The Perfect Date
by Patrick O’Connor
“OH my God! Oh my God!”
That was Claire’s usual reaction to most things. Even if someone brought her a cup of coffee she would exclaim loudly: “Oh my God, that’s so nice. Oh my God, thank you.”
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But on this occasion Dee shared her astonishment. The paper bin carrying the competition entries was bulging and that was after only two days.
Claire was gobsmacked but then again Claire wasn’t being offered as the main prize!
“Oh Dee, this is fantastic, you don’t know how lucky you are,” said Claire, a slightly plumpish but nevertheless attractive 24 year old with an unruly mop of hair, currently dyed purple but next month who knows what colour it might be! You always knew when she was around as she was inevitably accompanied by the jangle of assorted bangles and bracelets.
Her bubbly personality won people over immediately but in her private moments she was very envious of Dee, whose looks fell very definitely into the classic English rose category.
“You could end up with a really fit guy, I’m so jealous,” said Claire.
It was no surprise therefore to any in the editorial department of the Gazette, a long-established weekly newspaper in a typical Northern English town, that Dee was chosen for the latest brainchild from the editor Brian, a likeable but tough-talking gent in his late 50s. He was short and stocky, with slick, sparse black hair clinging desperately to his crown and always sporting a colourful pair of braces over the traditional white shirt which, after a good lunch, bulged at the seams.
“Got a great idea team,” beamed Brian at his normal weekly news meeting. “Let’s raise funds for a new kidney machine at the Royal Hospital.”
Brian’s proposal was to invite single males over 18 to donate money to the fund and in return they would be entered into a lucky draw to win a date with Dee.
This was the first Dee had heard of the idea and she was conscious that all eyes in the room had turned to her. There were several other young women on the reporting staff, what did they think about her being chosen, wondered Dee.
“Okay with that Dee? Not got a boyfriend have you?” She barely shook her head before Brian said “Good” and carried on.
“And as well as a slap-up meal with Dee, we’ll throw in some runners-up prizes, the usual crap. The minimum donation will be £20 and I’m sure there’s loads of young chaps out there who will cough up even more than that for a date with the lovely Dee here.”
She was 23 years old, slim, 5ft 4in, with long, blonde hair which flowed down to the small of her back. She had stunning blue eyes and a smile that opened doors left, right and centre.
Dee was the perfect combination, beautiful and warm-hearted. She’d had had one or two boyfriends, nothing too serious but she wasn’t short of admirers. Indeed at times it had become a bit of a pest but she was determined to wait until the right person came along. She always managed to say no politely and without offence.
Dee felt that if she had had a boyfriend then she wouldn’t be too keen on the idea of the date and, if she was being honest, a little bit miffed by the thought that Brian had just assumed she wasn’t seeing anyone. But the competition was for a worthy cause and it might turn into a good story for her. Dee was ambitious enough to know that her cuttings book could be a vital asset in her next career move.
Brian had also assured her that all she had to do was share a meal with the ‘date’, pose for a few photographs and then say goodbye.
He went to great lengths to convince her that there would be nothing tacky about the project.
“Don’t worry love,everything will be done very properly. We’ve booked you in for a meal at the Manor Hotel, it’s the poshest in town. And Graham will be in tow all evening, he’ll be your chaperone.”
The idea was that Graham, the Gazette’s chief photographer, would be keeping a watching eye from a discreet distance and would take photos at the beginning and end of the meal and then take Dee home afterwards.
Graham was a 6ft 3in, gruff, bearded Scotsman in his mid-40s, who looked like the sort of rugby player who bit off ears just for fun.
Some colleagues felt he lacked a sense of humour but Dee had always enjoyed going out on jobs with him and she knew he would look after her.
After the deadline for entries passed, Brian made the draw with Dee at his side in the centre of the newsroom. Graham was poised just in front of them to take the appropriate photo.
By this time there were five bins full so all the entries were turfed out into a giant pile on a table normally reserved for kettles, cups, teabags etc. Everyone was astonished at the response.
Brian made a big show of delving around amongst the entries before plucking one off the table to announce: “And the winner is – Damien Wallace.”
