The Perfect Marriage

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘Good morning, my darling.’ She cradled Luke in her arms. Her son rewarded her with a grin before frowning and filling his nappy. ‘Clever boy,’ Rosie grinned before settling down to the task of topping and tailing. ‘Now, I think it’s time for some breakfast, don’t you?’ Gathering up the knotted nappy sack, Rosie ambled off to the kitchen.

  Matt was seated at the breakfast table with a steaming cup of coffee. A newspaper was spread across the table’s polished wood. He looked up as Rosie wandered in. ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Like the proverbial log – apart from Luke waking up a couple of times. I think he’s popping another tooth. I hope he didn’t disturb you.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Matt assured.

  ‘Um, is it all right to dump this in your bin?’ Rosie held the nappy sack aloft.

  ‘Of course. While you’re staying here, treat the place as your own, okay?’

  ‘Right,’ Rosie nodded. ‘And, er, thanks.’

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Yes, please, that would be lovely.’

  ‘There’s some in the pot on the worktop.’

  ‘I’ll just feed Luke first,’ Rosie popped her son into his highchair before delving in a cupboard Matt had cleared for her the previous evening. The shelf was lined with Heinz baby food and formula milk.

  ‘Here, I’ll do that,’ Matt stood up. ‘You have your breakfast.’

  ‘Oh, it’s no trouble,’ Rosie protested, ‘I’m quite used to seeing to Luke first.’

  ‘I want to help,’ Matt said, ‘so let me.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Rosie uncertainly. She wasn’t used to help where Luke was concerned. As Matt settled down to the task of feeding Luke and making aeroplane noises whilst whizzing the spoon through the air, Rosie couldn’t help smiling. She pulled out some bread from the fridge and slotted two slices into the toaster. ‘You’ll make a very good dad one day,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Don’t you want children?’

  ‘Of course. I think most men want to know that one day they’ll have a son and heir. Or a daughter of course. Certainly somebody to take over the family business, or to carry on the gene pool. It’s the way human beings are programmed.’

  ‘Do you have a serious girlfriend?’ Rosie ventured.

  ‘That’s a very personal question at half past nine in the morning,’ Matt smiled as he spooned puréed muesli off Luke’s lower lip.

  Rosie reddened. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey. I was just, you know, making conversation.’

  Matt made a sound like a fighter pilot and banked the spoon sideways. Luke squealed with laughter. ‘No,’ he said eventually, ‘there’s no significant other.’

  Rosie nodded. Now why had her heart expanded with joy upon hearing those words? She set about buttering her toast.

  ‘Although not having a girlfriend is sometimes a bit of a nuisance,’ Matt admitted.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It means that I’m very often roped in to be the ‘spare man’ when it comes to dinner parties and such like.’

  ‘I’ve never had that problem.’

  ‘Well you wouldn’t, being married.’

  ‘No, I meant the social life thing. My social life is usually zero. Last weekend – the hen night – was pretty much a first. Although,’ Rosie screwed up her face as she considered, ‘I do have a wedding in three weeks. I’m Maid of Honour. It will be nice to dress up and have a bit of a dance.’

  ‘Ah, yes, weddings. It’s that time of year, isn’t it! I have a mate who’s getting married – he’s the guy whose stag do I should have attended last week, before you waylaid me at your friend’s hen night.’

  ‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ Rosie mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

  ‘I’m just teasing you,’ Matt grinned. ‘However, the stag in question is having a bit of a do this afternoon. He’s asked me to go along. You’re very welcome to come with me.’

  ‘That’s very kind, but I couldn’t possibly gate-crash somebody’s private event.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be gate-crashing. I’m inviting you.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’

  ‘Well apart from anything else, there’s Luke to consider. I don’t have a babysitter.’

  ‘So we take him along. It’s not going to be a late night. We can have him home and in bed at a perfectly decent hour. Come on, Rosie, it will do you good to get out. What other plans did you have for Saturday?’

  ‘Well, I was going to carry on checking out property. There’s a few suitable for viewing.’

  ‘You do realise you’re going to need a deposit when you find somewhere – usually a month’s rent in advance,’ Matt put down the spoon and reached for a muslin on the back of Luke’s highchair.

