Читать книгу Love Is... - Haley Hill - Страница 10

Chapter 4

Matthew stopped at Cassandra’s front gate and scratched his head.

‘I’m not sure balloons are entirely appropriate for a divorce party,’ he said, gesturing to the bulging bunches tied to each post.

Dizzee Rascal’s ‘Dance Wiv Me’ was blaring out through the open windows and, as we walked up the path, I could see silhouettes gyrating under a disco ball. The sunken roof of the Georgian townhouse looked as though it might collapse with the shame of it all.

I knocked on the door. There was no answer.

Matthew turned to me with raised eyebrows. ‘We could always go for a quick bite to eat first?’ he said.

I glared at him. ‘No. We’re here to support Cassandra.’

Matthew shifted his weight from foot to foot. ‘You know how some people are terrified of clowns?’

I laughed. ‘Not all divorced women are scary,’ I said. ‘Besides, Cassandra is a friend.’

He sculpted his quiff in his reflection from the polished knocker. ‘She’s not a friend, she’s a client.’

‘She’s going through a rough time.’

Suddenly raucous laughter bubbled up from the hallway.

‘Yes, sounds like it,’ he said, adjusting his shirt collar. ‘What if I’m the only man here? They might slice off my testicles or deep-fry my penis.’

I knocked again. I could hear Cassandra’s high octave New York drawl approaching the door. ‘Coming!’ she screeched.

She greeted us with the determined smile of a TV presenter. ‘Oh. My. Gaaaad. It’s Ellie!’ She flung her arms around me, nearly knocking Matthew over. ‘It’s so good to see you! Come in, come in. We have tequila.’

I grabbed Matthew’s arm and pulled him in behind me.

Straight away we were thrust into the sitting room and towards the makeshift bar, which seemed sufficiently stocked to survive an apocalypse. Cassandra poured us each tumblers of tequila, then insisted we down them in unison. Afterwards, she leaned in towards me and pointed at Matthew.

‘Is that Nick?’ she asked in a stage whisper. ‘Only I remember him being better-looking.’

Matthew stepped forward. ‘Yes, I am—’

I blocked him with my arm. ‘This is Matthew,’ I said, interrupting whatever mischievous untruth he was about to present to Cassandra, ‘my friend.’

Cassandra looked him up and down and then grinned. ‘Not fair,’ she said. ‘I so want a gay buddy.’ She turned to Matthew. ‘Got one for me?’

Matthew, clearly, sensing an opportunity to avoid the angry divorcees turning on him, suddenly ramped up his camp-o-meter and jutted his hip to one side.

‘Sweetheart,’ he said, flicking his wrist. ‘If you can throw a party like this, I’ll get you a gay boy quicker than you can say Liza Minnelli.’ Then he skipped towards her and started stroking her dress. ‘Is this Diane von Furstenberg? It’s am-az-ing.’

I knocked his hand away after I noticed it edging towards the chest area.

‘Let’s mingle,’ I said.

He poured two more tequilas, before air-kissing Cassandra and squeezing her bottom.

I rolled my eyes as we walked off. ‘Behave,’ I said.

He shrugged his shoulders.

I stopped and glared at him. ‘You’re a married father of two.’

He threw his arms in the air. ‘I am what I am,’ he shrilled, doing his best gayed-up interpretation of Gloria Gaynor, followed by an intricate sidestep across the dance floor. A pretty redhead laughed and joined in dancing with him.

I watched for a while and then pulled him to one side. ‘Impersonating a homosexual in order to take advantage of vulnerable women is exploitative and a gross breach of our host’s trust.’

He downed one of the tequilas. ‘Ellie, a divorce party is hardly the ideal platform to preach moral standards.’

I snatched the other tequila, thought about putting it on the side, then downed it instead.

Matthew did a double eyebrow raise. ‘I see you’re drinking again?’

I nodded, wiping my mouth.

He stared at me for a moment, looking as though he were about to offer something profound. Then, clearly thinking better of it, he put his arm around me and ruffled my hair.

‘Come on, fag hag,’ he said. ‘Let’s dance.’

A while later, once Cassandra had informed the DJ that we had a ‘gay’ guest, it was as though the playlist donned a pair of leather chaps and dropped an E. And despite Matthew’s sterling efforts, which peaked at a rather gymnastic ‘Vogue’ pose, by the time we heard the intro to a remix of the Village People’s ‘In the Navy’ we both agreed it was time for a tequila top-up. Matthew didn’t bother with glasses this time; instead, he just grabbed the bottle. He took a swig and passed it to me.

I took a gulp and looked around the room. The furniture had been pushed to the side and the fireplace hidden behind the temporary DJ booth, but even through my now blurry vision, I could see that this was otherwise an elegant family room. I found myself imagining Cassandra and Dr Stud, or Stud-Wheeler, as they’d renamed themselves, snuggling on the sofa together, bottle of red in front of them, the latest HBO TV series on in the background. I held the image in my mind for a moment, before contrasting it with tonight’s frenzied quest for oblivion and wondered when it was that they had stopped loving each other.

I snuck behind the bar and picked up a photo frame that had been placed face down on a radiator cover. Straight away I recognised the image. It was a photo I’d taken on our singles’ trip to St Anton: the moment they’d jumped off the ski lift together, now freeze-framed forever. I smiled as I recalled the months I’d spent prior trying to persuade them to meet each other.

