by Sue Watson
We dined on lutfisk; a traditional Scandinavian dish of cod steeped for many days in lye, until its flesh was caustic enough to dissolve silver cutlery.
“Honey, this is THE most revolting crap I’ve ever eaten,” Donna screeched, spitting it out into her napkin.
Marcus was busy fawning over Astrid, who was circulating and had called by our table. “You sweetheart, you little darling,” he effused, like she’d just come off stage. “I don't know what the bloody hell you did out there, but you were an angel at that altar. Not a bloody dry eye in the house, love.”
“Aw, thank you Marcus, I was so fucking nervous I shitting all morning.”
“Oh... Oh dear,” he said, turning away from Astrid and towards Donna who was still being equally forthright about the catering. Astrid plonked herself down next to me.
“Tanya I want to say to you this. You stupid whore, I never knew how you sleep with Nathan,” she began with a shake of her head.
“I know Astrid, he wasn’t good for me but sometimes we are just blind, or don’t want to see the truth.” I said with a sad smile. “Anyway, enough of Nathan. This is your day.”
“He giving it to all the girls.”
“Yes... I can see now. It was all so painful and if I’m honest I was simply afraid of being left on my own. So I put my head in the sand.”
“You crazy shit, you can’t breathe with the mouth of sand!”
“Yes it was crazy, I couldn’t breathe,” I smiled.
“I wouldn’t put my head in sand, not for sex-addict, frog-dick bastard” she said firmly.
I didn’t know quite how to respond to that.
“He made me paranoid, Astrid.” I explained. “I know better now, but...well, it’s not the time to talk about it, but it’s funny, at one point, I even thought you were sleeping with him!” I shook my head.
“You crazy shit Tanya!”” she gasped, slapping me on the back. “Do you have piss in your head?”
“No I don’t have...piss... It’s just, sometimes I heard giggling coming from your room and once you saw someone out of the front door and when I asked you about it, you wouldn’t tell me.”
She looked down, embarrassed.
“Astrid, I’m sorry, we really shouldn’t be talking about this today – it doesn’t matter, you don’t have to say if it was Nathan in your room.” I said quickly, wondering how the hell we got on to this conversation. “It really doesn’t matter now.”
“Tanya I have some confessions.”
Oh Christ, I thought. Not now, not at your wedding breakfast. Marcus and Donna had stopped chatting and were now listening intently.
“Honestly, Astrid, it’s not important, you don’t have to say anything.” I said, hot and embarrassed.
“Tanya – you right, I wasn’t alone in my room... He was there all the time, the cheeky little bastard...”
She was nodding up and down and I was dying a thousand deaths.
“Please don’t, Astrid. I don’t need to know. Nathan’s the past.”
“Not Nathan, you silly cow! It was bloody Bjorn in my bedroom.”
“Oh.” I breathed again. “Astrid, I don’t know why you kept it a secret, I wouldn’t have minded if you had a boyfriend in your room.”
“No Tanya, you would have been shouty bitch.”
“No I wouldn’t, I’m not that bad.”
“Yes you are, you would have screamed about his bastard hair everywhere.”
For a moment I didn’t understand.
“But he sooo cute, with his little furry arse and...”
“Astrid.”
“Yes?”
“Was Bjorn a pet?”
“Ya. A lovely little kitten Tanya, injured on side of road, some big fucker truck hit his little kitty leg. I kept him for a few weeks but when he gets bigger, I give him to my friend Anna. I say; ‘Tanya will have a shit fit if she finds out’.”
I smiled. What could I say? She had a point, discovering all that fur in my clotted-cream, pure-wool Berber would have possibly been as bad for me as finding Nathan in there naked. Oh yes, Bjorn the injured kitty would have sent me into...well, as Astrid so delicately put it, ‘a shit-fit.’
