For Love or Money: A laugh out loud, heartwarming romantic comedy Read online

  ‘I’m a gentleman. There aren’t many of us left. You should snap me up while stocks last. Avoid disappointment.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘Look, I’m going this way anyway. But I’ll walk on the opposite side of the road, if you’d prefer.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’

  ‘Good. Because this isn’t actually the shortest route home for me. I only came this way as an excuse to talk to you,’ he admitted cheerfully.

  When they got to Lesley’s house, she stopped at the gate. ‘Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.’

  Al’s gaze flicked to the house. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to invite me in?’ he asked with a winning smile.

  Lesley sighed. ‘Look, you’re a really nice guy, Al, and you’re very good-looking and everything.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘But there’s just no spark.’ She could have added that she knew his real name was Aloysius and she couldn’t see herself dating someone with such a ludicrous name, but that would be mean.

  ‘Oh, don’t you think so? I mean, I feel a spark.’

  ‘You can’t feel a spark, because I don’t. It takes two. It’s like starting a fire by rubbing two sticks together. You can’t do it with one stick.’

  ‘Actually, I think you can. I was a boy scout, you know.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Well, if you know of a way of sparking off all by yourself, I don’t want to hear about it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Al’s shoulders slumped despite the cold. ‘Okay, then. Well, goodnight, Lesley. It was a pleasure meeting you.’

  ‘You too,’ she said as she opened the gate. ‘Enjoy your cake.’

  Al stood watching as she walked down the path and opened the door. When she turned to close it, he gave her a little wave and a regretful smile.

  That hadn’t been a bad evening all in all, she thought, as she went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She put her piece of cake on a plate and carried it through to the living room, and was about to flick on the light when she saw that Al was still standing outside, fiddling with his phone and looking furtive. Curious, she watched from behind the curtains, wondering what he was up to. A couple of minutes later, a cab pulled up and he hopped in.

  Hah! So he did live in Blackrock after all, Lesley thought, chuckling to herself as she drew the curtains. He hadn’t been kidding when he said walking by her house wasn’t his most direct route home. No wonder he didn’t want to ask her back to his place. Still, she couldn’t help admiring his initiative. And she had to admit it was flattering that he’d resorted to subterfuge just so he could walk home with her. She could definitely chalk tonight up as a success, she thought, feeling quite pleased with herself as she switched on the TV and flopped onto the sofa. Being single again was going to be fun.

  3

  ‘So how was it before Gandalf turned up and you all got kicked out?’

  The following Monday morning, Lesley was sitting in her friend Romy’s living room, telling her about Dinner Dates, while Romy’s two-year-old son, Luke, was busily emptying the contents of a CD rack, chattering happily to himself as he stacked them up on the floor. Romy was a property developer and worked from home, so Lesley often called round for a coffee break on weekdays.

  Lesley cupped her hands around her mug and thought. ‘It was ... convivial,’ she said, landing on the word with satisfaction.

  ‘Convivial?’ Romy scrunched up her nose. ‘You didn’t meet anyone interesting, then?’

  ‘No. One guy did chase me home, though.’

  ‘Oh! Well, in that case, I think you can call it an unqualified success. What was he like?’

  ‘Pretty fit, but in a nice, normal sort of way – not all man boobs and unputdownable arms. But there was no spark.’

  Romy gave her a look, but said nothing.

  ‘What?’ Lesley shrugged. ‘I’m decisive. It’s one of my best qualities.’

  ‘You’re too quick to write people off. They might surprise you if you gave them a chance.’

  ‘They might. And you know I hate surprises.’

  Romy laughed. ‘I just think you might miss out on someone great because you don’t feel some instantaneous spark.’

  ‘Katrina’s always telling me the same thing – only she’s more worried I’ll miss out on the perfect pair of jeans.’ Lesley was just as quick and decisive when it came to shopping as she was about potential dates. ‘She made me go to the Dundrum Centre with her last week for a girlie shopping day.’

  ‘Doesn’t she know you at all?’

