Probably the Best Kiss in the World

by Pernille Hughes

  “Jen? Jen, you’re miles away.”

  “Sorry.” She shook her head, primarily to clear her head, but also in befuddlement at herself. Thirty minutes ago a wedding was the furthest thing on her mind, now she was concocting favours. “Plans. Yes. You had a plan.”

  “I’m sure it’s our plan, Jen,” he smiled, pulling the back of her hand to his lips. “You and me. Me and you. Our life together.” He said it like some wistful song. The champagne had gone to his head.

  “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Tell me the plan.”

  “Surely you know all this? It’s obvious; I make partner, we get married, set up home, have a family and live together happily ever after.” His face was beaming. Jen hadn’t seen him so chuffed since England had last won the cricket. Curiously though, she could feel the edges of her mouth cranking up towards her ears, because he was nodding as he spoke and her reflex was to nod along, reluctant to spoil his moment.

  “Wow,” she said, “you’ve got it all planned out.” Considering she was a planning fiend, Jen couldn’t work out why it didn’t sit better with her. It was hardly a revolutionary plan – he wasn’t suggesting they should run away and become freedom fighters. Only, she hadn’t had any part in this, and she felt firmly on the back foot.

  Robert cocked his head at her, at last sensing her discomfit.

  “I surprised you good and proper, didn’t I?” he acknowledged with a grin. “I’m not sure why though, Jen, we’ve been together for years.”

  “But you haven’t even suggested living together.”

  “I’m rather thinking that’ll be part of the engagement deal.” He gave her a wink and waggled his eyebrows, which looked so funny she almost snorted champagne out of her nose. Well, if that was the plan, he’d have to move in at hers, given the ties the house had to her parents. And there was Lydia to keep an eye on. Not to mention his apartment was in a weird area of town and the shared hallway always smelled dubious. “Which bit is bothering you, Jen? Is it the family bit?” He turned to properly face her. “Look, you’ve pretty much been Lydia’s parent these last years, so I know you’ll be a great mother, but I appreciate you might feel you’ve been-there-done-that already. So I wasn’t thinking of a team – to be honest they can be bloody expensive little buggers by the looks of it. Two would do me. A boy and a girl. After school fees that should still leave money for decent holidays and a weekend pad somewhere.” Finally he drew a breath. “Sounds perfect, right?”

  It did. Or rather, it would, to many. And Jen felt it should to her, (though she didn’t see the need for school fees) – after all, what was not to like? It had comfort and dependable written all over it. But something was niggling.

  “Am I working in this scenario?” she asked.

  “Oh, is that the issue?” he said with a relieved laugh. “No, of course not. The pay rise should cover you looking after the kids. And remember, when you sell your house, and I sell the flat, that’s going to cover a vast proportion of the new place. If we buy something dated, you can spend the next few years doing it up as the pups come along. The rent on the Arches won’t hurt either.” He’d factored in the two commercial units under the railway bridge her parents had ploughed all their savings into. One had been her dad’s workshop, now rented out to his then partner, the other was leased to a business run by two of Jen’s friends. But that money was what had funded Lydia through uni, and Jen wanted it safe-guarded to cover the future prosthetic legs Lydia would need.

  “But what if I want to keep on working?”

  “Really? I thought all girls want to be ladies-who-lunch?”

  “No. I like working,” Jen said, calming a little. He’d just been mistaken or programmed by his parents. Of course he wouldn’t mind her carrying on with her job.

  “Inco pads? Really?”

  “No,” she winced, “not inco pads per se, but I like going to work, doing things with my day, making my own money.”

  “But Jen, when you have the kids, you’ll still be working. God, Jen, give me some credit. I’m not some dinosaur who thinks looking after kids is the easy option. You’ll still be working: it’ll just be from home, and for our family. As for the money, I’m sure we can work something out, so you feel you’re getting a wage, even if it does just go into the family pot. We can do that. And don’t worry about projects, Mumsie already has a list of charity events she wants your help with.” She could see from the furrow in his brow he was bemused by her questions. “Jen, you shouldn’t worry about this. This is where we’ve always been heading.”

  “And … and what about my beer?” Jen, asked quietly.

