Married at First Swipe

by Claire Frost

  What scares you?

  I try not to let too much scare me, although, looking back now, there are things I definitely shouldn’t have done. Though you’ll have to wait till we’re actually married and are sipping cocktails on our honeymoon for me to tell you about them! But I suppose this whole blind-date wedding scares me a bit – I mean, it would be weird if it didn’t, right? Oh, and I have coulrophobia. I know it sounds made-up, but it is a real, if slightly ridiculous, phobia – of clowns. When my brother and I were kids, our parents took us to the circus. While we were waiting for it to start, he told me some super-scary story about killer clowns, then as soon as it began and a clown came on, I was convinced they were coming to kill me and began screaming like a banshee. Embarrassed, my mum hustled me towards the back of the tent, at which point I was promptly sick all over the feet of the poor people sitting on the second to last row of chairs. Mum made us all leave and go home without seeing any of the rest of the show.

  What’s your favourite food?

  Whenever I’m travelling, the one thing I always crave from home is chip shop sausages. Not posh, farm-fresh, 100% pork organic sausages, oh no. Proper brown-skinned, processed meat that comes with a scoop of salt-and-vinegar-drenched chips and a wooden fork stuck in the middle.

  Right, I know what I’m having for my tea tonight! I still can’t wait to meet you at our wedding (apologies for all the drinks and debauchery stuff I mentioned last week, I was definitely a bit overexcited about everything!).

  Hannah x

  Chapter 11 Jess

  Jess breathed a sigh of relief as she finished prepping Hannah and Toby’s blogs ready to go live the following day. With every new letter from them both, she became more and more certain that they were a good match.

  ‘I can’t wait for them to meet,’ she said to Tom, sighing happily as she closed down the Save The Date website and opened her email on her laptop, which was resting precariously on her knees on top of the duvet. ‘And the app is doing all right, too, which is good. Although we’d be getting so much more coverage if only they were available for interviews.’

  She sighed again, although this time not so happily.

  ‘But if they do that – and meet each other or even see each other on TV – it won’t be a blind-date marriage anymore, so you’ll lose the very idea you’re trying to promote,’ Tom pointed out, with just a hint of exasperation.

  ‘Well, obviously we can’t reveal anything about them before they get married,’ Jess replied shortly. ‘But I’m hoping to persuade them to do some press afterwards. If I can keep the local media onside until after the honeymoon, then hopefully it will get picked up by bigger outlets once they broadcast it. And if that doesn’t save the business, I don’t know what will!’

  ‘Haven’t subscription numbers rocketed already, though?’ Tom said, looking up from his book and catching her gaze. ‘Do you really need to do all that promo afterwards?’

  ‘We’re well on our way to hitting our target membership numbers, but the business could still go under at any point. You know how close to folding we’ve been, even if I haven’t quite told Hannah. So anything we can do to grow the business and shore up finances for the future has got to be worth it.’

  ‘“Grow the business”? You’re not on Dragons’ Den, Jess, this is me you’re talking to!’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with talking the talk to help you walk the walk, Tom,’ Jess replied. She felt rather than saw him explode into giggles in bed next to her, and immediately felt her hackles rise. ‘I don’t know what you think’s so funny about me trying to save my business so I can pay the mortgage and buy school uniform for the kids.’ Before she could stop herself, she added, ‘Not that you’d understand. It’s called having ambition and wanting a better life. You should try it some time, Tom.’

  ‘Oh, right, so it’s my fault that you have to sell your best friend to the press, is that it? Not that you’ve told her how much you plan to use her, I bet. I’m not ambitious enough with my own business, so it’s down to you to support the family while I put my feet up in my office sketching a few drawings for clients – is that really how you see it?’

  Deep down Jess knew she should lower her voice, pull back and not let herself be dragged into the argument any further, but she ignored the quiet voice in her head telling her to walk away and gave into the fireball of worry and anxiety in her stomach. ‘Well, funny you should say that but, yes, we can’t survive on the pocket money you bring in, so Save The Date has to work. And, yes, that does mean I have to rely on Hannah to help me, but what other choice do I have? Is it wrong to want to be financially secure so we can give the kids what they need?’