  ‘I know! I think she imagined it’d be like one of those movie montages. You know – the pair of us on a moving walkway, laden down with posh shopping bags, laughing and pointing stuff out to each other.’

  ‘Having salad and fizzy water for lunch, and getting your nails done to an upbeat soundtrack.’

  ‘Yes! Anyway, she soon regretted it. She kept moaning at me that I hadn’t even looked. But I’m like Sherlock. I take it all in in one fell swoop – wrong neckline, frilly sleeves, clingy material, not my colour … it’s like my superpower.’

  Lesley had spent most of the day hanging around in doorways, playing with her phone while Katrina had gone through every single rail of clothes, item by item. Then they’d move on to the next store, where she’d begin the painstaking process all over again.

  ‘I don’t know how she ever gets anything done. She was always the same with men. She once went on three dates with a guy called Skunk! Three! I mean, his name was Skunk – that’s all you need to know right there.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure that wasn’t his real name.’

  ‘No, but that was what his friends called him – and they’re the people who like him. Thank goodness she has Tom now. She’s not safe to be let out.’

  ‘Still, there’s a happy medium between serial-dating complete gobshites and not even going out once with a perfectly nice man. This guy who chased you home, for instance—’

  ‘Al, his name was.’

  ‘Maybe he’d grow on you if you gave him a chance.’

  Lesley considered this for a moment. ‘Nah,’ she said. ‘If there’s a spark, you feel it straight away, and if there isn’t, there’s no point in wasting everyone’s time trying to manufacture one. I’m like Ellen Barkin in Sea of Love. You know when she says she believes in instant attraction and love at first sight, and she’s all snappy fingers. That’s like me.’ Lesley sighed. ‘God, I love that movie.’

  ‘Well, that just proves my point. Ellen Barkin ends up with Al Pacino, even though she thinks there’s no spark at first. Maybe it’d be like that with your Al.’

  ‘No. For starters, my Al is short for Aloysius. I ask you!’

  ‘Oh, dear!’ Romy giggled. ‘Still,’ she said reasonably, ‘it’s better than Skunk.’

  ‘Marginally. I mean, who’s called Aloysius?’

  ‘Well, there was the gay teddy bear in Brideshead Revisited.’

  ‘He was cute. Still, I’m not going out with anyone called Aloysius. I have my standards.’

  Luke tottered over to Romy and presented her with a CD. ‘Thank you,’ she said, taking it from him absently. ‘So, are you going to go back to Dinner Dates for a freebie?’

  ‘No. It’s a bit too intense for me. The people who go to those sorts of things are looking to settle down. Maybe I’ll stick to speed dating in future. It’s more my ... speed.’

  ‘Or you could go back to internet dating.’

  ‘I think I’ve already dated everyone on the internet.’

  ‘You’ve been away a while. There must be some new stock.’

  ‘To be honest, I’m really not in the mood for any of it. I might take a break from the whole dating scene.’

  ‘Well, it’s not that long since you broke up with Rob. Maybe it’s too soon?’

  ‘It’s not that. I mean, it’s not like I thought he was “the one” or anything.’ She rolled her eyes at the idea. ‘Though I’m still pissed off that he dumped me. The
cheek of it! If anyone was the catch out of the pair of us, it was me.’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘But he lured me in under false pretences. I mean, why bother looking for someone to go out with, if you just want to stay in all the time?’ Rob had been a big fan of Friday nights snuggled on the sofa with a takeaway and a box set on Netflix. ‘He was turning into an old fart, and he wanted to take me down with him. Now that I’ve got my freedom back, I just want to enjoy it for a while.’

  ‘Well, if you’ve nothing better to do next weekend, you can join us old farts for a Star Wars marathon. Ethan wants Luke to watch the whole series, so he’s up to speed when the last one comes out.’

  ‘Isn’t Luke a bit young for Star Wars?’

  Romy smiled. ‘Ethan says it’s his heritage, so we should introduce him to it as early as possible.’ Romy had met Luke’s father at a Halloween party when he was dressed as Darth Vader.