The bride moved away to speak to more of her guests and I excused myself and went to sit outside for a while. I had time over the next few weeks to plan the rest of my life and despite all the lucrative offers, I meant what I’d said to Donna, I wasn’t tempted. This was going to be a new and different chapter for Tanya Travis – I was starting out again with nothing. And this time it wasn’t going to be about TV, designer heels or profanely-priced sound studios for men who didn’t love me. This time it was about me but it was also about making other, more deserving people’s lives better, more rewarding. One day I would go back and help in the orphanage for a little while, but right now it was still too raw to return, I couldn’t risk the chance of seeing him. So until then, I would send what money I could, try and raise awareness about the lost children of Nepal and use what little celebrity I had left to do it.
Throughout the day I continued to think about these future plans that were slowly developing in my mind and by the end of the wedding I felt a little better. It was time for the happy couple to say their goodbyes outside and step into the wedding car to whisk them off to the honeymoon of their dreams on Richard Branson’s island. I stood with Marcus and Donna, smiling and waving but before she climbed into the car, Astrid came over to me and whispered in my ear. “I will never forget what you gave me, Tanya,” she said. I smiled and reached for her hand.
“And I will never forget what you gave me, Astrid,” I answered. “I have been alone so much in my life, yet since I’ve known you, I feel like you’ve always been there and you never judge me. Whatever I am, whoever I may be, you always care – and that means a lot.”
“You know, I lose my mother many years ago, Tanya. And I have to say to you...I love you like you are my bloody mother, you filthy bitch.” And with that, she stepped into the car, looking through the back window as it drove off. I was touched to see her smile just for me and wipe away a secret tear. Always keen to hide her emotions behind her disgusting vocabulary; I realised in that moment how much we meant to each other. There was me mourning a lost child and there was one under my nose.
“Looking for light while carrying a lamp,” I said to myself, waving back. And for the first time in a long time I felt loved.
It wasn’t long before my reverie was broken into by Donna and Marcus hugging me and saying their goodbyes. Earlier Astrid had thrown her bouquet and having caught it, Marcus was now walking towards the car with Donna, sniffing the blooms and reminiscing. “Ah if only,” he said with a dreamy look in his eye. “Darling, did I ever tell you about the lovely, lovely man I almost married? A tragedy of epic proportions...” And he was off, as they climbed into the car, both heading back to London in a flurry of pink carnations and thick Gitane smoke.
I ordered a taxi and went back to Astrid’s. She and Lars were staying at a hotel for their wedding night so I would be alone. But if I still wanted to drink and not to think, there was always the series 1- 4 box set of Doc Martin. And if I still couldn’t sleep there was the extended Christmas Special from 2006...
GOSSIPBITCH: Which young, beautiful blonde is feeling a chill from TV bosses as they try to lure back her suddenly popular former boss and oust the new girl from her recently-acquired Daytime seat?
37
An Unexpected Guest
Very tired, I arrived home after midnight and the minor nugget of happiness I’d grasped earlier when thinking about a more positive future had died. I opened a bottle of wine, toasted Astrid and Lars and watched the first couple of episodes of Doc Martin. I was just thinking about how even a fictional doctor with a blood phobia and terminal grumpiness had found love and I hadn’t, when the phone rang. I just knew it would be Astrid, fretting about me being on my own and asking intimate questions about Richard Branson – I had grave concerns she would spend her honeymoon stalking h
im on his own island.
“Look I’m OK. It’s your wedding night, you shouldn’t be calling me. You should be having the ‘full sex’, you cheap Swedish slut...” I started.
“Tanya, it’s me, Ardash.”
It took me a few moments to process this. “Ardash?” I whispered. “Is it really you?”
Having thought about him all day, I wondered if this was a dream, or some kind of hallucination.
“Yes Tanya Travis. It is me.”
“W...w ...? How are you?” I said lamely. So many things I wanted to say, but that was all that would come out (apart from my opening gambit about sex and Swedish sluts, which I hoped he could put behind him).
“I am well – and you?”
“Great... I’m great,” I was so shocked I thought I might cry – or swear – so didn’t dare say any more.
“Tanya – I can’t see the Big Ben.”
“Oh...no. I don’t suppose you can,” I smiled.
