The Rosie Project (Don Tillman #1)(39)

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Don.’

She looked at me for a while before extending her hand to shake with low pressure.

‘I’m Bianca. You’ve … really dressed up.’

‘Of course, the invitation specified formal.’

After approximately two seconds she burst into laughter. ‘You had me for a minute there. So deadpan. You know, you write “good sense of humour” on the list of things you’re looking for, but you never expect to get a real comedian. I think you and I are going to have fun.’

Things were going extremely well.

The ballroom was huge – dozens of tables with formally dressed academics. Everyone turned to look at us, and it was obvious that we had made an impression. At first I thought it must be Bianca’s spectacular dress, but there were numerous other interestingly dressed women. Then I noticed that the men were almost without exception dressed in black suits with white shirts and bowties. None wore tails or a hat. It accounted for Bianca’s initial reaction. It was annoying, but not a situation I was unfamiliar with. I doffed my hat to the crowd and they shouted greetings. Bianca seemed to enjoy the attention.

We were at table twelve, according to the seating index, right on the edge of the dance floor. A band was tuning up. Observing their instruments, it seemed that my skills at cha-cha, samba, rhumba, foxtrot, waltz, tango and lambada would not be required. I would need to draw on the work of the second day of the dancing project – rock ’n’ roll.

Gene’s recommendation to arrive thirty minutes after the official start time meant that all but three of the seats at the table were already occupied. One of these belonged to Gene, who was walking around, pouring Champagne. Claudia was not present.

I identified Laszlo Hevesi from Physics, who was dressed totally inappropriately in combat trousers and a hiking shirt, sitting next to a woman whom I recognised with surprise as Frances from the speed-dating night. On Laszlo’s other side was The Beautiful Helena. There was also a dark-haired man of about thirty (BMI approximately twenty) who appeared not to have shaved for several days, and, beside him, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. In contrast to the complexity of Bianca’s costume, she was wearing a green dress with zero decoration, so minimal that it did not even have straps to hold it in place. It took me a moment to realise that its wearer was Rosie.

Bianca and I took the two vacant seats between Stubble Man and Frances, following the alternating male-female pattern that had been established. Rosie began the introductions, and I recognised the protocol that I had learned for conferences and never actually used.

‘Don, this is Stefan.’ She was referring to Stubble Man. I extended my hand, and shook, matching his pressure, which I judged as excessive. I had an immediate negative reaction to him. I am generally not competent at assessing other humans, except through the content of their conversation or written communication. But I am reasonably astute at identifying students who are likely to be disruptive.

‘Your reputation precedes you,’ Stefan said.

Perhaps my assessment was too hasty.

‘You’re familiar with my work?’

‘You might say that.’ He laughed.

I realised that I could not pursue the conversation until I introduced Bianca.

‘Rosie, Stefan, allow me to present Bianca Rivera.’

Rosie extended her hand and said, ‘Delighted to meet you.’

They smiled hard at each other and Stefan shook Bianca’s hand also.

My duty done, I turned to Laszlo, whom I had not spoken to for some time. Laszlo is the only person I know with poorer social skills than mine, and it was reassuring to have him nearby for contrast.

‘Greetings, Laszlo,’ I said, assessing that formality would not be appropriate in his case. ‘Greetings, Frances. You found a partner. How many encounters were required?’

‘Gene introduced us,’ said Laszlo. He was staring inappropriately at Rosie. Gene gave a ‘thumbs up’ signal to Laszlo, then moved between Bianca and me with the Champagne bottle. Bianca immediately upended her glass. ‘Don and I don’t drink,’ she said, turning mine down as well. Gene gave me a huge smile. It was an odd response to an annoying version-control oversight on my part – Bianca had apparently responded to the original questionnaire.

Rosie asked Bianca, ‘How do you and Don know each other?’

‘We share an interest in dancing,’ Bianca said.

I thought this was an excellent reply, not referring to the Wife Project, but Rosie gave me a strange look.

‘How nice,’ she said. ‘I’m a bit too busy with my PhD to have time for dancing.’

‘You have to be organised,’ said Bianca. ‘I believe in being very organised.’

‘Yes,’ said Rosie, ‘I –’

‘The first time I made the final of the nationals was in the middle of my PhD. I thought about dropping the triathlon or the Japanese cookery course, but …’

Rosie smiled, but not in the way she usually did. ‘No, that would have been silly. Men love a woman who can cook.’

‘I like to think we’ve moved beyond that sort of stereo-typing,’ said Bianca. ‘Don’s quite a cook himself.’

Claudia’s suggestion that I mention my competence in cooking on the questionnaire had obviously been effective. Rosie provided some evidence.