Beat the Rain

by Nigel Jay Cooper

  “That’s better,” Jarvis says, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. “Now.” He claps his hands together. “Let me help you in here. Where’s the bin and the dishwasher, I’ll stack it while you sort out coffees and desserts.”

  Louise is lost in his face. Grey-green eyes, like hers. A few lines on his brow – smile lines, giving him a mischievous air. His hair is dark brown, almost black with no signs of greying, but he’s younger than Louise. Too young for her. Why would he be interested in her, she’s probably like a middle-aged woman to him. But love doesn’t work that way, does it. You meet people and you click and it works. You just get on.

  She loves everything about him, the way he dresses, the way he stands, the way he’s so tactile, always touching her arm or putting his arm around her. The way he’s always looking out for her, like now. It’s Jarvis who’s followed her to check she’s okay, not her husband. Her dinner party is degenerating into swearing and insults and Adam’s downing wine, watching from the corner. But Jarvis understands how stressful it is, he understands that she needs someone to help her through it. Already, she can’t imagine her life without him.

  “So, tell me again why you’re friends with Imogen?” Jarvis says, smiling as he opens the dishwasher and picks up a couple of plates, scraping the leftovers into the kitchen bin before putting them into the bottom shelf.

  “I’m friends with her, but I don’t like her. Do you have friends like that? You get stuck with people sometimes, you know what I mean?” Louise says, getting the cream and raspberries from the fridge, then going to the larder cupboard to get the meringues out.

  “Oh, fuck that,” Jarvis says. “Life’s too short to spend time with people who make you unhappy, Louise.” Does he mean Imogen or is there a deeper meaning? Is he telling her to leave Adam? To be with him? She fingers the rings of bone between her neck and breasts, standing with her back to him, her heart racing.

  “She’s not a nice person,” he continues. “I mean I’m sure she’s got her reasons, her baggage, everyone does. I’m sure she’s insecure, I’m sure she needs someone to look deeper. But that doesn’t mean you need to be around her. Let someone else fix her, if she needs it.”

  He does mean Imogen then. Don’t read too much into it, Louise, he’s chatting, it’s just chit-chat as we potter around the kitchen preparing coffee and dessert.

  “You’re worth more,” Jarvis says, putting his arm around her shoulder again and waiting until she looks around at him before he continues to speak. “The only person who doesn’t think that is you.” He squeezes her again, then grabs some cutlery for the dishwasher. Oh God, he does feel it. He does. This isn’t how a man behaves with a woman he hasn’t known for long. A married woman. It’s like he can see into her soul.

  “I just…so much shit has happened to me, I don’t always feel that good about myself,” Louise says, surprising herself. She never talks about this stuff, she doesn’t even think it when she’s alone with her own thoughts. She has to be strong, she has to be capable and independent and not rely on anyone. If she thinks about it all – her childhood, her losses – she’ll crumble. She’s grown used to being emotionally frugal, locking everything away somewhere she can’t access it. But here’s Jarvis, opening her up and accessing parts of her she’d forgotten were there.

  “You’re amazing, why wouldn’t you feel good about yourself?” he says gently, his hand on the small of her back again, his gaze one of concern and…love. She’s sure it’s love.

  “My mum left when I was young,” she says, as if she’s known him for years, as if he’s a confidante, a lover. “And then my dad, well, he died when I was a teenager. Cancer.” Louise shrugs, trying to pass off the information she’s imparted as trivial, as if it requires no discussion.

  “Oh… I’m sorry. I’m…”

  “It’s fine, long time ago. That’s life, right, full of surprises, bad shit, good shit.”

  “Yeah,” Jarvis says. “You’re right, there’s good shit too. Like us meeting each other.”

  And she’s telling him everything, more about her father’s death, and how alone she felt. She tells him about being bullied at school and how Narinda and her cronies made her feel worthless and unlovable. She tells him about Lucy the suicide babysitter and how meeting Tom saved her. How he made her feel special and loved and whole again after she’d started using sex with the boys at school to make her feel loved and close to someone. And she tells him about Tom dying and how she and Adam got together.

