The Importance of Being Married: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  “No problem.” She stalked off toward the kitchen; moments later, I saw Anthony walking toward me. Immediately I started to type ferociously, my face getting hotter and hotter as he came closer, until he was standing right beside me. Crazy about me. Marcia thought he was crazy about me.

  “I…um…I was wondering if you had a moment,” he said quietly. “To talk…”

  I took a deep breath. “Talk?” I asked, still typing. It was everything I could do not to throw my arms around him and plant my lips on his. Playing it cool was going to be nearly impossible. “Um, okay. But I’m a bit…tied up right now. Maybe later?”

  “You don’t have a moment now?” His voice was soft and serious. I wanted to take his hand, to apologize for throwing him out, to suggest we go right back to my flat now to pick up where we left off…

  But instead I cleared my throat. “Sorry,” I managed to say. “I’ve just got so much work to do. But maybe this afternoon, if you’re free?”

  “This afternoon,” Anthony said uncertainly. “I guess that would be okay.”

  “Great. So, I’ll see you then?”

  I turned back to my computer.

  “Any particular time this afternoon?”

  “Time?” I was staring at my computer screen as hard as I could, willing myself not to turn around. “Well—”

  But before I could finish, the receptionist Gillie rushed over. She was carrying a bouquet of flowers so large they covered her face completely.

  “Jess!” she exclaimed. “These arrived. For you. Like a minute ago!”

  I stared at her. “Me?”

  “Yes! Aren’t they amazing! Nicest bouquet I’ve ever seen. I tell you, you want to hold on to whoever sent you these. Must have cost a packet!”

  “Um, thanks, Gillie,” I said, taking them from her, my eyes widening as I realized how heavy they were. They were from Anthony. They had to be.

  “Shall I get a vase?” Gillie asked, eyeing the card on the side hopefully.

  “Oh. Yes please. Thank you.” I looked up at Anthony, a big smile on my face, but he looked back at me uncertainly.

  Gillie clicked her fingers, and Marie, the other receptionist, arrived with one already full of water.

  “We had one already prepared,” Gillie explained, grinning as Marcia returned to see what the fuss was all about. “So come on, open the card. Tell us who they’re from.”

  “The card. Of course.” I took it, my hands trembling slightly as I pulled open the small white envelope and took out an equally small card. There was a heart on it.

  Slowly, excitedly, I opened it up and read the words inside.

  Jess, you’re one in a million. Please reconsider my proposal. I’ll never let the hedge fund take over my life again—you’re the only thing that has ever mattered to me. Sean.

  I stared at it uncomprehendingly.

  “Sean,” Gillie sighed, reading over my shoulder. “He your boyfriend, is he?”

  “Um…” I reddened, still utterly confused. Sean?

  “You’ve got a boyfriend?” Marcia arrived back, carrying coffee. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” She looked at me sharply, her eyebrows raised.

  “Ex-boyfriend,” Marie interjected. “He wants her to reconsider.”

  “Yeah,” Gillie agreed immediately. “Ex-boyfriend. And Jess is the only thing that matters to him. Ahhh. That’s nice.”

  I nodded awkwardly.

  “Hedge fund people are loaded, aren’t they?” Marie said, with a sigh. “Anthony, you know about stuff like that. Aren’t hedge fund people loaded?”

  Anthony looked at her strangely. “Yes. Yes, I believe they are.”

  “A loaded ex who only cares about you,” Gillie said dreamily. “I could do with one of those.”

  “You and me both,” Marie agreed.

  “Oh, everyone knows hedge fund managers are really boring,” Marcia interjected.

  “Yes, well,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. Of course they weren’t from Anthony. What had I been thinking? “That’s all very well, but I think I’d better get back to work. So…thank you. For the vase, I mean. I’ll just…I’ll just put them here, I think.” I shifted the vase to the right of my computer screen, blocking my view of Anthony.

  “Yeah. Better get back to reception,” Gillie said reluctantly, and she and Marie drifted off, turning to look at the flowers every couple of seconds.

  “So, this afternoon,” Anthony said. “We’ll talk then?”

  I nodded, then threw him a light smile.

