Beat the Rain

by Nigel Jay Cooper

  And now here Imogen is, in the high street, telling Louise how much she’s looking forward to dinner tonight. Except Louise has asked Jarvis over tonight and she can’t have them over, not at the same time. She can’t put Imogen in the same room as Jarvis, it’ll be hellish. She’ll have to cancel it. Tell them she’s sorry and something’s come up and can they do next week instead…

  “I can’t wait,” Louise says instead. “You all eat salmon, don’t you? I was going to cook herb-encrusted salmon.” Somehow, Imogen’s mere presence makes her feel weak, like the schoolgirl listening to Narinda and Sally call her a smelly pikey, asking why her mummy doesn’t want her anymore.

  “Alice wanted to ask you,” Imogen says, all white teeth and red lipstick and malicious intent. “She wanted to know…”

  “I just wondered if I could bring John along,” Alice jumps in, desperate to ask herself, trying with every ounce of confidence not to be marginalised.

  “Don’t interrupt like that Alice,” Imogen says. “You know how I hate that.”

  “Sorry,” Alice says quietly. Louise wants to slap Imogen, or at the very least, she wants to say something, wants to tell Imogen not to be such a bitch. But of course she doesn’t say anything, she says: “Of course you can bring him, Alice,” and she smiles, trying to make sure Alice knows she’s sincere, that it isn’t something she’s going to go home and worry about. “And what about you, Imogen, are you bringing Gavin along?”

  “Oh God no.” Imogen laughs. “I see enough of him already.”

  “Okay.” Louise nods. “I’d better get off, lots to prepare. See you later on, usual time? Seven-thirty?”

  She wants to cry. Her intimate dinner with Jarvis and Adam is now a meal with Adam, Jarvis, Imogen, Alice and her new boyfriend John. A meal for six wasn’t the fantasy evening she’d had in mind if she’s honest, a threesome had been the way she’d hoped it would go.

  Louise stands in the doorway of Waitrose and curses Imogen under her breath. This is what happens – she sees her for no more than a couple of minutes and Louise regresses into being someone else, an obsolete version of herself she no longer wants to recognise, one who finds problems where problems don’t exist, one who questions everything and tries to find solutions even if none need to be found.

  Everything is fine, she thinks to herself, walking into the supermarket and grabbing a trolley. Everything is absolutely fine. As long as fine means not okay at all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Adam has spent the day looking forward to the dinner party, even after Louise came home and told him Imogen, Alice and her new man John were coming along as well as Jarvis. After Imogen’s visit while Louise was away, her presence should have sent him into a panic in case she made another veiled pass at him. But knowing Jarvis is coming has made him feel a little more comfortable somehow. Things seem easier with him around, like there won’t be any problems or if there are, they won’t matter. And Louise is so much happier when Jarvis is present. He’s like a relationship magician, making everything shine a little brighter.

  Earlier, while Louise was out shopping, he watched some sport, had a wank and pottered around the house. Not thinking, just pottering, enjoying the moment, no kids, no work. How long since he’s done that? Just enjoyed being in the moment he’s in, not thinking about the future, the past, anything? It was a great feeling, one he longs to keep hold of.

  Happily, he helps Louise prepare the dinner, peeling, chopping and getting out of her way when the stress gets too much for her, to avoid an argument. Then he drinks a glass of wine or two and stares from the window, waiting.

  Shortly, the guests arrive and Louise is all smiles and nervous pleasure. Imogen is there first, wearing an over-the-top black dinner dress and carrying a bottle of champagne, as if she’s attending a black-tie event.

  “I know Alice likes to bring cava,” she says to Louise, thrusting the bottle at her and sweeping past into the living room and embracing Adam warmly, an embrace he returns out of politeness, despite how awkward it makes him feel. “But you can’t beat the real thing, can you, Adam,” she says, thrusting her chest towards him and grinning.

  “I doubt there’s anything real about those, Imogen,” Adam says smiling and turning away from her. Adam doesn’t think Louise would even notice Imogen flirting with him, anyway, she’s so wrapped up in the evening. The doorbell rings and Louise bolts to answer it, her giddy laugh and lightness of tone telling Adam it’s Jarvis before he sees or hears him.