  It feels like that night with Adam, while Tom slumbered on the sofa and Louise opened up, told Adam things she could never tell Tom. And here she is again, with this man she’s barely met and he’s interested and listening and attentive and she thinks she’s falling in love.

  She tells him how the hole of not knowing her mother engulfs her sometimes, that she feels something is missing, that she has a hunger that can never be satiated. She tells him how she can’t shake the feeling that it’s her fault her mum left and didn’t want her. She never came back, never asked about her, even after her dad died. It’s like her mother had written her off and Louise can’t understand why but somewhere deep inside she feels like bad things are supposed to happen to her, that she’s not worthy somehow. Normally, the subject of her mother would be off limits, even to Adam, it’s a gaping wound she can’t clean, can’t dress, can’t heal. So she covers it up and does her best to pretend it’s not there at all. Yet here she is, telling Jarvis things she’s never even told her husband or his brother before him. Maybe it’s her time away in the hotel, maybe she’s learning to deal with things, to talk about them like Adam’s always wanted. Or maybe it’s Jarvis. Maybe he’s special.

  “I’m sure she thought about you,” Jarvis says, taking a tissue and wiping the tears from her cheeks. She’s crying, she didn’t realise she was crying. She doesn’t cry, not in company, she can’t let herself.

  “She can’t have done, can she?” she finds herself saying, leaning into Jarvis’s chest so he can wrap his arms around her. “What kind of woman leaves in the night and never comes back?”

  “She probably had her reasons,” Jarvis says, but she knows he’s reaching for something, trying to find a positive where there isn’t one. She leans away from him, grabbing a tissue and wiping her own face.

  “Sorry,” she says, not wanting to continue this conversation after all, not wanting to appear weak, a victim. She’s not a victim, never has been never will be. “I didn’t mean to get all maudlin. I don’t know where that all came from.”

  “It’s fine,” Jarvis says. “I like hearing about your life, you can always talk to me, whenever you need to. Nobody is all bad. Maybe your mum thought it was the best thing for you?”

  “To abandon me?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

  “No, no it’s not your fault,” Louise says, turning back around to finish making the desserts. “Get the ice cream out of the freezer, will you,” she says composing herself again. “They are all going to wonder where on earth we’ve gotten to. We’ll take these in first, then I can make the coffee, we’ve been ages, haven’t we.”

  On cue, Adam pops his head around the door.

  “Everything all right in here?” he asks, brow furrowing slightly.

  “Yeah, all good, mate.” Jarvis smiles reassuringly and places his hand on the small of Louise’s back gently again as he brushes past her towards Adam. “Is Armageddon happening in the other room or have you managed to smooth things over?

  “Him?” Louise says, managing a small smile. “You’re joking aren’t you?”

  “Shut it you.” Adam smiles at her. “Need any help?”

  “No, we’ve got it covered,” she says, willing him away. He nods, leaving her and Jarvis alone again. Finally, desserts prepared, Louise walks behind Jarvis as they leave the kitchen, each holding two Eton Mess desserts in glass bowls. She can’t help glancing down at his pert, beautifully peachy behind, so tightly fitting in his jeans. She
can’t remember ever feeling so turned on by any man she’s ever met. And now she knows he likes her – for a while she’d been secretly worried it was all in her head, but after their conversation in the kitchen she’s sure it’s mutual. He’s fascinated with her, it’s like he’s trying to see into her. She’s never met a man like him, not Tom, not Adam, none of her delivery-man flings or fumblings in the store cupboards or hotel-toilet cubicles. She can’t get enough of him, she wants to be with him every living, breathing moment of the day and she’s convinced he feels the same. He’s slotted into their lives perfectly, like he was always supposed to be there.

  As they walk back into the living room, they can hear Imogen holding court again, clearly having moved on from John’s earlier insult.

  “We have to accept everything nowadays don’t we,” she’s saying, her tone reasonable, “but I’ll tell you one thing I’m not, I’m not PC. I hate PC, it’s like we’re not allowed to say anything about anyone anymore.”

  “It’s not about being PC, it’s about being respectful of people,” Alice starts.

