The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man

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The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man Page 10

by Martyn, Susie


  It stops for a moment and reverses back. Marcus gets out.

  ‘It’s the first time my phone’s stopped ringing, so I thought I’d drop in and see how you were.’

  Goodness. This is rare. Once word gets out that it’s Marcus on call, that’s usually a cue for all the girly clients who fancy him to start inventing urgent problems that he simply must come and attend to immediately. But then, I contemplate delightedly, he had a brief lull and he’s come over here to see me.

  ‘Quite an evening, wasn’t it?’ he says, ruefully. ‘How are you today anyway?’

  I decide I’ve been overusing the word ‘fine’. ‘Good, thank you.’

  Marcus raises his eyebrows at me.

  ‘I think it really was just the shock last night,’ I say. ‘And thank you again, for rescuing me twice in one day.’

  ‘My pleasure, madame,’ he replies half-jokingly.

  ‘So, don’t you have endless pretty girls and their horses to attend to?’

  He laughs at me. ‘Trying to get rid of me again, Louisa?’

  Oh. No. So he’s noticed. I really wasn’t, actually. Not this time. He sees my discomfiture.

  ‘No. It’s all quiet. There’s some football match on. It’s surprising how non-urgent some cases can suddenly become, you know. It happens when Wimbledon’s on too, especially the men’s finals.’

  ‘I’ve just been to the pub with Emma,’ I say.

  ‘Back early, aren’t you?’ says Marcus.

  ‘Well, Ben was there and it was all a little bit cosy.’ I explain. ‘You know, two’s company and all that.’

  He nods. I don’t add that I’d hoped to see him there too.

  Then his mobile goes off. He has to go. Somewhere, there’s an equine that needs him.

  ‘See you at work Lou,’ he says. I get another kiss on the cheek as he leaves.

  A little later, Leonie calls me, and tells me that Pete’s started something called Cognitive Behavioural Therapy.

  ‘At least he’s agreeing to go, but he’s got weeks of it ahead of him,’ she tells me. ‘I was half expecting him to back out after the first session, but he says he’s going to give it a proper try.’

  Then she pauses. ‘And it’s really weird Lou. Only a few weeks ago, he could barely bring himself to look at me, let alone speak to me, but now he’s forever wanting sex…’ She sighs.

  What with Emma and Ben, Leo and Pete, Arian and Karina, it seems they’re all at it, like rabbits. Just not me.

  It’s great news, I tell her, that Pete is slowly on the up and I’m really, really pleased. And I’m sure she’ll cope with the sex bit, even though I agree with her that three times a day does sound rather excessive.

  ‘But take it from one who knows,’ I tell her. ‘Too much is better than none at all.’

  Then I tell her about the events of last night. I can almost hear her jaw hit the floor at the other end of the phone.

  ‘Lou!’ she says, quite shocked. ‘How dreadful for you! What did you say to him?’

  I tell her I didn’t, seeing as it wasn’t the place and how I’d been somewhat shocked to find him and his slapper at Sylvie’s, of all places, when he’s always been positively scathing about anything horsy.

  ‘Marcus took me home,’ I tell her. ‘I just couldn’t face them.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ she replies sympathetically. ‘Poor you...’

  Then she adds, ‘Pete had to go in to work, to see his manager, and while he was there, he bumped into Arian too. I wasn’t going to tell you Lou, seeing as you’re just getting yourself together again. But it seems all is not rosy with him and Karina. By the way, Pete told him he was an arsehole. I thought you’d like to know that bit, at least.’

  I make a mental note to thank Pete, but I’m wondering - if Arian’s thrown his marriage away for some short-lived fling, which only weeks on, is going up in smoke too? What an idiot. I can’t manage to feel the tiniest bit sorry for him. I’m not even clutching at the hope that he’ll come back to me. Because one thing has just become even more abundantly clear than before.

  I really do not want him back.

  16

  I’m relieved to get back to the normality of work on Monday, so much so, I’m early. I’m craving routine and something other than Arian/Karina to think about, and Agnes, bless her soul, comes right to my rescue.