  “Great. I’ll, um…catch you then,” he said, and walked back toward his office.

  Chapter 18

  PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 17

  To do

  1. Keep being generally fabulous.

  2. Do best to revive Marcia’s potted plants…

  I followed Sean’s advice to the letter and didn’t get a chance to talk to Anthony on Monday afternoon after all. Every time I saw him approaching, I found an excuse to leave my desk. Even when I didn’t manage to escape, our short conversations were invariably interrupted by my phone ringing and I would shoot him an apologetic look before telling “Sean” that I needed time to think.

  “Sean” was variously Helen, Ivana, or Sean—apparently they’d decided not to tell me about the flowers because they wanted me to look genuinely surprised and they weren’t convinced by my acting abilities. I wasn’t either. Every time I put down the phone from “Sean,” I looked around nervously, convinced that everyone knew that there was no ex, that the whole thing was a ridiculous fabrication. But I was wrong. Gillie and Marie kept popping over to look at my flowers and Marcia kept shaking her head as though utterly shocked by their very existence; by the end of the day I almost believed in “Sean” myself.

  Tuesday morning saw the Milton Advertising companywide meeting, where everyone gathered in the lobby to hear about highlights (new clients), lowlights (lost clients, failed pitches), and housekeeping issues (the decision to replace the two kettles in the kitchen with a wall-mounted water heater was causing a great deal of consternation and debate). I usually used the opportunity of these meetings to take copious notes and to think of at least one insightful question that I would keep coming really close to asking and then would, eventually, not be able to, because it would mean everyone looking at me, because I’d probably stutter, or because when I said it out loud it probably wouldn’t sound that insightful after all. Today, though, I didn’t have any questions prepared. Today I was going to be presenting instead, something that would usually have filled me with excitement, with anxiety, with a whole host of emotions. Instead, I felt strangely detached from the whole thing.

  Anthony opened the meeting, with his usual pizzazz and enthusiasm, listing clients won, clients lost, upcoming campaigns. Then Max pitched in to discuss the kettle situation, along with the recent change to pension legislation, which inevitably meant that everyone switched off and started checking their phones for messages. And then it was my turn.

  Nervously, I stood up. “I guess, really, I just wanted to say that the Jarvis account, Project Handbag, is a really exciting account for Milton Advertising,” I said, forcing a big smile onto my face. “And one that I think we can really make our mark with. There’s a lot of work to do, but a lot of scope, too. So if anyone has any ideas or suggestions, I’d love to hear them.”

  I looked around, wondering if anyone was going to ask something; no one did, so I sat down again.

  “Great. Thanks, Jess,” Anthony said. Our eyes met briefly, and I saw his flicker and forced myself to smile again.

  “So, next,” Anthony continued, “we’ve had some great news in the creative department in that we’ve been nominated for Best Ad Design in the Advertising Today Awards. The ceremony isn’t for another six months, but I think this is a tremendous achievement that really demonstrates our commitment to being at the forefront of…”

  He frowned. “Of…”

  Anthony was looking at the back of the lobby, wh
ere the doors to the street were. “Sorry,” he said, a quizzical look on his face. “Can I help you?”

  Everyone turned around—four men had just walked in through the doors wearing navy-and-white-striped blazers.

  “Does a Jessica Wild work here?” one of them asked.

  I gulped.

  “Yes, she does,” Anthony said. “Do you want to talk to her?”

  “Actually, we’re here to sing for her.”

  I reddened and stood up. “I’m…I’m Jessica Wild. I’m kind of in a meeting right now, though. Could you possibly come back a bit later?”

  The man shook his head. “Would do, but I’m afraid we’re booked up all day today.”

  “Well, look, maybe you could just sing later. Over the phone?” I suggested. Everyone was staring at me, and I could feel myself getting hot. I took a deep breath and managed an unconvincing smile.

  “We get paid for personal appearances,” the man said, shrugging. “Got to do it properly, otherwise it’ll affect our reputation. It won’t take long, honest.”

  “How long?” Anthony asked. People were giggling, and my palms were getting clammy.

  “Three minutes, tops.”

  “Well all right, then. Bit of entertainment for the troops,” Anthony said. He was grinning, but I could sense that he wasn’t entirely comfortable. That made two of us.