  Robert now looked totally confused. “What about your beer?”

  “I … well, I had thought … What I really wanted to do is, maybe someday, try to build it up to be a business.” There. She’d said it. Jen had the oddest conflicting sensation; relief from having mentioned her plan to him, but also something tantamount to having a public wardrobe malfunction.

  “The beer?” He thought he had misunderstood her. She nodded. “But Jen, that’s just your hobby. Your childhood hobby. I rather assumed you’d grow out of that. And honestly, you wouldn’t want our family home constantly smelling of beer.” She took a surreptitious sniff of her hair. She was pretty sure her shower had eradicated any beer smell.

  “You like beer," she said, unable to conceal the hurt. Back in the day, when he’d played rugby rather than just watching it, he’d consumed plenty.

  “True. But in a pub, darling. Not in a home. Not around kids.”

  With that he planted a kiss on her forehead, stood up and toed all the paraphernalia from their picnic inside the door. “I’ll sort all that tomorrow. Come on Nearly-Mrs Thwaites, let’s tell Lydia our good news.” He stopped, looked at her and barked a laugh. “You still look stunned, darling – imagine how she’s going to take it.”

  Jen already had an inkling.

  Chapter 3

  “What the actual fuck??” Lydia had waited a full ten seconds for Robert to reach the end of their path before she slammed the front door and let rip at Jen. “You’ve agreed to what?”

  “To … um … be his wife?” Jen didn’t know why she sounded so wobbly. She was the adult here. Well okay, Lydia did technically qualify as an adult, but Jen held seniority and wouldn’t be cowed by a junior. She drew herself up. “You know Lydia, Congratulations is the more customary response.”

  Lydia stopped and stared at her sister goggle-eyed. She was looking a bit peaky, Jen thought, even before Robert had dropped the marriage bomb on her which was approximately four minutes after they got in the door. He hadn’t been able to contain it longer than that. Really, the more Jen thought about it, his excitement about the whole thing was utterly endearing.

  Lydia stormed into the lounge, fully expecting Jen to follow her, which she did, as much to check Lydia’s crutches didn’t snag on the rug. Whenever she’d roll the rug away to avoid exactly that scenario, Lydia always found it and brought it back out again. While she preferred being prosthetic free around the house to give her stump a break from the sweat and any chafing, Lydia was adamant she didn’t want things changed to accommodate the crutches. Jen considered this to be asking for trouble.

  Normally Lydia would take up residence on the larger of the two worn blue sofas, spreading out and massaging her scar as she watched TV. Tonight though, she nodded brusquely for Jen to take a seat, while she propped herself against the wall, crutches hanging from her forearms as she crossed them angrily in front of her. With the sticks angled askew, the overall effect was a pretty hostile.

  Lydia took a deep huffy breath and composed herself. “Jen, I love you and I want you to be happy, honestly I do, but this is an epic mistake. I’m sure Robert’s a good enough guy, but Jen, really? He’s SO dull. You deserve someone who can bring excitement to your life. God, you deserve someone who can just bring you back to life full stop.”

  Jen was instantly offended. “My life is just fine, thank you.” She had e
verything she needed. Plus Robert had just offered her a whole lot more. “And Robert’s not dull, for your information. Aside from all the legal stories he has, he has a healthy, busy social life. He’s sporty, he runs every day. He plays his golf, he’s on the club committee. There’s cricket too. He takes me out. How is that dull? Just because those things aren’t your cup of tea, Lydia, doesn’t mean you can condemn them as boring and somehow beneath me.” Lydia made a face. Ha! Jen knew she’d scored a point.

  But Lydia wasn’t stopped so easily. “But apart from your regimented date nights, none of Robert’s activities include you.”

  “Why should they? It’s good if couples have their own interests. Mum wasn’t interested in Dad’s motorbike meets, was she?” Lydia faltered for a second, but rallied quickly.