  “I’ve got another couple of friends around for dinner,” Louise is explaining as she shows him into the living room. “We met at antenatal, didn’t we, Imogen.” She holds her hand out to Imogen, indicating that Jarvis should approach her.

  “This is Jarvis, Imogen,” Louise continues at a rate of knots. “He recently bought the car garage opposite the café, he lives upstairs from it. He’s lovely. He doesn’t know many people here yet, so we thought it would be nice…” She tails off. “Well, we thought it would be nice, didn’t we, Jarvis.”

  Adam smiles – he can almost hear Louise’s interior voice telling her to shut up, to slow down. She’s so nervous, bless her, she wants this dinner party to be a success.

  “Would you like a drink, Jarvis,” Adam interrupts, walking over and grabbing Jarvis by the hand to shake it. Firm grip, that’s good. Adam can’t stand a wet handshake.

  “What’s on offer?” Jarvis says, smiling and glancing at Imogen.

  “Hello, Jarvis,” Imogen says, stepping forward, arms pushed back, breasts thrusting forward. “Lovely to meet you.”

  And like that, Adam knows he’s off the hook for the evening. Imogen has some new sport, fresh blood in the form of a motor mechanic with a firm handshake.

  “Why couldn’t your husband make it tonight?” Louise says instantly. Jarvis takes Imogen’s hand and leans in to kiss her cheek, saying, “Pleased to meet you Imogen,” then the room descends into silence.

  “Drink,” Adam bursts out eventually. “What would you both like to drink? Red wine, white wine, gin and tonic, maybe? Or a beer, we’ve got lager and ale and bitter if you’re a bitter drinker.”

  Now he’s at it, jabbering away.

  “I’d love a glass of champagne,” Imogen says.

  “Of course,” Louise says. “Jarvis, champagne? Then you can tell Imogen all about your running.”

  * * *

  The night continues – Alice and her new boyfriend John arrive. He seems nice to Adam in a non-descript kind of way. Not offensive, not particularly interesting but nice enough in an unmemorable way. Alice seems happy though, and that’s lovely to see. Adam thinks she’s been unhappy for a long time, even before her boyfriend left, if he’s honest. She’s one of life’s meek people who tend to get bullied around a bit by everything and everyone – and having a friend like Imogen does nothing for her self-esteem.

  Adam is leaning against the living-room wall while Jarvis, in simple jeans and a white t-shirt, sits on the sofa next to Imogen in her black party dress. Alice is sitting in John’s lap on the armchair, which seems odd to Adam, like they’re too old for such things, but as he quietly surveys the room, he tells himself off for such observations. Why shouldn’t they be tactile and in love and happy and comfortable in their togetherness?

  Louise is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the starters before they all sit down to eat, and Adam isn’t engaging with anybody in particular, he’s comfortably monitoring the room, analysing people’s behaviour and mannerisms. Alice and John are so early on in their relationship, they are still self-contained and happy to be touching and speaking to each other – every movement a masked desire. If they could, they’d stay at home fucking all day long. Dinner parties are an inconvenience to them.

  Imogen and Jarvis are fascinating. Or rather, Imogen is. Adam can see from Jarvis’s body language that her wiles aren’t working on him yet, but Imogen clearly hasn’t picked up on this herself. If she’s touched his knee once, she’s touched it twen
ty times. She’s playing with her hair and laughing a lot, despite the fact that, as far as Adam can tell, Jarvis isn’t saying anything funny at all. And her legs are slightly apart and every now and again, she kind of flaps them and Adam doesn’t know whether to laugh or to be embarrassed for her. He settles on laughing quietly to himself. For a moment, Adam zones in on the conversation, to see what Imogen is saying, to ascertain how she’s trying to reel him in, apart from the leg flapping and breast thrusting.

  “And before you knew it,” Imogen is saying earnestly, “Gavin was buying Chinese magazines and People’s Daily. I mean, can you believe it? He’s an investment banker, for Christ’s sake.”

