A Thousand Small Explosions Read Online Free PDF Page B

presentable after the hour-long car journey. She ruffled her hair hoping the damp wouldn’t make her curls frizzy.
    Finally, when she heard music begin to play inside, she walked slowly up the path, approached the door and braced herself. Then with her hand on the doorknob, she paused.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked herself. “What are you going to get out of going inside?”
    If she were being brutally honest with herself, she didn’t know. She was only aware that she and her Match Richard were destined to share something together, no matter how complicated that might be. So she turned the handle, made her way inside and found an empty seat at the very back of the room.
    She picked up one of the booklets that’d been left on each of the chairs and flicked through it as two guitarists played and sang a ballad she didn’t recognise. Upon finishing, a man wearing a sincere smile replaced them by the microphone stand at the front.
    ‘Thank you, Stuart and Derek,’ he began. ‘First of all, I’d like to thank you all for coming. And secondly, on behalf of his family, I’d like to welcome you all to St Peter And All Saints Church for a special ceremony in memory of our dear friend, Richard Taylor.’

CHAPTER 12
     
    CHRISTOPHER
     
    Christopher stared hard at her through the restaurant window, attempting to decipher her body language. She looked nervous, he thought.
    Amy, his Match Your DNA date, was sitting at the table with folded arms and her legs crossed at the ankle. And according to one of the many instructional YouTube videos he’d viewed, it meant she was being either defensive or anxious. Either one worked for him as it put him at an advantage.
    Amy glanced at the clock on her phone’s display at least once per minute. She frequently stroked or fiddled with her hair, or tapped her feet against the leg of her chair. She was an attractive woman, he conceded, and looked exactly like the picture she had emailed him, but had filtered first of course.
    Her long, dark hair had a slight wave to it, fashionable black-rimmed glasses framed her eyes and her use of make-up on her pale skin was subtle. She was of a slim build but did little to advertise it, playing it safe with trousers, heels and a plain blue top and jacket.
    Christopher was aware it was perceived to be bad social etiquette to arrive late for a date, especially with a person science decreed had been made for him. But he didn’t care; it was all part of the game. It was better to keep her waiting and a little on edge because then he’d be in control of the situation and maintain the upper hand from the off.
    As he bided his time outside the busy restaurant, he caught sight of his own reflection in the window. He’d not been acquainted with a good night’s sleep for some weeks, so had bought a cover-up stick from Boots to dab the bags and shadows under his eyes. He’d also used a tinted moisturiser he’d removed from the bathroom cabinet of Number Four to disguise the fact his nocturnal project meant he’d sleep during the day, which affected his melatonin levels.
    While he’d found time to shave, he hadn’t been able to book an appointment to get his hair trimmed, so he did the best he could with his side parting and a generous helping of a product that made it look much darker than its usual reddish brown colour. He smiled to himself, satisfied that how unlike many of his former schoolmates, his wrinkles were minimal, his teeth were as near to straight as could be and his features were angular rather than plumped by excess skin. He looked a decade younger than his thirty-three years.
    Christopher straightened the lapels of his tailor-fitted jacket, held out a little longer until Amy looked like she was about to stand up and leave and then entered the restaurant.
    His eyes scanned the generically furnished room as he pretended to search for his date. Her frustration at his tardiness dissipated the moment their eyes locked. To