The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man

by Martyn, Susie

  ‘Well, I think you’re absolutely gorgeous,’ I hear him say to her, rather admiringly and none too quietly, and weary though she is with being eight months plus pregnant, I can tell she’s flattered. Then he swoops down and kisses her on the cheek and she blushes.

  Will winks at me as he leaves. ‘See ya later.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ I laugh delightedly at her, when he’s gone. ‘Now do you believe that there’s nothing between me and Will? You never know, if Arian doesn’t pull his socks up, you’ve got an ardent admirer there, ready and waiting in the wings.’

  She doesn’t say anything, just throws me a look like daggers.

  Then before I know it, it’s Friday. Karina’s last day.

  I’ve secretly organised everyone to call in to the office at as near to lunchtime as they can manage. They’re all out in the yard with Sam right now, waiting for me to wave them in. If she’s guessed something’s afoot, she hasn’t said.

  Beamish comes in first, in his usual fumbling fashion.

  ‘Ah. Um. Karina. Um, any chance you could come with me a moment?’

  And while he whisks her away under the pretence of something work-related, the others scoot in with a cake and some very low alcohol champagne, so that when she comes back in, everyone shouts ‘surprise’ and claps loudly. There’s an ear-splitting wolf-whistle which comes, I imagine, from Will.

  ‘Well, we just all wanted to say er, thank you,’ says Beamish. ‘And, er, well, good luck!’

  There’s more clapping and then I give Karina the card and present from all of us. She looks as though she’s going to cry.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she says quietly. ‘I’ve really enjoyed being here.’

  Just before she leaves, I give her another present. This one is just from me and it’s one of those super-soft baby blankets in lemon yellow. I couldn’t resist.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says, looking really touched. ‘And I’m sorry, Louisa, about everything. You’ve been really good to me.’

  Oh golly. There are tears in my eyes now.

  ‘Don’t be,’ I say and give her a hug. I mean it. ‘Everything really has worked out for the better.’

  And I never thought in a million years I’d say this, but I’ll miss her.

  33

  On Saturday morning, Horace and I brave the elements. It’s grey, cold and windy again, and it really feels like December. I’m bundled up in a waterproof jacket which is the most unflattering garment imaginable and Horace has a blanket thrown over his rump, just so he doesn’t get cold.

  I can’t believe that Christmas is just around the corner. All I’ve been thinking about is Karina leaving, Wurzel escaping, flirtatious Americans and now the wedding. And it doesn’t really feel like Christmas. My parents are expecting me so I can’t imagine getting out of it. But at least they don’t want me to stay the night, thanks to my mother’s aversion to Elmer. There are times when being the owner of an unhinged dog does actually work in my favour.

  After lunch, I head over to Leonie’s. We’ve a lot of catching up to do. She’s working hard at the moment too and I don’t think she likes to leave Pete for too long when she’s home.

  But when I get there, she’s on her own. Pete, it transpires, has joined a cycling club. He is now not only a man in lycra, but hangs out with a whole crowd of similarly tightly-clad enthusiasts.

  ‘Actually, Lou,’ says Leonie, ‘Between you and me, I think he’s become a bit obsessed. If he’s not on his bike or cleaning it, he’s online looking at cycling websites or finding out what latest gadgets he’s convinced he needs to buy.’

  Then she frowns. ‘He spends a small fortune at the moment,’ she says anxiously. ‘I mean, that’s okay for a bit, but really Lou, I mean a lot of money…stuff like different bike pedals. The latest padded lycra shorts because they’re more efficient as wicking moisture away or some crap like that.’

  Padded lycra shorts that wick moisture away… I have to say it’s never crossed my mind before that such a thing even exists.

  ‘Well,’ I say, sensibly. ‘He’s come a very long way from where he was three months ago. When does he go back to work?’

  Her brow furrows as she thinks. ‘Not until the New Year,’ she says. ‘They’re going to be quite kind and start him back in gently, or so they say. I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes.’

  ‘Are you okay Leo?’ I ask sympathetically, only because I know she’s had a rough time of it lately. And had to carry on working full time, while Pete fell apart at the seams.