  ‘Ah. I’d overlooked that matter.’

  Matt wiped Luke’s mouth before tossing the muslin in the sink. He was aware that he could easily have lent a deposit to Rosie. But having her in his apartment with Luke felt strangely right, and he didn’t want them leaving. Not yet anyway. ‘So can I suggest you work a month or two at Gregory’s factory, get some savings under your belt, and reconsider moving at a later date?’

  ‘As long as you’re sure you don’t mind me here while I’m saving up. I don’t want to be a nuisance.’

  ‘I’m sure, and you’re not a nuisance. So, now that we’ve sorted that out, will you think about coming out with me later?’

  Rosie considered for a moment, and then her whole face lit up. ‘Why not? You’re on!’

  ‘Good,’ Matt smiled.

  At three o’clock, Rosie was sitting in Matt’s passenger seat. Luke was strapped into his baby seat behind her. She’d had a long, leisurely bath and was wearing an ancient little black dress which had stood the test of time quite well. She felt presentable.

  When Matt had seen Rosie emerge from her bedroom all dressed up, he’d momentarily felt the breath whoosh out of him. She didn’t look like the vamp of last Saturday night, but she was still utterly ravishing. Her newly washed hair tumbled fetchingly over her shoulders and she’d applied a bit of make-up which brought out the colour of her eyes and accentuated the full mouth. Matt had had an overwhelming desire to sweep her into his arms and thoroughly kiss all the lipstick off. Instead he’d taken Luke off her hip and picked up a small holdall stuffed with baby paraphernalia, before getting acquainted with the safety straps on Luke’s baby seat in the car.

  And now the big BMW was zipping through Kent countryside. Before long the car was bouncing between gateposts topped with roaring lions. As a mansion came into view, Rosie let out a sigh. ‘What a blissful place. My best friend’s fiancé lives in something like this. I’ve never been to his house, but from the way Lucy talks, it’s on a similar scale.’

  ‘My mate is a City trader. He earns a fortune,’ Matt smiled.

  ‘What a coincidence,’ said Rosie. ‘Lucy’s fiancé is a trader too.’

  When the front door opened, Rosie and Matt could feel their jaws being overcome by gravity.

  ‘Matthew!’ greeted a tall strapping man. ‘About bloody time, my friend. Come in, come in! You can introduce me to your delectable lady in two seconds, just as soon as I’ve introduced you to mine. Come here, darling,’ the man beckoned to a dark-haired beauty greeting another guest, ‘I want you to meet my oldest friend, Matthew. Matt, I’m absolutely delighted to introduce my fiancée. Meet Lucy.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was an appalled moment where Lucy and Matt stared at each other. Lucy’s face momentarily bore the resemblance of a frightened rabbit trapped in headlights. Matt’s expression hardened. Politeness forced him to extend a hand, rather than kiss Lucy on both cheeks. Terry clocked the strained atmosphere between his fiancée and best friend. He stood there, a puzzled expression knitting his brow. Rosie was the first to speak.

  ‘Lucy! I was able to come after all.’

  Lucy recovered her poise and hugged Rosie hard. ‘I’m so glad. Now
then, you’ve met Terry before.’

  ‘Of course,’ Rosie pecked her best friend’s fiancé on the cheek.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you again,’ Terry grinned. He couldn’t keep up with Lucy’s huge social circle and stared after Rosie vaguely. Was this woman with Matt, or was it a coincidence that they’d simply turned up on the doorstep at the same time? ‘Do go through to the drawing room. There are some waitresses circling with drinks and canapés, and everyone’s getting rather merry. Lots of wedding talk going on, naturally.’

  ‘Rosie, darling,’ Lucy took her friend by the hand, ‘you and Luke simply must meet Polly,’ Lucy led Rosie up a sweeping staircase, ‘she’s pregnant, puking up and terrified. I want you to give her some first-hand reassurance of what motherhood is all about.’

  ‘Oh dear, the poor lady. Yes, of course I will.’ Rosie shifted Luke’s weight on her hip and looked back down the stairs at Matt. He was staring after both her and Lucy, his expression unreadable. Moments later Terry had ushered Matt into the drawing room and was introducing him to a predatory looking female. Rosie looked away and followed Lucy along the landing. A second later she was being led into a bedroom with the most heavenly soft furnishings, and curtains so grand it was like stepping into the pages of a posh interior design magazine.