“But I’m here. In England, Tanya, I am here.”
My heart leaped. What did this mean?
“I am at The Manchester Airport and the taxi man says it’s short journey.”
“Oh God really – you are in Manchester?” I was in deep shock.
“Yes. Tanya, I...come to see you...”
“Don’t talk. Just get here.”
I didn’t care why he was here. I didn’t care if he was back on the next flight tomorrow. He was here now and that was all that mattered. I gave his taxi driver the address, sat down with Martin Clunes and my glass of wine, and waited.
After a very long 36 minutes and 41 seconds, there was a buzz at the door.
Running downstairs three at a time I opened the inner then the outer door. And there he was, his eyes twinkling, his tousled black hair just as I remembered it. He was more handsome than ever. I noticed that he was carrying a bag – quite a large bag. I hoped with every fibre of my being that this meant he might stay longer than a night.
I suddenly became aware that the taxi was hovering behind him.
“Do you need money for the taxi?” I said, back in Nathan territory too easily.
“No. The taxi man he just wants to make sure it’s the address.” He waved him on and the cabbie smiled, sticking his thumb out of the open cab window and revving off into the night.
“Are you coming in?” I asked, taking nothing for granted.
“Are you convenient?”
“Oh yes... I’m convenient,” I smiled, beckoning him to follow me up the stairs to my flat.
We both shuffled in, me gesturing for him to go first, he gesturing for me, resulting in awkward shuffling and embarrassed smiles from both of us. Once I’d closed the door I turned round and he was bent over, taking off his shoes. “Oh don’t worry – it’s only laminate,” I said.
“Not lamminit – respect.”
“Oh... Of course, yes. Please. Take them off... Er, come through,” I’d forgotten that in Nepali homes they welcome your soul, but not your shoes.
We walked into the sitting room and stood looking at each other for what seemed like ages. Seeing my world through his eyes I couldn’t help feeling ashamed of the tiny, cold, grey flat in cold grey England.
“I had to see you Tanya... I think we are in the love,” he finally said.
All the pent up hurt and anguish I’d existed with in my grey bubble sprang to my eyes, filling them with tears. My chest heaved with sobs and I reached out, clutching at his arms with both my hands. He pulled me gently towards him until my head was on his chest and he was caressing my hair, mopping up all the raw pain with his lovely, lovely hands.
I looked up from his chest, dribbling and crying and he kissed me. That’s love, I thought. And he kept on kissing me until we were together on the sofa and in my head we were back in Pokhara, the little electric fire in the cold, grey room transformed into a scarlet sunset. His soft, gentle touch and the kisses that went on forever reawakened the heat and colour of Nepal. We fell to the floor, still clinging to each other and were soon making love on the shabby little rug, all the passion and lust and hurt climaxed quickly in my head and my tummy, as a Catherine wheel exploded inside me.
Afterwards, we lay on the floor in silence, his breathing next to mine. I turned my head to him, not touching him, almost afraid of being rejected again.
“Ardash, what happens now?” I whispered into the darkness, closing my eyes in preparation for the pain his answer would bring.
Silence.
“I will always love her, Tanya.”
“I know.” I whispered.
“Always there will be a place in my heart for her. But as you said before I need to be moving it on now.”
I propped myself up on my elbow. “Really, do you feel ready?” I said, looking into his eyes.
“Really” he replied. “Now I think of her with smiles instead of tears. You have helped me to do that.”
“It’s a big decision after what you’ve been through, to be with someone else,” I said, heart in my mouth.
“Not someone else... You. Tanya, with you I am ready for forever.”
I smiled so hard my face hurt.
“Oh Ardash, I feel the same way.”
“You do? You are in the love too?”
“I think I loved you since I first saw you,” I smiled, the back of my hand caressing his cheek. “I just didn’t know it. How could I? My heart thought it belonged to someone else.”
“Tanya, stop the talking now so I can ask you to be my wife,” a smile broke out on his face. “I want to ask you so many times tonight but your mouth, it goes up and down and I can’t get the bloody words in,” he laughed.
