Not Quite Perfect

by Annie Lyons

‘Go to sleep, bloody brain!’ she mutters.

  Her mobile starts to ring. She flicks the button. Rosie doesn’t even wait for a greeting.

  ‘Emma darling. Guess what Auntie Rosie’s got planned for you today?’

  ‘Good morning, Rosie. I’ve no idea.’

  ‘A fitting with Stella. At eleven. I know!’

  ‘Today? But I’ve got to go to work.’

  ‘Not today, my dear. It’s all squared with Mimms. I’ll pick you up in the car at ten. Wear something glamorous but understated, OK?’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No need thank me, darling. It was my pleasure. See you later!’

  Emma shakes her head and throws her phone to one side. Martin appears at the door looking nervous. ‘Morning. Friends?’ he asks sheepishly.

  Emma looks at his pleading face and doesn’t have the energy to be cross any more. ‘Look Mart, I’m sorry for storming off last night, but can you promise me something?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘We sort the wedding out together as a couple. If we’re falling out before we’re even married, it doesn’t exactly bode well, does it?’

  Martin wraps her in his arms. ‘Agreed and I’ve left the brochure for the photographer I like downstairs on the table. Sorry for being a bit crap – I hate it when we argue. Look, I’ve got to dash. Aren’t you going to be late?’

  ‘No, Rosie is in charge today.’ Martin looks blank. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll call you later. Have a good day,’ she says kissing him.

  When he’s left, she flicks through the contacts on her mobile and finds her sister’s number.

  ‘Morning Auntie Emma,’ says Rachel.

  ‘Hello, big sister. Listen I was just wondering if –’

  ‘I’d had the morning call from Rosie? Oh yes and I’ve also had the explosive “that bloody woman” call from Mum too. Deep joy. We’re going to meet you there. I’ve got to drop Lily and Alfie off with Dad first.’

  ‘Okey dokey. That’s good. I just wanted to check you were going to be there.’

  ‘Never fear. Rosie’s got some gall, but I don’t think even she would leave Mum and me out. Anyway, baby sister, I wouldn’t miss the sight of you in your pants next to a woman with some very sharp pins for the world.’

  ‘Yeah well, don’t forget you’re the matron of honour so the pin lady’s coming for you too.’

  Emma looks around the room and feels her skin prickle with anxiety. She wishes Rachel was here to let rip with a few expletives just to pollute the very pure cool air. She also wishes that her mother was here just because your mother is supposed to be with you for these sorts of things, rather than your overbearing godmother. She looks at her watch, which tells her that her female relatives are over an hour late. She has already met Stella, who was friendly, but clearly very busy. Despite Rosie’s embarrassing protestations, she was polite as she handed them over to Dietrich, ‘my right-hand man who will create you something wonderful’. Dietrich had then gently cajoled Emma into admitting that she hates frills, but loves beads and dashed off a couple of designs which would make most women weep with joy. She and Rosie are now waiting for him to return with copies for her to take away. Rosie is glued to her iPhone, while Emma is trying to look elegant in her best Zara and H&M combo.

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ says Stella on her way past. ‘Gorgeous blouse by the way.’

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ stammers Emma, ‘it’s –’

  ‘Gucci, isn’t it, darling?’ booms Rosie. ‘Thanks again, Stella. Give my love to your dad. Ciao, ciao!’

  Stella is on her way out of the door as Rachel and Diana bustle in. They both stop and stare, as is often the way when you come across a famous person, and for some reason, Diana bobs into a curtsey. Stella smiles graciously. ‘Good luck with the wedding, Emma,’ she says with a smile.

  ‘Mum! Rachel! Where have you been, and, Mother, did you really just curtsey to Stella McCartney?’

  Emma’s mother blushes. ‘Don’t be silly, dear! I was just letting her through. Sorry we’re late. Alfie didn’t want Rachel to go so we missed the first train and the second one was cancelled. Are we too late?’

  ‘Much too late,’ says Rosie with a thin smile. ‘You can’t keep people like Stella waiting, but don’t worry, Diana, I’ve got everything under control.’

  Diana strains with civility. ‘Well it’s very kind of you, Rosie.’

