One Perfect Date

Love is lost and found in this sparkling short story by Teresa Ashby.

HOLLY squinted through the window at the train waiting at the platform opposite and thought she saw a familiar face.

She thought of Alex so often, it was only a matter of time before she started to imagine he was there.

As her train jolted, she realised it was definitely Alex on the other train.

He was staring at her, getting to his feet and lifting his hand in a wave.

And then he was gone as the station became a blur.

She slumped back in her seat, heart pounding.

Holly and Alex had only met once at the start of the summer, but they’d ended up spending the day together.

What a day it had been.

****

It was the opening of the new art gallery and she’d agreed to meet her friend Tasha outside, but Tasha hadn’t turned up.

Holly tried calling, but Tasha wasn’t answering.

Tasha had form for forgetting arrangements or turning up late.

Rather than stand outside in the rain, Holly texted, I’m at the gallery and I’m going in.

There weren’t many people there and she found herself standing in front of a stunning painting of a yacht on a sparkling sea.

There was something so uplifting about it.

She felt almost as if she was standing on a beach with warm sand beneath her bare feet and the gentle lap of the sea soothing her ears.

She fancied she could hear the voices of the crew and the cry of gulls gliding high above.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

Holly nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t noticed anyone else in that section of the gallery.

The man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“You can almost smell the sea, can’t you? Have you seen Marisa’s other paintings?”

Holly didn’t want to admit she’d never heard of the artist and she followed him to another part of the gallery.

All Marisa’s paintings were magical. Some were of sunshine streaming through the trees, others of mountains rising above swirling mists.

Each one had a realistic yet ethereal quality.

In one painting a man stood by a river with a swirl of leaves about his feet.

“I wish I could afford to buy one,” Holly said.

Tasha was the one who was keen on art. This was the first time Holly had been so touched by someone’s work.

“I have one,” he said. “It was a gift from Marisa.”

He looked nice, Holly thought, with his upturned lips and blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled.

“Would you like a coffee . . .?” he asked.

There was an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Holly,” she said. “Yes, please, that would be lovely.”

Her eyes asked the same question.

“Alex.”

It felt surreal. They drifted to the small café area in the corner and she sat at a pink table while he went to the counter and bought two lattes and two slices of carrot cake.

“Galleries aren’t really my thing,” he admitted as he sat down.

“I’m here to show support for Marisa. She’s very private, so she won’t be appearing.

“She has an extraordinary talent.”

“She certainly does,”

Holly said.

“My friend Tasha was supposed to meet me here.

“She used to be an art student and she loves visiting galleries.

“She’s been painting again since her marriage broke up. She says it keeps her sane.

“That’s debatable as she’s the scattiest person on earth.”

They both laughed.

“She must have forgotten she was supposed to meet me today.”

“Who could forget you?” Alex asked, then looked acutely embarrassed.

Had Holly’s first meeting with Alex been too good to be true?

“Did I say that out loud? Sorry. That sounded weird.” “Not at all,” Holly said. “So Tasha likes to paint. What do you like to do?”

“Oh, nothing exciting,” she said. “Walking, spending time in the countryside, gardening . . .” He was laughing.

“You sound like me,” he said. “I don’t have a garden, though, just a few pots on my balcony.”

They finished their coffee and had another look round the gallery.

“So you know Marisa?” Holly said.

“I do,” he said.

“Wonderful woman. I adore her. She’s like her paintings, and has that luminous, magical quality.”

“I’ll tell Tasha what she missed,” Holly said.

They stepped outside.

The rain had stopped and the sun was warm.

Alex looked down at

Holly and smiled.

“I was going to get myself a takeaway, but would you . . . no. I’m being silly.”

“Go on,” Holly pressed. “I was going to ask if you’d like to have lunch.”

“That would be lovely,” Holly said. “I would.” “Mexican?”

“I love Mexican.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” He grinned.

Holly had never met anyone with whom she had so much in common.

It felt as if she’d known Alex for ever.

He’d said he adored Marisa, but she blocked that out.

As she sat down in the restaurant, she had a text.

“It’s from Tasha,” she explained as she read it.

“She was in the bath and completely forgot we were supposed to be meeting up. She’s mortified.”

She quickly replied then slid her phone in her bag.

She was almost out of charge now anyway.

They talked and laughed over their meal.

When it was time to leave, Holly felt sad at the thought of never seeing Alex again.

As they passed the abbey gardens, he spoke.

“Fancy a walk?”

“That would be lovely,” she said and it was.