I laughed too, glad of the break in intensity. This was the real thing, the man and the proposal I’d waited for all my life. It wasn’t the setting I’d planned; there were no crystal flutes of vintage champagne, no music playing in a hotel suite filled with fresh flowers and Room Service, no rose petals on the bed – all the things I’d thought a wedding proposal should be. We were in someone else’s crummy flat up North on a shabby sofa with a photo of Gok Wan peering disdainfully from the mantelpiece. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
We stayed still for a few moments, just holding each other. Then I pulled away gently and looked at him.
“You know that I have nothing now, don’t you?” I said quietly.
“I am not a rich man, but I have a business, enough to feed us both and I have a place to live in the mountains,” he replied simply.
“You mean you want us to live in Nepal? You don’t want to stay and live here with me?”
“Why would I want to live here? Here is cold and grey. Nepal has chilli chicken, momos and mountains.It’s not rocket surgery, Tanya. We could have beautiful wedding, in the foothills of Sagarmatha. Please be marrying me, Tanya? You still haven’t given me your answer. I can’t wait forever,” he teased.
“Yes... Oh yes, yes, yes..! I would love to marry you,” I said, throwing myself into his arms and kissing him.
The next day I called Astrid then Donna, and they independently screamed expletives down the phone in their unique ways, both happy for me.
“Jesus, you work fast, I hope to God he’s not a fucking gold-digger like the last one,” was Donna’s first response.
“People normally say ‘congratulations’, Donna, but I would expect nothing so predictable from you... And before you ask, no, he doesn’t want a British Passport,” I said.
“Jeez, so he doesn’t want money or a passport, what the fuck does he want?”
“He wants me. Just me.” I said simply.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything – when’s the wedding, honey bee? Mama needs to order a hat!”
“Well, the thing is... There are visa issues with him being here, and...” I decided to come straight out with it; “and we both want to live out there. In Nepal. Very soon. ” I said, holding my breath. I waited for the barrage of abuse, but it didn’t come.
“Well,
it was good while it lasted. You have a lot of offers on the table, sweetcheeks, including your old job but it’s your life,” she said slowly.
“Wow, I expected you to be angry.” I said.
“I’m furious, you have lost me hundreds of thousands in potential commission, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking crazy, but then I hear what you say and it’s not all about money is it? And what have I got to show for the late nights, the phone calls, and all the stress? I don’t have any answers, so go find what you’re really looking for babe... I mean, what the fuck do I know?”
“Thanks Donna,” I said, and she was gone.
Then straight away, the phone rang again. It was Donna.
“Honey bee, I’m just thinking... If you’re definitely going back to Nepal, I’m thinking weekly reality show, Jordan-and-Peter style – you and the trekkie in the mountains doing hilarious and ‘life-like’ stuff...”
I smiled and hung up: she couldn’t help herself. I looked at Ardash. “Let’s do it.” I said. “Let’s go home, to Nepal.”
TWEET: @AstridLun On honeymoon Lars + I go 2 see virgin Richard Branson in his piss-hot house + he bring security men 2 join us #HotMillionaire
Epilogue
Hi Donna,
Thanks for your email. It’s so lovely to hear news from home and I can’t wait to see you and Marcus later in the year. Of course you must stay with us while Marcus brings Shakespeare to Nepal. I had a call from him last week and he says we ‘shall weep’ at his ‘Lear’. Thanks for all your admin help with starting up The Lost Children of Nepal too – we can do so much good with my profile and your talent: this charity will change lives. I know it’s not your usual glitz and wasn’t the kind of joint venture you had in mind when I suggested it but trust me, it’s good for both of us.
What can I tell you about life here? Well I feel like a Nepali-Mancunian – if there is such a thing. Ardash says it’s a ‘hinji-minji state of affairs’ because when I was in Britain I was homesick for the mountains and now we are in Nepal I long for grey rain clouds and flat Manchester vowels. I guess I’m lucky to have more than one corner of the world to call home.