by Haley Hill
‘Er, yes. And all married. With kids,’ I interrupted, pulling him off her.
I glanced around for Victoria to back me up, but I couldn’t see her. Eventually, I located her wobbling against the bar. I dragged Matthew and Kat over to where she was standing.
‘I’ve been sick,’ she said, gesturing to neat pile of vomit by her feet. The people around her began to disperse.
She leaned against Matthew and started to cry.
‘I think Mike’s going to leave me,’ she said.
Matthew shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m not surprised,’ he said. ‘It’s probably because you bore him.’
Victoria’s eyes narrowed and she swished her ponytail, seemingly angered into sobriety.
Matthew continued. ‘You don’t do anything interesting. If you are not leading an interesting life, then how can you interest him?’
‘And you? Mr House Husband? What do you do that’s so interesting?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘That’s precisely my point. And most likely why my wife chose to have sex with a man who has hairy ears and halitosis.’ He looked down at the floor and then back at Victoria. ‘Because I was too busy buying wipes in Costco.’
I arrived home to find Nick angrily shooting aliens on his Xbox. Rupert was sitting on his lap, eyes wide.
I leaned down to stroke Rupert but Nick pulled back, shielding him from me as if I was foaming at the mouth and coming at them with a screwdriver.
‘You’re drunk,’ Nick said. ‘Where have you been?’
I steadied myself against the door frame and slurred a few sentences, which I believed contained adequate information as to my evening’s activities; however, Nick just glared at me and I think actually fired a shot in my direction from the controller.
I slumped down next to them and mumbled something about the standard of Rupert’s care under Nick’s watch.
Nick scowled at me.
I continued. ‘He’s up way past his bedtime and clearly overstimulated,’ I said, then I pointed in the general direction of the screen. ‘Not to mention being exposed to X-rated material.’
Nick tutted. ‘I think you’ll find a present yet neglectful parent is preferable to an absent one.’ Then he muttered something under his breath about responsibilities and maturity.
‘Typical,’ I said. ‘I have one night out.’ I held up one finger in front of Nick’s face. ‘One,’ I said again, to enhance the impact. ‘You’re out all the time and I go out once—’ my one finger was still raised ‘—to say goodbye to my friends and goodbye to my home—’ I took a breath, realising I had an excellent argument ‘—which incidentally, you’re making me leave.’
Nick dropped the controller and sat up. ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘Don’t start that. You agreed it was a good idea to go to New York. We made the decision together.’
I stared at him, arms folded until my frown gradually softened. ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I’m just feeling a bit sad. I’m going to miss it here.’
Nick put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. Rupert spread himself across both our laps.
‘I’m sorry too,’ Nick said. ‘I suppose I was just a bit peeved that I couldn’t come out with you tonight and was left looking after Rupert.’
I rested my head on Nick’s shoulder.
‘We’ll have plenty of nights out together in New York,’ I said, squeezing his hand.
He looked down at me and smiled.
I went to smile back but suddenly my eyelids felt heavy.
Chapter 9
It might have been because I was the recipient of an Ibiza-grade hangover, or perhaps because Mandi was wearing an especially acidic version of lime green that morning, but for whatever reason my stomach started churning the moment I arrived at the office. I walked into the meeting room, coffee curdling in the remnants of Grey Goose cocktails.
Mandi was alone, sitting at the head of the table. She grinned and then rushed over to pull out a chair for me. Even though her baby bump was still officially non-declarable she moved around with caution, judging spaces as though she had a meteor-sized appendage protruding from her girth.
She sat back down and clasped her hands together.
‘Ellie,’ she said, ‘you won’t believe how excited I am about this trip of yours.’ She put her hand to her chest. ‘It’s going to be so amazing. I just know you’re going to find the answers for all of us.’ She let out a deep sigh. ‘We are all depending on you, Ellie. I know you won’t let us down. I have so much faith in you.’ Then she leaned in and whispered, ‘Dominic is running late, so let’s get started without him.’
Straight away she handed me an enhanced version of Dominic’s original list of experts, complete with copies and critiques of any published findings. She went on to explain the supplementary forms that she had also included.
‘Here is a list of all the bookings I’ve made on your behalf,’ she said, pulling out a wodge of papers. ‘I’ve added a few that Dominic overlooked. Some have questionnaires you need to fill out prior to your appointments.’
I read through the list and then looked up at her. ‘You know I’m not the subject of this study, don’t you?’
