Alice Brown's Lessons in the Curious Art of Dating Read Online Free PDF Page A

desks, heads bent over their screens. It was the only time the office was quiet. Even Audrey wasn’t immune from paperwork Tuesdays. Alice could see her in her glass-walled office, frowning heavily at her computer.
    Alice stared blankly at the figures on her own computer, willing them to make sense. It was no good. Try as she might to focus on the numbers, she couldn’t help but start picturing the face of a man. Not just any man.
The
man. The one for her. She hadn’t met him yet, but he was out there, she was sure of it. You had to believe that, in this line of work, she reasoned. You had to believe in Prince Charmings.
    Alice’s own Prince Charming was forever popping into her head. She’d met him a thousand times – sometimes in the supermarket, sometimes the swimming pool, the library, the bus stop, the pub. Other women wanted Prince Charmings with big muscles, fat bank balances and awardrobe full of the right kind of clothes. But Alice’s Prince Charming was more likely to be brandishing a charity bucket than a bulging wallet. Today her Prince Charming was a florist, delivering flowers to women all over the city. Alice imagined women sighing as they accepted his bouquets, disappointed that they were from their husbands and not Prince Charming. He’d almost run Alice over in his delivery van and would rush to check she was OK. She’d be fine, just attractively flushed and a little shaken. He wouldn’t hear of her cycling home when she could be in shock. He’d stow her bike amongst the tulips and azaleas in the back of his van and give her a lift home. Thanks to his perfect mental recall and uncanny ability to predict her favourite flower, the next day she’d find a huge bunch of gerberas on her doorstep and a note asking her to dinner.
    Alice sighed. That was the trouble with this job. You were paid to think about ideal partnerships all day long, so how could you not think about your own perfect date? It was like putting an alcoholic behind the bar and telling him to sit on his hands. Was she a romanceaholic, Alice wondered? Did such people exist?
    She gave up on her paperwork.
    ‘Anyone want a coffee?’ She broke the silence.
    ‘Just what the doctor ordered!’ said Hilary, relieved by the distraction. ‘Wanna hand?’ She started to pull herself up from her seat.
    ‘No, you stay where you are,’ Alice said with a smile. Hilary beamed gratefully over her pregnant belly.
    ‘Bianca?’ Alice prompted.
    ‘Please,’ Bianca murmured without removing her eyes from her computer. Alice eyed the top of Bianca’s head. The January sunshine was catching her neat rows of honeyed highlights, making her hair look like spun gold. Bianca always looked together and classy in a way that Alice simply couldn’t. Even if she actually bothered ironing a shirt for work, an hour later Alice still looked like she’d slept in her clothes.
    ‘Were you dragged through a hedge backwards this morning?’ Audrey once asked her loudly across the office. ‘Twice?’
    Bianca, on the other hand, looked like she woke up in full, artfully understated make-up every morning, photo-shoot-ready from the pillow. With her ever-fresh hair and pearly oval fingernails, she was the kind of woman who, just by looking at her, made you feel you were somehow failing your sex.
    ‘Did someone say cappuccino?’ chirped Cassandra loudly. ‘I’ll have mine extra skinny.’
    ‘I wasn’t going to . . .’
    ‘And one of those big cookies. Bugger the diet.’
    ‘Er, right.’
    Cappuccinos meant a trip to the coffee shop round the corner. Alice hadn’t intended to leave the office – a Nescafé courtesy of the office kettle would have done. But at least a trip outside meant ten minutes away from the paperwork.
    She pulled on her coat. On the mat the post lay ignored.Alice scooped up the envelopes and caught her breath. There were two handwritten envelopes. She felt a thrill of excitement. Gingerly she pushed open the door to Audrey’s