The Perfect Marriage

by Debbie Viggiano

Matt pressed a business card into her hand. ‘Give me a call tomorrow afternoon. I should have some news for you then.’

  Rosie’s fingers curled around the stiff card. A small window of opportunity had come along this afternoon, and Rosie was going to seize it. She gazed up at Matt. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘for everything.’

  For a second they both stood there, just staring at each other. The moment was broken by Dave.

  ‘Rosie!’ Dave’s voice filtered down the stairs. ‘I’ve blocked the loo and we’ve run out of toilet paper.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  For Rosie the week progressed with its usual mix of daily grind, broken nights and a drunken husband. Now that she knew Dave was gambling, Rosie had taken the added precaution of not leaving her purse lying around. There was no way she was letting Dave splash her hard earned cleaning cash on the horses. Or whatever else he’d been betting on. Matt had been as good as his word and arranged the interview. And now, this Friday morning, a little before lunchtime, Rosie was sitting in the reception of Tibor’s Tasty Titbits awaiting her interview with the man her best friend was having an affair with.

  A door opened, and suddenly Gregory Tibor was coming towards her. Rosie instinctively stood up and held out a hand.

  ‘Hello, Rosie,’ Gregory took Rosie’s proffered hand and pumped it. He showed no sign of recognising her, which was hardly surprising. Rosie had scraped her hair into a severe bun and was wearing an old fashioned suit purchased for five pounds from Save the Children.

  ‘Hello, Mr Tibor,’ Rosie replied. A flurry of butterflies took off in her stomach. She wanted this job so badly.

  ‘Please, call me Gregory. Come on through,’ Gregory indicated his office, ‘and take a seat.’ He gestured to the seat opposite his desk, before moving around to the other side and sitting down in a huge executive chair. ‘Matt Palmer said you were very keen to take on this vacancy which, it has to be said, is not everybody’s cup of tea. Like your meat, do you?’

  ‘Er, well I’m not a vegetarian if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Good, because there’s no way to pretty this up. The job description is product tester, which sounds very innocuous. However, as a dog food taster you will eat, sniff and evaluate dog food. Britain’s pooches can’t talk and tell me whether something tastes good or not. So that’s where you come in.’

  Rosie gulped. ‘That’s fine. Do I need some sort of qualification to work for you? I have some A Levels.’

  Gregory gave a brief smile. ‘The qualifications for this job are uniquely narrow. You just need to be willing to eat dog food.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Good,’ Gregory clapped his hands together and looked pleased. ‘Now what about commuting? Matt said you’re from North London. Isn’t that a bit of a pain? All my staff are local.’

  ‘No, it’s fine, just fine,’ Rosie gabbled. She’d commute to Timbuktu if it presented an opportunity of leaving Dave. ‘Apart from anything else, I hope to move shortly. In fact, Erith just happened to be top of my list.’

  Gregory arched an eyebrow. ‘Really? This isn’t the prettiest of places.’

  ‘Where I live now isn’t exactly a picture postcard.’

  ‘And you have a little boy. A baby. Are you up for juggling motherhood and working?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve spoken to my neighbour who is going to look after Luke for me. And once I’ve moved here, Luke will go to a local nursery.’

  ‘Okay. So you’ve thought everything through by the sound of it.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Rosie nodded vigorously.

  ‘Good. Then only one thing remains,’ Gregory stood up. ‘Let me show you around the factory, introduce you to Harold – your future colleague – and give you a sample tasting. Ready?’

  Rosie stood up. Please God don’t let her gag. ‘Ready.’

  ***

  Matt arrived at Tibor’s Tasty Titbits just as Rosie was leaving. They almost physically bumped into each other as he wrenched open the door to Reception.

  ‘Gosh, I’m so sorry,’ Rosie said as she almost cannoned into Matt’s chest.

  ‘Hey, my fault for not looking properly. How did the interview go?’ Matt took in Rosie’s severe hair-do and dreadful suit and felt his heart squeeze with...what? Something. Just something.

  ‘The interview was successful,’ Rosie beamed, ‘all thanks to you. I start Monday.’

