Burchester Tales 18: Stan the Matchmaker

Professor Watkins has taken Gus's advice in this week's episode.

Burchester Tales: Episode 18

Stan the Matchmaker by H. Lewis-Foster

“Are you sure about this?” Mike watched Stan as he wiped down a table and pushed the chairs around it into place.

“Absolutely, Professor.”

“But how do you know we’ll get on?” Mike still couldn’t believe he’d taken Gus McAvenny’s advice and asked the tattooed café owner for help. But he refused to dwell on that bastard Ben for one more single day. Mike was resolved to get on with his life, and if that meant putting his faith in the local matchmaker, then so be it.

Stan turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’. “I know people, Professor, and I know what they like.”

“I wouldn’t say you know me terribly well.” Mike passed Stan a stray bottle of ketchup, hoping that doing something useful would make him feel less nervous.

“I know you like your coffee strong, your toast burnt and your bacon nice and crispy.”

“How on earth do you know that?” Mike didn’t remember being asked for his preferences when he’d ordered his one and only breakfast at Stan’s.

“Because I watched you eating last time you were here. I saw you wrinkle your nose at the lightly cooked toast, and smile when you tasted the coffee and bacon. It’s a café owner’s job to know what his customers like, so he can give them exactly what they want the next time they come in.”

“But how does that tell you anything about the kind of man I like?”

Stan looked at him like he was a clueless undergraduate. “You like your coffee bitter, your bacon crunchy and your toast verging on charcoal. You’re not a sweet and fluffy person, Professor. You don’t want things too easy; you like a challenge. Am I right?”

“I suppose you are.” Mike was slightly disconcerted by Stan’s powers of perception. “But what do you mean by a challenge? What is this guy like, Stan?”

“Don’t worry. Hywel isn’t the type to tie you up and whip you for fun.” Stan looked quizzically at Mike for moment. “I assumed you weren’t into that sort of thing, but—”

“No, no. You’re right there. That’s not my cup of tea.”

“Thought not.” Stan seemed satisfied by his accurate appraisal of Mike. “All I mean is that Hywel’s no pushover. He’s not going to fawn over you like some lovesick teenager and agree with every word you say. Hywel’s a bright bloke, he’s got opinions. He’s good company too, and even if you don’t fancy each other—which I’m pretty you sure will—I know you’ll enjoy your evening with him.”

Mike was yet to be convinced how successful his evening would be, and he wanted more information before he committed to his assignation. “What does Hywel do precisely? You said he worked in the University.”

“That’s right. He works in the English department office.”

“Oh. I see.” Mike wasn’t overly impressed by the administrative staff in his own department and hoped Hywel was of a rather better calibre. Stan had clearly picked up on his apprehension.

“I’ll have none of that academic snobbery in here, thank you very much. He’s as intelligent and well-read as you or me.”

Mike tried to keep the look of amused surprise from his face, but he didn’t succeed.

“You think I’ve been serving tea and toast all my life?” Stan bridled with undisguised indignation. “Not that it makes the slightest difference to anything, but I got a first in maths at Burchester, as did Jeremy.” He nodded towards the kitchen, an affectionate smile flitting across his face. “We went off to London and worked in the City, lived the high life. Then after ten years we were completely done in, so we pooled our cash and came back here to do something we really wanted to do.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—“

“That anyone who doesn’t live in an academic ivory tower is thick as the proverbial plank?” Stan’s blue eyes twinkled shrewdly. “Don’t judge a monograph by its illustrated jacket, Professor. Now do you want to meet Hywel or not?”

“Of course I do.” Mike didn’t dare say anything else after Stan’s reprimand, but he was also feeling a little more optimistic about his date. “What time am I supposed to meet him?”

“Seven o’clock at the Old Station pub. He’ll be reading a copy of Wuthering Heights.”

Mike chuckled. “Will he be wearing a pink carnation as well?”

“I doubt it, but I can’t imagine there’ll be many blokes reading Brontë in the Old Station on a Friday night.”

“Highly unlikely.” Mike hadn’t been in the pub since he was a student, and it had been a bit rough even then, but he couldn’t help feeling excited by the prospect of his rendezvous. The last few months with Ben had been so wretched, he just wanted to go out and have some fun. He was determined to enjoy himself, and as Stan showed him a picture of Hywel on his mobile phone, he became even more hopeful.

Hywel looked to be about Mike’s age and height, with short black hair and a kind-hearted smile. As Stan let him out of the café and wished him luck, Mike truly hoped he could judge this particular book by its cover. If Hywel’s character was anything like his picture, Mike suspected they would have a very pleasant evening indeed.

© H. Lewis-Foster 2015. All rights reserved.