Chapter 2

Venue: The Crowne Plaza Hotel, Conference Room 3

Feeling very much at sea, Roy paced the floor of the conference room. Anne and Celia had done a good job of instructing the hotel staff about the day’s requirements, and everything appeared to be well prepared. Chairs were scattered rather than in rows, to give a more casual look, and they had sizeable arm rests to allow room to write on the forms already in place. A chilled water station sat in one corner.

One or two women had begun to arrive, and Roy gave them welcoming smiles. Thankfully they looked normal to his eyes, and he relaxed a little. Just as he was beginning to feel a bit less like a lamb to the slaughter, his mother entered hurriedly. “Roy,” she whispered urgently, “a television reporter and cameraman have arrived downstairs.

“What! That’s the last thing we need. Stay here and I’ll go and try to nip this in the bud.” He exited at the run, almost tripping on the stairs in his hurry. Outside the hotel, a crew from ChTV1 were setting up to begin filming. Roy rapidly made his way over to them.

“Excuse me, can I ask what you’re doing?”

A young woman came forward. “I’m Sonia Street, from ChTV1. We’re here to cover the marriage mart.”

“The WHAT? Lady, I don’t care who you are, this is a private function. I’m Roy Burke, but you probably know that. Firstly, because this is a private function, you have no right to film the people attending. And secondly, this IS NOT a marriage mart. That’s a shocking denigration of what this is about.”

“It might be a public function inside, Mr Burke, but the footpath is a public place, and we have the right to film.”

Roy swallowed hard, and tried to lower the aggro.

“Look, Miss Street. Can I appeal to you to mix your professionalism with some compassion. Can you put yourself in the position of these ladies. Many of them will be coming with huge trepidation, probably embarrassment – just as I am embarrassed. This event was not my idea, but so be it. They are putting themselves – and maybe their reputation – on the line. It takes a lot of guts to admit that you are single, especially if you don’t want to be. It’s very possibly not of your own choice. It takes a lot of courage to admit that, and I want to honour these ladies for having that courage. If you film them against their will, in a very real way you are publicly shaming them. If you were one of them, is this a gauntlet that you would want to run?”

“So you just want me to shut up our camera and walk away? I’ve been given this assignment, and it will not go well with me if I don’t produce.”

Roy swallowed, and thought hard.

“Look,” he said, “can I suggest a compromise? If you don’t film out here, but wait quietly in the foyer to the conference room ... When everybody has arrived, I will ask if any would be prepared to be filmed. If any agree, I will group them in one corner of the room, and you can film them – only them – and myself for a brief time. Then when they break for lunch, you can interview any who are willing after the others have left. And I will be willing to be interviewed also.”

Roy noticed his mother standing behind him, cell phone in hand. “I’m videoing this conversation,” she said. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want this video to be fed to a rival TV channel.”

Sonia Street grimaced. “You appear to have me somewhat over a barrel, Mr Burke.” She paused. “Okay, I’m willing to agree to your terms. If this costs me my job, I’ll be making your life a misery.”

“Miss Street, threats don’t become you. I’m sure you’re better than that. And within the scope of what I’ve just offered, I’ll do all I can to co-operate, within reason. But please ... it’s important for these ladies that you protect their privacy. And it will be very helpful if you can move your gear upstairs so anyone coming isn’t intimidated.” As an afterthought, he added: “You are welcome to sit inside the conference room without the camera, and watch what goes on. In fact, I’d be delighted if you take part by filling in the questionnaire that I’ll be asking everyone to do. It would look odd if everybody is writing and you just sit there.”

Sonia was non-committal, but when she gave a signal to her cameraman, he shouldered his equipment and followed her inside. Roy breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks, Mom, that was a brilliant idea of yours. You saved the day.”

“It would have been even more brilliant if I had actually turned my cellphone on,” she grimaced, “but I think we dodged a bullet.” Roy laughed, took her hand, and the pair made their way back upstairs.

Back in the conference room, Anne raised her eyebrows at Roy’s reappearance. “What was that all about?” she asked.

“A bit of a run-in with a TV reporter, but I think we’ve headed them off at the pass. We’ll just have to modify how we introduce the session this morning.” To himself, he wondered how many of the early-comers might have been put off if they had spotted the camera.

It was not long before the room started to fill. Anne stood to one side with a clipboard, managing the sign-in sheet. But what she took to be the last had entered, when there was a commotion at the door.

“Mom, I’m not a baby. It was my decision to apply to come here, and I’m not going to have you muscle in and try to manage it, or sabotage it. This is not about you, it’s about me, now go away.”

Ray, Anne and Celia converged on the pair at the door.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Anne said, “is there a problem”.

“There will be if my daughter doesn’t get a fair hearing,” said the woman.

“And you are...?

“Agnes Cartwright, and this is my daughter Brodie. I saw your advertisement, and I thought this is exactly the chance she needs to find a husband. So I’ve come to make sure she gets a fair deal.”