  Adam turns his attention to Jarvis, to see how he’s coping with it all. He doesn’t seem stressed or anxious like Adam would be in the same situation. In fact, he seems relaxed and he’s taking it all in his stride…

  “There was this strange man on the train today, Imogen,” Alice pipes up, wiggling her behind into John’s lap as she speaks, glancing at Adam to include him as she does so. “He was wearing a suit and these enormous headphones – have you noticed, all the teenagers wear massive headphones nowadays – and anyway, he was darning a nasty blue sock. A man, in a suit, darning a sock on a train.”

  She pauses for effect, so everyone can take in the details of the picture she’s painted.

  “Oh, Alice, really,” Imogen says. “I’m telling Jarvis about Gavin and his new politics, do you have to interrupt?”

  Dutifully, Alice shrinks back into herself a little and looks to the floor.

  “It is a bit strange,” Jarvis says to Alice, seeing the change in her demeanour. “A man in a suit, darning a sock in massive headphones.” He smiles at her, trying desperately to undo some of Imogen’s poison, recognising within an hour of meeting them the dynamic between the two.

  “Okay, starters are ready,” Louise says breezily, breaking the tension as she comes into the living room. “If you can all move to the dining room, I’ll serve.” They all stand and start filing out.

  “Thank God for that,” Jarvis whispers to Adam as they move rooms, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought it was about to turn into a full-on fight.”

  * * *

  Of course, the starter wasn’t quite up to Imogen’s standards. It was ‘nice’, but probably could have done with more cayenne. Imogen knows a wonderful place that sells spices wholesale, down near the Taj on Western Road, she’ll show Louise it before her next dinner party, because she’s a caring friend like that. Main course fared a little worse – John, it turned out, doesn’t eat fish and Jarvis isn’t massively keen on salmon, although he was polite enough to eat it, although Adam could see he wasn’t enjoying it. But Louise seems to be okay. She seems to be enjoying herself despite the criticism and this makes Adam happy. He likes seeing his wife smile – sometimes it feels like it’s a long time between smiles for her.

  “Would anybody like coffee or dessert?” Louise asks breezily.

  “Oh, I’d love a latte,” Imogen replies pretentiously without looking at Louise. And she pronounces it lar-tay. It takes all of Adam’s willpower not to say ‘It’s lat-ay, you know it’s actually pronounced lat-ay right?’

  “That’s why evolution created air conditioning,” Jarvis says to Alice, as Adam zones in on a conversation he hasn’t been paying attention to. “I can’t stand being too hot. I could never live in a hot country, I like our climate, weird and unpredictable as it is.”

  “I’ve got this quote I love,” Imogen says, leaning over and touching Jarvis’s hand, not remotely in response to anything he or anyone else was saying. “But I can’t remember who said it or where it’s from, but it’s really thought provoking.” Imogen is almost shouting, she’s grandstanding, keeping the attention of the entire room, especially vying for Jarvis’s eye. “Do you know, I think it’s one of my favourite quotes.”

  “What is it?” Alice says, smiling and grabbing John’s hand for support as she does so.

  “Haven’t you read it? I emailed it to you the other week. Honestly, Alice, you don’t take much interest in your friends do you.”

  “Imogen, I did read it,” Alice stutters. “I can’t remember it. But it’s a lovely quote.”

  “What was it?” Louise asks, a false lightness in her tone that only Adam would pick up on. She’s trying to avoid a confrontation between Imogen and Alice – or more properly, between Imogen and Alice’s new boyfriend John, who is glaring at Imogen like he wants to say something to her but doesn’t know the group well enough yet to butt in.

  “The past increases in proportion as the future diminishes, until the future is entirely absorbed and the whole becomes the past,” Imogen says dramatically. “I think it’s so…meaningful.”

  “I don’t understand it,” Jarvis starts.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you said that,” Louise says, blushing and smiling. “I don’t either.”

  “It was Saint Augustine,” Adam says quietly. “It’s a quote from his Confessions.” He notices both Louise and Jarvis glance at him from across the table – he thinks they’re both a little impressed. If Louise ever asks him, he’ll never tell her he only knows because St. Augustine’s Confessions was one of the books Tom was reading before he died – and that Adam had gathered all of his books together and made it his mission to read them all, to know what was making his brother tick in those final months. And weirdly, Tom had underlined that sentence, like it has some deeper meaning for him that Adam had never been able to ascertain. Why would an atheist be reading St Augustine’s Confessions anyway?