  ‘Not at all. What are fairy godmothers for? And to be honest, if we’d left it to you, Diana, it would have been some ghastly off the peg from Berketex Brides, eh?’

  Diana looks murderous and Rosie nudges her. ‘That was a joke, Diana. Oh come on, lighten up. Let’s go for lunch somewhere hideously expensive. My treat!’

  She looks unsure until Rachel whispers. ‘Come on, Mum. Might as well fleece the old trout.’

  Diana squeezes her eldest daughter’s hand. ‘Thank you, Rosie. That would be lovely.’

  ‘Excellent! Emma darling, bring those copy designs, will you? Rachel, you’re going to love what Dietrich is planning for the matron of honour and he’s going to do a darling little version for Lily. This is going to be the wedding of the year!’

  Richard stares at the screen of his laptop, inwardly cursing rewrites.

  ‘But I’ve already bloody done it!’ he whinged to Emma at their Kew meeting. ‘And I liked it that way, otherwise I wouldn’t have written it.’

  Emma had been unsympathetic and almost schoolmarmish in her response. Richard had found her forthright, gently bossy nature rather alluring. In fact, she was part of the reason he couldn’t buckle down today. There was something about this woman, something he couldn’t shake from his brain. In the past, he’d slept his way through whole editorial departments without even having to buy them a drink, but this one was different. He hated that phrase and hated admitting it, but she was. It wasn’t that he wanted to sleep with her, although of course that would be nice. This one was tricky.

  He smacks his forehead and stretches back his shoulders, glancing at the now cold mug of tea, grateful for a legitimate distraction. Filling the kettle, he looks at the concrete view from his kitchen window. He shivers and flicks on the boiler, finding the biscuit tin. He tries a custard cream and spits it out, disappointed at its staleness. All the time, his brain is musing about Emma Darcy. Maybe that’s it – maybe she would become his muse. She certainly understood his writing and there weren’t many people he trusted with that.

  Richard carries his tea back to the desk, his heart heavy with the burden of work. He glances at his phone and is delighted to see that someone has left him a message. Playing it back, he screws his face against the cheery, trying-too-hard tone.

  ‘Hey Richard, it’s just Sophie. I was wondering what you thought about that flat I showed you and also wondering if you would like me to show you any more, if you know what I mean? Ha ha ha. Well, give me a call. Anytime!’

  Richard casts the phone aside disappointed. He doesn’t want anything else to do with this woman, but he did like the flat. He starts to reread his last paragraph and realises that he’s used the word ‘passionate’ five times in twenty-five lines. He sits back, despondent and takes a sip of tea. His mind racing, he grabs his phone and finds Emma’s number. Her voice sounds distant and there is the noise of restaurant chatter in the background.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Emma? It’s Richard.’

  ‘Oh Richard, hi. How are you?’

  ‘Fine, fine. Well actually, I’m bloody awful. It’s this sodding rewrite.’

  ‘Yep, OK, understood. Listen, the only problem is I’m not working today.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, OK. Well, not to worry.’

  ‘No listen, we can meet tomorrow. Why don’t you come to the offices around ten?’

  Richard smiles. ‘That would be fantastic. What would I do without you, Emma Darcy?’

  He ends the call feeling like a man with what his mother calls ‘a pencil full of lead’. He scrolls through his missed calls and dials again. The voice t
hat answers is breathy and intense.

  ‘Oh Richard, hi! I thought you were avoiding me!’

  ‘Now Sophie, why would I do that?’ purrs Richard. ‘I’ve just been stupidly busy, but it turns out that I have a free afternoon to play with and I was very keen to take you up on your offer.’

  Sophie laughs flirtatiously. ‘Well, that sounds fine. I have some very beautiful Mayfair apartments I could show you. Very desirable with many outstanding features.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful, I can’t wait to see the bedrooms and then maybe the bathroom, kitchen and living room, if you have the stamina. You certainly did last time.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, Mr Bennett.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. And Sophie?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Bennett?’

  ‘I hope you’re wearing those stockings again.’

  Emma returns to the table to find her mother in tight-lipped silence and Rosie regaling them with another showbiz story. Rachel is looking desperate and hisses, ‘Where have you been? It’s like Rumble in the bleedin’ Jungle with these two!’