  ‘Pocket money?’ Tom spat. ‘Have you listened to yourself recently, Jess? And as for giving the kids what they need, they need us, not material possessions. And even when you’re here, you’re not here. You’re glued to your laptop or tapping away on your phone. You’re even on your computer in our bed for god’s sake. Where we should be doing anything other than typing emails. Can you even remember when we last had sex? I can. It was six months ago. Since then you’ve seemed far more interested in exploiting your best friend for the sake of your dating app than in your marriage and family.’

  Jess recoiled from her husband and stared at him open-mouthed for a second, before her brain truly registered his words. Then she said slowly, ‘Are you saying I’m a bad mother, Tom, because it sounds very much like that to me?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Tom lowered his voice a little. ‘I know you love the twins and you’re a great mum; I’m just saying that sometimes you could be more present, that’s all.’

  ‘Right. Because that’s not what it sounded like to me. And as for me exploiting my best friend, I think you’ll find it was Hannah herself who suggested she get married to a stranger, not me.’

  ‘I know that, I just think we have a duty of care to her. It’s Hannah for god’s sake.’

  ‘We? Sorry, I thought this was all me, all my fault, that I was the bad person here—’

  ‘Look, Jess, I’m sorry, but I can’t talk to you when you’re being like this. It’s late, I’m tired and we both have an early start tomorrow. I’m going to sleep in the spare room and maybe in the morning we’ll both feel more calm and rational.’

  ‘You can’t talk to me when I’m like what? When I’m defending myself against your spiteful comments? Fine, go and sleep in the spare room – I’m sure you can’t bear to sleep next to such a bad mother anyway!’

  Tears stung her eyes but she refused to give Tom the satisfaction of seeing them fall.

  ‘Jess, darling, look, I didn’t say that—’

  ‘Tom, don’t. Go to bed, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,’ she parroted back at him and turned away. She didn’t move her head until she’d heard the creak of the floorboards across the landing that signalled Tom had left the room. She balanced her laptop precariously on her bedside table and flung herself into the middle of the mattress and her head into the pillow, then gave into the sobs choking the back of her throat. Tom had no idea how much she wanted to be ‘present’ and ‘there for the kids’, but it was nigh-on impossible to juggle being a mum, making sure they all had clean clothes to wear and food on the table as well as running the business and, you know, maybe having some kind of life outside work and home. She loved the very bones of Tom, but sometimes she couldn’t help thinking she didn’t like him that much. Tonight was one of those sometimes.

  What was most frustrating was she knew he had a point – she was always tapping away on her laptop or phone when she should have been listening to the twins do their reading or helping them with their maths, but it was only because she had no other choice. It was that or drown in the continuous storm of emails and demands for money and people asking her to make decisions, whether it was about what after-school clubs the kids wanted to go to, the colour the hallway should be painted, or what design the Save The Date app logo should be. And she knew that it wasn’t t
he same for Tom. There was an expectation that because she was a woman, she was the one who would remember that Charlie’s birthday party started at 2 p.m. not 3 p.m., that the twins both needed a costume for ‘dress as a country day’ next week, and that the bananas in the fruit bowl were ‘too mushy’ for anyone but her to possibly eat. Never mind that she ran her own business just like Tom did, and she had to make it a success – because making things happen, being in control, being successful, that was what she did; it was her raison d’être. At the risk of sounding like one of the kids, it just wasn’t fair.

  Sometimes she fantasised about running away from it all and checking into a five-star resort in Barbados. Of course, she’d never really do it – that’s what fantasies were for, right? – but that hadn’t stopped her Googling hotels and daydreaming about hot waiters handing her all the food and drink she could manage while she lay on a sunbed and read the book that had been beside her bed for the last six months.

