Читать книгу Love Is... - Haley Hill - Страница 11

Chapter 5

First 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.’

‘Oooh, I don’t mind,’ I said, cradling him in my arms. I nuzzled his fur with my face. He smelled like malt biscuits and freshly cut grass.

Nick leaned in closer and stroked him on the tummy. ‘He’s a cute little chap, isn’t he?’

Victoria smoothed down her ponytail. ‘We need to eat,’ she said. ‘Give the hound back to Olga. And make sure you wash your hands.’

Mike didn’t join us until we were seated at the table and from his expression, he was as enthused about the dinner party as we were.

Once Victoria had formally chastised us for being late and thereby being solely responsible for the asparagus’ limpness, she went on to explain Rupert’s arrival.

‘Camille’s therapist suggested we get her a pet.’ Victoria sniffed. ‘She said that given the high turnover of au pairs, it would provide a constant in her life.’ She flicked her ponytail and speared a piece of asparagus. ‘Dr Osbourne has been harping on for months now about maternal attachment. Clearly trying to promote that book she wrote. She’s been on the Lorraine show too.’ She took a sip of wine, then shook her head quickly as if to disperse the alcohol. ‘I was raised by sixteen different au pairs and it never did me any harm.’

Nick started coughing. It looked as though a bit of asparagus had gone down the wrong way.

Victoria glanced around for Olga, then tutted and topped up her own wine.

‘I mean, seriously, what does Dr Osbourne expect me to do?’ she continued, taking a sip. ‘Give up my entire life to bring up my daughter?’

We all sat in silence. I swallowed the last mouthful of cold asparagus and then Mike stood up to pour us more wine.

‘But I bet Camille must love Rupert,’ I said, changing the subject. ‘He’s adorable.’

Victoria sighed. ‘She’s allergic. She’s gone through two asthma inhalers since we collected him from the breeder.’

There was a scratching sound along the floorboards, and suddenly Rupert skidded into the dining room, hotly pursued by Olga.

‘Rupert, Rupert, come!’ Olga shouted.

Victoria scowled at Olga. ‘Quiet,’ she said, ‘we are entertaining.’

‘Sorry, Mrs Victoria,’ Olga said, then tried to grab Rupert, but he bypassed her hand and scooted under my chair.

I bent down and picked him up. His eyes were wide, like a five-year-old who’d just arrived at Disney World. He jumped up and licked my face.

Victoria’s ponytail began to swing violently. ‘Olga, get that dog out of here right now. He’s supposed to be napping.’

Olga held her hands up. ‘I try, but he no want to nap. He want to play.’

Suddenly Rupert lunged forwards and swiped a Parmesan shaving from my plate.

Nick laughed.

Victoria tutted and marched towards me, snatching Rupert from my grasp. Then, arms outstretched, she handed him to Olga and waved them both out of the room.

‘As if having a child isn’t hard enough,’ Victoria said, ‘now I’ve got to train that bloody canine.’

Mike leaned back in his chair and laughed. ‘You’re not exactly training him though, are you, darling? Olga is.’

Victoria let out an extended sigh. ‘She knows nothing about dogs. I think they eat them in her country.’ She sipped some wine. ‘I suppose I’ll have to get a dog trainer. As if I haven’t got enough to do already.’

Mike laughed again, though louder this time. ‘Yes, whatever next, you might have to cancel a Pilates session or a lunch or, heaven forbid, a hair appointment,’ he said, taking another gulp of wine.

Victoria swished her ponytail from side to side. ‘Excuse me, Michael—’ she’d taken to calling him Michael since they’d joined the Chelsea Harbour Club ‘—I didn’t give up my career to manage household administration every day.’

Mike refilled his glass and leaned further back in his chair. ‘So, tell us, Victoria. What precisely did you give up your career to do?’

Victoria’s ponytail slowed to a stop and she glared at Mike.

Nick shot me a sideways glance.

I shifted in my seat, hoping Rupert would come skidding back into the room and divert the conversation.

Fortunately, Olga returned instead, with the main course.

‘Filet de boeuf,’ she announced plonking the tray down on the table. ‘And yes, Mrs Victoria, I wash my hands.’

We ate the beef in silence. Occasionally, I glanced at Nick but mostly I just chewed and gazed around the room. Whenever I visited Victoria’s house, I felt as though I’d stepped into the centre spread of Home and Garden magazine. It seemed unfair that she could just swish her ponytail like a wand and get everything she’d ever wished for. My vision board was plastered with images of interiors like this, dotted around the doctored photo of Nick and I with a baby; however, so far all the universe had seen fit to deliver to me was up-cycled furniture from Gumtree. I huffed. Nick and I might not be worthy of parenthood, but surely the universe could spare a chesterfield sofa?

Rupert continued to yelp from the kitchen for the duration of two courses. I kept looking at Victoria, hoping she might soften her resolve and bring him in for a cuddle, but she was still glaring at Mike. Mike looked nonplussed.

‘So, what breed is he?’ I asked, in an eventual attempt to break the silence.

‘Sporting Lucas,’ Mike answered, matter-of-fact, between mouthfuls of crème brûlée. ‘Apparently, the ability to hunt ground vermin is an essential skill for a family pet.’

Victoria shrugged her shoulders, still glaring at Mike. ‘Well, you know what they say about living in London.’

We all looked at her expectantly.

She narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re only ever a metre away from a rat.’

Mike tutted, then scooped another mouthful of brûlée into his mouth.

Rupert was still yelping from the kitchen and now he’d added mournful pines into the mix. It took all my willpower not to run out and soothe him.

‘Maybe he’s trying to tell us something,’ I said.