  ‘Sorry, sorry. I just had to take a call from that new author, you know.’

  ‘Oh, you mean the one you fancy?’

  ‘What do you mean? I do not!’ snaps Emma adopting the tone of her teenage self.

  Rachel laughs. ‘Methinks my little sister doth protest too much!’

  ‘Oh bog off.’

  ‘All right small-fry, lighten up. You are allowed to flirt with other men, you know.’

  Emma is keen to change the subject, but unfortunately Rosie has now picked up the thread.

  ‘Ah! Are we discussing this scrumptious new author of yours, Emma?’

  Rachel raises her eyebrows at Emma.

  ‘So we are. Well, there’s no harm in having fun before you have to start wearing the old ball and chain, eh?’ says Rosie, waggling her ring finger at them all.

  ‘Well frankly, I don’t think that’s appropriate,’ says Diana, the colour rising around her throat.

  Rosie feigns a yawn.

  ‘Am I boring you, Rosie?’ says Diana.

  ‘Only moderately. Oh come on Diana, you’ve never exactly been one to live a little, have you? I bet Teddy was the first man you slept with,’ says Rosie, her voice loud enough for a few diners to look their way.

  Diana looks uncomfortable. ‘That is none of your bloody business!’

  Rosie is merciless. ‘Ha! So it is true. Well, I’ve got to hand it to you. If you’ve got to pick a man to give your cherry to, there are few better than darling Teddy.’

  Emma and Rachel are mortified, as if they’ve actually walked in on their parents having sex. Rachel spots the maitre d’ talking to some diners on an adjacent table. It is moments before he appears and suggests to Rosie that perhaps it would be a good time to adjourn for coffee. Rosie staggers to her feet.

  ‘No one,’ she snarls, ‘ever tells me what to do! We are leaving.’ She totters towards the door but loses her footing after three paces. Waiters rush forward to help her and she turns on them. ‘Don’t you touch me!’ she roars. ‘I know AA Gill! This place is finished!’

  Rachel, Emma and her mother watch as she stalks onto the street and hails a cab. The maitre d’ appears and Diana composes herself.

  ‘I think we’ll take our coffee now. Thank you.’ He gives a little bow and ushers them into the lounge, which is filled with stiff leather armchairs and old men dozing over tumblers of brandy. They sip their coffee and Rachel suddenly looks alarmed.

  ‘Oh shit. She’s flounced off without paying!’

  Diana looks a little smug and pats her daughter’s arm. ‘I think she gave them her card when she came in.’

  Rachel looks relieved and then a wicked smile spreads over her face.

  ‘Oh no Rachel – don’t,’ warns Emma.

  Rachel ignores her and catches the waiter’s eye. ‘Excuse me, do you have any Dom Pérignon, please? 1974 or earlier would be wonderful.’

  The waiter nods. Emma is still staring at Rachel, who slumps back into her armchair and grins at her sister.

  ‘What? You’re getting married. It’s a celebration! Let the witch pay.’

  Edward’s relief is palpable as the doorbell rings. He adores his grandchildren but he does sometimes feel that he’s lacking a vital negotiation skills qualification in order to deal with their needs.

  When Will was dropped off after school by one of Rachel’s friends, he informed Edward that he always had biscuits and crisps for a snack: ‘Sometimes two packets.’ Lily had backed him up. ‘Mummy always gives Alfie and me the same too. Otherwise it isn’t fair, Grandpa.’ Edward had looked to Alfie for help but a sharp elbow from his sister and he took the cowardly route. He had looked at his grandfather with his big, cow-eyes and nodded in fearful agreement. Edward had decided that he was allowed to indulge them, indeed it was probably his job. Snack-time had gone well but adhering Rachel’s rule of ‘no TV before 5 p.m.’ was proving trickier. Edward had decided to organise a spot of Lego building, but Lily had declared this to be ‘boring boy’s stuff’ and skipped off to find Chairman, Diana and Edward’s bad-tempered ginger tom with Alfie trailing after her. Will and Edward has spent a happy half hour building a storm trooper fort, but Will did ask a lot of questions and many of them Edward simply did not have answers to.

  ‘Grandpa?’

  ‘Yes, Will?’

  ‘Why do people wear pants during the day but not at night?’

  ‘Erm.’