  Jess glanced at the alarm clock and sighed. She had less than six hours until she needed to get up – not getting the required eight hours of sleep a night was just another way in which she was failing, she supposed. She scrubbed her eyes on the edge of the duvet, reached across for the pot on her bedside table and smeared on the night cream that promised to banish wrinkles, plump skin and leave it glowing come morning. She may not have had the recommended two litres of water that day (fail number 347) but there was no way her skin could be ‘thirsty’ the amount of product she plastered on it, she thought ruefully. Never mind about the state of her business or her marriage (though she had already decided to filter out Tom’s comments about their lack of sex life), her skin would be fully hydrated if it was the last thing she ever did.

  She tossed and turned for the rest of the night, before finally giving up and throwing off the duvet. She pulled on her comfy oversized sweatshirt from the floor next to the bed and made her way downstairs towards the kettle and a hot caffeine-laden drink. ‘Oh. You’re awake,’ she said, surprised by Tom’s presence in their kitchen before the children.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he said. ‘I hate arguing, Jess, especially with you, you know that. And I feel awful. You’re a brilliant mum and I’m in awe of everything you’re doing with Save The Date. But I worry you’re trying to do too much. I just want you to be happy; for us all to be happy together.’

  Jess had been busying herself with teabags and hot water, but hearing Tom’s voice break, she turned round to face him, cupping her hands round her warm mug. ‘I hate arguing too – I barely slept last night. And I know I’m often distracted at the moment, but it is a really important time for the business and I’d be stupid not to make the most of the opportunities coming our way. I shouldn’t have said those things either, but if you could help me out with the kids and dinner and everything, that would really make a difference.’ She hated herself for falling back into a ‘housewife’ stereotype – there was no earthly reason why she should automatically take on that care-giver role and be the one who was in charge of meals and shopping – but she also recognised it was seven o’clock in the morning, she was only one sip into her first cup of tea, and actually she just wanted things to be easier around the house, not start another argument about whose job it was to feed the kids (although she already knew the answer: both of theirs, and she’d stick a fork in the eye of anyone who told her otherwise).

  ‘I’m sorry, I will make sure I take on my share of childcare and chores,’ Tom replied, sipping his own drink and looking chastened. ‘I just know that you have certain ways of doing things and you’ve never liked me doing them differently.’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to do them properly – i.e., my way – the first time then!’ Jess risked a smile. ‘And I’ll try to leave work at work and be in the present more.’ She saw Tom wince at her reuse of his phrase, but he quickly rearranged his face into a smile. ‘We’re okay then? I can sleep in my own bed this evening?’

  ‘I’m not the one who said you couldn’t!’ Jess protested, but allowed herself to be swept up into a Tom hug, or ‘tommug’ as they’d both called it for as long as they could remember.

  As she relaxed into his arms, she breathed in the smell of his skin. Ever since they’d met as teenagers she’d wanted to inhale his familiar, safe scent. He’d worn the same aftershave for ever (it was also the same aftershave as his father, which Jess tried and failed not to find a little disconcerting when they visited his parents), but whether he’d been for a workout down the gym or was fresh out of the shower, she could always detect his musky, earthy, natural smell. Despite not having thought about sex for weeks – or perhaps months, according to Tom – she realised a small ball of fizz had woken up in her stomach, and she nuzzled further into his neck.

  ‘Muuuuuummy, can I have some Rice Krispies?’ came a sleepy voice behind them.

  The moment was broken.

  * * *

  A few weeks later, her fragile truce with Tom was still holding, thanks largely to his sudden enthusiasm for giving the twins their tea following their various after-school activities, which in turn gave Jess the extra time she needed to handle Save The Date’s ever-growing inbox. She came into the kitchen with a huge smile on her face, despite it looking like a bomb had hit it, and after kissing the twins on the tops of their heads as they hungrily forked pesto pasta into their mouths and left the broccoli florets in the bottom of their bowls, she padded round the table to Tom and gave him a kiss smack on his lips.

  ‘What was that in aid of?’ he smiled. ‘Not that I’m complaining, obviously!’

  ‘How do you fancy dinner à deux tomorrow evening, Mr T?’

