A Present for Ben

Rachel was considering a reed diffuser. Salt Breeze perhaps, for his bathroom. Assuming he liked scented things. And that he had a bathroom.

Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone’s got a bathroom.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

She’d been standing still for a while, nowhere near the reed diffusers.

“No, not particularly. I’m just browsing.”

“You seem to be captivated by our extensive range of patterned gardening gloves.”

“It’s an impressive display,” she said. “I’m finding it hard to tear myself away.”

“So you’re not going to buy a pair?”

She turned to face the person behind the voice.

Wow. He was cute. About her age, tall, somewhere between slim and stocky, light brown hair that was frowsy, in a good way.

“Not today, no. I’m looking for a birthday present. For my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend? It sounded odd, spoken aloud. Were they an item already?

“He’s into gardening?"

“Not that I’m aware of,” she said. “He lives in a flat. First floor. Or second, not sure.”

“Right,” he said. “I’ve got handmade soap in our men’s range, sandalwood, black pepper, that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” she said. “Not sure if he’s allergic.”

“Okay. Novelty socks?’”

“I don’t know his size.”

His eyes narrowed, playfully sceptic. “You sure he’s your boyfriend? You don’t seem to know him too well.”

Rachel screwed up her face apologetically. “I know he likes Indie music, Thai food and long weekends away. Apart from that, no. I don’t know much about him.”

“Tell me, is he easy going, romantic and loyal?”

Rachel feigned a shocked expression. “Oh my God, you know him?”

“Yeah, I know er…”

“Ben.”

“Ben! Yes.” He motioned towards his phone. “In fact, I was just booking us two tickets for Snow Patrol when you came in.”

Rachel laughed. “So do you have any suggestions?”

“Well, knowing him much better than you,” he said, returning her smile, “I believe he drinks tea. Or coffee. Or Horlicks. I can’t remember. But we have a selection of enamel mugs that are as versatile as they are unbreakable.”

She chose one in racing green with a picture of a mountain range. Perhaps she’d buy some fudge to put inside it.

Was that childish? Did Ben even like fudge?

He wrapped it carefully, switching deftly to shopkeeper mode, popping her receipt in the bag.

She left feeling a little empty, not wanting their interaction to be over.

Ben didn’t do banter. He didn’t get her humour. Why was it so hard to meet someone who did?

***

From behind the counter, Phil watched her step out onto the street, noticing the way she swept her blonde hair away from her face as the wind caught it.

He thought about his last disappointing date from the site. Pleasant enough, but not easy to talk to like that girl. She was fun, and attractive.

He’d just have to keep trying. What was the alternative? You just can’t meet anyone in real life these days.