 

'Fuck!  You're married aren't you?' 

Ben didn't blink. 

'How could you do this to me?'

'...Cat,' Eve implored quietly, peering around the room.  People were looking.  'Bo is my cat.'

'Oh...' said Ben.  'Oh, I see.' 

Eve watched him pull a mobile from his trouser pocket.  Her brow gathered as she watched him dial.

'Hello?' he whispered into it, with a furtive glance.  '...Is that the RSPCA?'

Ben stopped.  He felt a hand on his thigh.

'Ow!'

Fuck!  That hurts! 

Ben grabbed her fingers, laughing nervously.  Eve released her pinch.  She smiled at him.  He held her hand for a second longer.  They locked eyes.  Eve pulled her hand away, touching her hair.

Ben peered over the top of the menu.   

'Are you hungry?' he asked. 

Eve watched the mains arriving at the next table, sizzling sauces and spice.

'I'm starving,' she admitted.

Ben swirled his Chianti before taking a swig. 

'Good,' he said.  'I like a girl with an appetite.'

Eve studied him.

...Is he calling me fat?

'Would you like to share some tapas?' he asked.

'OK,' Eve said hesitantly.

'Is there anything that you don't like?' 

'No,' she said.  'I don't think so.'

Ben raised his eyebrows.

'Adventurous...'

...Keep it coming, Casanova.  I'm still not sleeping with you.

Ben ordered fifteen different dishes.  Eve thought he'd gone mad.  But when they came, she found they were samplers, just a taster of each.  He'd been here before, evidently.

Eve looked down at the paprika spare ribs.  The knife and fork were pretty much redundant, she was going to get in a mess.  Oh, but they did smell good.

'Are you local?'

Her dark eyes flashed up to him.

'Pardon me?'

Ben smiled, chewing on a Serrano ham croquette.

'Do you live in town?'

She hadn't touched a thing. 
She's going to starve at this rate. 
He picked up a croquette and held it out.  She gingerly took it from his fingers.  He watched her spidery lashes flutter closed as she bit into it. 

The crunch of the breadcrumbs gave way to an explosion of warm, garlicky cream; slivers of salty ham.

'Oh my God...'  She smiled, covering her lips with her fingers as she chewed.  'Mmm...  That's amazing!'

Eve saw Ben watching her, smiling.  She shook herself.

'Um...  Sorry.  Yes.'  She dabbed her mouth, getting red lipstick all over her navy blue napkin.  'I live in Saint George's Road.'

He pushed the calamari towards her, watching her pick up her fork.

'You're just around the corner from me.' 

The squid was even better.  She took a sip of wine.  Ben reached out and took a rib. 

'I'm in Percival Terrace,' he said.

Her eyes flicked up in surprise.

Percival Terrace?  Fucking hell.  That is a Piaget...

'Have you always lived here?' he asked.

Eve shook her head, picking up a rib in her dainty fingers.

'No,' she said.  'I grew up in Surrey.'  She took a bite, felt the warm glaze touch her cheek.  Eve smiled shyly at Ben, wiping the oily brown mark away with her napkin.  'What about you?'

'I'm from Lewisham.' 

That made sense.  He was well spoken, with a trace of Londoner.  He had a nice voice.  Soft, husky.  Quite sexy.

'Where did you go to uni?'

Eve peered up at him over the top of her wine glass.

'I didn't,' she said, quietly.

'I thought you had a fine arts degree?'

'Oh yes,' she told him.  'But only through the OU.  I started work straight out of school.  All the qualifications in the world wouldn't have done me much good at the start.  You have to have a mentor in my business.'

'Mine too,' nodded Ben, reaching out for an empanadilla.

'The guy I work for now let me shadow him when he was at Bonham's.  I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without him,' she said distractedly.  '...I owe him everything.'

Eve looked up from her wineglass, saw Ben watching her.

'It's not like that,' she said quickly, snapping out of it.  'He's a friend of the family... he's
really
old...'

Ben smiled.

'Glad to hear it.'

'Did you go to university?' she asked.

Ben nodded.

'Cambridge.'

She smiled.

'What did you study?'

'Architecture.' 

She looked suitably impressed. 

'It hasn't been massively helpful in a career in portrait photography, I must admit.  But as you say, it's not what you know, it's who you know,'  Ben shrugged. 'It got me a foot in the door.'

By the time they left, the rain had stopped.  Ben offered to walk Eve home.  Their ears still rang with melodies from the Spanish guitar, jam filled coconut truffles still lingering in their mouths. 

Eve was mellow, but not drunk.  Ben held out his arm.  She docked hers, squeezing him through his cold leather jacket.

They'd argued over the bill.  Eve had offered to pay three times - she had the money - it was payday - Marcus had given her a bonus.  But Ben was having none of it.  With Dan, you only ever had to offer once.  It made Eve feel a little uncomfortable. 
There's no such thing as a free meal. 
What was he expecting in return?

He'd tempered the flirting with some pretty eloquent tales over the course of the night.  It turned out that Ben was quite the storyteller, without ever being a bore.  He talked about some of his shoots; about trekking up Mont Blanc and snapping away at the stars.  This guy, she thought, must really be someone special.  If he was telling the truth.

He'd coaxed quite a bit from Eve too -
really listening
, not just waiting to talk.  He was never intrusive, never pushing too far.  They hadn't talked about Dan.

'This is me,' she said, as they reached the steps.  'I'd invite you up but...'

'...You don't want to confuse Mr Bojangles,' Ben nodded.  'It's OK.  I understand.'

Oh God, I'm the crazy cat lady...

