The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man

by Martyn, Susie

  ‘Yes,’ I mutter, then ‘no,’ in a very quiet, pissed-off sort of voice.

  He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him move even closer and this time when I turn round, he’s there, right in front of me. Then somehow his arms are round me and the next thing, his lips are on mine.

  We don’t actually make a final decision. In fact I completely forget what we were deciding about. Marcus’s kiss just about wipes every other thought clean out of my head.

  ‘I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,’ he says, when we stop. His brown eyes are looking so intently at mine, it’s as though he’s looking right in to my soul.

  ‘Just one thing, though - why do you always sell yourself short?’

  ‘I don’t,’ I say, genuinely surprised. ‘I mean, there’s nothing to sell. I’m an unremarkable, mouse-haired newly-divorced office worker. Plus I have a weird dog. And I’m completely inadequate, as you keep reminding me.’

  Marcus looks astonished. ‘You can’t really think that?’ He pulls me closer again, and this time he takes my face in his hands.

  ‘I’ll tell you what you are,’ he says softly. ‘You’re strong. A brilliant friend. I’ve seen you. You cope with everything and everyone that life throws at you without complaining. You’re also smart, wonderful and very pretty. Okay, so you have a weird dog, but none of us are perfect. Only you should also know,’ he pauses for a moment, ‘…that I want far more than your brilliant friendship…’

  And this time, the kiss is far more urgent than before and I find myself kissing him back, just as passionately as the thoughts whirl giddily in my head.

  Oh My God. If I chuck him out now, he’ll think I don’t want this. Which I do…but I’m not at all sure about the carnal knowledge part, not just yet, which is where this is clearly headed. I mean, it’s a bit quick. I’ve only just found out how he feels and I have to admit that far from feeling strong, at this moment I feel quite scared…and definitely cautious. I mean, I don’t want to risk the whole broken-hearted thing again. At least, not for a while...

  I pull back just a little bit, and with great difficulty break away from him. But I have to say this.

  ‘Marcus?’ Oh dear. Just how do I put this into words…

  It’s my turn to stroke his face. It’s a lovely, kind, caring face. I can’t believe I ever thought he was arrogant.

  ‘Hey. It’s okay. Don’t look so worried!’ He laughs - then says more soberly, ‘Things were getting a bit, well, hot there for a moment, weren’t they…’

  I look at him, trying to gauge just where he’s going with this.

  ‘Very,’ I say. Followed by ‘positively steamy where I was standing actually’ nodding behind me at the sink of hot, soapy water. It lightens the mood.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I hadn’t noticed.’ Marcus perches on the side of my old kitchen table and pulls me to him again. This time the kiss is more contained.

  ‘Well,’ he says afterwards. ‘Am I right in thinking that you’re quite happy about this?’

  If he means the kissing, then oh, I’m more than happy with it. I nod.

  ‘Look,’ he says reasonably. ‘I know you’ve only just got divorced, but how about we spend some time together - away from work? And just see…’

  He’s looking quizzically at me, waiting for a reply.

  I think, but only for a second or two. It’s a no brainer.

  So I say, ‘Um, going out a bit, properly, is fine, Marcus. I’m definitely okay with that. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that just seeing would be fine too. Perfect, in fact.’

  ‘So for the first time ever we are in agreement?’

  34

  It’s far too late to gossip by the time Marcus and Miles eventually leave, so it’s over a pot of fresh coffee the next morning that Rachel and I get down to the nitty gritty of last night.

  ‘You changed your tune quick smart,’ I say to her curiously. ‘I thought it was Will you had the hots for, not Miles!’

  Her face turns beetroot. Ha! It’s nice to see Rachel looking less like a perfect little Barbie doll and more like a normal human.

  ‘Do you know…’ she says in a most astounded little voice. ‘I’ve never believed in that whole love at first sight nonsense. I mean, you can hardly fall in love when you don’t even know someone…’ Then she does one of those girly, breathy sighs like clients do about Marcus.

  And oh my God... I have to say I’m gobsmacked

  ‘Only, the minute Miles and I started talking, it was like we’d known each other forever…’

  ‘Well,’ I say very sensibly, ‘he has known your mother for years…’

  Rachel gives me a look. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Then the soppy look comes back. ‘Miles is quite possibly the nicest man I’ve ever met,’ she says, looking utterly lovestruck. ‘He’s so lovely and unselfish, and so devoted to his work.’