  “Is there a particular reason,” John says – it’s the first time Adam even remembers hearing him speak and the entire room waits as John pauses, sure he’s going to add something pertinent to the conversation and the meaning of the quote, “that you feel the need to be such a cunt towards Alice all the time, Imogen?” His tone isn’t aggressive, not even angry. It’s conversational, except for the content but as he speaks, it’s like a body blow to Imogen’s stomach. John lifts his glass of wine to his lips and smiles at Imogen, who is momentarily winded and dumbstruck. Adam, without knowing he’s even doing it, begins to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. The more he tries to stifle it, aware that it’s totally inappropriate to laugh at such an insult, that the PC liberal in him knows calling a woman a cunt is the lowest of the low and isn’t at all appropriate and…

  Accurate, if he’s totally honest. Now, Adam knows all of the arguments against such language; he’s a writer, words are his stock in trade. He knows that demonising a woman’s sex, giving it such an aggressive and offensive name and making that the ultimate swear word makes its use misogynistic at best…but sometimes, Adam also feels that’s exactly why the word has the power it has – precisely because it’s so unacceptable. And sometimes…most of the time, Imogen can be such a terrible…

  “Nobody speaks to me like that,” Imogen finally replies.

  “I just did,” John says bluntly. Alice starts stroking John nervously, muttering that it doesn’t matter and it’s what Imogen is like and it doesn’t matter and please can everyone not fight and…

  Jarvis is quietly smiling, as if he would have liked to say something similar although Adam can’t imagine he’d have used the C word, because it’s pretty strong and you’ve got to hate women to use that word haven’t you? Or you’ve got to hate Imogen. And John clearly already hates Imogen and Adam can’t blame him for it. Would bitch have been better than cunt? Probably not. Can you call a woman a dick or a prick? That seems weird.

  Jesus, Adam, stop being such a linguist. A cunning linguist. James Bond joke. Keep it together, Louise will never forgive you if you laugh again… Get out of the room before…

  He starts sniggering again and Louise stands up, jabbering away about making desserts and coffee and as she starts clearing the plates, clearly embarrassed, clearly unsure what to do next. Adam stands up to start to help her, trying desperately to put a face on that suggests he too is horrified and that it isn�
�t the best thing that’s happened to him for ages and he’s sure he’s trying to mutter something about helping her with the things into the kitchen, so he can make her see the funny side and realise that overall the night is going well and it’s just that people have had a bit to drink and Imogen is…well, Imogen.

  “No, sit down, Adam, I’ll help,” Jarvis says, touching him lightly on the back of the hand that’s picking a plate up.

  “Oh, right. Okay, thanks,” Adam says, sitting back down as it would be impolite to do otherwise, but feeling intensely uncomfortable. Not only does he not want to sit in at the dining table with John and Imogen glaring at each other, he also doesn’t want Louise and Jarvis alone and chatting in the kitchen over the dishes and dessert bowls. He doesn’t want him to comfort her. He doesn’t want them sharing a moment. He feels jealous. An intense, stomach-churning jealously that makes it difficult for him to concentrate on anything else.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Louise walks into the kitchen and puts the pile of dirty plates she’s holding on the side and squeezes her eyes shut.

  “Hey,” Jarvis says, coming into the kitchen behind her. “Don’t worry, it’ll blow over.”

  “Bloody John,” Louise says as Jarvis puts his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her to his chest. She looks up at Jarvis’s face, almost close enough to kiss.

  “He was rude,” Jarvis says. “I’m not saying he went about it the right way…”

  “You can say that again.” Louise snorts a nervous laugh.

  “But she’s a bloody nightmare, isn’t she? Why are you friends with her?”

  “She’s not that bad,” Louise starts, but Jarvis frowns comically and she can’t help but burst out laughing. “All right, she is that bad, but I think…I think she’s… Oh I don’t know. Bloody awful, I suppose.” And she laughs again, more relaxed already. He knows what to say and do all the time. Knows how to see the funny side. Not like Adam.