Eve laughed nervously.  She hated this bit.  She never knew what to do.

'I enjoyed tonight,' Ben told her.  'I hope we can do it again.'

'Me too,' she nodded.

He smiled.

'I'll call you.' 

...Oh.  Oh, I see.

He looked like he meant it, but they're supposed to, aren't they?  Eve just smiled and nodded.  She went up on tiptoe, pressed a kiss to his cheek, felt the soft stubble against her lips.  A second later, she was clink-clanking up the steps.  She shut the door without looking back.

Bo was bouncing off the walls.  You'd think he hadn't been fed for a week.  Eve guiltily grabbed a chicken fillet from the fridge, filling a pan with water and igniting the gas ring.  Bo nuzzled her legs, meowing frantically; his tail quivering with excitement. 

Eve stopped.  She stared at home brand jar of jalfrezi she'd picked up at Tesco's on her way home.  Before Ben called; before the madness began. 

She could always have it tomorrow.  Or the next day, or the one after that.  She had a lifetime of dinners-for-one to look forward to at this rate. 

She bit her lip.

...
What have I done?

'He's a conman.'

'Oh really,' said Eve.  'Based on what?' 

Curtis shrugged.

'Normal blokes don't do dating sites.' 

He could be such a smug bastard at times. 

'And what about
normal
women?' 

Eve glowered up at him from her swivel chair, her thumbnail gouging grooves in her pencil.  At that moment, all Eve wanted to do was take that pencil, and jab it up his nose.

'Oh don't listen to him,' tutted Alice, giving Curtis a look.  She scraped her blonde bob back behind her ears, peering down at the gardenias. 

'I wish someone would buy
me
flowers like that.'

'...Speculate to accumulate,' Curtis shrugged.  Alice playfully poked him in the ribs.  Curtis let out a girly giggle, grabbing her hand. 

...For Christ's sake, will you please get a room?

'I'm sure he's lovely Eve,' Alice offered.

'Oh listen to Polyanna!' mocked Curtis.              

'...You know,' piped up Stacey. 'I read this story once, in Chat Magazine, right.  This woman met this bloke online...'

Eve stared at her. 

...
Mentoring from the office junior?  You have got to be kidding...

'...He told her he was American, only he weren't.  It was some bloke in Africa...  Anyway, he says to her that his mum's poorly, and he needs some money to pay for...'

Eve threw down her pencil with a clatter, slamming her elbows on the desk.  She buried her head in her hands with a groan.

'Nobody is asking for money!'

'Not yet...' pondered Curtis.  'Maybe that's not what he's after.  Maybe he just wants a good time...  He's probably married,' he nodded.

'He isn't,' Eve told him.

'Have you ever actually asked?' 

Eve raised her eyebrows.

'Did Alice ever actually ask you?'

'So you don't know then,' Curtis teased.

'Trust me,' said Eve,  'If he were married, I would have found something.' 

Curtis paused.

'...Have you been going through his bins?'

Stacey's giggle bubbled up in the background.

'No,' chided Eve 'There's this thing called
Google
—'

'Cyberstalking?  Really, Eve!  You know, that's where it all starts.  You'll be boiling bunnies in no time...' 

Eve pursed her lips.

'Those lots aren't going to catalogue themselves.  Haven't you got
anything
better to do?'

'Nothing this much fun!' Curtis grinned.

'That's enough,' complained Alice.  'Stop embarrassing her.'

'I'm not embarrassed in the slightest,' Eve protested.

'Well, we look forward to seeing him at the wedding,' goaded Curtis. 

Eve forced a smile.

'I'm sure that can be arranged.'

Ben sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes.  He looked out through the swagged window, cracking open an undersized lager.  Pigeons flocked and circled, settling on terracotta roofs.  The sun was setting, tumbling through a cornflower sky, scattering the clouds with mandarin and gold. 

A tinny church bell tolled, rising over the grumble and toots of the commuters.  Ben opened up his phone's browser, googling GMT. 
She'll probably still be at work. 
He sat back, propping himself up on his plump pillows.  Chewing his lip.

EVE BLAKE

Google threw back 9,000 search results. 

EVELYN BLAKE

13,000 results. 

EVELYN BLAKE BRIGHTON

Ben clicked on 'Images'.  There she was, smiling back at him from the top row; a tiny black and white head shot.  He clicked the photo and arrived at Stockman's Auctioneers' Specialists page.  Ben flicked through the profiles. 

He'd always imagined auction houses to be run by the semi-geriatric.  Marcus Stockman fit the bill, but the rest were really quite young.  He clicked on the blonde guy - Curtis Stockman, heir apparent.  He didn't like the look of him at all.

Evelyn Blake  BA  ASFAV

Head of Ceramics and Glass

Evelyn joined Stockman's in 2010 to head up the expanding Ceramics Department.  Her effervescent nature and wide expertise have earned her appearances on the BBC.  Evelyn contributes articles regularly to Absolute Brighton magazine.  She conducts probate, open market and insurance valuations.  Evelyn has a passion for ceramics and glass in general, specialising Lalique, Art Nouveau and Art Deco. 

A smile creased Ben's lips.

Prior to joining Stockman's, Evelyn spent over a decade at Bonham's in Knightsbridge.  Evelyn's interests include photography, travel and surfing.

Over a decade?  ...Surfing?

By the time Ben had finished trawling Youtube searching for her TV appearances (in vain), he found himself lying in darkness, the only light in the room beaming from his 2x3 inch screen.  He fumbled around for the switch to the bedside lamp, flicked it on.  He lay back, gazing at the rococo ceiling.