  ‘I very much fancy that, but there’s the small problem of les deux enfants. Je suis désolé.’

  ‘Ooh-la-la, I love it when you go all Gallic on me! And actually Hannah has suggested she babysit tomorrow night so we can go out. She said she wanted to say thank you for finding her a husband!’

  ‘Really? Well, if she’s sure, that would be lovely,’ he replied, grinning. ‘I know it’s not French, but I could book Rio’s in town maybe?’

  ‘Ah si, non importa! We get to have a grown-up night out and that’s what matters. And on a Friday night too! We could go mad and go for a drink in the pub first and everything.’

  ‘Woah! Now you’re living life on the edge. But, yes, why not?’

  * * *

  Jess found herself counting down the hours till she and Hannah could knock off work and head into the house for a pre-night-out (or night-in for Hannah) drink, despite having tons of calls to make and emails to send.

  ‘Right, I think that’s quite enough excitement for one day!’ she declared, throwing her mouse aside dramatically. ‘Fancy a nice cold glass of rosé?’

  ‘Always!’ Hannah grinned. ‘And although today has been very exciting – I mean, who’d have thought I’d have people clamouring to shower me with free flowers on my wedding day, for god’s sake? – the excitement isn’t over for you, Jess, surely? You’ve got a lovely romantic evening ahead with your one and only, filled with pasta and Montepulciano. And if that’s not exciting, I don’t know what is!’

  ‘Thank you again for suggesting you babysit, Han, we both really appreciate it,’ Jess said as they gathered up their numerous belongings and made their way into the house.

  ‘Any time, you know how much I love the twins, oh and your huge wine rack! Seriously, you are so grown-up – having more than two bottles of wine in the house at any one time is definitely adulting. The only time I have more than one bottle in my cupboard is when I’ve saved the dregs at the end for “cooking” and then spend the next two weeks heating ready meals or making beans on toast, none of which require a splash of red wine to add flavour. And then at the weekend when I suddenly realise I have no alcohol in the house other than the very dodgy ouzo I acquired during my Greek-island-hopping phase nearly ten years ago, I inevitably end up drinking the “cooking Shiraz” straight from the bottle.’

  Jess burst i
nto loud laughter as she handed her friend a large glass of pink liquid. ‘Han, has anyone ever told you how ludicrous you are?’

  ‘You have. Often,’ she replied, clinking her glass against Jess’s.

  * * *

  With the kids happily scoffing their sausages and vegetables in front of the iPad with the promise of chocolate cake for pudding if they ate every single carrot and pea on their plates, Tom topped up Hannah and Jess’s now-empty glasses and poured himself one too.

  ‘Cheers to the weekend and lots of wine!’ he smiled.

  ‘God, I’m going to be pi—I mean drunk, before we leave the house if I’m not careful!’ Jess laughed. ‘Do you mind if I go and have a quick shower and get ready while they’re eating?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course not; in fact, both of you feel free to get ready. I think I can cope with these two terrors,’ Hannah laughed, glancing at the twins, who were transfixed by the cartoon they were watching.

  ‘I’m not sure screens at mealtimes are exactly top of the parenting manual, but it is Friday night after all,’ Tom smiled. ‘Jess, why don’t you jump in the shower and shout me when it’s free and I’ll keep Hannah company until then.’

  Jess was halfway out the room before he’d finished speaking, even forgetting to take her wine with her. ‘I’ll bring up your glass when I come,’ Tom called.

  Fifteen minutes later she was sipping her drink as she watched Tom get undressed. She knew every inch of her husband’s body and neither of them batted an eyelid at the other’s naked figure these days, which was both a good thing and a bad thing, she mused as she blasted her hair into submission and applied her usual tinted moisturiser swipe of brown eyeshadow and slick of barely-there lip colour. She added dangly earrings and spritzed herself liberally with the one expensive perfume she owned and had so far made last for two years, not wanting to waste it on mundane moments. Although she did wonder if it smelled a bit mustier than it had the last time she’d released it from its still-pristine box, but as it was so long ago she couldn’t be sure.