‘No, he’s too short,’ Cassandra had said, when I’d shown her his profile.

‘I usually date hotter girls,’ Dr Stud had explained, before selecting the profile of a bikini-clad twenty-three-year-old nursing graduate.

I’d always known though that if I could just get them together on the ski trip then they would understand. And they did—well, for nine years at least. I glanced back down at the photo and took another swig. I would never forget the way they laughed together. It was as though they were the only two who knew the punchline. That kind of love couldn’t simply fade to nothing. Could it?

I looked up to see the redhead giggling and then flashing her cleavage at Matthew. I glared at him. Just as I was about to intervene, Cassandra appeared beside me.

‘Gimme some of that,’ she slurred, snatching the tequila bottle from my grasp. I’d forgotten I was still holding it. She took a swig and then turned to me. Her mouth was smiling but her eyes looked vacant. She nodded to the photo. ‘What goes up, must come down,’ she said, surprisingly succinctly. Then she laughed. ‘No one can defy Newton’s theory of…’ She rubbed her temples and swayed a little. ‘Or was it Galileo?’

‘Newton,’ I said. ‘Gravity. Are you OK?’

She took another swig and then wiped her chin. ‘Never better,’ she said, handing the bottle back to me. ‘Right. Speech time.’

I was still gripping the photo frame as I watched Cassandra climbing onto a chair, microphone in hand. I should have intervened. It was clear to everyone that a public and drunken explanation as to why we should celebrate the breakdown of her marriage wasn’t going to end well. However, as much as I wanted to preserve her dignity, part of me was desperate to hear what she had to say. I gripped the photo frame tighter and glanced over at Matthew, who was now cupping the redhead’s breasts through her dress. In the past year the agency’s divorce rate had doubled. Even my own relationship was in distress. I wanted to know why. Because if I knew what was wrong, then I was closer to finding a way to fix it.

Cassandra wobbled on the chair a little, then steadied herself and tapped the microphone. The DJ turned off the music.

‘Hey, everyone!’ Cassandra shouted.

The crowd cheered.

‘It’s great to see you all here tonight,’ she said, looking around the room and holding out her hands. ‘Some of you knew me before…’ she pointed at a few people in the crowd ‘… and some of you knew me during…’ she pointed out a few more ‘…but now, after nine forgettable years, Richard, or Dick, as I now prefer to call him, is finally out of my life…’ She punched the air and the light from the disco ball caught a tear on her cheek. ‘That bastard might have cost me £1.3 million in settlement and my last fertile years, and…’ she pulled the skin tight on her face ‘…given me greater need for Botox, but now I’m rid of him.’ She punched the air again like a motivational speaker.

The guests cheered and clapped and she gestured for me to bring her the tequila bottle.

‘As I said,’ she continued, having taken another swig, ‘some of you knew me before, and some of you knew me during. But everyone will know me after! Let’s get this party started!’

Cassandra jumped down from the chair and the music was replaced by synthesised siren. A group of faux policemen stormed into the room. They had sunbed tans, thick thighs and crew cuts.

Matthew caught my eye, with a ‘can we please leave now?’ expression.

I glanced back at Cassandra, who had begun to emit a noise not dissimilar to that of a mating tree frog.

Matthew immediately abandoned the redhead and shuffled up beside me nervously. The crowd, mostly comprising single women, parted and chanted as the dance troop ripped off their Velcro fastened trousers in one synchronised movement and went on to execute a choreographed ‘stop and search’ procedure, intermingled with an array of dance moves, which Matthew identified as the rear arrest, the handcuff hustle and the truncheon treadmill.

Once the routine had finished, and the only garments that remained were black satin pouches, Cassandra lifted up her skirt and called out to the dancer with the largest bulge. I did a double take. He looked disconcertingly like Nick.

‘Officer,’ she said, slapping her bottom, ‘I’ve been a very naughty girl.’

After she’d manhandled his pouch, she whispered something in his ear and slipped him a fifty-pound note, followed by a cheeky wink in Matthew’s direction.

A short while later, after Matthew had been the non-consensual recipient of an extended lap dance from PC Schlong, he asked me if we could leave. I led him out of the house and closed the door closed behind us. He glanced around skittishly and then sped down the front path to hail a passing taxi.

I giggled as we climbed in. ‘You can’t have the smooth without the rough,’ I said.

He scowled at me. ‘There was no need for him to dangle the bloody thing in my face,’ he said.

I giggled some more.

‘Stop laughing,’ he said, folding his arms and staring out the window.

I leaned towards him and smirked. ‘You’ve still got some whipped cream on your chin,’ I said, still laughing.

His hand flew to his face until he realised I was winding him up. Then he glared at me. ‘Speak about this to no one,’ he said.

After I’d eventually managed to stifle my giggles, I shuffled up next to him.

‘Cheer up,’ I said. ‘We had fun tonight.’

He sighed. ‘Well, I’m glad you had fun while I was being lap-raped by PC Right Said Fred.’

I smirked. ‘So you didn’t have any fun at all? Not even squeezing Cassandra’s bottom?’

He rolled his eyes.

‘Or checking out that redhead’s boob job?’

‘She was asking my opinion.’

I sighed. ‘Because she thought you were gay.’

‘I can be objective.’

I shook my head.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Lucy wouldn’t care anyway.’

‘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.