Love Is... (5 page)

‘Really?' I asked. ‘You have a clause in your marriage contract stating that objective assessment of non-spousal secondary sexual characteristics is permissible?'

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Something like that.'

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Is everything OK with you two?'

He folded his arms tightly across his chest. ‘It's amazing. It really is.' He forced a smile. ‘Since we chose to breed, our relationship has transcended that tiresome phase of animalistic passion and become a more spirit-centred union.'

I frowned. ‘You mean spiritually centred?'

‘No, spirit. She drinks gin, I prefer vodka.'

I slapped him on the arm. ‘Can you be serious for just one minute?'

He sighed again and then gazed up to the roof of the taxi. ‘What do you want me to say, Ellie? It's shit. My marriage is shit right now. It hasn't always been and I'm hoping that it won't always be, however, right now, it's shit.'

I turned to him with a scowl. ‘You've got two beautiful children, a gorgeous home and a wife who loves you. You're so lucky, Matthew. You should be grateful.'

‘Oh yes, because you think having a family is the key to your happiness. Ellie, you spent years thinking the perfect man was the key to happiness. When are you going to realise?'

‘Realise what? That you like willies?'

He rolled his eyes. ‘That there is no key…'

I stared at him.

He turned to me. ‘You want to know the truth?'

‘Go on then,' I said, half smiling.

‘I enjoyed looking at that girl's boobs tonight, because I've forgotten what a normal pair looks like. In the past two years, Lucy's have been swollen, veiny and grotesque, if not leaking milk or infected. Her nipples have been cracked and furred with thrush. And now, when finally they've been handed back to me, empty sacks lined with stretch marks, she worries they don't turn me on. And, as much as I love
her, as much as I want them to and as much as I reassure her otherwise, we both know deep down that she's right.' He turned to me. ‘You think having babies will complete the you and Nick white-picket-fence happy-ever-after. Well, it won't.'

I smirked. ‘You're just grumpy because you've had a ten-inch penis slapped in your face.'

He glared at me. ‘Having kids changes everything, Ellie. I love Zach and Angelica, but Lucy's the one who wanted them. Then straight away she went back to work leaving me at home to wipe bottoms and boil pasta.' He looked down. ‘She treats me like I'm staff. You should hear her: “Matthew, pick up the dry-cleaning. Matthew, clean the windows. Matthew, did you call the upholsterer? Matthew, are you listening to me? Matthew. Matthew!” She's lost all respect for me.'

‘No, she hasn't.'

He rolled his eyes and let out a protracted sigh. ‘Well, why else did she shag her boss then?'

For the rest of the taxi journey, we didn't speak. I knew there was nothing I could say that would lessen his pain. I squeezed his hand and we stared out the window.

‘Not a word to anyone,' he said, as he climbed out the taxi.

I nodded.

‘About PC Schlong, I mean. I have a reputation to uphold.'

I'd prefer to think it was because I was starting to feel like myself again, rather than a fear of ending up like Matthew and Lucy. Or worse, Cassandra and Richard. Either way, as I climbed into bed and snuggled up next to Nick, I felt something I hadn't felt in months. I leaned over and kissed
him. I could tell he'd been drinking again but this time it didn't bother me. I kissed him again, and he kissed me back.

That night, making babies was the furthest thought from my mind.

Chapter 5

F
irst thing on Monday morning, I noticed a voicemail from Cassandra. I waited until I was in the office and had finished my coffee before unleashing the assault on my eardrums. I put it on loudspeaker so I could temper the impact, and also so I could type some emails while I listened.

Unlike the usual mega-volume, her words were slurred and hard to decipher because she was sobbing and then sometimes laughing between them.

‘I'm miserable, Ellie,' she said and then paused. ‘It's not the same.' She sniffed. ‘I want my Dick back.'

When I looked up, I saw Dominic leaning over my desk, hair coiffed, eyebrows raised. ‘She wants her dick back?' he whispered, laughing. ‘Just what we need: another “they matched me with a post-op” lawsuit.'