  ‘I am now,’ she says honestly. ‘I’ll tell you what though, there have been days where I’ve felt like screaming - or falling apart myself. But we’ve survived! I’m just hoping that when Pete goes back to work, everything will be back to normal again.’

  I hope she’s not overly optimistic. Pete’s better, definitely, but I’m not at all sure if depression works like that.

  Gosh, what a jolly busy social time I’m having. I’ve rushed home from Leonie’s to put my horses to bed. That now includes Wurzel, who gets locked up every night with Horace, just in case he gets it into his head to go on another of his midnight jaunts down to the allotments. And Rachel is due round any minute to talk about wedding plans. Perhaps we might go to the pub after. I’ll wait and see how huge I feel when she gets here.

  Rachel and I, I’ve decided, are a dynamic duo when it comes to wedding planning.

  ‘They’re thinking about spring at the moment,’ she says. ‘To give Mum a bit more time to recuperate first. At a push I think I can persuade them to go for May, which was really warm this year and then it’s all systems go with your idea. I don’t think it should be anything too big or formal, just a party, so people can come and go. But we need to decide where. And honestly, Lou. If you’d heard them last night, talking about Winchester Registry Office followed by a fish and chip lunch at the Hope and Anchor…’ She screws up her face. ‘Nothing against the Hope and Anchor, nor fish and chips for that matter, but really, for your wedding day…’

  ‘I think we can do better than that,’ I say to her. I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot. ‘There’s a bloke called Les who does a mean spit roast. He’s not commercial or anything, so he’s quite cheap and Beamish is his vet, so I’m sure we could do a deal.’

  ‘A pal of mine works in the wine trade,’ says Rachel excitedly. ‘She’s offered to help us on that score.’

  ‘And music,’ I interrupt. ‘Will’s the person to ask about that. He’ll know someone. He’s quite into his dancing, is Will.’

  ‘Oh, is he?’ All of a sudden Rachel sounds coy. And her cheeks have flushed pink. Suddenly I’m confused - I thought she’d been dating Marcus.

  ‘Um Rachel,’ I ask cautiously. ‘I thought you were going out with Marcus?’

  There. I’ve done it. Now she’ll think I’m a nosy old cow, which I suppose is exactly what I am.

  ‘We went out for dinner. Only once – and he’s really nice, but not my type. He’s quite well, intense, isn’t he?’

  ‘He is?’

  Is he? Her comment leaves me slightly mystified. I suppose he is a bit. Not like Miles, who does full-blown intense to the extreme.

  ‘So are you seeing someone else?’ I say nosily, because girls are supposed to share this sort of information.

  ‘No,’ she says, a bit cagily. ‘You?’

  ‘No,’ I say shortly. Then, because I suddenly realise that she probably doesn’t know about the whole Arian-Karina-pregnancy-divorce saga, I give her a potted summary of the events of the last few months, including about how I’ve been out with Marcus a couple of times, but we just didn’t quite hit it off. Well, sort of did but sort of didn’t too.

  ‘Funny,’ she says afterwards. ‘He talked about you quite a lot when I went out to dinner with him.’

  Very funny. That’s almost exactly what Will said about him too. My stomach starts doing that fluttering thing.

  ‘He also told me about his ex. Seems she was a prize bitch, and when sh
e dropped him for his so-called best mate, not only was he on his own, but because they’d worked together, he had to move jobs because she wouldn’t. You can’t blame him, really.’

  Golly gee. That would explain a few things. What if Marcus is secretly in love with me, but terrified that I’m on the rebound? That we’ll start this mad passionate affair, only for me to come to my senses and go running back to Arian, only because we work together, it’ll be just like the last time his heart was broken and he’ll have to find yet another job…

  ‘Louisa? Louisa….’ Rachel’s waving her hand in front of my face. ‘You were miles away. What on earth were you thinking about…’

  ‘Oh nothing,’ I say, then seeing her face, I add, ‘Okay. It was what you said about Marcus. I think that probably you’re right and that he has baggage in the shape of his bitch-vet-ex-girlfriend.’

  I have to say that Rachel’s remark has made me think. I’m still thinking, much later, when we go to the pub, by which time we’ve both decided we’ll drink lots of wine and she can sleepover at mine.

  We brave the elements, buffeted by the wind and rain for all of about four minutes, then make a bit of an entrance that absolutely no-one can miss as the wind slams the door closed behind us.