  “Oh, Alice, you’re the PC poster girl, you’re so…” Imogen starts, but sees John shoot her daggers and stutters to a halt. “…I’m just saying, that’s all. I’m allowed to say. We don’t all have to accept everything that’s all. You already can’t make any jokes unless someone thinks you’re racist…”

  “Oh God, here we go,” John says.

  “…and now you can’t even say anything about the gays,” Imogen continues. “And we’ve got to pretend it’s normal and we don’t mind them. Why can’t they keep it to themselves…”

  “Why should they have to,” Adam is saying and Louise can hear the strain in his voice; he’s struggling not to get angry. She knew this dinner party was a mistake, she should have cancelled it. Adam’s too drunk and it’s a terrible mix of people. But she wouldn’t have had the chat in the kitchen with Jarvis if she hadn’t had the dinner party and she wouldn’t have seen how much he’s growing to care about her.

  “I’m just saying, I’m allowed to say. We’ve all got to be so PC nowadays. Why should I have to accept things?”

  “Do you even know anyone gay?” Jarvis says, standing still in the doorway and blocking Louise from getting into the room. She looks in over his shoulder to see Adam standing and downing the remains of his glass of wine and Alice and John still in their seats looking directly at Jarvis. Imogen is sitting with her back to them and cranes around, slightly flushed as Jarvis questions her.

  “I don’t have anything against them, that’s not what I’m saying…” she starts.

  “Me. You don’t have anything against me,” Jarvis says.

  “What?” Louise feels likes she’s just been punched in the stomach and actually recoils over double, her chin banging against Jarvis’s shoulder.

  “I’m gay,” Jarvis says, glancing back at Louise and continuing to walk in the room, placing an Eton Mess in front of Imogen. “You don’t have to accept anything, Imogen. But I would appreciate you saving your comments for dinner parties where I’m not a guest.”

  Louise stands winded in the doorway, leaning on the frame, feeling slightly dizzy. He’s saying it to teach Imogen a lesson. It can’t be true. If it’s true, why would he have been flirting with her like that in the kitchen? It’s not true, she thinks, standing upright and walking into the living room, tattooing her best smile on her pale face.

  “Come on, everyone.” Her voice is strained, like a teenage boy’s voice on the cusp of breaking. “It’s a dinner party. Let’s not keep fighting.”

  He’s her soulmate and he wants her, she’s certain he wants her. He’s definitely not gay, how can he be? Or if he is, she’s his exception, the woman that’s blindsided him and made him re-evaluate his life. Oh God, that’s it, she’s the one. She’s his one.

  She smiles, a little more genuinely this time, sure she’s right. Either he’s lying all together, or he’s falling for her anyway, despite being gay. God, it’s so romantic she could cry. If anything, it makes their love story better. Stronger. More complete.

  Filled with a confidence she hasn’t felt for ages, Louise braces herself to take control of her dinner party again.

  “Imogen, shut up,” she says, plonking a dessert down in front of her. “John, no more swearing or insults. Adam, you’ve drunk enough. And, Alice…” Alice looks at Louise with something like fear in her eyes and Louise flicks Jarvis a look before continuing. “Alice, keep being you,” she says, reaching out and stroking her arm lightly. “This is my dinner party and frankly, you’re all ruining it. Now have fun, everyone. I demand it.” She smiles and gradually, the room begins to smile back at her.

  “You don’t look gay,” Imogen says eventually, as Jarvis takes his seat back at the table. Adam groans, but it’s good-natured. They are all feeling a little more relaxed now, Louise can tell. Adam chuckles as he sits back down to eat dessert and Alice is grinning at John with a look that says ‘Now what’s she saying?’.

  “What does gay look like?” Jarvis asks. He’s not annoyed, not being argumentative, he’s a gentle, wonderful man and Louise loves him. She loves him with all of her heart.

  “In all fairness,” Louise says, smiling knowingly, “she’s right. You don’t seem gay at all. Are you sure you’re not playing with us?”

  “Louise,” John interrupts, “I think he probably knows if he likes cock.”

