The Perfect Marriage

by Debbie Viggiano

  Rosie thought she was going to start hyperventilating. How dare the shark mention Luke! Dear God, she would kill the man with her bare hands if he so much as touched one hair on her precious son’s head.

  ‘Matt, I can’t stand it,’ Rosie gasped. ‘I want to know who this man is and how much money he’s owed. I’ll have more than enough to pay him when I cash in Dave’s life insurance policy. I’m calling this person. He indirectly referred to Luke, and I’m not having–’

  ‘I agree,’ Matt said.

  ‘You do?’ Rosie asked, surprised.

  ‘For what my opinion is worth,’ Mike interrupted, ‘I think the shark is possibly full of bullshit. After all, why didn’t he just approach the two of you earlier when you left here for the police station? He could have waylaid you there and then, and threatened you with a knife, or a gun, and he didn’t. Personally, I’d hang fire on doing anything at all. Let this trading standards group sort it out. What are they called again?’

  ‘The Illegal Money Lending Organisation,’ said Matt. ‘But I want this shark to know he’s got me to contend with too,’ said Matt.

  ‘Thanks,’ Rosie gave Matt a grateful smile. ‘I’ll call his number now, and assure him he will get his money.’

  ‘The shark can take a running jump as far as the debt is concerned,’ said Matt defiantly. ‘We’ll let the Illegal Money Lending team deal with that side of things. I just want to get a feel for what we’re dealing with.’ He looked around the table. Three pensive faces gazed back. ‘Right,’ Matt produced his mobile phone, ‘let’s get acquainted.’

  As Matt tapped out the shark’s number, it seemed as though there was a collective holding of breath. Matt switched the phone to loudspeaker. The silence was immediately broken by a metallic ring tone. Two rings. Three. Rosie could feel herself breathing in time to the rhythm. Four rings. Five. Karen pursed her lips and began to massage her temples. Six rings. Seven. Mike gave an imperceptible shake of his head. Eight rings. Nine. Matt slowly exhaled. The bugger wasn’t going to pick up. Ten rings, eleven.

  And then somebody answered.

  There was an audible intake of breath as four tense people in an innocuous North London kitchen listened for a voice. The silence stretched on, and on. Rosie’s nerves were starting to frazzle. She glanced at Matt questioningly. He put a finger to his lips indicating she should remain quiet. It was almost a full minute before a male voice finally spoke.

  ‘Do you have nothing to say, Mrs Perfect?’

  Rosie began to tremble. Karen leant across the table and took her hand.

  ‘You are the only person in possession of this number, Mrs Perfect, so I know it’s you calling.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Matt.

  There was a pause. ‘Are you a member of Her Majesty’s boys in blue?’

  ‘Never mind who I am,’ said Matt. ‘Who are you, and what do you want?’

  ‘Ah. Not a copper after all. So, you must be Captain Marvel, hell bent on rescuing his damsel in distress. My congratulations. Swift work getting off with a woman whose husband is barely cold.’

  ‘You assume too much, which brings me to the subject of your note. You won’t be getting a penny out of Mrs Perfect.’

  ‘A debt is a debt. It needs repaying. I’ll take whatever is Mrs Perfect’s preferred option. Money. Kneecaps. A baby.’

  An anguished squeak escaped Rosie’s lips.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Perfect! You are there! I thought so. Now don’t distress yourself. I’d really rather not go to all the bother of finding your son an untraceable new home elsewhere in the world, even if such a task pays handsomely. Likewise, I don’t really want the nuisance of coming over and shooting your pretty legs. I just want what is mine. Your husband owes me a lot of money.’

  ‘The debt was cancelled when Dave Perfect died,’ Matt interrupted.

  ‘In the eyes of the law, Captain Marvel. But I don’t deal with the law. I deal with honour and a man’s word being his bond. And your husband, Mrs Perfect, gave me his word. Whether he’s gone to the grave or not, the debt still stands. So how do you want to pay? Money, kneecaps, or kid?’

  ‘I have no idea who you are,’ Matt spoke up again, ‘but anybody can write a note demanding cash. You haven’t even told us what Dave Perfect specifically owed you money for.’