  Then I notice Marcus. And Will. I nudge Rachel in the side. Good grief. Miles is here too – and Emma. It looks like there’s a serious vet conversation going on, because they haven’t even noticed us. Then I spy Paris M-T over by the bar, in designer jeans and a boob tube, with a glass of what could be lemonade but is more likely vodka, sending unsubtle, sultry looks in Will’s direction and daggers at us as we wander over to join them.

  ‘Hey, can I get you girls a drink?’ Will, ever the gentleman, is on his feet and gets a round in. It looks as though they could do with it. It’s a very sombre gathering at the moment.

  ‘Hey,’ Rachel says to me. ‘Isn’t this just the perfect time to fill them all in on the wedding?’

  I grin at my co-conspirator. ‘Most definitely.’

  After making each one of them swear on their life not to utter a word to anyone, we tell them what we’re planning.

  ‘Just one snag…’ says Marcus. ‘Where are you going to hold it and how will you get them there without giving the game away?’

  ‘We’ll think of something,’ I say confidently. After all, it’s months away isn’t it?

  ‘Well,’ says Will, stretching out huge, muscly, denim-clad legs which I can’t help but gaze at. ‘Just let us know the date when you’ve got one. I could probably ask a pal of mine to cover calls, don’t worry about that. He owes me a favour…’ He grins broadly to himself about something that he’s obviously not telling us about.

  Ben arrives, much to Emma’s delight. Will keeps dropping Karina’s name into everything, then tells me he thinks Arian’s a dimbo if he doesn’t hang on to her, and that maybe someone should have a word with him.

  I tell him he’s got it exactly right. That Arian is indeed a dimbo, that all his brain power goes into flying aeroplanes and breathing and things, and that it’s a waste of time anyone trying to talk sense into him.

  ‘I should know,’ I say wearily. ‘Lord knows I’ve tried.’

  Someone’s put Nickelback’s ‘Rockstar’ on the jukebox and suddenly I forget our serious conversation and collapse helplessly with laughter.

  ‘Hey? What’s the joke?’ asks Will. ‘It’s a great song, this…’

  Ha. Of course, don’t all blokes love it? To be fair, I do too. I just find it funny.

  ‘What’s funny is that it’s the soundtrack to Arian’s life,’ I try to say through my giggles. ‘Really! Nickelback wrote this song just for my ex-husband, with all his deluded notions of what real life is …’

  Oops. I think I’ve just shattered one of Will’s illusions – he’s looking most disappointed, and saunters off to chat to a client he’s spotted by the bar for a minute. Then from behind me a guarded voice asks, ‘So what exactly is the soundtrack to your life, Louisa?’

  I stiffen, and as I turn to face Marcus, I’m thinking, do I give him an honest version or the censored one.

  ‘Oh it’s got to be Ironic, hasn’t it,’ I say cryptically, thinking quickly to distract myself from the sudden racing that my heart seems to be doing. ‘Wouldn’t you agree? Or maybe Free Bird?’ I’m quite pleased with that. This is quite fun. ‘And I’m quite partial to a bit of Boys of Summer too…’

  Marcus is smiling. Phew. You can never be sure that Marcus won’t take the strangest things personally.

  ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Ironic. That’s good….Now what about that American friend of ours? What would do for him?’

  ‘Easy,’ I say promptly. ‘Nickelback again, ‘Feeling way too damn good’. Your turn. How about our two lovebirds over there?’

  We both turn to look at Emma and Ben.

  ‘Two hearts?’ suggests Marcus. ‘Phil Collins?’

  ‘Hmm, not bad,’ I say. ‘Or Oasis, let there be love…’

  And not one of us has noticed Miles. And Rachel. Deep in conversation and totally oblivious to everything around them. Heads together as they talk. I wonder what on earth about?

  ‘There’s a very lame horse in the car park,’ I say in a loud voice, as a test. Nothing. Miles doesn’t even so much as twitch in my direction.

  ‘Leave them alone, Louisa,’ says Marcus. ‘Now, how are you getting on with Zac?’

  ‘I think he’ll be fine, once he stops glaring at me. He works hard enough, that’s for sure.’

