The Best Man

by Dianne Blacklock

  She shot Henry a wary glance. ‘Okay, white wine. There should be some in the fridge.’

  ‘White wine it is,’ said Aiden, walking inside.

  ‘Do you know where the glasses are?’ she called after him.

  ‘I’ll find them.’

  Madeleine turned to face Henry. ‘I’ll just have the one.’

  ‘Whatever you think,’ he said, leaning close to give her a soft but lingering kiss on the lips. Aiden obviously knew Henry well enough to know that he was unlikely to show overt physical affection in front of his friend. That was just how Henry was. It didn’t bother Madeleine – he gave her plenty of affection in private.

  ‘How was your day?’ he asked.

  ‘The best thing I can say about it is that it’s over.’

  ‘That bad, huh?’

  ‘Oh, just the usual,’ she said, sagging against him.

  He held her snug, planting a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Well, go easy on the wine, you know how it hits you when you’re stressed.’

  Madeleine could feel her hackles rising. Jeez, it’s not as though she couldn’t control herself, and like Aiden said, it was a special occasion. His footsteps sounded on the polished boards as he crossed the living room towards them, and Henry quickly released her, taking a step back.

  ‘Here you are, my lady,’ Aiden said as he came out onto the deck and passed Madeleine a very full glass of wine. ‘Now we can toast,’ he added, picking up his beer.

  ‘Absolutely.’ Madeleine raised her glass. ‘To our best man.’

  ‘And to my best friend and one hell of a lucky man, and his beautiful bride-to-be. Every happiness to you both.’

  Aiden and Henry clinked their bottles against Madeleine’s glass. She noticed that Henry’s was almost empty; he’d probably been nursing the same beer all afternoon. Well, she’d show him; she would do the same, make this glass last all night. But as she took her first sip, the Pavlov’s dog effect kicked in, just as it had with the coffee this morning, and immediately Madeleine felt the hit she could only get from a glass of chilled wine after a busy day. She quickly took another, larger sip, before placing the glass down on the table.

  ‘Before anything else,’ Aiden said, as they all sat down, ‘I want to know, are you always called Madeleine? Or is Maddie permissible?’

  She smiled. ‘You can call me anything you like.’

  ‘No, no,’ he said, with a firm shake of his head. ‘Some people are particular about these things, and I notice Henry only ever refers to you as Madeleine.’

  ‘He does, like my dad,’ she said, with a pang of nostalgia. Jonathan had always been insistent about calling both her and Genevieve by their full names, not out of any sense of pompous formality, but because he loved the way they sounded – like tiny arias, he used to say.

  ‘Mum sometimes calls me Maddie,’ she went on, ‘and I often get “Mad”, though there could be another reason for that,’ she grinned. ‘Seriously, I get all kinds of variations, I’m not precious about it . . . Oh, except “Maz”.’ She turned up her nose. ‘I don’t like that.’

  ‘Why would I call you Maz?’ Aiden looked baffled.

  ‘Well, it is a nickname for Madeleine.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘You haven’t heard of that?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘I guess it must be an Australian thing then,’ she said. ‘Carolines get “Caz”, Harrys get “Haz” . . .’

  ‘So does Henry get “Hez”?’ asked Aiden.

  ‘No, probably not,’ she said, thinking about it. ‘He might get “Daz”, from Darrow.’

  Aiden was clearly trying to keep up. ‘What’s the rule, then? Does it only come after an a?’

  ‘No, I know of Kerries who get Kez,’ said Madeleine. ‘Maybe it’s the r that gets replaced with the z?’

  ‘But that doesn’t apply to Madeleine,’ Aiden pointed out.

  ‘Huh, so it doesn’t,’ she nodded, realising.

  ‘Well, how am I supposed to figure it out?’

  She shrugged. ‘I can’t help you. I guess it’s just one of those things you had to grow up with.’

  ‘I can see it’s not going to be that easy to blend in here,’ said Aiden.

  ‘Take it from me,’ said Henry, ‘you’ll never blend in with that accent.’

  ‘I don’t think his accent is very strong,’ Madeleine protested.