  Lesley looked across at the toddler who was now engrossed in trying to open a recalcitrant jewel case, all fingers and thumbs. ‘Use the force, Luke,’ she said in a ghostly voice. ‘Are you going to watch the prequels?’ she asked Romy.

  ‘No! God, no, I don’t think so.’ Romy frowned. It seemed like the thought had just occurred to her. ‘No, I’m sure not. If Ethan suggested that, I might have to divorce him – and we’re not even married.’

  ‘Okay, sounds good. Oh, thanks, Luke,’ she said as the child handed her a CD with a big grin.

  ‘So, how’s business?’ Romy asked as she poured them more coffee from the cafetière.

  ‘Good.’ Lesley picked up her mug and sank back against the cushions of the couch. ‘I’ve got a big SEO job from a new client. Boring as all get-out, but it pays well, and it’ll be ongoing for months. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so good at my job, but what can you do?’

  4

  Two months later, Lesley was beginning to question whether she was cut out for working from home. Business was good, but the latest big SEO project she’d taken on was boring the pants off her, and it was a constant struggle to resist the twin lures of social media and the biscuit cupboard, and focus on her work.

  When her doorbell rang at eleven one Monday morning, she promptly sprang out of her chair to answer it, grateful for the distraction. Expecting it was Romy calling for a coffee break, she hurried into the hall. But her welcoming smile died on her lips when she saw the unfamiliar head of a man through the bubbled glass of the door. Damn! It was probably someone selling something or collecting for charity. Still, it was too late to hide and pretend there was no one in as he’d already seen her through the glass – and besides, any diversion was better than nothing. Maybe she could persuade him to come in for a cup of tea and a chat, whoever he was. She’d invited a couple of very nice Mormons in last week and had managed to keep them talking for almost an hour.

  When she opened the door, she vaguely recognised the tall, russet-haired man standing in her porch, but couldn’t quite place him.

  ‘Lesley, hello!’ he said with a friendly smile.

  As soon as he spoke, she remembered. He was the posh English guy she’d met at Dinner Dates – the one who’d followed her home and asked her out. She was surprised he’d turned up. He’d seemed to accept her brush-off the night they’d met, and she hadn’t pegged him as a stalker. He’d waited long enough, but maybe that was part of his MO – biding his time and lulling her into a false sense of security.

  ‘Hello, um ...’ She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew it was something preposterous. ‘I want to say Algernon?’

  ‘Aloysius,’ he said cheerfully, holding out his hand.

  Of course – how could she have forgotten?

  ‘But you can call me Al.’

  ‘Like the song.’ She gave his hand a brief but firm shake.

  ‘Yes. Quite,’ he said in a jaded tone.

  ‘Oh, I suppose people say that to you all the time.’

  ‘No, you’re the first.’

  ‘Really?’ She smiled, surprised.

  ‘Well, the first today.’

  ‘Oh.’ She laughed.

  ‘So, can I come in?’ Al asked.

  Lesley hesitated. He seemed so sure of his welcome, like a big, friendly dog that was used to people doting on him. But while she’d be glad of the distraction, even if it did come in the shape of a stalker, she didn’t fancy him, and she didn’t want to lead him on. Better to let him down quickly so he could get on with his life and find some other woman to pester.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said.

  ‘Oh.’ He seemed taken aback. ‘But I haven’t even told you why I’m here yet.’

  ‘Well, it’s not hard to guess. I mean, we met at Dinner Dates. You followed me home.’

  ‘Walked you home,’ he corrected her.

  ‘You say potato. Whatever. The thing is I didn’t feel we ... hit it off really.’

  ‘I’m not here to ask you out again, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘You’re not?’ Lesley felt irrationally miffed that he seemed to have given up so easily.

  ‘No. So, can I come in?’

  ‘Well, all right.’ Puzzled, she stood back to let him in, and he strode off down the hall before she’d even closed the door behind him.

  ‘In here?’ he asked, pointing to the open kitchen door.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, trotting after him.

