‘Where did you meet her?’
‘Tinder.’
Ugh. Tinder. Also known as hook-up-ville. What was the betting he’d be getting laid tonight? Effie pushed the thought from her mind.
‘Nikki’s on Tinder too.’
‘I know. I’ve seen her profile already.’
‘Did you swipe right?’
Smith chuckled. ‘No. For one thing, I’ve learned not to shit where I sleep.’
‘You mean you don’t want to have to work with someone you’ve screwed over.’
‘She’s a nice girl.’ He shrugged. ‘Too nice.’
‘So you just want a shag then?’
‘Well, it has been a while. Know anyone who can help?’ He grinned and raised an eyebrow.
It was just chat. Banter. That was all. Except, coming from him, it didn’t sound as innocent as that, and the way her skin flushed wasn’t an innocent way of reacting. Effie rolled her eyes. ‘Mates, remember?’
‘Can’t blame a guy for trying.’ He laughed. ‘No, I’m not just looking for a shag. But if it happens, then . . .’
‘And this girl you’re meeting, what does she want?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Let’s see her.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, why not? We’re mates after all, right?’
‘Yeah.’ He nodded with a frown and flicked through his phone. ‘I guess.’
Effie took it from him as nonchalantly as she could. It was an awkward situation, but she’d have to get used to the idea of him dating sooner or later, whether she liked it or not. She looked at the screen.
‘She’s pretty.’
And she was. She had honey-coloured hair and light brown skin, and her eyes were a curious shade of amber. Effie read her profile.
‘ “Claire. Thirty-one”? Bit old for you, isn’t it?’
Smith shrugged. ‘Nothing wrong with an older woman. They’re much less complicated.’
‘ “Cabin crew, always mile high”,’ Effie continued, reading the words under Claire’s Hollywood smile photo. ‘Classy.’
‘Don’t.’ Smith frowned.
‘What? I didn’t say anything.’
‘Give it.’ He held his hand out, and she gave him back the phone.
‘I’m sure she’s lovely.’ Always mile high . . . of course they were going to end up in bed. ‘Where are you taking her?’
‘The Social Experiment, some cocktail place in Chinatown.’
‘I know it. It’s a nice place.’
‘Hope so. I’d hate to be a disappointment.’
Smith’s phone rang, and he went back to his desk to answer it. Effie watched him as he reclined in his swivel chair. He was a bad boy; disappointment was to be expected.
Later that evening, she sat with a glass of wine and looked again at her watch. Oliver was late. The door opened, and she turned to look, but instead of her husband, a couple walked in, arm in arm.
A blend of spices trailed their scent behind a waitress walking past with plates of food. Effie picked up the menu and scanned the pages: filo pastry stuffed with chicken and almonds, tiger prawns with pimento, okra with tomatoes and coriander. Everything sounded so good. She took another sip of wine to try to keep the hunger at bay. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be much longer.
She looked up at the ceiling, draped with material to create a canopy of dark oranges and olive greens. It was a cosy place, with circular booths housing round tables and low seating wrapped in dark steel to create a nest-like effect. Understated paper hearts hung from the ceiling, the only concession to Valentine’s Day, which was just fine. It hadn’t gotten off to the most romantic of starts, but they could talk it through. She wanted Oliver to be happy, just as he wished for her.
To Effie’s left, a couple sat close together, smiling and whispering into each other’s ears. She looked at the menu again, wishing he’d hurry up. Was there anything worse than sitting in a restaurant alone? Sitting alone in a bar, maybe. She hated feeling like people were looking at her, wondering if she’d been stood up.
‘Can I get you anything, madam?’
Effie looked up and nodded at the young waitress. ‘I’ll have another wine, please.’
One more wouldn’t hurt.
An hour later, Effie picked up her mobile and pressed redial. Oliver’s voicemail came through, again. Where the hell was he? It wasn’t like him to just not show up, and she started to wonder if something had happened to him. She tried calling again and disconnected as soon as the first few words of his recorded message played out. Maybe he’d lost his phone. She was beyond hungry but hadn’t ordered anything, and the complimentary bowl of olives was long gone. She picked up the phone again.
‘Hello?’ Amid a cacophony of noise, Oliver’s voice filtered through the earpiece.
‘Where the hell are you?’
Judging by the sound of laughter and clinking glasses in the background, she had a fair idea. She looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. There was no way he’d deliberately stand her up, especially not on Valentine’s Day.
‘I’m out.’
‘I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour.’
‘Some of the guys from work wanted to go for a drink. It’s been a long day. We’ll do dinner some other time.’
Effie could almost picture the nonchalant shrug that would have accompanied his strangely emotionless tone, and when he hung up, her face burned. She stared at the phone. Had she really heard that correctly? Had her husband really decided it was perfectly acceptable to just not turn up to a dinner date? She swallowed back the tears as she signalled for the bill, and the waitress didn’t even blink when she handed her the card machine. She probably saw people being stood up all the time, but Effie wanted to tell her she was different. She was married. She wasn’t sat there waiting for a faceless first date.