People were enjoying the sunshine and the flowers seemed extra bright.

On the far side of the abbey gardens, they went into a café and after that, stopped outside a cinema.

“That’s one I’ve been wanting to see,” Holly said, pointing at a film poster. “Me, too. Shall we?” Of course, Holly agreed. She didn’t want the day to end.

They emerged from the cinema two and a half hours later, arms linked, laughing as they talked about the film.

Finally, when they said goodbye and went to go their separate ways, they realised they were both heading in the same direction.

“I’m going home by train,” Alex explained. “If I don’t go now, I’ll miss the last one.”

Home to Marisa? Holly shook the thought away.

“Me, too!” She laughed, but when they got to the station, it was to find their destinations were in opposite directions.

“It’s been great meeting you, Holly,” Alex said reaching to shake her hand.

It seemed an oddly formal gesture.

“You, too,” she said. “I’ve had such a good time.”

He turned and hurried towards the bridge that led to the other side of the station while Holly watched, her heart thudding.

As he put his foot on the first step, he pivoted round.

“I’ll give you my number,” he said. “Or you can give me yours.”

“I’ll take yours,” she said. “But my phone’s out of charge. I’ll write it down.”

She rummaged for a pen and a scrap of paper.

His train pulled in and she scribbled his number.

“Goodbye for now, Holly,” he said and turned to go again, then spun round and hugged her.

She pushed him away. “Go! You’ll miss your train.”

He ran over the bridge, leaving her breathless. What had just happened? She’d never believed in love at first sight, and yet something momentous had happened.

Holly saw him on the train moments before it left the station and he held his hand up to his ear.

“Call me,” Alex mouthed. “I will!” she mouthed back and then he was gone.

Before she could tuck the piece of paper away safely, her train pulled in.

As she climbed aboard, a gust of wind snatched it from her fingers and tossed it under the train.

“No!” she cried. “No!”

But there had been no time to save it.

Part of her was glad when she thought of Marisa.

She probably wouldn’t have called him anyway.

****

Now it looked as if she’d missed her chance again.

It was as if fate was tormenting her.

She’d told Tasha about Alex and she called her now in despair.

“He was so close!”

“There must be some way of finding him, Holly,”

Tasha said.

“You know the town where he lives.”

“Yes, there are only about fifty thousand people living in it. Should be a doddle.”

“You said he knew

Marisa, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Holly said. “He said he adored her.”

“Oh. But that doesn’t mean anything. Contact her and perhaps she can put you in touch with him.

“I gather she’s reclusive, but she might have a romantic streak you can appeal to.”

“What if she’s his wife?” “Don’t think like that. He wasn’t wearing a ring, was he? Try it, Holly.”

But she wouldn’t.

She got home, fed the cat and opened the patio doors to let the sunshine in.

She thought of Alex and his balcony and wondered if he was opening his doors and thinking of her.

She hated to think that he’d assume she hadn’t called him on purpose.

When she’d made dinner, she sat out in the garden to eat.

As the evening grew chilly, Holly went inside and found her phone ringing.

There were several missed calls from the same unfamiliar number.

She answered.

“Holly?”

“Alex?”

“Tasha explained you’d lost my number,” he said. “How?”

“She contacted Marisa through her Facebook page and Marisa contacted me.

“She was the only person I told about you, and she was over the moon when Tasha got in touch.

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on the train!” “Neither could I.”

“I hadn’t forgotten you,” he said. “I never stopped hoping that you’d call.”

Holly let out a squeak as Tigger landed on her lap. “Are you all right?”

“It was just my cat,” Holly said. “Tigger. She startled me.”

“You have a cat?” he laughed softly. “Mine is called Maurice.

“He’s a house and balcony cat, but one day I’ll have a garden for him to play in.”

And they were off again, finding things in common, conversation flowing easily.

“My grandmother said that you must have lost my number,” he said.

“Your grandmother?” “Marisa.”

“She’s a wise woman.” Holly couldn’t believe that wonderful artist was Alex’s grandmother.

“She certainly is. She’d like to meet you. And Tasha.”

Holly closed her eyes until tears forced them open. Happy tears.

“That would be wonderful,” she said.

As soon as they’d finished speaking, she called Tasha.

“How would you like to meet Marisa?” she asked.

Tasha’s scream nearly deafened her.

“I thought so,” Holly said. “We’re going to have tea with her on Sunday.

“You can meet Alex. We’ll go together so you don’t forget.”

Tasha laughed.

“I won’t forget,” she promised.

The End.