  “So vulgar, John,” Louise says. “I thought he might have been putting Imogen in her place. Is that it, Jarvis? Were you trying to shock Imogen? Because she’s right, you don’t look gay at all, you’re too…manly.”

  “Louise, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Adam starts.

  “It’s all right.” Jarvis grins. “I am manly, it’s true.” He lifts his arms up in a mock showing off of his ‘guns’.

  Then it’s true. She’s the one who’s making him re-evaluate things. He’s falling for her, she’s sure of that. Forbidden love. God she’s hot. What could be better than forbidden love like this? If anything, his gayness makes it more exciting, more like it’s meant to be.

  It’s more common than people think. Louise remembers reading an article about it in the Guardian about a guy who had always been gay but met this woman and now he can’t stop thinking about her. Mariella Frostrop advised him to go with it and see where his feelings took him and to stop putting labels on himself. Now Louise wishes she’d paid more attention to the article but she’s sure she’ll give the same advice to Jarvis when he brings it up. He’ll pretend he’s talking about a friend who is confused about his sexuality, but Louise will know he’s talking about himself and his feelings for her. And as they sit and chat, a little too close to each other on the sofa, he’ll lean in and she’ll feel his breath on her face and then his soft lips will brush against hers and…

  She loves him, she knows that now. How can she continue a lie with Adam when there’s a man like Jarvis in her life?

  “You only live once,” Tom used to say to her. And he’s right. If the people she’s lost have taught her anything it’s that. She’s not going to waste another second. She and Jarvis are going to be together, she knows it. And the kids will get over it. Adam will get over it. In the long run, they’ll all be happier. It’s the best thing for all of them, they just don’t know it yet. But she does. She’s never been more certain of anything in her life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Things have been good since the dinner party. They’ve had Alice and Imogen over for dinner loads of times before and Adam can’t say he’s ever enjoyed their company, particularly Imogen’s, but with John and Jarvis thrown into the mix it was so…divisive. They lit the touch flame and turned out to be the best evening Adam’s had for ages.

  They haven’t seen Imogen since that night, however. He’s pleased with this. Even ignoring the possible pass she’d made in his direction when Louise was away, he’s never felt Imogen was a healthy friend for Louise anyway. Adam keeps laughing to himself at how Jarvis c
asually came in and came out as she merrily gay-bashed. In fact, he keeps having bouts of spontaneous laughter, picturing the horror on Imogen’s face as Jarvis called her out, or remembering the shock in the room as John called her the C word. Eventful nights like that don’t happen anymore, everyone is usually so…civilised. It was fantastic.

  That was weeks ago and since then he’s been going running three or four times a week, and it’s amazing how quickly Adam’s fitness has improved. And it’s had knock-on effects to his mood – he’s happier, more content and he thinks that’s having a knock-on effect to Louise as well. They’re both eating more healthily because he wants to be able to run with Jarvis properly, to do a decent distance without wimping out. He isn’t drinking too much and work on his new novel is going well after a long dry spell. When he puts his fingers to the keyboard, he feels alive again, filled with purpose. Like the world is full of possibility.

  * * *

  “You’ve only got one life,” Tom said to him once.

  “All right, Tom Tom. Bit deep for lunchtime.”

  “I’m serious,” Tom said, leaning in and grabbing him by the wrist, staring into his face, a mirror of Adam without the imperfections. “We only get one shot at this, there’s no after, you can’t wait for that. You’ve got to grab it and live it and stop wasting time stressing about everything.”

  Adam hadn’t realised it at the time, but of course Tom had been dealing with his own mortality first-hand. Until now, Adam hasn’t been successful at taking that advice. But Jarvis seems to have exploded into their lives and everything seems to be moving again; the stagnant water that had seemed to threaten their marriage is being flooded by a fresh, clean river, torrential in its power. Adam feels amazing, like he can achieve anything, anything at all.

  He’s even contemplating signing up for his first half marathon. Even Louise seems to have a spring in her step, like Jarvis is working his magic on her too – and Adam doesn’t even have to worry or be jealous because he’s gay. It’s a perfect situation. His only bugbear is Louise’s obsession with Jarvis’s sexuality.