I rolled my eyes. ‘It's not how it sounds,' I said. ‘She's just got divorced.'

He rolled his eyes. ‘And you want to counsel these freaks,'
he said, making an inverted comma gesture around the word ‘counsel'.

I shook my head, tempted to prod him with the biro in my other hand.

‘Cassandra isn't a freak,' I said, hand still firmly over the receiver. ‘She's a client. And the Dick that she wants back is her ex-husband. Not male genitalia.'

Just as Dominic was processing what I had said, buttocks most likely twitching as he did, Mandi breezed over. She was wearing a patterned empire line smock, roomy enough to accommodate a sextuplet elephant gestation. I glanced down at her stomach and then back at her face. Despite the rumours circulating the office, I had yet to ask her the question formally. Dominic said it was a matter for HR and advised against it. Besides, once it was public knowledge, I feared Mandi might overload my inbox with a deluge of Pinterest nursery interiors.

Mandi leaned over my desk, eyes wide.

I decided it best to terminate the voicemail, before the entire office became involved.

Mandi leaned in further. ‘Was that Cassandra?' she asked, holding her hands to her chest. ‘How is she?' She looked to the floor. ‘That poor, poor woman. Divorce has to be the worst experience for anyone.'

Dominic, who was still leaning on my desk, smirked. ‘Worse than terminal cancer? Death of a child? Being decapitated by ISIS?'

Mandi ignored him. ‘And this is her second time. Simply awful. Is there anything I can do to help? And Richard, how is he? They were so in love, Ellie.' She wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘So, so in love. How could we let this happen?'

Dominic interjected, with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
‘If it was her second marriage, then statistically, they only had a twenty-five per cent chance of making it work. There is nothing you could have done.'

Mandi narrowed her eyes and poked Dominic in the chest. ‘Would a doctor turn off a life support machine if a person had a twenty-five per cent chance of waking from a coma? No, they wouldn't.'

Dominic sighed.
‘They
turned it off. Not us.'

Mandi scowled. ‘This isn't Dignitas. We're a dating agency. We're supposed to help people.'

Dominic laughed. ‘If only it was,' he said. ‘There's a far greater chance of preserving dignity in death than in dating.'

Mandi tutted then turned to me. ‘Ellie?'

I thought for a moment. ‘Cassandra wants him back.'

Mandi held her hands to her chest again and nodded.

Dominic sniggered. ‘Does she really though? Or is she just feeling sentimental after contracting pubic lice from a troop of strippers?'

I stared at him for a moment, wondering how he'd been privy to such classified information from the divorce party. Then I turned back to Mandi. ‘She says she still loves him,' I said.

Dominic laughed. ‘I thought I still loved an ex when I found an old photo of her topless.'

It was hard to imagine Dominic on a date, let alone in a relationship. I was almost certain he was a sociopath who fantasised about mutilating female body parts in the manner of Patrick Bateman from
American Psycho.

Mandi scowled at him, then continued. ‘They were so good together. Perfect for each other. You never saw them on the ski trip, Dominic. Or at their wedding. What would you know?' Mandi's chest was flushed now. She turned
back to me. ‘I have to help them, Ellie. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't.'

Dominic shook his head at Mandi. ‘Get one of your matchmakers to deal with it. You're a manager now, you have more important things to do.'

‘Nothing's more important than saving a marriage,' she said. ‘And besides, Dominic, you should know by now, I'm a matchmaker first and a manager second.' And with that she stomped off.

Dominic glared at her as she walked away, then turned to me and pointed at his watch to remind me, as he did every Monday, that it was time for our weekly meeting.

‘Another hour of my life I'll never get back,' I muttered, as I followed him into the meeting room.

‘Sorry, what was that, Eleanor?' he asked, as he sat down in one of the executive orange leather seats he'd had commissioned for our meeting room.

I forced a smile. ‘Another intellectually stimulating chat,' I said.

He looked at me and raised one eyebrow, then took a file from his briefcase.

‘So,' he said, placing both hands on the table, ‘this dating therapy thing you want to do.'

I stared at him. ‘You mean the coaching programme, which has been formally approved by the investors?'