She nodded and then smoothed down her blonde flicks. ‘You have to lead by example though, Ellie.’
I pointed to the first on the list. ‘You’ve booked Nick and I into a couples’ counselling retreat?’
She nodded. ‘It’s preventative. Like Botox.’
She waved a brochure at me. On the cover, there was a nearly naked elderly couple doing yoga.
I looked back down at the brochure, then back up at Mandi. ‘This wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’
Mandi sighed. ‘Come on, Ellie, it can’t all be academic.’ She pointed to the brochure. ‘It says here we shouldn’t intellectualise our problems.’ She picked up the brochure and read. ‘“Ernest and Elspeth have been helping couples like you for over thirty years”—’ she glanced up at me and then back down ‘—“through a series of relationship-transforming practical exercises.”’
Suddenly Dominic swept in, buttocks tight, as though they were gripping the detonator to a bomb that could wipe out London. He snatched the brochure from Mandi’s hand. Then he looked at the cover and screwed up his face.
‘The investors aren’t funding a swingers holiday,’ he said, before lobbing the brochure in the bin.
Mandi’s face crumpled.
‘They want results,’ he said and then turned to me. ‘The only way this project of yours is going to be deemed a success is if the divorce rate of our clients drops significantly. And by significantly, I mean from fifty per cent to twenty per cent at least.’
Mandi gasped.
Dominic flicked through her list and began crossing out the experts she’d added, in thick black marker. ‘What good will it do for Ellie to meet mail-order brides in Ukraine?’ he said.
Mandi cleared her throat. ‘I thought she’d learn a different perspective on marriage.’
Dominic shook his head and tutted. ‘And a bloody pygmy tribe in the Congo. Seriously, Mandi, what were you thinking? This isn’t Eat, Pray, Love. Our clients want happiness. They don’t want some sob story about poverty in Russia or polygamy in pygmies. They want a Hollywood happy-ever-after, for fuck’s sake. They want fulfilment, they want it now, and they want it to last. And it’s our job to give it to them. That’s what they’re paying us for.’
Mandi and I stared at him.
He continued. ‘When Mickey Rourke requests another facelift, his surgeon doesn’t send him on a weekend retreat to work through his motives. Or steer him towards a decade of psychotherapy. He simply says, “Yes, certainly, sir. That will be twenty thousand dollars.”’
Mandi scowled. ‘How can you compare a spiritual union between two souls to something as crude as a rhytidectomy?’
Dominic let out a sigh as though he were a teacher forced to provide extra tuition to a particularly gormless pupil. ‘Because the client expects the same result from both: to be happy.’
Mandi shook her head. ‘But a facelift won’t make anyone happy.’
Dominic smacked his hands on the table. ‘And there we go. First prize to the pregnant lady with the neon green dress.’ Then he quickly glanced at me. ‘Are we allowed to acknowledge the pregnancy yet?’
Mandi looked up at the ceiling, breathed in slowly and then looked back down at Dominic. ‘So you’re saying there are no answers for Ellie to find?’
He smirked and grabbed the black marker again. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment. All I’m saying is that Ellie needs to find a way to slash our divorce rate.’ He started ripping out pages and crossing through entire paragraphs. ‘Or she might find herself out of a job.’
Mandi snatched the pen from his grasp. ‘You can’t fire Ellie from her own company,’ she said, pointing the nib at his face.
Dominic smiled. ‘Now she’s no longer the majority shareholder, yes, I can,’ he said, before sliding his doctored version of Mandi’s report across the table towards me.
I glanced down at the report, which was now sporting more marker pen than a pre-surgery Kardashian, and I sat silent for a moment, my hangover momentarily clearing. I thought about Matthew’s insecurities, Harriet’s heartbreak, Victoria’s fear of abandonment, mine and Nick’s bickering. What did make a happy marriage? Was it simply a case of benign compatibility? Or could we take control of our destiny? My eyes scanned the list of advisors and I suddenly realised there was no point looking for a cure. At least not until we had an accurate diagnosis.
‘Divorce lawyer,’ I suddenly blurted out.
Mandi and Dominic stared at me.
‘I need to meet with a divorce lawyer,’ I said, though louder this time.
Mandi put her hand to her chest. ‘Ellie, don’t be hasty. Not every marriage is doomed. You and Nick can work things out.’
I frowned at her. ‘No, Mandi,’ I said. ‘I need to find out why people are getting divorced before I can even begin to consider a way to prevent it. I need to meet with the world’s most experienced divorce lawyer.’