  ‘Rachel, there’s something you really ought to know about Miles on that subject,’ I say warily. Well, it’s only fair that she knows the truth – sooner rather than later.

  ‘He may tell you he’s not married,’ I continue, as a look of complete horror crosses her face. For her own sake, I have to be brutal. ‘But he is, I’m afraid. Two hundred per cent. To his job.’

  ‘God, just for a moment, I wondered what you were going to say there,’ she says looking annoyed then relieved again.

  ‘So what about you and Marcus?’ she asks me, keen to change the subject. ‘It took you a jolly long time to get those glasses…’

  ‘Me and Marcus?’ I say airily. ‘Well, we talked for ages. Then if I hadn’t extricated myself from his amorous advances, we would have ended up ripping each other’s clothes off and having passionate sex right here on my kitchen table.’

  Rachel looks uncertain, as if she’s not at all sure I’m telling the truth.

  ‘Well, it looks strong enough,’ she says doubtfully.

  Rachel goes to have Sunday lunch with Agnes and Beamish and at last I am alone. Did Marcus and I really actually agree that we’d sort of try going out again? Well, this time I’m going to get the full story of what happened with his ex. And as we’re going to try going out properly, perhaps we should also try a bit more of that kissing while we’re at it.

  By the middle of the afternoon, I’ve decided that I’m not waiting around any longer. After all, there’s no time like the present, so I send Marcus a text and invite him over for supper, then go out to feed my horses.

  When I get out to the paddock, darling Horace does his usual nicker when he sees me, and mooches over to say hello. But there’s no sign of Wurzel anywhere. Thinking, ‘I bet the little bugger’s eating Mr Jones’ carrots again,’ I traipse across the field to see if I can find him. And then stop in my tracks. Because there, in the long grass right at the far end, is Wurzel, stretched out, not moving.

  My heart is thumping in my chest, as I run over, at the same time reaching in my pocket for my mobile to call Marcus.

  ‘Hi Lou,’ he says cheerfully. ‘Just got your text…’ but I stop him mid-flow with

  ‘Oh Marcus, it’s Wurzel.’ And as I reach down to touch the cold, furry ears, I say tearfully, ‘Oh Marcus, I think he’s dead…’

  I’m so grateful to have Marcus here. He came over straight away. Once he’d confirmed that Wurzel was indeed dead, he got on the phone and arranged for the disposal people to come over right away. So while he deals with all that side of things, I’m in the stable with Horace, putting all his rugs on and crying into his mane.

  I’ve no wish to watch the indignity of little Wurzel being winched into the knacker’s lorry. I’d prefer to remember him as the feisty, cheeky, clever little chap that he was. I hope that somewhere, wherever it is he’s gone to, he’s reunited with Mrs Winkle. Somehow I think she’ll be awfully pleased to see him.

  It’s not exactly the romantic evening I’d envisaged. I’m tearful, sad, and not much fun at all, but Marcus stays anyway.

  ‘It was probably his heart, Lou. Espe
cially if he was fine this morning?’ he says. ‘Just ‘bang’. Quick as that. He wouldn’t have known a thing.’

  Small comfort, and it helps - a little. As does snuggling up to Marcus on my sofa. But the trouble with horses, however small they are, they steal into your heart – then break it.

  And of course, back in the office on Monday morning I now have a brand new boy assistant. Zac, who comes in looking very spruced up, boxers nearly completely under cover and more than a little unsure of what to make of this new arrangement.

  ‘Morning Zac,’ I say. ‘I’m really glad you’re here. Would you mind putting this lot away while I get started on the calls?’

  ‘Kay,’ he says, then turns and mutters, ‘sorry ‘bout your pony.’

  Gosh. I didn’t expect that.

  ‘Um thanks,’ I say, tears threatening to spill over again. ‘Thanks very much, Zac.’

  When I’m bent over the computer later, cursing and swearing, Zac comes over and fixes me with a stare.

  ‘Wot the fuck you doin’ to it? ‘Ere…lemme do it…’

  And in no time, his fingers are whizzing around all over the place.