  ‘Gambling, Captain Marvel.’

  ‘Dave Perfect was out of work. He didn’t have funds to support a gambling habit.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Then more fool you! You knowingly loaned money to somebody out of work with no income to repay you.’

  ‘Don’t call me a fool, Captain Marvel, or you might find yourself having to flex your superhero muscles against me. You think I’m stupid? Of course not! Dave Perfect gambled against the worth of his house. I have the key to your front door, Mrs Perfect, to prove it.’

  ‘So that’s how you gained entry to deposit a dead pig. Well I have news for you matey. Locks can be changed.’

  ‘And windows can be broken. And letterboxes are marvellous for posting petrol bombs. Do you really want all the aggro?’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘No, Captain Marvel, not crazy. Just utterly pissed off. So let’s cut the crap and talk business. I’ll ask again. And I’m not talking to you, Captain Marvel, I’m talking to Mrs Perfect. Or can I call you Rosie, my dear?’

  Rosie’s stomach was in knots. ‘I’ll pay Dave’s debt,’ she croaked, ‘I want a peaceful life. I don’t want dead pigs, or threats of petrol bombs, or–’ she put up a hand to silence Matt who was frantically signalling her to be quiet, ‘or fear of you snatching my son. If I play ball with you, do you promise to leave us alone?’

  ‘Of course! I like you, Rosie. You’re my kind of girl. Sensible.’

  Rosie shuddered at the shark’s reference to her being his kind of girl. ‘Okay. And while we’re talking, civilly, as you know my name perhaps you’d be so kind as to give me yours?’

  The kitchen was filled with the sound of laughter. ‘Nice one, Rosie. A little gem of information to pass on to the police, eh?’

  ‘I’m just being polite. Up until now I’ve been thinking of you as Mr Shark. Which is surely disrespectful.’

  ‘On the contrary – I love it! So, Rosie, tell Mr Shark whether you have a secret stash of money, or whether you are going to sell your house to pay me off?’

  ‘There’s no need to sell my house,’ Rosie asserted, ‘because I have a life policy to cash in. I will pay you with that.’

  ‘A life policy! How thrilling! And how much is that worth?’

  ‘One hundred thousand pounds,’ said Rosie triumphantly.

  ‘Ah. There’s one small snag.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Dave Perfect owes me two hundred thousand pounds.’

  Rosie gulped. ‘Okay. I’ll sell the house. It’s not a problem.’

  ‘Good girl. The only thing is, Rosie, the debt is no longer two hundred thousand.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Bless you for your innocence. There is daily interest accruing. I’m afraid the debt is now two hundred and ten thousand.’

  ‘But surely–’

  ‘The debt is increasing by one thousand pounds per day. So you need to get your house on the market and find a buyer very quickly. But at least you have that life policy to fall back on.’

  ‘Now you listen here–’ Matt interrupted.

  ‘No, Captain Marvel, I’m done with talking to you. Rosie, give me a call back when you’ve sorted out an estate agent and spoken to your insurer. I’ll be waiting. And don’t leave it too long. I’d hate to take your son as an interim payment.’

  Rosie gasped. ‘I’ll do it, I promise, please, you don’t need–’

  But she was talking to nobody. Mr Shark had hung up.

  Chapter Thirty

  Gregory pressed the disconnect button on his mobile phone and rubbed his eyes. Dear God, but some people did have a rotten time. Matt had just called with a bio
update on Gregory’s new employee, Rosie Perfect. In the last twenty-four hours, Mrs Perfect’s status had apparently gone from ‘newly separated’ to ‘widow’. Needless to say, she wouldn’t be starting work tomorrow. Gregory had then spoken to Rosie Perfect who, clearly due to her distress, hadn’t been lucid. The woman had given a garbled explanation about arranging a funeral with a shark. Matt had then taken the phone off Rosie and concluded the conversation. Before ringing off, Gregory had asked Matt how he happened to be spending a Sunday with a future employee of Tibor’s Tasty Titbits.

  ‘Ah, yes. Well, the lady I recommended for the dog food interview happens to be the same lady I met in The Cavendish Club.’