  ‘That’s because you’re used to mine,’ said Henry. ‘I’ve been here over a year, and visiting for another year before that, and barely a day goes by without some remark. Or should I say slur.’

  Aiden’s face dropped. ‘So they don’t like us here?’

  ‘Yes we do!’ Madeleine cried. ‘Why are you being so negative, Henry?’

  ‘I’m only trying to prepare him.’

  ‘It won’t be the same for Aiden,’ she said. ‘It’s just because you’re so . . . reserved, Henry. Australians don’t expect that from an American, so they think you’re arrogant.’

  ‘Who thinks I’m arrogant?’ Henry looked dismayed.

  Whoops. Genevieve for one, but Madeleine wasn’t about to wade into those waters right now. ‘They probably think you’re arrogant, is what I meant,’ she corrected herself. ‘Anyway, this is a crazy conversation. Aiden, there’s a whole gaggle of women in my office who are dying to meet you, and who are more than a little fascinated to hear your accent.’

  ‘Are there any Cazes or Kezes or other strange nomenclature I should know about?’ he asked.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Well, okay then, I’ll look forward to it.’

  ‘So,’ Madeleine said, picking up her glass, ‘I want to know everything. Tell me all about yourself.’

  ‘God no,’ Aiden grimaced. ‘I’ve talked about myself all day.’

  ‘It’s true, he has,’ said Henry. ‘I was nodding off at one point.’

  Aiden laughed. ‘So was I. Please, right now I want to know all about you,’ he said, looking at Madeleine. ‘Your beloved tells me you’re a big-shot publicist for a big-shot publishing house.’

  She knew Henry would never have put it like that.

  ‘What’s a typical day in the life of Madeleine Pepper, publicist extraordinaire?’

  She sipped her wine, thinking about it. ‘I don’t know that there is such a thing as a typical day.’

  ‘That must keep things interesting.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose it does,’ she agreed.

  ‘So, come on, give me some idea. What did you do today, for example?’

  ‘Actually, this will probably amuse you.’ Madeleine glanced at Henry as well. ‘We had a big meeting this afternoon to announce that the erotica bubble has finally burst.’

  ‘What’s an erotica bubble and where can I get one?’ said Aiden.

  Madeleine smiled. ‘You’re aware that erotica has become hugely popular since the rise of e-readers?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I know next to nothing about popular culture. I spend half my time out of internet range.’

  ‘Now you see, that’s a lot more interesting –’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Aiden interrupted. ‘I want to hear about this erotica bubble.’

  ‘All right.’ Madeleine took another large sip from her glass before sliding it back onto the table. ‘I take it you know what an e-reader is?’

  ‘Yes, I even have one,’ said Aiden. ‘Great for travelling.’

  ‘Yes, they are.’ Madeleine waited for the grunt from Henry, which came right on cue.

  ‘You got a problem there, Darrow?’ asked Aiden.

  ‘Henry doesn’t believe in ebooks.’

  ‘I don’t think you have a choice about that. They’re not an existential concept like God, they’re a real thing.’

  ‘I just don’t understand why you need an electronic gadget to read a book,’ Henry said. ‘We did all right for hundreds of years. Didn’t need power to run them, could take them anywhere. And there’s nothing like the smell of a real book.’

  Madeleine rolled her ey
es. ‘Henry, tell me this, how many authors do you think slave away at the keyboard wondering how their book is going to smell? You of all people should know that it’s about the content.’

  ‘But you can get it all in a real book,’ he said. ‘The content, printed on pages that you can feel, and turn between your fingers, and smell . . .’

  She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I’ll get you some of that “smell of books” scent if it means so much to you.’

  ‘There’s no such thing!’ Aiden scoffed.

  ‘Oh yes, there is,’ she said.

  Aiden laughed. ‘Have any of your books been turned into ebooks, Henry?’ he asked.

  ‘Some of them. Luckily, so far children’s books haven’t been too adversely affected by the fad.’

  ‘It’s hardly a fad,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘Seriously, Darrow, you sound like a Luddite.’

  ‘And proud of it,’ Henry said.

  ‘So Madeleine, back to the twenty-first century. You were saying . . . ?’ Aiden prompted her.