  Lucy shut the door after them and leant back against the wood panelling, eyes closed.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she sighed. ‘I know it’s a small world, but sometimes just how small beggars belief.’

  Rosie sighed and put Luke down on the plush carpet. ‘By which I presume you are referring to Matt being a good friend of Terry’s. Has Terry never introduced you to him before?’

  ‘No!’ Lucy pushed herself away from the door. ‘Dear bloody God. Not only does the wretched man know my fiancé, but he knows my lover too!’ Lucy began pacing the floor in agitation.

  ‘Where’s this Polly person you wanted me to meet?’

  ‘Along the landing with her head down the loo. Pregnancy sickness,’ Lucy explained. ‘But never mind her for a moment. Can your boyfriend be trusted to keep his gob shut?’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend! He’s simply helping me out.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Lucy made a flapping gesture with one hand. ‘I just don’t want your Mr Helpful turning into Mr Big Mouth where my future is concerned.’

  ‘I don’t know Matt well enough to say whether he’d spill the beans. Why don’t you talk to him yourself?’

  ‘Yes, I will,’ Lucy stopped pacing momentarily and turned to face Rosie. ‘Apart from anything else, as Matt is such a good friend of Terry’s he might possibly know this woman Terry’s having an affair with.’

  Rosie sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Luce, forget talking to Matt for a minute. Don’t you think you should be talking to Terry? Why don’t you simply ask your fiancé yourself about this so-called other woman. It might be perfectly innocent. Currently you’re mucking about with Gregory Tibor and risking a golden future with Terry, all because of wanting revenge for some unconfirmed suspicion. What if you’ve got the wrong end of the stick?’

  Lucy moved over to a drawer, rummaged under some cotton garments and extracted a mobile phone. ‘Look what I found,’ she said quietly, waggling the phone at Rosie. ‘Terry doesn’t know I’ve seen it. It’s not his regular mobile. This,’ she stared at the BlackBerry while choosing her words carefully, ‘is an alternative phone.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This BlackBerry is strictly for communicating with Tracey. She clearly doesn’t have his regular mobile number – the one I speak to Terry on, along with all his mates and colleagues. I would imagine this woman doesn’t have Terry’s landline number either.’ Lucy’s eyes flicked over to the bedroom door. ‘Lock the door for me, Rosie, while I switch this phone on. I’ll show you the sort of conversation that’s been winging backwards and forwards, and then you can deduce for yourself whether I’m imagining things.’

  Rosie stood up and made her way over to the bedroom door. In the background the merry tinkle of a phone coming to life blended with the key driving the door’s lock home. Rosie turned back to see Lucy’s fingers moving deftly over the phone’s keys.

  ‘Here,’ she held out the phone to Rosie. ‘Get a load of this.’

  Rosie took the phone and sat back down on the bed. Slowly she began scrolling through the conversation thread.

  Darling Tracey, you caused me untold havoc at work today. My mind should have been on prices and executing trades in equities, bonds, commodities and foreign exchange. Instead all I could think about were your lovely long legs.

  Oh dear. Rosie nibbled her lip. This wasn’t looking good. But then again, daydreaming about a woman’s legs didn’t constitute adultery.

  Dearest Terry, you say such lovely things and instil me with confidence. My so-called lovely long legs ache to wrap themselves around you.

  Okay, maybe a woman’s legs could be guilty of adultery.

  Sweet Terry, do you like this photograph of me? Hold it close to your heart and never stop loving me xx

  Rosie stared at a picture message. The angle of the photograph meant there wasn’t a clear shot of the woman’s face. A lot of brunette waves were cascading over an ample bosom covered in fussy lace and bows. Whoever the woman was, she had God-awful dress sense.

  Tracey, seeing you today filled me with such joy and arousal. I’m not ashamed to confess that right now I’m looking at your photograph and masturbating...

  Rosie skimmed through a few more messages. All were equally damning.

  ‘Seen enough?’ Lucy asked.