  ‘That’s fantastic, congratulations! I think you should celebrate. In fact, if you let me drop off these papers to Gregory first, I was just about to grab a bite to eat. Would you like to join me?’

  Rosie hesitated. The thought of eating something right now wasn’t high on her list. The flavour of Tibor’s Tasty Titbits was still on her taste buds, although it would be nice to get rid of the tang. ‘Yes, okay, that would be good actually.’

  ‘Are you in a hurry?’

  ‘No. Karen – you remember my neighbour? – is looking after Luke, so there’s no rush. And I can catch the train back any time.’

  ‘Don’t worry about the train,’ Matt said. ‘I can drop you home afterwards. I have to be in London later.’ This wasn’t strictly true, but Matt couldn’t deny wanting to prolong his time with Rosie. His conscience prodded him, but he ignored it and told himself he was just being friendly. The lunch date was totally platonic. ‘Here,’ he reached into his jacket pocket for the car keys, ‘I’m parked over there. Go and get in the car and give me two minutes.’

  Rosie smiled and took the keys. ‘Thanks. See you shortly then.’

  ‘That you will,’ Matt winked. As he went through the double doors to Reception, he suddenly had a spring in his step which had nothing to do with the coiffed receptionist looking at him hungrily.

  Twenty minutes later Matt and Rosie were seated in a reasonable Chinese restaurant along the Bexley Road. Rosie had sipped quite a lot of water but her memory couldn’t quite shift the taste of dog food in her mouth. Hopefully a hefty dose of the sweet and sour she’d ordered would do the trick.

  ‘This is quite a nice restaurant,’ said Matt between sips of mineral water. ‘I’ve been here a couple of times before, so I hope you like it too.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be fine.’

  ‘After eating dog food, I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer a hot dog.’

  Rosie grinned. ‘Very funny.’

  ‘And stop all that fidgeting in your seat, Rosie. Sit!’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Rosie put her hands up, ‘that’s enough! And no jokes when the crispy duck comes along about wanting to go off and bury the bones.’

  Matt laughed. ‘So what did the meaty chunks taste like?’

  Rosie took a deep breath. ‘Well, it wasn’t quite as ghastly as I thought it would be. It was actually very bland, and the meat was quite hard.’

  ‘I can tell you now that Gregory is a straight-up kind of guy. All his meat is sourced from British farms and from animals passed fit for human consumption. You can also rest assured that his factories are independently inspected to the same standard as those used to produce human food.’

  ‘That’s a relief to know. Karen was teasing me before I left home. She told me I’d be eating dead cats and dogs.’

  ‘I can’t speak for other factories, but most certainly not at Tibor’s Tasty Titbits. It’s all chicken, turkey, beef and lamb.’

  Matt took another sip of his mineral water. The chit-chat was easy enough, and at least he could tell himself it was innocent and totally professional. There was a pause while a waiter delivered a set of dishes to their table. Matt was just wondering how he could steer the conversation down a more intimate path, when Rosie did the job for him.

  ‘What happened in your bed last Saturday night?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rosie hadn’t planned on asking Matt Palmer about what action may or may not have taken place between his sheets. As far as she was concerned, if she couldn’t remember then nothing had happened. But now that she was sitting opposite this man – a man who was everything
her husband wasn’t – she suddenly had a burning desire to know. How could she not have kept her hands off him? Currently he was suited and booted, but Rosie could still remember exactly what Matt’s body looked like underneath all that expensive tailoring. A part of her flushed at the memory. Quickly, she tossed some more mineral water down her neck.

  ‘Don’t you have any recollection of that night at all?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Not the bit in your apartment, no.’

  Matt carefully put down his cutlery. ‘Okay. Well let’s just backtrack for a moment. At the club your friends had disappeared, and you were alone and very drunk.’

  Rosie nodded. ‘So did you take advantage of me?’

  Matt looked slightly affronted. ‘My dear lady, you were shouting your head off in front of everybody telling anybody who cared to listen that you were absolutely gagging for it and had found your stud for the night.’

  ‘So you did take advantage of me,’ Rosie dropped her fork as a hand fluttered to her mouth.

  Matt looked astounded. ‘What sort of guy do you take me for?’