  ‘Morning Louisa,’ she says briskly, looking briefly, carefully at me for a second. ‘I’ve decided that it’s time we updated all the old customer records, to see who is and isn’t current. They’re mostly in that cupboard over there.’

  My heart sinks. Okay. I need to absorb myself in work but I simply loathe filing. I’ve seen the cupboard. It’s a mess. This will keep me busy for days, if not years.

  ‘Most of them are on the computer, but can you check as you go, and keep a pile of those that aren’t? Thank you, dear.’

  Then she’s back to organising the vets’ calls again. Agnes calls me ‘dear’ quite often now.

  Actually, once I get started, it’s not too bad a job and what with answering the phones as well, keeps me occupied,. Miles pops in, looking worried as usual, and Marcus and Emma have been out on calls since first thing. Beamish turns up half an hour late. It seems he’s taking semi-retirement quite seriously.

  ‘Morning Agnes,’ he beams at her. Then he notices me. ‘Ah, Louisa. Um feeling better I hope?’ Then not waiting for my answer, he absently says, ‘Good, good.’ Then, ‘um...’ before he looks around vacantly and wanders off again, completely in his own little world.

  Parsifal, our inmate horse who had surgery, is doing really well. I don’t think Sam’s been home since that horse arrived. There’s evidence, however, that he may not have been alone all weekend... I found some rather skimpy pink knickers in the hay store earlier, which I carefully disposed of when no-one was looking. A model of discretion I am, these days. Elmer found them actually. She’s always had a penchant for underwear.

  Back to Parsifal, he’ll probably be home by the end of the week. His insides are working just fine, if the amount of mucking out I’m doing is anything to go by.

  The next call from a client however, chills me. It’s Ben. One of his event horses has been taken ill. Apparently he’s called Emma, but she’s up to her ears in something miles away and he doesn’t think the horse can wait.

  ‘Could you get someone out here as soon as possible?’ He’s clearly desperate.

  ‘No problem,’ I say. ‘Someone will be with you in twenty minutes.’

  Beamish. After all, he’s wandering aimlessly around at this minute, doing absolutely diddly squat. It’s high time that man did some work and so I hunt him down in his office, where he’s quietly perusing the pictures on his wall.

  ‘Are you busy Beamish?’ I ask him a little impatiently, because he’s clearly not. ‘Only it’s Ben Mavers. He’s really worried about one of his event horses. I said you’d be over right away. I hope that’s okay?’

  Beamish gives me a fatherly smile. ‘Er, call him back will you Louisa, and tell him I’ll be there in ten minutes.’ I call Ben and tell him five. Beamish drives like a maniac. Then cross my fingers for his horse.

  Then it’s back to the contents of my lovely cupboard.

  By the end of the day, I’m more relaxed. And quite tired. And very relieved to have got through twenty four hours without a drama of some description, because my personal life seems to have turned into a soap opera.

  A few quieter days are just what I need, while my brain churns the whole Karina thing around again, looking for a way to make it feel less shocking. The whole time she was just a name in my head, I could deal with it - just about - but somehow, having seen her and where she lives, has dredged up the old feelings of betrayal. And although Marcus is right and it does take time to get over trivial little things like busted marriages, I’ve since discovered that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger - and life is okay.

  Ask me again in thirty seconds: did I actually say that
?

  Someone’s knocking on my door. I’d planned a quiet Friday night watching Friends on TV. Emma’s out gallivanting with Ben, and I’m not expecting a visitor. Least of all, this one, because when I open the door, it’s Arian.

  I stand there and just stare at him. And the first thing that hits me is that I honestly don’t feel anything. Whether I’m numb, or whether it’s shock again or maybe I’m over him, I couldn’t tell you. And what the devil is he doing on my doorstep?

  He looks terrible, I’m pleased to notice. Older, greyer, more haggard. Not handsome at all. There are dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders look stooped. His clothes look awful too.

  ‘Hello Lou,’ he says, looking very uncomfortable. ‘Do you think I could come in?’

  I stand there a little longer. I’m not sure I want him in my home, sullying the Arian-free surroundings that I’ve grown rather comfortable with.

  ‘Do you know Arian? I don’t think you can.’