  “They did lots of other things together. Raising us, obviously, but they also enjoyed each other’s company; they went walking, they sat for hours on the sofa together just chatting. Remember that time he lost a bet to her and had to see a film of her choice every fortnight for a year? He saw every chick-flick going. They did fun stuff just to be together. They went dancing, Jen. Can you remember how unconvinced he was, but he tried it and they had a hoot.” Tears were forming in Lydia’s eyes. Jen’s own eyes were beginning to sting at the memories. Their parents had been eccentric, in Jen’s opinion. Lydia took another breath and went on, “When did you and Robert last have a hoot? Ever have a hoot? I’ve never seen it. I don’t think you’re compatible, Jen. I honestly don’t. Not the real you.”

  Well, Jen had no idea what that was supposed to mean. She was the real her. Who else would she be? This was feeling like an attack now and she wasn’t going to take it. “Robert and I are totally compatible. We have the same values and outlook on things. We want the same kind of life. It might not be as adventurous as some, but adventure isn’t for everyone. Some people, like he and I, enjoy simplicity, creature comforts and a straightforward life. And there is nothing wrong with that Lydia. You should stop judging things by your standards.”

  Lydia banged the heel of her palm against her forehead with a frustrated Aargh. Closing her eyes she took a moment to recompose herself and regroup her argument.

  “Mum once said to me that ‘sex and laughter are the heart and lungs of a marriage’, Jen. Did she ever say that to you? I’d overhead the two of them going at it and had complained about it being gross for old people. She’d pilfered it out of one of her novels I think, but it meant something to her. ‘Communication’, she said too, ‘is the air a marriage breathes’.” As Lydia spoke their mother’s words, Jen couldn’t help but think how much she looked like her, with the same big eyes and light freckles. Granted, they both took after her, but Lydia’s expressions were closer to their mother’s where Jen was more a daddy’s girl in mannerisms. It made her ache. “And I look at you and Robert,” Lydia continued, “and I can’t see the laughter and I wonder about your communication, because it always sounds like small talk or business conversation to me. God knows about the sex.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my sex life, thank you Lydia,” Jen growled, getting het up now. “I’ve stayed at Robert’s most Wednesday and Sunday nights since you were eighteen, so you can back right off there.” Just because Lydia was busier with her body, it didn’t lessen what she and Robert had.

  “Let me ask you this then, Jen. Where is he now?” Lydia’s expression was rather smug. Jen felt she was walking into some trap.

  “He went home, Lydia.” There was no mystery there. He’d said I’ll be off then; early one tomorrow. Goodnight ladies. And then he’d kissed her and whispered Sleep well Nearly-Mrs Thwaites.

  “Precisely!” Lydia was triumphant, but Jen was mystified. “He got engaged tonight, Jen. To you. Why aren’t you upstairs ravishing each other, swinging off the rafters in celebration?”

  “He has an early start tomorrow!” Jen’s voice had raised now in exasperation. Lydia clearly had little concept of professional behaviour. And besides, on date nights they always stayed at his out of consideration to Lydia and the fact that Jen’s bed had been her parents’ bed.

  “He shouldn’t care!” Lydia shouted right back. There was a sudden banging on the wall from the adjacent house. Considering how deaf the oldies next door insisted they were, they had no problem complaining when the sisters’ bickering interrupted their telly viewing. “I’m not talking about your shared values and mutual respect, Jen, I’m talking about the fact he shouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. There’s no spark between you, Jen.”

  Jen didn’t know what to say to that, not without over-sharing; her and Robert’s nights together could be frisky enough. They had a selection of positions. She tried to curb the conversation.

  “You’re wrong about that. We are compatible outdoors and in. We aren’t boring. You make it sound like the two are one-in-the-same and they’re not. The whole ‘sparks’ thing is a nonsense, like relationships are somehow lesser if people aren’t pawing all over each other in public. Ever considered that sparks and fire are generally – actually universally – considered dangerous?” There, thought Jen, bet she hadn’t thought of that.

  Lydia shook her head.

  “You’re right Jen, compatible doesn’t need to mean boring, but you’re wrong about relationships not needing sparks. Something has to ignite it. And here’s the thing you’ve lost sight of; not all fires are bad. Fire’s been used for some pretty good stuff through the ages. Warmth for a start. I don’t see a lot of that with you and Robert.” Lydia was shaking her head now, sad. “You used to be fun, Jen. I get why you lost it, but I thought if you met the right person you’d get it back. Robert doesn’t do that for you.”