  ‘Do you give lessons?’ I ask hopefully.

  He sits back, stares at the screen and says, ‘I don’t get why you ‘ave such a crap computer. A new one would make loads a stuff easier.’

  Gosh, that’s the most he’s ever said to me.

  ‘I wondered,’ I say cautiously, ‘whether you could help me explain that to Beamish, Zac? He might just listen to you…’

  ‘Dunno.’ says Zac, then, ‘’Kay. I’ll try it.’

  I go outside to make sure Sam is okay with Zac spending all this time in the office.

  ‘Sure,’ he says, those gleaming, green eyes of his twinkling bewitchingly at me like the devil he is.

  ‘He’s a good lad, Lou,’ he says, nodding in the direction of the office. ‘Sorry about your pony,’ he says.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  Oh gosh, how do they all know already? Then just as I turn to walk back to the office, Marcus drives in to the yard.

  ‘Hello gorgeous,’ he says, loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam gives me a wink.

  ‘Hey yourself,’ I say. ‘How is your day?’

  ‘Pretty shit actually,’ he says. ‘I’ve just been up to Sylvie’s place. Well, you know I have. Anyway, I ended up having to put that mare to sleep. She was only young. One of those things you wish you didn’t have to do.’

  I put my arms round him and hug him. I know we’re at work, but I can’t help it. After all, he was lovely to me last night, about Wurzel.

  He looks a little brighter. ‘Anyway, got to get on. I just popped back to pick up something.’

  ‘Of course. Actually, I also have work to do,’ I say importantly and head back for the office. Behind me, Marcus shouts, ‘How about dinner tomorrow? Pick you up about eight?’

  ‘Lovely,’ I shout back, catching sight of Sam making kissy faces at me from one of the stables. I poke my tongue out at him.

  That night, when I put Horace in his stable, he’s not himself. I think he’s missing Wurzel. We both are. Maybe I ought to put the word around, that if there’s a four-legged waif or stray somewhere that needs a field and a new Mummy. Actually, now that I’ve as much as formed the idea in my head, and knowing how things go on around here, it will, I imagine, only be a matter of time before it happens. The magic, remember? I’ll mark it in my diary and see how long it takes.

  Horace and I have a long talk about all sorts of things and I groom him for ages by which time we’re both a little less sad. Then I give him carrots, which makes us think of Wurzel again and before I know it, I’m howling into his mane. Horace is relatively unperturbed. After all, he’s got rather used to emotional goings-on since he moved in. He carries on munching his hay and lets me get on with it.

  And then, just when I could do with some good news, something wonderful happens. No - not a pony, not just yet, but when I go inside, the phone rings and it’s Arian.

  ‘Karina’s had the baby!’ he says sounding the most excited I’ve ever heard him sound. ‘I’m a Daddy! I can’t believe it!’ His voice is high pitched and he sounds as mad as a hatter.

  ‘Congratulations, Daddy!’ I say. ‘How is Karina?’

  ‘She’s great!’ he says. ‘Actually, for a while there, I did wonder… she was being rather strange…’

  ‘What exactly do you mean Arian?’ I say, most concerned, because after all, oddly, I do now class Karina as a friend.

  ‘She told me to fuck off and never come near her again. Karina never swears. And she kept making the oddest grunting noises and moaning…’

  Ah. The penny drops.

  ‘Arian. you idiot,’ I say, then slowly, because after all, this is Arian, ‘Karina was in labour. It hurts. A lot.’ I think for a moment. ‘Imagine if you can, just for one moment, you are trying to shit a football - or a huge melon.’

  There’s silence, then, ‘Oh.’

  ‘You haven’t told me what sex the baby is,’ I say, not only to break the silence but because I want to know.

  ‘It’s a boy,’ he says proudly. ‘I have a son and heir,’ he adds ecstatically, sounding high-pitched and mad again. ‘We haven’t named him yet. Er, having trouble agreeing on that, but we’ll get there.’

  ‘Give her my love,’ I say. ‘And I’ll pop in to the hospital to see her. Er, when you’re not there probably. Which is when?’