  There had been a stunned silence while Gregory tried to reconcile the interview image of a washed-out woman wearing a cheap suit and sitting nervously in his office, with the glamorous but very drunk blonde demanding Matt take her back to his place for nookie. Good heavens, this surely meant...

  ‘So it’s my future employee’s husband who blacked your eye?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well at least he’s not around to do that anymore. What exactly happened to him?’

  ‘I’ll tell you about it properly tomorrow afternoon. I’ll swing by to discuss the Leeds factory.’

  ‘Sure. But, going back to my future employee; that means Rosie knows Lucy.’

  ‘Yes. In fact, I believe they’re best friends.’

  ‘That must be why Lucy was so distraught when she rang me earlier.’

  ‘Lucy was distraught?’

  ‘Yeah, she said something awful had happened. She’s on her way over to me. In fact,’ Gregory glanced out the window as a car’s lights lit up his driveway, ‘she’s here. I must go. See you tomorrow, and my condolences again to Rosie. She can take all of this week off and, if she has to, all of next week as well.’

  ‘Cheers, Gregory.’

  Lucy’s car screeched to a standstill. Flinging open the driver’s door, she stumbled out of the vehicle and hastened towards Gregory’s front door. It opened before she had a chance to press the doorbell. Suddenly Lucy was engulfed in the biggest bear hug.

  ‘It’s all right, Lucy,’ Gregory assured, ‘I’ve heard what happened.’

  Lucy disentangled herself. ‘You did?’

  ‘Matt told me. He’s been on the phone. And I’ve spoken to Rosie too.’

  Bloody hell! She’d only been single for five minutes and already the jungle drums of gossip were in full swing.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Lucy sniffed, her eyes brimming with a fresh round of tears. ‘Yesterday the future was all mapped out. Today it’s like a ship heading out into unchartered waters. I feel all over the place.’

  ‘Of course you do, darling.’ Gregory enfolded Lucy back into his arms. Despite the tragic circumstances, he couldn’t help but relish being of comfort to Lucy. She must have been awfully fond of Rosie’s husband to be so upset. ‘Did you…did you care about him a lot?’

  ‘Oh God, Gregory, this is going to sound so awful. I don’t want you thinking less of me if I tell you.’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’

  ‘There was a time when I thought I loved him.’

  Gregory froze. See! Straight from the horse’s mouth! Lucy was clearly a nymphomaniac. Not only was she bonking him while engaged to another man, she was also hankering after her best friend’s dead husband. Why was it that whenever his love life perked up, it came with a million complications?

  ‘I see,’ Gregory nodded. He didn’t see at all. ‘Did you… you know… do it?’

  ‘Do it?’

  ‘Yes. The deed.’ Gregory gave a nod and a wink. Lucy appeared baffled. Clearly there was a need to clarify. Gregory released Lucy and cleared his throat. ‘Did you go to bed with him?’

  ‘Well obviously.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘What did you expect me to say?’

  ‘I was hoping it was nothing more than a flirtation.’

  Lucy gave him an incredulous look. ‘Hardly.’ And then Lucy registered the distressed look on Gregory’s face. ‘If it’s any consolation, we didn’t have sex very often, and certainly there has been no action at all since I met you.’

  ‘Well,’ Gregory gave a small smile, ‘I suppose I should be flattered. And what about Rosie? Didn’t she mind?’

  ‘Of course not! I rather suspect Rosie couldn’t stand the man.’

  ‘It’s still pretty magnanimous of her – letting you bonk her husband.’

  Lucy stared at Gregory. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about Dave Perfect. That’s why you’re distraught, isn’t it?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Gregory, I’m upset because my fiancé and I are no long an item. The wedding is off.’

  Gregory’s jaw dropped. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because I suspected he was having an affair with another woman – Tracey. However, Tracey turned out to be Terry’s alter ego.’ When Gregory continued to look puzzled, Lucy couldn’t help but give a ghost of a smile. ‘Do I have to spell it out? Terry is a transvestite. And I’m not marrying a cross-dresser.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Gregory realised he was gawping. He shut his mouth. ‘Lucy, I’m so sorry.’ He pulled her into his arms again.