“Oh my God” was the screech which echoed around the newsroom. Only it wasn’t Claire, this time it was Dee.
“HE’S a weirdo, there’s no way I’m going out with him,. No way,” said Dee.
“What exactly do you mean by weirdo?” wondered Claire.
“He was at my school, a really creepy kid.”
“How?” asked Claire.
“Have you ever heard of AC/DC?”
“Oh my God Dee, is he some sort of perv?”
“No, not that you muppet, the rock group.”
Dee explained that Damien Wallace was renowned at school for being a fan of the Aussie band AC/DC, almost to the point of obsession.
“They’ve got this guitarist, Angus somebody, can’t remember his surname, you can Google it, anyway he always dresses up in a schoolboy’s uniform, short trousers, blazer, cap, satchel, the lot.”
“Ugh!”
“And so did Damien Wallace, all the time. Honestly Claire, he looked a right prat. Can you imagine that, an 18 year old strolling around in short trousers and a school cap. What a tosser. He was in my year at school but we always stayed well clear of him. Gave me the creeps,” said Dee.
“Well surely he’s grown out of it by now,” her friend replied.
“Not on your life. I saw him in town a couple of months ago with his mates outside HMV, still in the same gear. He’s got really knobbly knees and the cap’s too small for his head.”
“Oh my God!”
“Indeed, that’s who I’m having a date with next week. I’m going to be walking into the Manor with one of the Krankies!”
OVER the next few days Dee pleaded with Brian to choose another winner but the editor was adamant. Damien Wallace had already been informed and everything was set for the big date.
Dee considered crying off sick, she even tried to persuade Claire to turn up instead but in the end decided to bite the bullet and be professional about it.
On the night Graham picked Dee up from the house she shared with two girls who worked in a bank and drove her to the Manor in one of the paper’s crappy, litter filled pool cars, an ageing Ford Fiesta with ‘Clean me now!’ written in the dust on the back window.
Along the way Dee filled him in about Damien and to her disgust the photographer was over the moon!
“Going to make a cracking wee photo Dee, cracking wee photo. You dressed to the nines and him looking like…well, like a schoolboy!”
For a man supposedly lacking in humour, Graham was enjoying a right chuckle.
When they walked into the foyer, Damien Wallace was already there.
It was nearly 11.30pm when Claire’s mobile rang to tear her away from total absorption in the latest reality TV show.
“Hi it’s me,” said Dee.
“Hi babe, how did it go, was it a complete disaster?” asked Claire.
“No, it was fabulous.”
“What? But you said…”
“Never mind what I said, he was, he IS gorgeous,” gushed Dee.
“But the shorts, the blazer, the…
“He wasn’t dressed like that at all. He’d had his hair cut, wore a brand new suit and tie, lovely after-shave, perfect manners. Claire he was the perfect date,” gushed Dee.
“But you said…”
“Apparently he fancied me all the time at school but had never had the guts to ask me out, thought I wouldn’t be seen dead with him.”
“Well you wouldn’t would you?” said Claire.
“Maybe not, oh I don’t know. Anyway, Damien said that when he saw the competition in the newspaper he knew it was his big chance to go on a date with me so he sent in 300 entries.”
“How many?” gasped Claire.
“300.”
“That must have taken him ages. How many papers did he have to buy, you weren’t allowed to send in photocopies of the coupon. Boy was he keen or what?”
“Claire, he spent all that time and money just to go on a date with me, isn’t that so romantic,” asked Dee.
Claire wanted to know why Damien hadn’t just rang Dee up and asked her out.
“Too shy apparently and anyway he reckoned that if he won the competition I couldn’t say no. He just wanted one chance to get to know me, for me to get to know him. And he went out and spent £500 on a brand new wardrobe. It was the first suit he’d ever had.”
“So are you going to see him again, you know, on a proper date?”asked Claire.
“Oh yes, next week.”
“Another meal?”
“No,” replied Dee.
“Cinema?
“No. We’re…”
“Where then?”
“An AC/DC concert.”
© Patrick O’Connor 2010