Victoria narrowed her eyes. ‘What, that we have rats in our house? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just being needy and probably wants more Parmesan.’

I turned to her. ‘Or perhaps he’s distressed? Having been dragged away from his mother and then locked in a huge kitchen by himself.’

Victoria flicked her wrist. ‘He’s nine weeks old; in dog years that makes him nearly one and a half. He’ll get over it,’ she said, pushing her untouched dessert to the side.

I glared at her.

She opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it again, clearly thinking better of it, which was unusual for Victoria.

Mike stepped in instead, pushing his empty bowl to one side and turning to me and Nick. ‘So, bad news about the IVF then, guys.’

Victoria sat upright in her chair and dabbed the sides of her mouth with a napkin.

‘It’s just not right,’ she said, gesturing out the window. ‘All those offensive-looking people breeding like there’s no tomorrow, producing the most peculiar offspring.’ She turned to me. ‘And then there’s you and Nick. You’re an attractive, reasonably intelligent couple. Of course you’re by no means thoroughbreds—’ she took a sip of wine ‘—but certainly no reason to defy Darwin’s theory, wouldn’t you agree?’

I nodded, assuming I had been complimented in some obscure way.

Mike took another sip of wine. ‘I read something in the New Scientist,’ he said, ‘about a man’s virility dropping in highly populated areas. Like some sort of natural feedback mechanism.’

Victoria shook her head at Mike. ‘Well, that’s clearly not the case, my darling,’ she said. ‘Have you walked past Asda recently?’

Mike shook his head and continued, turning to me. ‘So,’ he said, ‘reckon you’ll go again?’

I glanced at Nick, who was now topping up his wine.

He took a big gulp. ‘We can’t afford it,’ he said.

‘Besides,’ I added, ‘our consultant said it’s best I give my body a break from the hormones.’

Mike smirked. ‘Yeah, and Nick a break too, I imagine.’

Victoria glared at Mike. Had she not been on the far side of a twenty-seater dining table, I imagine Mike would have received a stiletto heel to the testicles.

I glanced back at Nick, who was wriggling in his seat. I was tempted to ask him if he needed the toilet.

Victoria stared at him quizzically. ‘Everything all right, Nick?’

He placed his now empty wine glass down on the table. ‘I had some news today,’ he said.

I scraped my empty crème brûlée ramekin, wondering where it had all gone.

‘I’ve been offered a job,’ he continued.

I sucked a tiny bit of brûlée off my spoon and awaited Nick’s usual post–credit crunch story about a relentless head-hunter pitching a role with worthless share options, fourteen-hour working days and no bonus.

‘It’s a great role,’ Nick said.

I nodded vaguely.

‘Excellent prospects.’

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I said in my head.

‘I’ll be working with a talented team.’

Will be working with? I spun round on my seat.

‘The only thing is…’

Ah, here we go.

‘It’s in New York.’

Suddenly, the spoon slipped from my grasp and spiralled through the air, before ricocheting between the marble fireplace and the mahogany table leg. I reached down to pick it up. By the time my head popped back up, the conversation was continuing without me.

‘Well, I think you should go,’ Mike said. ‘There’s no point being childless in Clapham. It’s like being poor in Paris, get out of here, mate.’

Victoria agreed. ‘Yes, yes, and that ramshackle house of yours. I mean, let’s face it, a renovation can only do so much.’

‘Er, excuse me?’ I raised my hand, partly because I felt like an invisible child with no right to a vote, but mostly because I wasn’t quite sure what else to do. ‘Am I allowed an opinion?’

Nick looked at me from across the table. He seemed so far away. ‘Of course, sweetheart,’ he said, in his high-pitched let’s-placate-Ellie voice.

I wasn’t falling for it. I folded my arms. ‘I don’t want to go.’

Everyone turned to me. Rupert’s yelps had escalated and I could hear Olga in the background trying to soothe him.

‘You aren’t even going to consider it?’ Nick said.

I shook my head. ‘Nope. I love it here. I love our house. I love the parks. I love the people.’

Nick huffed. ‘What do we need four bedrooms for? What are we going to fill them with? Pot plants?’ He stared at me. ‘The parks are full of scooting kids and dog turds. The people…’ he glanced sideways at Victoria and then Mike ‘…well, they’re a bit, you know, self-important, aren’t they?’

‘And they’re so down to earth in Manhattan, aren’t they?’ I sneered at him.

Olga came back in the room with Rupert wrapped up in a blanket. ‘He crying so much, he been sick,’ she said, about to hand him to Victoria.

Victoria waved them away. ‘Not near me. I’m wearing cashmere.’

I opened my arms and gestured for Olga to bring him to me. He scrambled out of the towel and onto my lap.

I looked down at him and the moment his bright blue eyes met mine, the pining stopped. I stroked his tiny head.

Nick coughed. Then I looked up to see Victoria staring at me, her expression had softened. She didn’t need Botox, she just needed to lighten up.

Olga cleared the plates and Nick shuffled up next to me to stroke Rupert. Rupert wriggled out of my grasp and clambered onto Nick’s lap. Nick ruffled Rupert’s fur and smiled.

Victoria let out a sharp sigh. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ she said.

I looked up. ‘What?’

‘Just take him, will you,’ she said, her tone implying I might be more of a moron than she’d initially anticipated. ‘The dog. Rupert. Have him.’

I frowned. ‘Seriously?’

She glanced at Mike for confirmation. He shrugged his shoulders.

Victoria smiled and then turned to Nick.

‘Well,’ she said, smiled broadening. ‘There’s no way Ellie can go to New York now.’