  ‘Not as sorry as me,’ Lucy snuffled into Gregory’s shoulder. ‘I have umpteen people to notify, a million wedding presents to send back, a zillion bridesmaids dresses gone to waste, not to mention a wedding dress that cost three grand which I’ll never ever wear.’

  ‘Did you love him very much?’

  Lucy looked up. She had the grace to look shame-faced. ‘Honestly? No. Don’t get me wrong. I’m very fond of Terry. But I cared more about the getting married bit, and knowing he was rich enough for me to give up work and settle down to have some babies before the biological alarm clock went off. I don’t suppose I’ll ever have any kids now either. Life is getting peachier by the second,’ Lucy sighed. ‘And anyway, thinking about it realistically, it would never have worked. You see,’ she looked Terry in the eye, ‘I realise now that I’m totally in love with somebody else.’

  Gregory’s heart rate began to pick up. ‘Really?’ he croaked.

  ‘Really.’

  ‘And, do you mind me asking who this person is?’

  Lucy hesitated. She didn’t want to send Gregory running a hundred miles in the opposite direction. He’d been married before, after all. Twice no less. The poor man probably just wanted – at most – a no-strings attached, sex only, relationship. Well, if that’s what he wanted, she was up for it. But she had to tell him how she felt. This time she needed to be true to herself. ‘The man I’m in love with is…you.’

  And suddenly she was being squashed into Gregory’s broad chest and could hardly breathe.

  ‘Oh, Lucy, you’ve just made me the happiest bloke on this planet.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I think I fell in love with you the minute you propositioned me in The Cavendish Club.’

  ‘Hmm, I seem to remember you being devastated it wasn’t me and a bunch of hens!’

  ‘I only had eyes for you,’ Gregory assured. ‘Come on,’ he took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. ‘I think we should celebrate. There’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge somewhere.’

  Lucy pulled out a tall stool and perched, elbows leaning on the immaculate granite worktop. What a day. As she watched Gregory crack open the champagne, she felt a plethora of emotions wash over her. She’d lost her fiancé, but found true love. There was a pang of sorrow about Terry and the lost wedding, but actually the overriding emotion was one of relief. And as she gazed at Gregory pouring ice-cold champagne into two flutes, she felt her whole being light up. This was what euphoria felt like!

  ‘This is my perfect moment,’ she smiled, accepting a glass of bubbly.

  ‘To us. To perfectness!’

  Lucy giggled. ‘Talking of things that are perfect, I must ring Rosie. She isn’t going to believe this! Which
reminds me. What on earth was that misunderstanding over Dave Perfect all about? And why did Rosie and Matt call you?’

  Gregory’s face fell. ‘Oh, my goodness. You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Lucy, but I have some bad news.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rosie plunged the cleaning brush into one of Luke’s milk bottles and gave it a good swish. She should have been starting work at Gregory Tibor’s factory today. Instead she was standing at Matt Palmer’s kitchen sink. In fact, if things had gone to plan, at this precise moment she probably would have been rolling a chunk of dog food around her mouth. Thank heavens Gregory Tibor had been so understanding, and the dog food taster job was still hers.

  Rinsing the bottle under the hot tap, Rosie’s thoughts turned to Lucy. They’d spoken at length last night; both of them shrieking and squawking as they’d shared their respective tragedies of a dead husband and a cross-dressing fiancé, a murderous loan shark and a cancelled wedding. Still, it wasn’t all bad news. Lucy had run true to form and moved on at the speed of light. Gregory Tibor was her new love interest. Rosie sighed. She hoped it all worked out for her friend. Meanwhile there was a funeral to arrange.

  Rosie transferred six bottles to the sterilising machine. Luke was gurgling happily in his playpen, two chubby fists tightly gripping a plastic car. Matt’s voice drifted down the hallway. Rosie could hear him talking to the Illegal Money Lending Team. As soon as he was off the phone, she’d get the ball rolling on the life insurance policy and then speak to the undertakers to progress the funeral arrangements. Rosie supposed she’d better ring her mother too. She switched on the sterilising machine, then reached for the kettle. A strong coffee was required in order to deal with the mere thought of talking to Hester.

  Matt wandered into the kitchen. ‘If you’re making, I’ll have one too.’ He nodded at the kettle.