  Watch out buster, this worm has definitely turned. I’m about to tell him where to go, but then I see his face and something in me relents - God knows why. This is the man who betrayed me after all. Instead of turning him away, I take him round the back to my little garden where Horace nickers at me.

  ‘You’ve got another horse?’ he sounds surprised, and stands there looking not very pleased.

  ‘Yes, Arian. He is indeed a horse. You know I’ve wanted to do that for some time.’ I say patiently. And didn’t because of you.

  There’s a silence – I’ve nothing to say. I’m just intrigued to know why he’s here.

  ‘Why is it exactly, that you’re here? Our divorce is going through, the house is sold, there isn’t any other business between us now.’

  I must be an idiot even giving him the time of day. But then, we were married I suppose. Sometimes I’m too reasonable for my own good.

  He’s looking very downcast, and more than a little nervous, fiddling with his fingers, not at all sure where to start.

  ‘I’m sorry I spoilt everything, Lou,’ he says at last, quite earnestly. ‘More sorry than you’ll ever know. I think I just got carried away.’

  That’s one way of putting it, I think to myself, staying incredibly civil as I let him continue.

  ‘You see, Karina and I had so much in common.’

  The ‘had’ doesn’t go unnoticed.

  ‘We shared the same lifestyle,’ he continues. ‘Enjoyed the same interests.’

  ‘Interests?’ I say very calmly. ‘Oh I see, like sex, Arian, was that it? And aeroplanes maybe? Or was there something else?’

  My self-control is astonishing me. I’m quite proud of myself.

  We’re interrupted by another car arriving. A big one by the sounds of things and then Marcus appears around the side of the house, carrying a bottle of wine. Bit presumptuous of him, isn’t it? He didn’t even phone to see if I was free. Arian’s none too pleased to see I have a visitor. Especially a male one carrying a wine bottle. Marcus isn’t looking too thrilled either. I stand up. I suppose I ought to introduce them.

  ‘Arian, this is Marcus. We work together. He’s a vet.’

  ‘Marcus, this is the wanker I told you about, my adulterous ex-husband, Arian, the one who’s shagging Sylvie’s daughter.’

  Actually, what I really say is, in an exaggeratedly polite manner, is, ‘Marcus, this is my ex-husband, Arian.’ I emphasise the ex for both their sakes.

  They actually shake hands, then stand and glare at each other, neither of them saying anything. This is so not how I planned my evening.

  ‘Marcus, sit down and join us,’ I say firmly.

  But Marcus hedges. ‘It might be better if I come back another time, Lou,’ he says and turns to leave.

  I walk round with him to where his car is.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say to him. I don’t know why I’m sorry, it’s not as though I’ve done anything.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he says abruptly. ‘Go on. Maybe there’s unfinished business between the two of you. You were married, after all.’

  Which is annoyingly decent of him when really I’d rather he stayed.

  I watch him drive off, with a niggling, irritated feeling gnawing at my stomach, wishing with all my heart that it was Arian leaving instead.

  Arian is staring at me when I go back round.

  ‘A work colleague?’ he says sarcastically, looking thoroughly narked.

  ‘Yes,’ I say equally sarcastically. ‘Just like you and Karina. Actually, not at all like you and Karina, not that it’s any of your bloody business. Now for goodness sake, get on with it,’ thinking the sooner he tells me why he’s here, the sooner he can leave.

  ‘I was trying to tell you about Karina. That it’s over.’

  And so I ask him, ‘And exactly what, Arian, has that got to do with me?’

  He winces. Clearly I’m not responding the way he’d been hoping.

  ‘I’ve realised what an idiot I’ve been, walking out on our marriage like that, Lou. Without even trying.’

  I’m not sure I like where this is going. He continues. ‘And I wanted to ask you, very humbly, if there was any chance at all that we could try again.’

  It’s too much.

  ‘I think you better go,’ I tell him, my eyes blazing. But he’s not giving up.

  ‘Promise me one thing, Louisa. Think about it, okay? Because we are at this moment, technically at least, still married...’

  That does it. I’m fuming.