He nodded and smiled. ‘Well, I believe it could generate more profit than our introductions service.'

I went to smile but Dominic's enthusiasm was concerning me.

He continued. ‘So the investors and I have spoken and it was unanimously agreed that
you
should manage this project.'

I stared at him some more, wondering what point he was trying to make.

‘In its entirety,' he added.

‘I thought that had already been agreed.'

He leaned back and ran his hands through his hair. ‘We expect you to write and deliver the programme.'

I shook my head from side to side. ‘Well, the idea I had…'

‘Yes?'

‘…was to work with the top psychologists and researchers.'

Dominic clapped his hands together with the glee of a fisherman who had just felt a tug on his rod. ‘Excellent, Eleanor. That's precisely what we were thinking too.' He glanced down at his file and began flicking through the pages. Then he nodded and pushed the file across the table towards me. ‘You'll find a comprehensive list of experts in there.'

I opened it and glanced at the first page, which I immediately discovered was a fold-out world map.

Dominic continued. ‘You'll start in New York; that's where most of the current research is being done. Using that as a base, you can travel to Long Island and Texas. Then, after that, you'll move on to Iceland, then Tokyo—there's some interesting research going on there—then Africa, and finally, you'll end up back in Europe.'

I leafed through the pages, noting every stop Dominic had listed on my protracted tour of the globe. I closed the file and shook my head.

‘I'm not leaving London,' I said.

The beginnings of a smirk crept out from the corners of his mouth. ‘But this is what you wanted, isn't it, Eleanor? To find a cure for heartbreak?'

I pushed the file back towards him.

‘What about Skype? I could easily speak to the experts on the phone. I don't have to be there.'

Dominic shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, we think you do. That way you can witness and experience any interventions firsthand.'

I screwed up my face. ‘I can't be the researcher and the recipient.'

Dominic grinned. ‘The investors think you can.'

I stood up, ready to walk out. ‘Well, I'll have to persuade them otherwise then, won't I?'

His smirk was at full capacity now. ‘They've decided to channel all available resources into the project. So, good luck with that.'

That evening, I arrived home to find Nick in the kitchen, pan-frying tuna steaks. I could see he'd already prepared a salad and the table was set complete with a lit candle.

‘Evening, my gorgeous girl,' he said, handing me a glass of wine.

I leaned in towards him and rested my head on his shoulder. I knew we'd have to have a conversation about our childless future at some point, but for the time being, I wanted it to just be Nick and I again. Without any complications.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Victoria.

Hurry up. You're late

I scrunched up my face, remembering a vague acceptance of a dinner invitation last week.

‘What is it?' Nick asked, sipping some wine.

I sighed. ‘We're supposed to be having dinner at Victoria and Mike's tonight.'

Nick's smile faded. He glanced at the tuna steaks and then at the candle burning and then back at me. ‘But I wanted a night with just us,' he said.

I leaned over and turned off the hob. ‘So did I,' I said, ‘but we promised.'

Nick let out a long sigh and then downed the rest of his wine.

‘Come on,' I said, ‘we'd better get a move on, you know what she gets like if her scallops are overdone.'

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and we made our way next door.

We rang the doorbell twice before anyone answered, which, given Victoria's domestic staffing levels, was quite unusual. There was a bit of a kerfuffle, some scratching at the door and what sounded like a tiny bird chirping, before eventually Olga, Victoria's housekeeper, opened the door. A bundle of grey fluff rolled out onto the flagstone step. I bent down to pick it up. At first I couldn't quite tell if the warm little body, with the fast-beating heart, was a cat or a rabbit or something else entirely, but when a pair of big blue eyes stared up at me, and the little tail started wagging, I realised it was…

‘A puppy?' Nick asked, leaning in for a closer look.

Olga ushered us in. ‘I take Rupert now,' she said.

‘No, no, He's fine with me,' I said, looking down at his furry face and smiling.

‘Careful, he's likely to pee all over you.' Victoria strode towards us, looking uncharacteristically flustered. ‘At best.'