Here’s Looking At You. Mhairi McFarlane

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       10

      ‘So, how did the reunion go?’ Patrick asked, as Anna put down a cup of tea on his desk.

      Patrick’s office was as forensically neat as his clothing and, unlike Anna, he didn’t use chairs as receptacles for overflow from his shelves.

      ‘It was … peculiar.’

      Anna debated saying no one recognised her but she realised that would involve pulling worms out of cans like streamers.

      ‘Didn’t run into any old flames?’

      Patrick was a ‘committed’ – read: resigned – bachelor. His terror that Anna might betray singles club by finally meeting someone was only matched in scale by her equal certainty that she never would. She sipped from her own cup of tea and hovered.

      ‘You must be kidding. No old flames at Rise Park, more scorch marks.’ She wanted to talk about something else. ‘How’s The Guild doing?’

      ‘Good thanks. Spent the weekend disciplining wayward teenage Danish warlocks and facerolling our way through the current wave of raid progression.’

      ‘Much like here then. You’re still a panda?’

      Patrick always knew he could discuss his hobby without fear of judgement from Anna. She might not be a gamer herself but there was a geek solidarity.

      ‘In Pandaria. Only temporarily. I used to be a female orc. A shaman.’

      ‘Ah.’

      Patrick was mostly into what Anna had learned to call ‘immersive’ games like World of Warcraft. He always tried to persuade Anna to give it a go, but she was dubious, especially when she found out he wore a headset microphone.

      ‘Still, glad you went to the reunion, all told?’ Patrick said.

      Anna pondered this. She was more perplexed by it than anything.

      ‘It was a useful reminder of everything and everyone I don’t have to put up with any more, put it like that. Like a vaccine shot of aversion therapy in the buttock. After that, I appreciate every single little thing about work today.’

      She beamed and Patrick beamed back, perfectly in tune.

      ‘Oh woe, I have first years at ten a.m. I challenge you to appreciate them,’ Patrick said. ‘I think this lot are the worst yet.’

      ‘We say that every year.’

      ‘I know, I know … but were we ever this bad?’

      ‘We did go on to become batshit old lecturers ourselves, so we’re hardly typical.’

      ‘I suppose so.’ Patrick swilled his tea. ‘I had one last week who sat there and said “Henry VII was brilliant, just brilliant.” As if you can skip the set texts and get your pom poms out and cheerlead instead. And I said “Brilliant how?” and he said’ – Patrick mimed a blank stoner face – “Just … brilliant.” Roll over Simon Schama, there’s a new guy in town. Another of them thought parsimony had something to do with income from parsnips. They should get a TV show together, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Historical Adventure.’

      Anna laughed. ‘’Fraid I can’t say the same in return. My freshers are eager beavers. Plus, Operation Theodora Show kicks off this week.’

      ‘Well done you. Can’t wait to see it. Feather in your cap with poison Challis, too.’

      ‘Hope so.’ Victoria Challis was their head of department. She didn’t have a warm and inviting demeanour, it had often been noted. She did, however, have the keys to the research funds and promotions cabinet.

      ‘Lunch later?’ Patrick said.

      ‘Yes! My shout. It’ll take my mind off having to go wedding shopping with my sister tonight.’ Anna picked up a folder on Patrick’s filing cabinet and lightly batted it against her forehead.

      ‘Ah. Choosing flowers and trying different flavours of sponges and so on?’

      ‘She’s looking for her wedding gown—no, NO sentiment,’ Anna held up a finger as Patrick formed a soppy face. ‘There’s the “aww” factor and also the “argh”. If Aggy finds The Dress and it’s huge, I’ll have to follow the showy theme as a bridesmaid. It’ll be tangerine or canary yellow shot silk with a zebra print fur trim, like some “Santa Baby” swingy thing. My sister’s taste is very “Miami”. She has already uttered the bowel-freezing phrase “seen something in the Ashley and Cheryl Cole wedding”. Given they’ve divorced, it might even be the actual thing on eBay.’

      ‘Ah. Well. I am sure you’d look marvellous in a refuse sack.’

      Anna made her umpteenth face of gratitude. ‘Thanks. See you later.’

      Patrick beamed, doing a little wave as she exited.

      Returning to her office and sitting down to her computer, Anna saw a name she didn’t recognise in her email and realised it was Neil from Friday. She could see from the preview window that this said rather more than she required; it used the word ‘lovers’. And an emoticon. Christ’s fuzzy clackers.

      She opened and read it, feeling her piss steadily boiling as she did so.

      Dear Anna,

      I am sorry you didn’t feel our date had the required ‘spark.’ I enjoyed it very much. If you will allow me to give you some feedback in return, I think you may be more likely to discover this elusive ‘spark’ if you are more open in your attitude. I found it difficult to get you to enter into a real conversation and our topics rarely strayed from the superficial. In fact, I got the sense you found honesty positively intimidating. I require a little more confidence in my lovers. And in general, I am tired of women over thirty who claim to want to meet an available man, then play the game of ‘catch me if you can’ once they know he’s interested. This rigmarole is not for those of us not in the first flush of youth

      However, having said this, I’d be prepared to try a second date if you persuade me it is worthwhile.

      Best wishes,

      Neil

      Anna wrestled the temptation to craft a stinging riposte. She should resist. Ah, sod it. She opened a reply.

      Dear Neil,

      I’m not playing any game, I’m simply saying no thanks to another date. Maybe you’d have had more luck if you didn’t make presumptuous and egotistical judgements like this about women you don’t know. Or make rude observations about their age. Or quiz them on their sexual preferences on the basis of a half hour acquaintance.

      Best,

      Anna