  Rosie flinched. ‘I was naked in your bed. You were naked. What am I meant to deduce? We slept together.’

  ‘Yes,’ Matt raked his hair, ‘we slept together.’

  Rosie’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh. My. God. I wish I hadn’t asked now. Do I need to take a pregnancy test? Or have a health check?’

  Matt’s face darkened. ‘Rosie, we slept together. As in snoring. In your case, extremely loudly.’

  Rosie blinked. ‘You mean nothing happened?’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘So why were we naked?’

  ‘I always sleep in my birthday suit. As for you, you were shedding clothes all down my hallway before jumping in my bed, whereupon you instantly assumed a comatose state.’

  ‘Honest?’

  ‘Honest.’

  ‘But when I woke up,’ Rosie reddened, ‘we were...doing things.’

  ‘No, you were doing things.’

  Ah yes. A memory of holding a piercing flooded back. Rosie felt her blush turn to beetroot. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Don’t be. Nothing was ever truly going to happen. I’m not in the habit of making love to women with socking great hangovers.’

  ‘Right,’ Rosie picked up her fork again. ‘I just want to apologise once more for my dreadful behaviour. Truly it was out of character.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘No, really.’

  ‘I believe you!’ Matt picked up his own cutlery. ‘Now shall we just forget about the whole thing?’

  ‘Yes.’ A part of Rosie was curious to know how someone as straight as Matt Palmer had permitted himself to have a piercing. Wasn’t that a bit kinky? Go on Rosie, ask him. No, she couldn’t. Yes, you can! You’ve just talked about being in bed together. Just do it! ‘Can I ask–’

  ‘Is everything all right with your meal, Sir?’ the waiter interrupted.

  ‘Very nice, thank you,’ Matt replied.

  ‘Would Sir like some wine?’

  ‘No, thank you, I’m driving. Rosie, are you sure you wouldn’t like a glass?’

  ‘Um, no. No thanks.’

  By the time the waiter had faffed about taking away some empty terrines, the moment had been lost. Instead Matt took the conversation down a different path.

  ‘That bride-to-be you were with, is she a good friend of yours?’

  ‘She’s my best friend,’ Rosie nodded as she forked up a chicken ball. Thank goodness it was nothing like Tibor’s Tasty Titbits.

  ‘Is she still getting married?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  Matt shrugged. He wasn’t going to spill the beans about Rosie’s friend bedding Gregory. ‘I just wondered.’

  Rosie gave Matt a considering look. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘You know, don’t you?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Stop answering my questions with another question. I know that you know that my friend went off with your client.’

  ‘Well, yes. But what my client gets up to is none of my business.’

  ‘I think my friend is suffering pre-wedding nerves. It will blow over. She’s a nice girl, honest.’

  Matt shrugged. ‘Gregory is very smitten with her. I hope she’s not going to hurt him, that’s all. He might be my client, but he’s a nice guy.’

  ‘If he’s such a nice guy,’ said Rosie archly, ‘why is he messing about with another man’s woman? It takes two, Matt.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Matt stiffly. Who was he to question Gregory’s motives when he himself had invited another man’s woman out to dinner? A married woman no less. At least Rosie’s friend hadn’t tied the knot, and didn’t have children. Unlike Rosie, with a ring on her finger and a little lad usually welded to one hip. ‘How’s Luke?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  Rosie’s face instantly softened. ‘Gorgeous. He’s my whole reason for living. Once I have some wages under my belt, we’ll be off. I want Luke to have a better quality of life, so I’ll be leaving Dave and moving to Erith.’

  Matt suddenly found himself going very still. ‘You’re leaving your husband?’

  ‘Absolutely. I’ve been plotting and planning how and when for some time.’

  Matt forced himself to carry on eating. ‘Does your husband have any inkling about your plans?’

  Rosie popped the last chicken ball in her mouth. Mmm. Absolute heaven. She looked up at Matt. ‘No, Dave has no idea. I’m sorry if that sounds rather mercenary, but you’ve met my husband. He has a drink problem – and that was in place long before his redundancy came along. Instead of sorting himself out and getting help and advice, it would seem he’s picked up another addiction. Gambling.’ Rosie’s eyes were suddenly very bright. She blinked rapidly. ‘I had the most horrendous experience with a debt collector banging on the door a couple of days ago. Dave was out. The debt collector was a very no-nonsense type, and told me to tell my husband to have the money next time he came calling.’