  ‘Ah yes. Where were we?’ She frowned for a moment, thinking. ‘E-readers, that’s it. E-readers are giving people the freedom to read whatever they want without feeling judged or embarrassed. They don’t have to go into a shop and buy it, much less ask for it out loud, and no one can tell what they’re reading on the bus.’

  ‘But now we know they’re all reading dirty books?’ said Aiden.

  ‘A lot of them are.’ Madeleine grinned. ‘Romance boomed first, though that’s always been a huge market. But then things took a turn for the raunchy. There was one infamous series that was phenomenally successful, then everyone went into a mad frenzy to publish more of the same.’

  ‘So much for literature.’

  Madeleine shrugged. ‘In the end, publishing is a business. If we can’t sell books in large enough quantities, there’ll be no “literature” published. What some of the literati don’t realise, or don’t like to admit, is that big blockbusters finance all the much less commercially successful literary books.’

  ‘So this trend in erotica must have financed a whole bunch of books?’

  ‘Definitely. But now the market’s saturated we’re going to end up pulping a lot of them if we don’t do something about it.’

  ‘How do you pulp an ebook?’ asked Aiden.

  ‘You don’t, which is another point in their favour,’ Madeleine directed at Henry. ‘And they never have to go out of print,’ she added. ‘But anyway, contrary to the scare stories that it’s the end of the world as we know it, we’re still producing a lot of paper books, and if they don’t sell, they end up having to be remaindered or, worse, pulped.’

  ‘Shouldn’t somebody at the reins have seen this coming?’ Aiden asked.

  ‘I guess, but while it’s successful it’s understandable everyone will try to get a share of the spoils. No one can predict when readers will get tired of something. The public are a mystery, let me tell you.’

  ‘To the great unwashed,’ said Aiden, raising his beer.

  Madeleine laughed. She raised her glass and took a good gulp. This was fun. They didn’t entertain often, generally because no one wanted to hoof it all the way up here. And she hardly drank at all – no, these days she was ‘good’. But it was nice to kick back for a change and relax. She hadn’t been sure what to expect with Aiden; she certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy his company so much, or to feel so at ease with him right from the start. Perhaps it was because they both knew Henry so well, or perhaps it was just the wine, but she already felt like she’d known him for years.

  ‘So anyway,’ she said, ‘I should warn you that I’m going to have to work back the next couple of nights, until we get this under control. Sorry.’

  ‘Can’t you delegate?’ said Henry.

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll be delegating all over the place,’ Madeleine assured him. ‘But I write most of the press releases, and they’re all going to have to be revised. I think I’ll have to stay in the city tomorrow night.’

  ‘You know we’re not going to have that apartment forever,’ Henry said.

  ‘What?’ said Madeleine. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘I’m just saying, if you didn’t have the apartment as a fallback, maybe you’d finish up at a decent hour and be able to make it home.’

  Madeleine blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Just sayin’,’ he muttered.

  ‘Henry, I don’t stay in the city because we have an apartment there, I stay because of work commitments . . . and I hardly ever stay there anyway.’

  ‘So why are we keeping it?’

  Henry had had a bee in his bonnet about this for a while, but now wasn’t the time to have it out. Madeleine glanced at Aiden, who was beginning to look a little uncomfortable. She took another sip of her wine and set it down again. ‘Henry,’ she said, adopting a more conciliatory tone, ‘if you recall, we agreed it was a good idea to keep the apartment until after the wedding, for anyone who might need a place to stay. Especially you, Aiden.’

  Aiden stirred then. ‘You’re trying to get rid of me already?’

  ‘No!’ Madeleine rushed to assure him, and then saw that he was smiling. ‘Henry said you’re going to have to do some work while you’re here, take some meetings? The apartment’s very close to the city, it’ll be a lot more convenient for you to get around.’

  Madeleine thought she heard a mild grunt from Henry, but decided to ignore it. She picked up her glass and realised with a start that it was almost empty. How did that happen so fast? Oh well, she felt completely fine, and it was a special night. ‘Now, can we please talk about you, Aiden?’ she said. ‘I have so many questions.’

