Page 46 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“It’s short notice to ask anyone else,” said Kate.
“Ask Sarah!” said Laura, elated at her own genius. “She’s always up for a laugh.”
•••••
Sarah normally dropped in to see Matt when she finished work. Kate arrived just after four o’clock and sure enough there she was, hugging a hot chocolate, the heat from the café curling her raven hair in just the right way.
“Wait a minute. Let me get this straight,” said Matt. “You want to takemygirlfriend with you on a date night, asyourwing woman?”
“Yes,” said Kate. “Although you make it sound creepy. The theme is Dates with Mates; it’s just a chance for people to mingle in an informal way. It’s a pub quiz, actually.”
“Nice,” said Sarah. “You know me and a pub quiz.”
Sarah was very clever—as you’d expect from a headmistress—and fiercely competitive. Their pub team score had increased significantly since Sarah had joined them. The Pear Tree Perils were now a force to be reckoned with at the Duke’s Head quiz nights.
“So, you haven’t been assigned a shag... sorry, I meandatefor this one,” asked Matt.
“Give her a break, Matt,” said Sarah. “You make it sound like Kate’s the only person who’s ever used a dating website. And I know for a fact that you were on one before we met.”
Kate was aghast.
“You hypocrite!” she said. “You’ve been giving me grief this whole time.”
“All right, all right.” Matt held his hands up in defeat. “But still,” he went on. “It’s a bit weird, isn’t it? I’m not sure I want you to go on a singles night, Sarah.”
“It won’t be like that,” said Kate.
“And besides,” said Sarah. “I do have a mind of my own. I’m not going to forget I’ve got a boyfriend just because there are men in the room. It’s called self-control, Matt.”
Matt was flustered; he rubbed his hand through his hair and it stayed stuck up in the air like the worst kind of bed hair.
“But this is set up with a view to people copping off,” he said.
“At a pub quiz?” said Kate. “Are you this terrified at the Duke’s Head quiz? Perhaps you think Sarah might pounce on Steve or Gavin?”
Matt looked sulky.
“What about Wally?” Sarah suggested.
“Wallyisa hottie,” admitted Kate.
“When he wipes the beer froth off his handlebar mustache it drives me wild,” said Sarah.
“It’s the eyebrow dandruff that does it for me,” said Kate.
“All right! Fine!” said Matt. “You’ve made your point. But Kate, can you wear a sign or something so that people know you aredefinitelythe date and not the mate?”
•••••
Matt needn’t have worried. The next morning Kate had an email from the dating site requesting that all “dates” wear a Christmas jumper to differentiate them from their “mates.”
Kate had an embarrassing number of Christmas jumpers in an ottoman beneath her bedroom window, from full comedic with flashing lights, to sequin baubles, to embroidered snow and nativity scenes.
She picked out a pale green knitted sweater with felt sprigs of dark green holly and ruby berries across the front: one of the Knitting Sex Kittens’ less avant-garde pieces.
Kate worked for a couple of hours on her spring collection. The winter sun streamed in through the window and illuminated the kitchen table and the dried flowers on it, as though wanting to inspire Kate to think spring thoughts.
She layered palest lemon paint onto her pencil primrose studies, slowly building to a more robust warm-butter shade toward the petal centers. The rough watercolor paper drank in the pigments. When she had a cluster of delicate yellow primroses on the page, she washed out her brushes and began to paint nodding bluebell heads in shades of periwinkle and lapis lazuli, letting the colors bleed into each other and the flowers come alive beneath her fingers.