  “Right you are. Thanks, mate. Jessica, this comes to you from Sean. Straight from the heart.”

  The man hummed a note, then they all started to sing.

  “…Dum dum dum Dum

  My lovely Jess

  Dum dum dum Dum

  Oh what a mess

  You’ve really got me going with your

  To-ing and a fro-ing

  Lovely Jess

  Dum dum dum Dum

  Let me impress

  Dum dum dum Dum

  Upon you that I love ya

  Don’t want to live without ya

  Lovely Jess

  Dum dum dum Dum

  I must confess

  Dum dum dum Dum

  You’re all I want in my life

  I wish you would be my wife

  Lovely Je——ee———ss!”

  There was an awkward silence for a moment or two. A couple of the creatives started to clap, then a couple of other people whooped, and before I knew it everyone in the company was cheering them. I even heard someone shout, “Encore.” Anthony stared at me uncomprehendingly.

  The group’s leader grinned. “Sorry, can’t do encores,” he said, shrugging. “But thanks for listening.” Then he did a little bow, and the four of them trooped out of the office, leaving me staring speechlessly after them.

  “Well,” Anthony said, his eyes flickering over to me and then away again, “that was very…entertaining. Does anyone else have any marching bands planning to make an appearance?” His face was smiling, but I could hear the slight irritation in his voice. No one said anything.

  “Good,” he said. “Then, as I was saying, the Advertising Today Awards are in six months, and we’ll be taking a table, so watch this space. Which leaves only the kettle situation in the kitchens to resolve. Now, as Max has just explained, the immersion system we’ve introduced is recommended under health and safety rules, and really it should make no difference to the quality of tea that can be made…” He looked over at the door again. “Yes?” he said, sighing. “Can I help you?”

  “Delivery for Jessica Wild.” I turned around, along with everyone else, to see a man carrying a vast bouquet of flowers.

  “Thank you. Can you just leave them on the reception desk, please?” Anthony said, smiling thinly.

  “Needs a signature,” the man said.

  Quickly I jumped up and squeezed my way to where the man was standing. He had a huge long floppy fringe covering most of his face. A huge long floppy fringe that I thought I’d seen before. I looked more closely. I had seen it before. It was Sean. He’d actually come to deliver the flowers himself.

  “So, back to the immersion heaters. I think if we can give them a proper trial—say, a month or so—we’ll be in a better position to assess…”

  “Boyfriend sent you these, did he?” Sean asked, a little grin popping out behind his straggly hair, his voice ringing out loudly into the high ceilings of the lobby.

  I nodded, suppressing a giggle. “Ex-boyfriend, actually,” I managed to say.

  “Ex? Blimey. Not bad for an ex. Trying to get you back, is he?”

  Anthony cleared his throat. “Yes, a month will help us assess the pros and cons. I think that wraps things up for today’s meeting…”

  “He is trying,” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “And you’re going to take him back, are you?”

  He was throwing his voice on purpose, I realized. Anthony might have closed the meeting, but no one was moving.

  “I’m…I’m thinking about it,” I said self-consciously.

  “He’s a good-looking chap, your ex,” Sean continued, holding out a motorbike shop receipt for me to sign. “If the bloke in the shop was him, that is. Tall bloke. Dark. That the one?”

  I nodded, grinning despite myself. “Sounds like him,” I said.

  “Nice car,” Sean said, emitting a low whistle. “What was it—an Aston Martin?”

  I giggled. “Could have been,” I said seriously. I was beginning to enjoy myself. “That’s his favorite.”

  “Well, enjoy the flowers,” Sean said, winking. I nodded and took them from him, turning back into the lobby.

  Immediately, as if caught out, everyone started to move back to their desks.

  “Your ex-boyfriend drives an Aston Martin?” Marcia asked, sidling up to me. “Thinks he’s James Bond, does he?”

  I smiled. “I guess. Something like that.”

  “The thing is,” Marcia said, shaking her head, “it’s all very well him wanting you back now, but it’s too little too late, isn’t it?”

  She sat down at her desk and I narrowed my eyes at her, uncertainly. “It is?”