  ‘So you work from home?’ he asked when she caught up with him in the kitchen.

  ‘Yes.’ Lesley was about to invite him to sit down, but he was already pulling out a chair for himself at the kitchen table.

  ‘Make yourself at home,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, oblivious to her sarcasm. He whipped off his coat, draped it on the back of the chair and sat down, stretching out his long legs in front of him.

  There was something about his air of utter assurance that reminded Lesley of a stockbroker she had dated briefly when she lived in London. ‘You went to one of those schools, didn’t you?’ she asked knowingly.

  ‘What schools?’ Al frowned.

  ‘You know – the schools where they train posh boys for taking over the world. You learn how to barge around other countries, subjugating the natives and making them do all the work, while you lounge about on verandas inventing cocktails.’

  ‘If you’re referring to public schools, then yes.’

  ‘I knew it!’

  ‘Harrow, though,’ he said, as if in mitigation.

  ‘How does that make it any better?’

  ‘Well, it’s the coolest one, obviously.’

  ‘Cup of tea?’ she asked, automatically flicking the switch on the kettle.

  ‘I’d love a coffee, thanks.’

  ‘I only have instant,’ she said. It was a lie, but she wasn’t about to start making fancy coffee for Al. She still didn’t know why he was here, so best not to encourage him.

  ‘It’ll have to do.’

  ‘I hope your parents didn’t waste too much money on that charm school,’ she said under her breath. She folded her arms, leaning against the worktop. ‘So if you’re not asking me out, why did you come here, Al?’

  ‘I want to hire you.’

  ‘Oh!’ She was instantly mollified. That explained his brusque manner – he was just in business mode. She shouldn’t have been so hard on him. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I think I might have some real coffee after all.’

  ‘Excellent!’

  She opened a couple of cupboards and pretended to do a bit of rummaging before ‘finding’ the coffee. ‘Aha!’ she said for dramatic effect, holding it up triumphantly. Today was looking up, and a new client definitely deserved real coffee.

  ‘So have you been back to Dinner Dates since?’ she asked him as she spooned coffee grounds into the filter.

  ‘No. Actually, I was only there the night I met you as a favour to Helen. I help her out sometimes if she’s a man short at the last minute.’

  ‘So you were
there under false pretences?’ Lesley gave him a hard look. ‘What if some poor woman fancied you?’

  He shrugged. ‘I am actually single at the moment. So if I did hit it off with someone, it would be perfectly above board.’

  Huh! If Lesley had known that at the time, she mightn’t have been so quick to give him the brush-off. Maybe he’d have been up for a casual hook-up.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked as she placed two mugs on the table and sat opposite him. ‘Have you been back?’

  ‘No. I’ve kind of stopped looking for now.’

  ‘Oh. You’ve met someone.’ For some reason, his face fell.

  ‘No, I’m just taking a break from the whole dating scene. I’m going to concentrate on my career for now.’

  ‘Ah. Good plan. And that’s where I come in! As luck would have it, I need a private detective. So it was quite serendipitous that I happened to have met you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lesley’s heart sank. She had forgotten about passing herself off as a private investigator that night. She hadn’t expected it to come back and bite her on the arse.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Al asked, watching her closely.

  ‘Well, it’s just – look, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey. I wasn’t exactly honest about what I do for a living at that dinner party. I’m not really a private detective.’

  ‘Oh, I know that,’ Al said calmly and took a sip of coffee.

  ‘You do? How?’

  ‘I Googled you,’ he said with a satisfied smile. ‘You didn’t give me your number, so I looked you up online to find your place of business. And I found you. You’re a web designer, right?’

  ‘Yes.’ She frowned. ‘So why would you want to hire me as a private investigator, when you know I’m not one?’

  ‘Ah, well—’ He looked shifty. ‘An amateur is likely a better bet for my purposes.’

  Lesley couldn’t help bristling slightly. ‘You mean you think I’ll work for free? If you expect me to do it just for the fun of it ...’ She left the sentence hanging, because the truth was she probably would do it just for the fun of it.