Читать книгу You Had Me At Hello, How We Met: 2 Bestselling Romantic Comedies in 1 - Katy Regan - Страница 37

Two courses down, and the booze has really kicked in. Lucy’s giggling has got louder, Matt’s anecdotes are more risqué. Simon’s relaxed but he can hold his drink, so he’s giving nothing away. He watches me as I pick up my napkin, sit down again and refill my glass. I feel so hollow, I want to be full of something – it may as well be drink.

I catch the tail end of a discussion about the best age to get married. (Is it the age Matt and Lucy were wed, by any chance?)

‘Are you anti marriage then?’ Lucy asks Simon, covering her mouth decorously as she hiccups.

‘You’re not anti, you just haven’t met the right woman, have you, Simon?’ Olivia says.

She glances at me – Christ, she’s saying this for my benefit.

‘I’m not anti marriage per se, I’m anti most marriages,’ Simon says. ‘I’m anti the reasons people usually get married.’

‘True love?’ asks Lucy.

‘Most people don’t get married to the person they love the most, they marry whoever they happen to be with when they turn thirty,’ Simon replies. ‘Present company excepted, obviously.’

Present company excepted is such an elegantly insulting term, I think, given it clearly means present company especially. It’s up there with with all due respect, meaning with no respect whatsoever.

‘Listen to this, Simon’s saying everyone marries whoever they’re with at thirty and love’s got nothing to do with it,’ Olivia says, tugging on Ben’s sleeve as he finishes distributing dessert bowls among us and sits down.

‘I didn’t say love has nothing to do with it,’ Simon folds his arms. ‘See, this is the problem discussing this with women. They start shrieking. Do most people think, “this person is my destiny” when they tie the knot, or do they think “I can’t be arsed to make the effort to see what else is out there now, the hairline’s on the wane or the waistline’s on the wax, I feel fond, you’ll do?”’

‘Even if you have got married thinking that, isn’t it all about whether you’re going to honour your vows?’ Ben asks.

‘Hey!’ Olivia play-slaps his arm.

‘Of course I’m not saying I did, I’m saying theoretically here your motives matter less than your intentions.’

‘All relationships depend on timing,’ I say, careful to look only at Simon.

‘Suppose so,’ he says.

‘Let me get this straight,’ Matt says, springing into consultant mode, as if he’s been charged too much by a wholesaler for photocopier ink and is hunting for the flaw in the sums. ‘What’s wrong with settling down without making the effort to “see what else is out there”? How do you know anything better is out there?’

Simon shrugs. ‘You don’t, if you don’t look. I want the life I choose, instead of letting a life choose me. That’s all I’m saying. Don’t do the “right thing” to reward someone for long service, if you’ve grown out of them. Aim high.’

Matt’s eyes all but disappear as he squints. ‘Even if you want kids, clock ticking, you throw a stable relationship away …?’

‘Stable? Stable is for shelving!’ Simon says, revelling in his role as agent provocateur. Lucy and Matt look horrified.

‘But this means you believe in The One?’ Lucy asks, grasping at straws.

‘No, dear, I don’t. I’m a hardliner. Or as I like to call it, a grown up.’

‘Who’s this lady you’re pursuing if not The One?’ Lucy persists.

‘You appear to be confusing a marketing concept for romantic comedies with proven scientific phenomena,’ Simon says, and I start laughing, despite myself.

‘What are you sniggering at, Woodford?’ Ben calls, from the other end of the table, forcing me to look at him fully for the first time since ‘nondescript’.

‘It’s Simon – he’s so laser-sighted, lawyer snarky.’ I wave my hand: ‘Don’t stop. Sorry. You were saying, “The One”.’

‘She doesn’t exist?’ Lucy prompts.

Simon sighs. ‘There’s a percentage of people on the planet you can be reasonably happy with. The One is in fact one of around six thousand. Then it’s down to who you cross paths with, and when. The period in the middle where you’re in control of your bladder and bowels. Being a member of the point zero zero zero zero whatever per cent club in six billion is still an accolade. Any woman who doesn’t understand that has a poor grasp of mathematics.’

‘Or a poor grasp of how lucky she is to be in your six thousand club,’ I say.

I’m trying to bait Simon. He takes it as collusion.

‘Naturally,’ he agrees, and winks.

I catch Lucy looking revolted, interpreting the exchange as a betrayal of womankind. I get the feeling that quite a lot of things have been flying over her head at a distance that wouldn’t disturb her hairstyle.

‘Let’s call time of death on your popularity here, shall we, Simon?’ Ben says.

‘You’re a bunch of cynics,’ Simon says. ‘This is actually a rallying cry for romance.’

‘I don’t think what you’re describing is romantic,’ Ben says, tartly. ‘Everyone loses their novelty sooner or later. You have a better chance of happiness with someone you know well than an unattainable alternative you’ve put on a pedestal and pursued. Love at first sight and all that stuff is crap. It’s just the thrill of your imagination working on insufficient information. It’s that moment when someone can be anyone. Soon passes. And it’s all the worse because you’ve made disappointment absolutely inevitable.’

My eyes are inexorably drawn to Ben’s and he feels it, looking away, quickly.

‘Having high standards doesn’t mean you’re never pleased, it means you’re rarely pleased, Benji.’ Simon’s voice has become slightly brittle. Now Lucy isn’t the only one with a vague sense of things whizzing over her head.

I feel pressure to break the ensuing silence.

‘Here’s what I don’t get. A marriage where you’re madly in love for as long as it lasts and then go your separate ways is a failed marriage. Yet you can be together for decades and be miserable and it’s officially successful, by virtue of staying put. No one would say someone who was widowed had a failed marriage.’

‘Because marriage is supposed to be until death do you part. By definition you’ve failed if you’re apart and both still alive,’ Ben says, looking at me levelly. ‘Or one has killed the other.’

‘OK, well … the criteria still shouldn’t be so crude. “Successful for a limited period” instead of failed. And maybe “enduring” would be more appropriate than successful for the ones who are together but aren’t happy.’

‘Oh lord,’ Simon says. ‘You’re one of those people who thinks competitive sports should be banned from sports days, aren’t you?’

‘I’m one of those people who thinks sports days should be banned altogether.’

‘Sure you aren’t down on marriage because you’re not getting married any more?’ Lucy says, artlessly revealing ‘nondescript’ wasn’t the only information about me that got bandied.

This renders me speechless. It’s far too much, even for my blood alcohol level.

‘I’m not down on marriage,’ I say, in a small voice.

‘Who’s for coffee?’ Ben interrupts, brightly.