  ‘Jon-Joe Minto says it’s because you don’t poo at night.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure.’

  ‘I don’t think that sounds quite right.’

  ‘No, perhaps not.’

  ‘Because it’s not as if you use your pants to catch the poo, is it?’

  ‘Er, no.’

  ‘Grandpa?’

  ‘Yes, Will?’

  ‘You know Father Christmas?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘How does he see you all the time? I mean ALL the time?’

  ‘Well, he has a whole army of elves and they go out into the world and keep an eye on all the children.’

  ‘Elves?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Everywhere. They look like normal people but actually they are Santa’s elves.’ Edward is getting into his stride now.

  ‘So they stand around, watching the children?’

  ‘They do.’

  ‘Like paedophiles?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Paedophiles. They stand around and watch children, don’t they? Jon-Joe Minto’s dad says that paedophiles should be strung up.’

  Edward is defeated.

  ‘Grandpa, what does “strung up” mean?’

  ‘I think I’ll just go and see how Lily and Alfie are getting on and then maybe we can talk about football when I come back, eh?’

  ‘OK, can you explain the offside rule again, please Grandpa?’

  Edward feels safe again. ‘With pleasure.’

  He opens the front door full of hope and is not disappointed to find Martin standing there grinning.

  ‘Hello, Edward. Emma said that you were home alone with the small people so I knocked off a bit early and thought I would offer some moral support. Beer?’

  ‘With that kind of offer, you are destined to become my favourite son-in-law. We better tell Steve to up his game.’

  Martin follows Edward into the kitchen.

  ‘Hey, Willster, how’s it going?’

  Before Will can answer, Chairman the cat races from the direction of the stairs on huge thumping paws and darts through the catflap.

  ‘Come back, silly cat. You have to wear your special hat!’ shouts Lily as she Alfie pound down the stairs after him. They spot the visitor and immediately forget the cat.

  ‘Uncle Fartin!’ shrieks Lily.

  ‘Uncle Fartin? How dare you!’ says Martin, pretending to be cross. ‘Now you must be Lily with a willy and Alfie smelly-pants. And
is this your brother Will Wee-Brain?’

  Impressed by his anarchic humour, the children shriek with glee. Edward pats Martin on the back. ‘I’ll get you a beer.’

  Rachel teeters along a narrow wall singing the theme from Fame before doing an impressive star-jump This is met by a curtain-twitch from the wall’s owner, a guffaw from her sister and a loud tut from her mother.

  ‘Honestly, Rachel, I do have to live round here, you know.’

  ‘Sorry, Mummy,’ says Rachel wrapping an arm around her mother.

  As they reach Edward and Diana’s house a voice says, ‘Good evening ladies.’ They turn to see Steve’s smiling face. ‘Did you have a good day?’

  Emma plants a smacker on his cheek. ‘We certainly did, favourite brother-in-law.’

  ‘Emma, you are clearly very drunk. I am your only brother-in-law.’

  ‘Ah yes, but you’re still my favourite.’

  ‘Well then, it sounds as if we’re having a party. Let’s get this open,’ he says holding up a bottle of champagne.

  ‘Oooh, lovely,’ says Emma grabbing the bottle and almost falling over.

  ‘Honestly, how on earth have I managed to produce two girls so prodigiously unable to hold their drink?’ says Diana, opening the front door and falling over the mat.

  ‘You were saying, Mother?’ says Rachel helping her up.

  ‘I was tripped. I’m always telling your father about that silly doormat.’

  The door to the lounge is closed. Rachel opens it and they are immediately blasted by the sound of two grown men and three small people shouting.

  ‘Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!’

  Lily then begins her victory dance jabbing her finger at the TV. ‘You’re not singing, you’re not singing, you’re not singing any more!’

  Rachel closes the door again. ‘I need a drink. Let’s open that champagne.’

  As she follows Emma and Diana to the kitchen, Steve catches hold of her hand.

  ‘Rach?’

  She turns to face him. He pulls her towards him and kisses her. His lips are warm and she leans into him feeling happy in her drunken bubble.

  ‘What was that for?’ she says with a smile.

  ‘Do I need a reason to kiss my wife? I just love you, Rach, and I know everything’s going to be OK.’