“Mrs Cartwright,” intervened Celia. “It’s great that you have your daughter’s welfare in mind, but this event is only for single ladies, so we will have to ask you to leave. I can assure you that we will indeed give Brodie a fair hearing. But it’s going to take a fair while to work through everything today, so can I suggest that you pop out and entertain yourself until about 1.30, when we will probably be finished. In the meantime, here is a voucher you can use at a local coffee lounge if you wish. Thank you so much for bringing Brodie – we will take great care of her,” Celia said, gently ushering the woman out the door, and down the stairs.

Through the exchange, Brodie cringed visibly, obviously highly embarrassed and near crying. Anne took her arm gently, and led her to a vacant seat. “Take heart, Brodie,” she counselled. “I’m sure you’re wishing the floor would swallow you. But you’re in good hands here. I know, because I had a mother just like yours, and it took me a great effort to break free from her domination. So I understand, and I suspect others here today do also.” There were some nods around the room.

Roy cleared his throat and stepped up.

“Good morning,” he said, trying to re-establish a conducive atmosphere. The microphone gave a light squeak, as though it, too, wasn’t sure about this. “Thank you all for coming. I ... suppose this is the part where I convince you I’m not completely insane.”

A few soft chuckles. One woman raised her eyebrows in amused challenge.

“I’m Roy Burke. I run a construction company called Reliabuild. I’m thirty-four. I own my own home, have a pet dog, and only yell when the concrete mix goes off too fast. My mother thinks I need to find someone before I turn into a grumpy old man with only a jet ski for company. My secretary agrees. Unfortunately, she also happens to be terrifyingly efficient.”

Anne gave a small mock-curtsy.

“To give you a little insight into what I do, I’m going to show you a short video clip of some of our projects, and the people who do the real work.” Roy gave a signal, and the video – which Anne had only thought of the day before but had been able to bully a videographer friend into producing at short notice – ran through.

“So here we are,” Roy said at the conclusion. “What happens next is a bit of an experiment. On your chair you can each see a short questionnaire — nothing invasive, just a way for me to get a sense of who you are, what matters to you, and whether we’d survive an awkward breakfast together.”

A ripple of laughter this time. Roy relaxed a millimetre.

“After that, I’m sending you off to the café downstairs for a well-catered morning tea — on me. When you return, I’ll have read through your answers, and I’ll ask a few of you to stay behind for a longer chat. No pressure. No roses. No TV cameras. Just a very tired man trying to do this one thing properly.”

He gave a small, lopsided smile. “Now about TV cameras,” he said. “Some of you may have noticed a TV reporter and camera outside. They are not here with my permission, and I was disturbed at their presence. However, I have had a discussion with the presenter, and we have come to an agreement. If any of you have no objection to being filmed in here, please raise your hand. I will rearrange your seating so that only you will be in shot of the camera, and I’m asking them to be discrete. No-one will be filmed without their agreement, and the camera will be here for only a couple of minutes. The presenter, Miss Street, would like to interview a couple of you individually. If you are willing, please let them know when you leave for morning tea. If you are not happy with that, I have asked Miss Street to respect your privacy.”

Roy paused to let that sink in. After a moment, he asked: “Are any of you willing to be interviewed? Remember, you do not have to agree – it’s entirely your choice.” A couple of hands went up. “Thank you. I’m sure Miss Street has taken a note of that. Now onward.

“And thank you for being part of the strangest Thursday morning of my life.”

Applause. Some nervous, some warm, encouraging, but not apparently sarcastic. Anne slipped him a fresh bottle of water and raised an eyebrow in silent approval.

“You might just pull this off,” she said under her breath.

He glanced at the sea of waiting faces, at Celia’s gleam of hope, at the questions on the clipboard waiting to be handed out.

“God help me,” he muttered.

Chapter 3
Venue: Crowne Plaza Hotel Conference Room 3

The rustle of pens and shifting paper filled the room, punctuated by the occasional nervous cough or quiet laugh. Roy moved among the tables, collecting completed questionnaires as they were handed in — some with polite smiles, others with lingering glances he wasn’t quite sure how to interpret.

Anne, clipboard in hand, was quietly noting who returned forms and who merely sat clutching them like shields. “So far,” she murmured, “you’ve got twenty-six responses. A couple walked out without completing it after they read the questions. If this number doesn’t scare you, I’d check your pulse.”

Roy looked out across the room. A buzz of conversation had started as the women began rising for morning tea. “I’ll see you in about 45 minutes,” he announced, as Roy took the stack Anne passed him and retreated to the small table at the front of the room, steeling himself. Celia approached with two coffees. “Triple shot,” she said, “you’re going to need it.”

He took a sip, opened the first form, and began reading.

Applicant #7: Naomi T.
Occupation: Primary School Teacher
What do you value in a partner?
“Kindness, wit, the ability to survive a Year 4 parents’ evening without tears. Also, someone who doesn’t mind glitter in strange places.”
What would a typical Saturday look like for you?
“Ballet class (for me — yes, really), coffee with friends, arguing with my cat, baking something experimental that may or may not explode. Then collapsing on the sofa with a book and a wheat bag.”
If you were an animal, what would you be and why?
“A border collie. Loyal, energetic, slightly neurotic. Also good at rounding up lost causes.”

Roy smiled. “We might get along,” he murmured.