She thought about Claire, Smith’s Tinder date. It was highly unlikely she’d be stood up. Smith was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type to do that. Despite his rough edges, he could be the perfect gent when the time called for it. How did any of this make sense? How could Smith be out on a date while she’d been stood up by her husband?
She walked out of the restaurant with the feeling that everyone was looking at her, pitying the woman who’d been stood up on Valentine’s Day, and made her way home.
At two in the morning, the front door opened and closed, and Effie lay in bed, listening to Oliver staggering up the stairs. He’d made no attempt to call or text to apologise, and she’d spent all evening alone, trying to avoid the multitude of romantic comedies on TV.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked, looking at his silhouette in the doorway.
He tried to lean a hand against the doorjamb but slipped and stumbled a few feet forward. Effie shook her head and turned on her side, lying with her back to him. A few seconds later, he blew a raspberry and collapsed on the bed next to her. Within seconds, the stench of alcohol seeped through his clothes, and she sighed as she threw back the duvet. He didn’t even stir as she slammed the bedroom door and made her way to the spare room.
The next morning, she sat at the kitchen island when Oliver shuffled in, looking like death, with ruffled hair and grey, waxy skin.
‘Any coffee going?’ he croaked. Effie silently slid the percolator towards him as he sat on a stool and laid his head on the cold surface. ‘Christ, I feel awful.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
He reached for the percolator but didn’t reply.
‘Where were you last night?’
‘I told you.’ He sighed. ‘It was a long day, and I went for a drink to unwind.’
Effie shook her head. ‘But we had dinner plans. Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was being stood up?’
‘Please, not now. I can’t handle a conversatio
n like this.’
‘I was waiting for over an hour.’
‘Come on, Effie, it wasn’t that big a deal. I didn’t realise the plans were concrete.’
She pushed her cereal bowl away. ‘It was Valentine’s Day. Of course it was a big deal. You made me look like an idiot. You knew it was booked – I reminded you yesterday morning.’
‘Yesterday morning.’ He sighed again and shook his head. ‘Did you really think I’d want to go out for some romantic dinner after yesterday morning?’
Effie opened her mouth and closed it again as she realised what was happening.
‘You did it to punish me for taking the pill?’ She stared at him, but he stayed silent. ‘If you must know, I was planning on telling you last night that I’d stop taking it because it was what you wanted.’
‘And now you’ve changed your mind?’ he asked, his voice laden with sarcasm.
‘Can you blame me?’
Oliver shook his head and got off his stool. ‘You can’t play about with things like this, Effie. You know how much I want kids.’
‘And you can’t just play about with my feelings,’ she replied, getting off her stool and standing in front of him.
He looked at her, and his grey face was etched with disappointment. ‘You know, if you’re going to play about with things like this then maybe it’s better that we don’t have kids. A mother has to be responsible for them, stick around for them through thick and thin. I’d hate to think you’d just change your mind about them once it’s too late.’
Oliver turned to leave the kitchen, and tears stung Effie’s eyes. What was he implying? That she’d simply decide she couldn’t take any more and run out on her family? That she was like Penny?
‘How could you say that?’ She strode after him. He knew that her mum had left her, and he knew how much it had messed her up. To throw that in her face was a low blow.
‘Just leave it, Effie,’ he replied without turning around.
‘No, I won’t just leave it.’
She reached out and grabbed his arm to make him face her, and as he turned, his hand flew, hitting her right across the cheek. The sharp slap stung, and Effie’s hand flew straight to her cheek. Tears filled her unblinking eyes as she stared at him with her mouth hanging open.
‘Effie . . .’ He shook his head and reached out to touch her, but she took a step back. ‘Effie, I’m sorry.’
‘You slapped me.’
Her chest heaved with shallow breaths as shock settled over her. He’d slapped her. If it weren’t for the stinging in her cheek, she’d never have believed it were real.
‘How could you say that? It was an accident.’
She looked at the uncertainty in his eyes, wishing she could believe it, but she couldn’t understand how something like that could ever be an accident. Apart from the bike ride in Thailand, this was the only other time they’d argued, and it had ended with her getting slapped. She hadn’t even thought he was that angry.
Oliver stepped forward again and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to pull her in for a hug. ‘Come on, Effie, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it. You know I’d never do something like that on purpose. I didn’t realise you were standing so close to me. I just spun round, and you were right there. My hand flew out of reflex.’
Effie tried to replay what had happened in her head. She’d grabbed his arm and he’d spun around to do what? To slap her, or to turn and face her like she’d wanted? He stepped forward and hugged her, stroking the back of her head. She felt his arms wrap around her and wondered if the same man who usually made her feel safe could really be the same man who’d just struck her.
She’d thought she knew him, but now she wasn’t so sure. He’d stood her up to teach her a lesson and then hinted that she’d be no better a mother than her own, things she thought he’d never do and say.
Maybe she didn’t really know him at all.
11.
So, birthday girl, what are the plans?’ Lou asked.
Effie shrugged as she splayed her fingers out wide for the nail technician to get to work. ‘I have no idea. I’ve barely thought about it.’
‘I reckon we should go clubbing. Make a proper night of it.’