  ‘He just doesn’t trust people,’ says Marcus. ‘He’s been through too much for someone of his age. Just give him a chance…’

  ‘What exactly is it with Zac?’ I ask. Why is everyone so keen to give him a chance?

  Marcus looks at me for a moment, then says, ‘I suppose it’s okay to tell you. I mean, you’ll keep it to yourself, won’t you? Only his step-father is a vicious thug. He’s done time and he’s knocked his step-kids around a fair bit too. Including Zac – and Beckham.’

  ‘God.’ I’m shocked. I mean, my parents might drive me insane, but just the thought of Dad lifting a finger against anyone.

  ‘Poor Zac. But what about his mother? Surely she wouldn’t put up with the step-dad if he goes around doing that…’

  ‘Apparently she spends most of her time in the pub, and always sides with her husband,’ says Marcus. ‘Plus she’s more concerned with Stace, who’s Zac’s fourteen year old sister and has just had a baby.’

  Oh. I know teenage pregnancy happens, but it’s just so dismal, because with role models like that, what chance does the baby have?

  ‘I know,’ says Marcus quietly. ‘It’s depressing. And there’s nothing any of us can do about it, which is why it’s so great that Zac at least has got a chance of breaking away from it all, and it’s all thanks to Beamish.’

  I am so glad he’s told me all this. I mean, it’s ghastly, but like everyone else, I too am now going to do my best to help Zac make a go of this. He can’t go back to those awful, terrible people and end up like his vile stepfather.

  ‘Where’s he living?’ I ask Marcus. ‘Surely he can’t be back at his Mum’s every night…’

  ‘He’s bunking at Sam’s. In a little box room. Beamish supplied a bed, I took him home to collect his stuff, and well, that’s all there is to know.’ He stops for a moment, then adds, ‘actually I had the pleasure of meeting the delightful parents. She started screaming at me that I was kidnapping her baby, and she’d see to it that I was put on the paedophile register, and then he came out, yelling obscenities and looking for a punch up.’

  My jaw drops.

  ‘By then, Zac was on his way back out again. So I told the step-father, that next time he tried to poison anything, he’d have the police to contend with, and not just about cruelty to animals either. Then we left.’

  Golly. I’m in awe. He’s a bit of a hero on the quiet. What with Beamish coming up with a spare bed for Sam’s box room and Marcus dealing with the wicked p
arents, I really do work with some wonderful people.

  Then changing the subject, he says thoughtfully, ‘You know, I think you coped really well with the whole thing with Karina. It must have been quite difficult for you, especially to start with.’

  Well, it was. Bloody difficult, as I said to Agnes, but to be truthful, I’ve forgotten the worst bits.

  ‘I’ve ended up really liking her,’ I say honestly, half wishing that she was here this evening too. Only the snag is of course, she’d have Arian with her.

  It’s one of those evenings where everyone is on good form and the time just flies. And when we finally get kicked out of the pub, Marcus, Miles and Will troop back to mine with me, Rachel and some beers.

  As I rummage in the kitchen hunting for glasses, I’m suddenly aware of someone behind me. I turn round and it’s Marcus – and he’s frowning.

  Just as I’m thinking what have I done this time, he comes and stands quite close.

  ‘Lou?’ he asks, sounding not at all sure of himself. ‘I know you and I haven’t exactly managed to spend much time together without me putting my foot in it or you getting uppity…’

  ‘Me? Uppity?’ I say incredulously, completely outraged. ‘Well, thanks very much, Marcus. Looks like you’ve just put your foot in it yet again.’ I glare at him.

  He looks most contrite when he realises what he’s said. ‘I’m sorry. Really. Look, calm down, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that whenever I ask you anything personal, you go off at the deep end.’

  ‘And do you know why, Marcus? Well, I’ll tell you. Because you have this incredible, unerring talent for homing in on all my weaknesses and shortcomings, which I’m already fully aware of, thank you very much, and it makes me feel very small, inadequate and… and fat.’

  Wow. Deep breath. That felt good. At last I’ve got it off my chest, because in a nutshell, that’s exactly what he does, time and time again. I turn back to the sink.

  ‘So, now that you’ve made yourself amply clear, do you want me to leave?’ he says calmly to my back, as I start washing glasses.