  Henry got to his feet. ‘That’s my cue to check on dinner.’

  ‘Henry!’ Madeleine scolded.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That was a little rude . . .’

  ‘Not at all,’ Aiden said. ‘I told you he’s had to listen to me all day.’

  Henry had come around behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘And we do have to eat,’ he said.

  Madeleine softened. She didn’t know why she was getting so defensive. ‘Do you want a hand?’

  ‘No, you’ve been working all day. Relax.’ He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before retreating indoors.

  ‘The apartment’s a sore point, I take it?’ Aiden said carefully, once Henry was inside.

  ‘Apparently so.’ Madeleine didn’t want to talk about it; as far as she was concerned the moment had already passed. That’s how it was with her and Henry: they had minor flare-ups occasionally, but they never amounted to anything. She changed the subject. ‘So come on, tell me everything. What’s a typical day in the life of Aiden Carmichael?’

  ‘Two words: mosquito nets and immunisation.’

  ‘That’s three words.’

  ‘If you’re going to be pedantic, it’s actually four words.’

  Madeleine smiled. ‘I googled you, you know,’ she said. ‘There’s a little more to the work you do than mosquito nets and immunisation. Though, as I understand it, they are your core programs, and vitally important. It’s all very impressive, Aiden. It must be so rewarding.’

  He nodded, though without much conviction. ‘Yeah, of course it has its rewards. I don’t know how impressive it is in the scheme of things.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Madeleine was stunned. ‘I read that tens of millions of dollars have already been poured into these programs.’

  ‘Yet it’s still only a drop in the ocean,’ said Aiden. ‘You know, when I first started out on all this, I thought I was going to change the world. It was amazing – I was being given the money and resources to go wherever the need was greatest and to do whatever had to be done.’ He stared out at the river. ‘I guess I was naive, but I just had no idea it would be so relentless. That no matter how much money you throw at it, it never ends. You go to a new place, a new country, and start all over again. Sometimes it feels insurmountable.�
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  ‘Nobody said saving the world was going to be easy,’ said Madeleine, to lighten the mood. She watched him take a long, slow swig of his beer. ‘It sounds like you just need a break,’ she added quietly.

  ‘You know what they say, no rest for the wicked.’

  ‘But you are going to take some time off while you’re here, aren’t you?’

  He looked at her. ‘Of course. That’s why I’m imposing myself on you for a whole month before your wedding.’

  ‘You’re not imposing,’ she assured him. ‘I’m thrilled you’re here, Aiden. You realise you’re the only person I’ve ever met from Henry’s past.’

  ‘That’s because Henry doesn’t have a past,’ he said, becoming serious.

  ‘I’m sure he’s pure as the driven snow, but everybody has a past.’

  Aiden was shaking his head. ‘You’re not following. You see, I found his pod when I was out walking in the woods one day. I was the one who released him.’

  Henry appeared in the doorway. ‘What are you saying about me?’

  ‘Only the truth, Darrow.’

  ‘You told her about the pod?’

  Madeleine looked between them, confused.

  ‘I thought she had a right to know,’ Aiden said, deadpan.

  ‘I’m not sure she’s ready,’ said Henry. ‘It might be too much for her to take in.’

  ‘What do you think, Madeleine?’ Aiden turned to her. ‘Can you handle it?’

  ‘She can’t handle the truth.’

  ‘Are you quite done, fellas?’ Madeleine said, while they snickered at their joke. She was relieved that Henry seemed to have recovered his sense of humour at least.

  ‘I only came out to tell you that I’m ready to serve dinner,’ he said. ‘Let’s bring this inside.’

  Henry was an excellent cook, whereas Madeleine could at best be described as competent. So he did most of the cooking through the week, which made sense anyway – they would end up eating too late if they had to wait for her to get home and start. Besides, Henry claimed he enjoyed it, and Madeleine supposed it was all part of the artistic temperament, simply another avenue of creative endeavour. She clearly fell on the consumer side of the equation: books, food, wine, whatever – her appetite was voracious. Speaking of wine, there were only dregs left in her glass. It wouldn’t hurt to have a refill, especially as she’d be eating.