‘I don’t know. I’m not really in the mood for that. Maybe we’ll just get the gang together and go for a meal or something.’
A week later, things still weren’t back to normal with Oliver, and it wasn’t helped by him constantly working late. She ate by herself and went to bed by herself. They hadn’t spent any time together and had somehow entered into a warped stalemate. She didn’t want to be the one to reach out first. It might have been immature, but she wanted him to do something to make up for the whole Valentine’s Day fiasco. She had no choice but to forgive him because, on balance, she didn’t know him to be a violent or vindictive guy. It made more sense that what happened had been a genuine accident, and the more time went on, the more she started to wonder if, in some twisted way, he’d been right to be angry with her. Standing her up was an awful thing to do, but was she really any better, dangling her acceptance to start a family in front of him and then taking it away again?
Lou shook her head. ‘Push the boat out, why don’t you. It’s only your birthday.’
Effie shrugged as the nail technician expertly applied a coat of pale pink varnish. ‘I’ll look at sorting something out. I just don’t want it to be a big deal. How are you anyway? It feels like ages since we’ve caught up.’
She didn’t really need an answer. Lou’s usual sparkle had dimmed since Ireland, and she hadn’t seen it since. On the occasions when they had met up, Lou was usually distracted and distant.
‘Worse than before.’ Lou sighed. ‘We’ve kind of reached a standoff. We were fighting last night, and he told me he didn’t want to settle down. As in ever, and if that’s what I wanted, then I might as well leave.’
‘Really?’ Effie raised her eyebrows. It sounded so uncharacteristically harsh that she couldn’t imagine Mickey saying it. Then again, what did she know? She could never have imagined Oliver slapping her, but it had still happened.
‘He tried to take it back after, but now I feel like I can’t be around him if that’s really how he feels.’
‘So what are you doing to do? Wait for him to change his mind?’ Effie asked with a frown as her technician buffed her nails.
‘I have no idea. I mean, call me crazy, but aren’t we kind of settled already? It’s not as if we’re in an open relationship.’ Lou shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe one of us just needs to admit the truth.’
‘Which is?’
‘That maybe we should just call it a day. He’s basically put the skids on any kind of future vision for the two of us, so what’s the point?’
Effie gawped and shook her head. Lou and Mickey splitting up? They were the golden couple – they couldn’t.
‘But you love him. Don’t you?’
‘Of course I do, but love isn’t always enough. You loved Smith and look what happened there.’
Effie scowled. ‘It’s hardly the same thing.’
‘What I mean is, there’s no point loving someone who doesn’t love you back the same way.’
She couldn’t argue with that.
‘Would you want to split up if you’d never mentioned the honeymoon thing?’ Effie asked. ‘Because if the answer is no, my advice would be to really think about this. Guys like Mickey don’t come along every day.’
Lou looked down at her hands and swallowed. ‘I know. But I’m trying to be sensible here. You’ve sorted your life out and got everything you wanted. I need to do the same.’
‘It’s not a competition, Lou.’ Effie shook her head. ‘Marriage doesn’t make everything perfect. If things were good between you two before, then maybe you should think this through a bit more.’
Lou heaved a hu
ge sigh. ‘Look. I’m not saying I’m going to split up with him right now – just that it’s something I can’t ignore.’
Effie looked at the sadness pulling at Lou’s lips. Maybe she should do something for her birthday. At the very least, it would be fun, and it might take Lou’s mind off things.
‘You know,’ Effie said, ‘you might be right about my birthday. Not about clubbing, but there’s that cocktail bar near Baker Street I’ve been wanting to check out. It’ll be fun.’
She smiled and shot a wink at Lou. It was time for her to play Cupid.
Three days later, Oliver finally finished work early enough to walk through their front door as she was busy cooking dinner in the kitchen. He kissed her hello for the first time in what felt like forever, apparently caving and dissolving the stalemate.
‘Hey,’ he said as Effie stood chopping carrots.
She looked at him, sitting on a stool, with an uncertain smile twitching around his downturned mouth. ‘Hey.’
‘So, I know I’ve been the worst husband in the world lately, but will it help if I tell you I’ve got us a table at Le Gavroche for your birthday?’
A wide smile stretched her mouth. ‘Yes. It helps.’
She’d dropped hints about wanting to go there for ages and always thought he’d ignored her. Clearly she was wrong. She remembered what Lou said about him being ultra considerate, and despite what had happened between them since Valentine’s Day, happiness tugged at her.
‘I really am sorry about Valentine’s Day and what happened after.’ He got up and wrapped her in a hug. ‘I was just disappointed about the pill thing, and I behaved like a spoilt brat. I know it was wrong to do what I did, but I don’t deal well with emotional stuff, and I know it must not have felt like it, but it was better that I didn’t come to the dinner. I would have just lashed out, and it would have been worse in the end.’
Effie frowned into his chest. Was it still an apology if he justified his behaviour afterwards?
‘I promise not to do anything like that again. I really need you to understand that I never meant to slap you. It really was an accident. And as for the baby thing, we can wait, as long as it isn’t forever.’
Love You Better Page 11