  “Definitely,” she said. “If he wasn’t ready to commit before, then I’d ditch him if I were you.”

  “Only because you want him for yourself,” Gillie interjected, arriving next to me carrying a vase. “Here you go. Thought you might need this,” she said, grinning.

  I took it gratefully. “Thanks, Gillie. You’re a star.”

  “So, going to take him back?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.

  “I…” I hesitated. Anthony was walking toward me, and I fixed my eyes back on the flowers. “I haven’t decided yet,” I said, eventually.

  “You think he wrote that song himself?” she breathed.

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, he’s very musical.”

  “Is he?” Gillie asked dreamily. “Wow. He’s good looking, he’s musical, he’s rich, and he’s not afraid of commitment. He must be the most perfect man.”

  “I doubt it,” Marcia said quickly. “Flowers and songs are all very well, but personally I think it’s all a bit tacky.”

  “You wouldn’t think it was tacky if he was doing it for you,” Gillie said archly. “Go on, Jen, take him back. Or at least invite him here so we can meet him!” Anthony was only a few feet away now, and I realized he could hear us. I looked at her uncertainly. “The thing is,” I said seriously, “I’m not sure I can trust him. All this wanting to commit is new. I mean, that’s why we split up in the first place—because he couldn’t commit.”

  “But now he’s seen the error of his ways,” Gillie said excitedly. “He’s grown up. And that’s so attractive. You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for married men.”

  “Gillie!” I said, slightly shocked. “But they’re…married!”

  “Exactly.” Gillie sighed. “They’re committed. Loyal. Exactly the sort of person you want to have an affair with…”

  “Gillie, aren’t you meant to be on reception?”

  She turned around to see Anthony, who was now standing behind her. I quickly
turned back to my computer.

  “Fine,” she said. “But keep me posted,” she whispered, winking at me before slinking off.

  “Hi, Anthony,” Marcia said, batting her eyelids and crossing her arms the way she always did when she wanted to show off her cleavage. I’d started to notice that sort of thing these days. “I’ll just leave you two to it, shall I?” She stood up, then smiled at him. “Oh, when you’ve got a moment I was wondering if you had time to discuss some visuals I’m working on for TheSupermarket dot com.”

  “Sure,” Anthony said easily. “Why don’t you go to my office and I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Great!” Marcia picked up some papers and wandered off.

  “So.” Anthony turned to me. “Flowers and barbershop quartets, huh?”

  I smiled bashfully. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll have a word with Sean.”

  “Good,” Anthony said. “And…”

  He trailed off and I looked up at him expectantly. “Yes?”

  “Look, we never got to talk. I thought maybe we could have a drink later.”

  He was looking at me intently; I steeled myself. “Tonight…oh, I’m sorry. Tonight’s not good for me.”

  “Tomorrow night, then?”

  I hesitated. Blow hot and cold, Sean had said. Well, I’d surpassed myself on the cold. Surely it was time for a bit of warmth? “Maybe Friday?” I said carefully. “I think I’m free then.”

  “Great,” he said, grinning at me suddenly and making me blush with pleasure. “I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter 19

  IT’S A VERY STRANGE RULE of nature that the more you push something away, the more it seems attracted to you. The following day I got a single orchid in a vase, and Anthony suggested that we swap drinks for dinner. Thursday afternoon I got twenty cupcakes, which I shared around the office; Anthony walked past my desk fifteen times and sent me no less than twenty-six e-mails, only half of them work-related. I, meanwhile, was finally enjoying this hot-and-cold lark. Every time Anthony started a conversation with me, I smiled flirtatiously, replied to whatever he’d said, then found an excuse to walk off when he was talking. Actually, my excuse was often the same thing, and eventually even Marcia asked me if I had a bladder problem. But it was working—I couldn’t quite believe it, but it was. And it wasn’t just Anthony who suddenly seemed interested in me—half the men in the office started engaging me in conversation. Guys I’d barely spoken to before suddenly appeared at my desk wanting to know about the Jarvis account, or to ask me if I fancied a drink after work sometime. I was hot property. I was in demand. I was, it seemed, becoming Jessica Wiiiild.