  Enough! Jen’s temper was piqued. She was not being pitied by her little sister. She’d just been proposed to. She was supposed to be revelling blissfully in it like a pig in poo, but here was Lydia peeing all over it, instead. Suddenly Jen worked out why.

  “This is about you, isn’t it? You think you’ll be left all alone.”

  “What?” Jen was sure she was right, but had to admit Lydia was good at looking shocked at the suggestion. It didn’t stop her though.

  “You might think I’m not fun, but this is what growing up looks like, Lydia. You’ll see that over the next few years. There’s work and responsibilities and all the frivolous stuff falls away and that’s natural. And all the silly dreams we have need to be shelved in the cool light of day. That’s reality. Life moves on. It’s called being an adult.” She knew it would wind Lydia up, but it was true, so she ignored the way her sister’s eyes suddenly hardened and her face grew puce. “Mum and Dad knew Robert and they liked him. Dad said he was a ‘decent guy’, Lydia, and that speaks volumes in my opinion. Robert is an open book; no hidden shockers there and that does it for me. That is the spark for me, if you really need one. And the rest of the family isn’t totally mad, they are just effusive,” Lydia had taken a pop at the sisters, hadn’t she? Jen was sure she had. “Me marrying into it won’t cut you out. You’ll be part of it. Robert knows that.” Jen took a softer tone, understanding this must be a big deal and a shock for Lydia. “My home will always be your home, Lyds. I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Lydia’s jaw flapped up and down a couple of times, but she couldn’t verbalise her feelings. Instead she gripped her crutches back in place and stormed out of the lounge door. Jen had never heard her negotiate the stairs so fast, but the slamming of the bedroom door on the other hand was an all too familiar sound. Lydia hadn’t believed her. She’d have to spend some more time convincing her, but for now she knew it was best to let her calm the hell down.

  Flopping exhausted back on the sofa, Jen dug out her phone from her dress pocket and started to browse Appstore for a useful tool. A wedding was going to need its own app. She found one she thought best suited to her needs, ChAPPel, and installed it. She loved watching the little dial completing as another tool was uploaded onto the device that kept her life organised and controllable. Ea
ch was a little cog of orderliness slotting into place in her life, shoring up her defences.

  Opening it, she found herself staring at the screen in front of her. Normally her fingers would race across the keys to spill all her ideas for a project immediately. Jen definitely considered herself an ideas person. That she got them actioned was purely down to her being conscientious and no one else being around to do the jobs. But right now, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to list.

  The low TV buzz from next door went silent. It was late and she’d been up early. Of course she couldn’t think of anything to list, she was knackered. She closed the app. She could look at this in the morning. Who knew what gems of inspiration would come to her in her sleep? That happened all the time. Several of Well, Honestly!’s marketing campaigns had evolved during the night. They were always the best ones.

  Jen locked up and scaled the stairs. Lydia’s door was firmly shut. She hesitated for a moment, but turned for her own bedroom, the room her parents had slept in. It had taken her ages to move in there. Sleeping in a bunk again after her uni room hadn’t been ideal, but she’d wanted to be around Lydia, for when the phantom limb pains came during the night. But now, lying spread-eagled across the double bed, Jen considered the space between them a blessing. She gazed at the ceiling, as her parents must once have done, and reminded herself they too must have found parenting and adulting hard at times. Lydia might not always like her decisions, but then Jen probably hadn’t always liked theirs either when she’d been growing up. And she’d turned out all right, hadn’t she?

  Pulling her mother’s green patchwork quilt to her chin, she reassured herself Lydia would come round eventually. But perhaps her argument with Lydia had been a good thing on another level. It had focused her thoughts. Life did move on, people did grow up, they adapted their dreams. The more she thought about it, looked at things in the context of their life, of Lydia’s care and her own future, Robert’s proposal was a gift. Being his wife and making a home for them all would fill her time she was sure, because she’d give it everything. So of course, something had to give – that was the way change worked. And the beer she made, which as Robert said, was a hobby, would fall by the wayside. But that was okay, Jen told herself as her eyes lolled shut; not everything in life was forever. She’d experienced enough to know that. She could adapt and adjust. Surely her happiness didn’t depend on beer …?