  Rosie sighed and held the phone out to her friend. ‘Okay, you’re right. It doesn’t look good. You two really do need to talk.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Lucy sneered and snatched up the phone, ‘and what answers do you truly think I’m going to get. When cornered, men are the greatest liars on earth. Terry will probably give me a cock-and-bull story about pre-wedding nerves, and a flirtation that never amounted to anything other than cheeky texting. I have a much better idea.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m going to send this Tracey person a text myself.’

  ‘Don’t do that. You’ll send her to ground.’

  ‘No I won’t. I’m going to send the text supposedly from Terry. And Terry is going to suggest meeting up somewhere incredibly romantic – a candle-lit dinner in a top restaurant for example – except it won’t be him turning up. It will be me. And then I’ll demand a full explanation for exactly what’s been going on.’

  ‘Lucy, you can’t go into a top restaurant with all guns blazing.’

  ‘I shall behave like a lady at all times,’ Lucy smiled sweetly. ‘Now then,’ her fingers pressed the message icon, ‘how to lure Tantalising Tracey and her chuffing long legs into my lair? I know.’ Lucy’s fingers flew across the keypad. Sweet Tracey, words cannot express how much I’m missing you right now. Are you available for a secret romantic lunch tomorrow? Meet me at Mona Lisa’s on the Dock Road at noon. Your ever loving Terry xx

  Lucy hit send and was surprised to find herself shaking slightly. She looked at Rosie, her eyes suddenly full of tears. ‘Oh God, I hope I’ve done the right thing.’

  Rosie stood up and put her arms around her friend. ‘I do wish you’d listen to me. At the risk of sounding like a stuck record, I still think the two of you should do some straight talking – and preferably without Gregory Tibor in the equation.’

  Lucy sniffed. ‘Oh Gregory’s a whole new ball game, Rosie. You know, I do love Terry, but I’m starting to think it’s more like the way you’d love a brother. I can’t even remember the last time we had sex, and here we are with a honeymoon booked in Bali. What the hell are we going to do for a fortnight if we’re not bonking like bunnies? It’s ridiculous! Whereas Gregory,’ Lucy’s eyes softened, ‘is the most amazing lover I’ve ever had. And to top it all off, he’s both gorgeous and loaded.’

  ‘So why don’t you end it with Terry and give it a shot with Greg
ory instead?’

  Lucy snorted. ‘I don’t think Gregory is good marriage material. He already has two ex-wives. Not a brilliant track record is it?’

  Rosie shrugged. ‘I’ve just ended Marriage Number One. Doesn’t mean I’m a philandering man-eater. Some of us just have rotten luck. Does Gregory have any kids?’

  ‘No,’ Lucy sighed, ‘so I’m assuming he’s not father material either. And more than anything else, you know how much I want kids.’

  ‘Well marrying Terry isn’t necessarily going to make that wish happen, is it?’ Rosie reasoned. ‘Not if he’s averse to rumpy-pumpy – something of a necessity when it comes to creating a little person.’

  Lucy was just about to reply when Terry’s mobile phone emitted a tinkling tune. The two women froze and stared at each other. The only noise came from Luke who had discovered that the legs to the dressing table were an excellent teething post.

  ‘A text,’ Lucy whispered. Her hands grabbed the mobile. Pressing the envelope icon, her eyes scanned the text message.

  Who the hell are you?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dave was having a terrible weekend. A part of him wondered if his life had stumbled into a remake of The Godfather. On Friday night, instead of discovering Rosie lying next to him, he’d found a pig’s carcass stretched out on his wife’s side of the bed. He’d emitted a scream so bloodcurdling that Karen next door had despatched her husband round to investigate.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Mike had said while studying the carcass, ‘it’s not been killed to specifically frighten you. It’s straight out of a butcher’s shop.’

  ‘Is that meant to make me feel better?’ Dave had spluttered. ‘The fact of the matter is that some bastard has gained entry into my house and left a sinister message. Do you think they’ve kidnapped Rosie and Luke?’

  ‘Er,’ Mike had looked embarrassed, ‘I think your imagination is running away with you, Dave. Did you not know that Rosie has left you?’

  ‘Left me?’ Dave had stared blankly at Mike. ‘How come you know about my wife’s movements?’