  Arian’s far too excited to take offence and rings off to make some more calls. If I were Karina, I think I’d stay in hospital as long as possible and lie to him about the visiting hours.

  35

  The next morning I pin a notice on the door. ‘Karina had a baby boy’… with yesterday’s date. Then I look at the date more closely. December 15th. It absolutely can’t be. It’s not possible. I knew Christmas was coming, but it’s ten days away…

  I’ve done no shopping, which means I’ll have to go on a Saturday, with the rest of the heaving masses, and oh, just the thought makes my heart sink. It’s the kind of shopping I loathe. But first I’m going to see Karina. Tonight. And I’m really looking forward to it.

  The baby is tiny with Arian’s dark hair. Karina looks tired but serene, with the baby nestled in her arms, making quiet little murmuring noises.

  I kiss her and give her the chocolates I brought her.

  ‘Thanks, Louisa. The food here is worse than airline food,’ she tells me.

  ‘Get Arian to bring you something nice,’ I suggest. ‘Would you like me to have a word with him?’

  ‘He’d probably bring Mars bars and Doritos,’ she says. ‘Anyway, I think Mum’s bringing me something later on. I’ll be fine.’

  When she asks me if I want to hold the baby, I hesitate - I’ve never held a newborn before. And this one’s Arian’s. Yet again, I think how weird this is. But then I hold out my arms and carefully take him. Isn’t that why I came here?

  This little person that’s part Karina and part my ex, he’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.

  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ I say truthfully, gazing enraptured at the warm bundle in my arms. Then I clock that he’s wrapped in the blanket I gave her and I feel strangely touched. And I’m riveted as I watch each delicate movement, each tiny yawn, but when he starts to wail, there’s nothing cute about that whatsoever and I hastily return him to Karina, who attaches him expertly to one of her enormous breasts.

  ‘Blimey,’ I must have said out loud.

  ‘Don’t stare, Louisa. Anyway, it’s perfectly natural,’ says Karina. She’s right of course, and actually, it’s rather fascinating.

  As I leave the hospital, I feel a hollow sensation inside. A strange feeling I’ve never felt before, almost like a yearning. But all thoughts about babies vanish, when rounding a corner in one of the corridors, I run slap bang into Arian. Honestly, he is so unreliable.

  ‘You told me you weren’t visiting tonight,’ I say crossly.

  ‘I wasn’t, but I
couldn’t stay away,’ he says, a stupid smile on his face.

  ‘I’ve just been to see your baby, Arian. And he’s beautiful.’

  Arian beams. ‘He is, isn’t he? Everyone always tells you that life changes forever, but you just don’t realise, until you have one of your own…’ he adds, with uncharacteristic soppiness.

  Then he looks at me more soberly. ‘I’m sorry, Lou. That was really tactless of me, especially…’ He breaks off and looks at his feet. Gosh. Has Arian finally discovered his sensitive side?

  ‘It’s okay,’ I reach out to touch his arm. ‘Really…’

  ‘Erm, could I walk out with you? Only there are one or two things I wanted to say, and now’s as good a time as any.’

  ‘Er, okay,’ I say slowly.

  As we walk, he speaks. ‘The thing is Lou, I’ve realised it wasn’t you at all. I wasn’t happy at home, because I wasn’t happy with anything. If I’d been around a bit more, we might have had a chance.’

  Blimey, I think to myself. That’s deep, especially for Arian. Fatherhood is going to his head.

  So I say truthfully, ‘Actually Arian, I think it was purely sex between us, and when that burnt out, we were more like brother and sister.’

  Then in his next breath, he astounds me.

  ‘I’ve decided to look for another job. I want to make this work with Karina and if we’re both away all the time, how can it? I know some people manage to, but I think we both know that I’m not cut out for a double life.’

  Gosh again. I’ve always thought that Arian was one of those people who was defined by his job. I wonder if he realises that leaving flying will be far more life-changing for him than having a baby. Somehow, I doubt he’s thought that far. There’ll be no more admiring glances as he strides through international airports, no more posh hotels - unless he pays for them himself. No. I can’t see this at all.

  ‘That sounds wonderful Arian,’ I say dubiously. ‘I wish you the best of luck. Look, why don’t you go and see Karina? I think visiting hours are over soon…’