  ‘Get the fuck out of my house and never come back,’ I scream at him. Why am I screaming? I thought I was so over him. ‘Go away, Arian. I want nothing more to do with you. Not ever.’

  Thank God I don’t have neighbours, though I should think everyone within a two mile radius heard my outburst.

  At any rate, he gets the message and leaves.

  Horace is staring at me over the fence. I go over and kiss his lovely nose, and instantly feel soothed as he soaks up all my stress. Then I go over the conversation with Arian. Damn him. How dare he come here like that. The bit that sticks in my head though, is about still being married, which theoretically, I suppose we are. But he blew it big time, didn’t he, when he shacked up with Karina. What reason could I possibly have for giving him a second chance?

  And then it dawns on me, only rather than a dawn, it’s more like a dark cloud descending on me. My flipping marriage vows, that’s why. I’m not overly religious, but I made those vows from the bottom of my heart. I promised to stay with him for better and for worse. And if this bit is the ‘for worse’, does that make me as bad as he is, if I refuse to give him a second chance?

  17

  Thank heavens it’s the weekend, because I really need a breathing space. Luckily Horace is sound again and the men in lycra are out in force, appearing noiselessly behind us as we amble down the lane. He goggles at them as they speed past on their super whizzy bikes. And we meet the scruffy chav with the manky dog again. Fortunately I don’t think he recognises me without Elmer.

  I feel my tension disappearing the further we go into the countryside. We’re out for two hours in the end, just walking, listening to the birds, both of us loving every second of it. Then as we’re heading back, my mobile rings. It’s Marcus.

  ‘How are you Lou? I wondered if you’d like to go out tonight?’

  Gosh! A proper date! With Marcus!

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Thank you. I’d really like that.’

  There’s a brief silence. But then he’s not used to me being enthusiastic about spending time with him. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight then. Okay?’ He sounds as though he’s smiling.

  ‘That’s great!’

  Horace and I plod home, and suddenly I’m really looking forward to this evening.

  Marcus arrives bang on eight. Luckily I’ve been ready for ten minutes. Yes, I’ve actually made an effort for him and he smiles approvingly when I open the door. He looks as though he’s a bit spruced up too. I get a peck on the cheek and catch a hint of s
omething spicy on his skin.

  ‘You ready then?’ he asks.

  We drive to a pub I haven’t been to before. It’s called the Pig and Whistle and is very olde worlde, with a thatched roof and a lovely garden. Marcus finds us a table in a quiet spot and goes to get us some drinks. The sun is warm, and it’s blissful to sit back and enjoy this wonderful place he’s brought me to.

  Marcus returns with a chilled bottle of wine, two glasses and a menu. As we peruse it, we discover a shared love of seafood and order delicious platters of prawns, mussels and langoustines, fragrant with garlic and herbs. Squeezing lemons over, we share them.

  It really is just about perfect. I’ve just realised how much I’m enjoying myself, when Marcus goes and ruins it.

  ‘So how did it go with your ex on Friday?’

  He might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water over me, as in a split second, my carefree mood is replaced by a particularly thunderous one. Just thinking about Arian does that to me.

  ‘Do you know,’ I say to him crossly, ‘I was really enjoying myself until you asked me that.’

  But Marcus isn’t smiling either.

  I sigh. I actually feel quite despondent. I tell Marcus the gist of the conversation with Arian.

  ‘Trouble is, he’s actually made me think I have a duty to give our marriage another try.’

  Marcus is silent, then says neutrally, ‘So how do you feel about that?’

  Truthfully I reply, ‘I’m not at all sure. I mean it’s not that simple, is it? In my heart, I don’t love him. I’ve completely fallen out of love with him. It honestly doesn’t bother me if I never see him again. But in my head, there’s something telling me that I made a vow and that’s the bit I happen to think still matters.’ I hold my head in my hands, because this is really, really hard. ‘I wish it didn’t. But you know, it’s that bit, ‘for better, for worse’. Well, what’s going on now might be the ‘for worse’ bit,’ I try to explain to him. Then add slightly nonsensically, ‘after all, what’s the point of marriage if you run off at the drop of a hat?’

 

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