  ‘And what did Dave say?’

  ‘He told me to pay the man on his behalf – out of my new job’s wages.’

  Matt carefully put his spoon and fork together. ‘Look, Rosie, what I’m about to say – I don’t want you getting the wrong idea or anything – but if you need a roof over your head, until you get sorted out,’ Matt hastily assured, ‘then you and Luke are more than welcome to stay at my place. I have a guest bedroom with its own en suite.’

  Rosie stared at Matt in amazement. ‘That’s awfully kind of you, but we really couldn’t take advantage.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be, I promise.’ Matt could see Rosie wavering but refusing to give in. ‘Scout’s honour, it’s no big deal.’ He held up his right hand and did a three finger salute.

  Rosie dithered. ‘I’m tempted. Sorely tempted. But there’s one small problem.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You live in Penshurst. Gregory wants me to start work on Monday in Erith. I don’t have a car, and the journey from your apartment to the factory isn’t on a bus route.’

  ‘At the moment Gregory is my client and I’ll be in and out of his place for the next month. Quite apart from anything else, most of my business is in London, so it would be easy to drop you off and pick you up. And believe it or not, my cousin runs a nursery in Penshurst which just happens to have a superb OFSTED report. I could have a word with her and make sure Luke jumps to the top of the waiting list.’

  ‘Gosh, I really don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Say yes. Easy.’

  ‘You’d have to agree to me paying you rent.’

  ‘Ten pence a week all right? You can add it to the ten pence a week for the glazing loan.’

  Rosie hesitated and then her whole face lit up. ‘That sounds very affordable. Well as long as you are one-hundred per cent sure, then...yes! Thank you very much.’

  Suddenly tears were spurting out of Rosie’s eyes. She wasn’t used
to having lucky breaks. And today she’d had not one lucky break, but three – a new job, the offer of temporary accommodation, and a nursery for Luke until she could find a little place for the two of them. The thought of finally getting away from Dave was such a relief, as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She dabbed at her eyes with the linen napkin while Matt signalled to the waiter for the bill.

  ‘I have to go to London now, so if it’s okay with you I’ll drop you back and you can do your packing. What about I pick you up at six?’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Rosie sniffed, ‘but what about Luke’s stuff? There’s his cot, and playpen. Will it fit in your car?’

  ‘We’ll make it fit, don’t you worry.’ Matt put some notes on the table and stood up. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Oh, but I owe you for my half of the Chinese.’

  ‘Stick it on the slate, Rosie. You’re now up to thirty pence a week.’

  As Rosie scampered after Matt, she suddenly felt rather odd. As if life had gone skew-whiff. A part of her mind detached and watched the washed-out blonde in the cheap suit hastening after the handsome businessman who had not only helped her get an extremely well paid job, but who would – for a little while – be her flat-mate. Do you know what you’re doing, Rosie Perfect? her conscience shouted. You’ve known this man for all of five minutes. Your husband is going to go absolutely ape. And then Rosie’s mind crashed back into her body. Her heart was pounding away, dealing with buckets of adrenalin suddenly whooshing around her body. She was going to do it! At last she was leaving Dave! But never mind about his reaction – what the hell was her mother going to say?

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Dave staggered into his hallway in the early hours of the morning, he was not just drunk but frightened. He’d scuttled home as quickly as his sozzled brain had permitted, jumping at shadows in hedgerows, and gasping at imagined lurkers behind lampposts.

  The illegal gambling club he’d stumbled upon a couple of months ago had initially seemed like a slice of heaven. But suddenly Pete’s Poker Parlour wasn’t such a cosy place. In the beginning Dave had won money – lots of money – and had a marvellous time blowing it on more bets, and champagne for the lovely ladies who flocked around him. But then suddenly his luck had run out. Dave was seriously starting to wonder whether luck had ever truly been with him. A part of his brain – a very small sensible bit – suspected he’d been set up all along. Allowed to win in other words.