Pineapples

Pineapples

I T’S SO WARM

today that Bella has tied her uniform fleece around her waist. Beneath it, she’s wearing a black blouse with pineapples printed on it. I can’t remember the last time I had pineapple.

‘Have you seen the app?’ she asks, sitting beside me and giving me an excited elbow in the arm.

‘Should I have?’

‘Look!’ She hands me her phone. ‘I haven’t read it yet.’ Her phone case has moons and stars printed on it. It is stickier than I’d like it to be.

Val H

’s message came in yesterday evening at 19.29.

My stomach fizzes with adrenaline. I read aloud for Bella’s benefit.

Dear Eddie,

This is only my second attempt at writing to a gentleman online. As such, I don’t quite know the protocol. Ought I to be fascinating? It seems so from everything I’ve read on the internet about how

to impress people on dating sites. There isn’t much that would fascinate about me, save for a birthmark I have in the shape of a rabbit. That is all. I am a retired accountant, widowed for twenty years. I live beside the sea. I have a Schnauzer named Trudie.

If any of that fascinated you, please do reply. It would protect my ego, as the last chap didn’t respond.

Warm regards,

Val.

‘Well, she

sounds like a barrel of laughs,’ Bella says, closing her eyes against the sun.

‘It takes a lot of courage to write to a stranger with the implied prospect of love,’ I suggest.

‘Yeah, but still. A little razzle-dazzle never hurt anybody.’

‘Perhaps she’s warmer in person. The regards were warm, after all.’

‘Were they bollocks.’

‘Would you reply?’ I ask her.

‘Me? No,’ she says. ‘But this isn’t about me.’

‘It’s about you a little. You’re my wingman.’

‘Wingman?’

‘Sorry, wingperson? Wingwoman?’

‘I think I actually prefer “wingman”,’ she says. ‘But you’ve got to follow your instincts on this one, Eddie.’

After Bella makes her way back to work, I nip into the Tesco Metro on New Street to pick up some pineapple. A nice tangy treat. And as I walk back to the charity shop, I think

about Val. Living by the sea. Living alone

by the sea, except for a Schnauzer called Trudie. How sad she must be to have lost her husband. How brave to contact a complete stranger.

The pineapple zinging across my tongue, I pull out my phone and decide it’s always good to make new friends.

Dear Val,

Eddie here. How are you? I’m new to online dating too. And your ego may be put at ease, in that I found your message very fascinating indeed. Particularly the rabbit-shaped birthmark. I would ask you where it is, but that seems a little forward. So instead I’ll ask, how do you find living by the sea? Do the seagulls keep you awake? There are plenty of seagulls in Birmingham, even though we couldn’t be further from the sea. But chips are chips, I suppose.

My best,

Eddie

I return to the shop, chomping merrily on the pineapple cubes, and find Marjie using two biros like a pair of chopsticks to extract something from a donation box.

‘I mean

,’ she says, ‘who donates dirty Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle briefs?’ she demands as she gingerly carries them using her biro chopsticks towards the bead curtain. I hurry ahead and pull the beads apart so that the pants don’t touch the beads.

‘I can’t say I’m certain,’ I tell her as she makes her way through into the back room. I dash ahead and press the foot pedal on the big bin.

‘These are far too large for a child,’ Marjie says, her head at an angle in order to keep her nose sufficiently distanced from the underwear. ‘These are adult

underpants,’ she says. ‘Who in their right mind wears Ninja Turtle underpants as an adult?’ And with that she lets them descend into the bin.

‘What are you saying?’ I ask. ‘Turtle ninjas?’

‘The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,’ Marjie says. ‘My boys loved them.’

‘And what are they?’

‘Well, they were adolescent turtles who were trained in the martial arts. Really, it’s all there in the name, Eddie. I can’t help you more than that already has.’

‘I must have missed the boat.’

‘It’s not too late for me to fish them out of the bin if you’re curious,’ Marjie says, laughing.

As she heads off to the loo to wash her hands with the rose-scented soap that makes me feel a little queasy, I pull out my phone and google the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They look like a great bunch of lads. I would read on about their adventures, except I notice an icon in the top corner of my phone screen that I do not recognize and when I click on it, I see that Val has already replied.