I grabbed Dominic’s pen and began to write. ‘And I’ll need a report from all of our matchmakers. I need them to interview each of their clients who have been divorced or separated. I want to know precisely why they chose to divorce. I want to know if they are happier now. I want to know why they thought it couldn’t be fixed. I want to know everything.’
Dominic sat back and let out another deep sigh. ‘We already know why people divorce, Ellie.’ He sighed again, as though forcing out his very last breath. ‘Infidelity, irreconcilable differences, growing apart. People just fall out of love.’
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Infidelity isn’t a cause, it’s a symptom. Growing apart and irreconcilable differences are too vague. Besides, no serious study would rely on anecdotal evidence. I don’t want a one-word answer or a box that people ticked on a divorce petition. I want the truth. Then and only then can I begin to find a way to help people.’
Mandi clapped.
Dominic leaned back in his seat and threaded his fingers together. ‘Yeah, good luck getting the truth out of anyone. Most of all a lawyer.’ Then he began to laugh.
Mandi clasped her hands together and let out a squeal.
‘Wait, Ellie, we have forgotten something really important,’ she said.
Dominic stopped laughing and turned to her, seemingly keen enough for a solution to entertain Mandi’s suggestion.
She sat up straight and readjusted her headband. ‘You know when scientists conduct studies into HIV and things like that?’ she began.
Dominic nodded as though hoping it might speed her up.
‘Well, instead of focusing on the sick people, they tend to look at the groups who are immune.’ She looked at us both and nodded. ‘Such as those who have the virus but don’t go on to develop the full infection. Like apes and a small group of prostitutes in South Africa.’
Dominic shook his head as though trying to dislodge a fly in his ear.
She continued. ‘So, shouldn’t we be studying the happily married people instead then? To see how they do it.’
I screwed up my mouth and considered her argument. I glanced at Dominic, who had ceased shaking his head.
‘Great idea,’ he said. ‘Now all you have to do is find a happily married couple who are actually happy.’ Then he laughed again, although this time it was more of a snort.
I put my hand up to stop him. ‘Mandi has a very valid point, Dominic.’
Dominic resumed his laughter and then stood up as though he’d just awarded himself centre stage.
‘Eleanor, you have to remember, our clients don’t want the truth, they want hope. Hope that they will be different, that they will transcend the limitations of humanity and attain a higher state of fulfilment.’ He looked at me, a smirk fixed on his face.
I immediately wondered if he’d been liaising with Matthew on some kind of secret chat room for philosophers against humanity.
I shook my head slowly. Was it that Dominic was grossly underestimating our clients? Or, I wondered, as the door swung shut behind him, perhaps just himself?
After he’d left, I turned to Mandi. Her eureka expression had faded and she began to cradle her head in her hands and cry. At first it was just little snuffles, but it soon escalated to full-on sobs intermitted with desperate wails. After a while, she looked up at me, mascara tramlines down her cheeks.
‘Five of my clients divorced this week,’ she said, wiping the tears away with her sleeve. ‘I can’t take any more of this heartbreak. You have to find the truth, Ellie. Find it. And prove him wrong.’
I leaned forward and squeezed her shoulder.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I will.’
Chapter 10
It was early evening when I walked home, past the seemingly endless rows of terrace houses. As I shielded my face from the low winter sun, I began to wonder what truth existed beyond the glossy front doors. I’d always assumed the couples who resided in them were happier than me, rationalising that if they were effective enough to produce four offspring, hold down two careers and still have time to commission bespoke mosaic floor tiles for their front path, then perhaps they had the answers I was looking for.
I looked up at an especially grand entrance porch and sighed. I knew now that heartbreak didn’t discriminate. The divorce rate, which had been creeping up year on year, was like poison ivy, cracking the jet-washed bricks of happy homes just like this.
And it wasn’t as though divorce was the only indicator of heartache. There were plenty of other relationships limping on, hoping to reach the finish line, to the imaginary fanfare of a revered anniversary. As I strode ahead, I began to think about my own marriage. There was no doubt I loved Nick more than I had ever loved anyone before. However, at the same time, petty irritations had begun to fester, and I was beginning to realise that his behaviour wasn’t infallible and neither was mine.
The sun was setting by the time I reached our house. The last glow of the day sent an eerie shimmer across the cracked concrete of our front path. Just as I was considering how I would spend the evening before Nick came home, I noticed a flash of blonde in the corner of my eye. I looked up to see a slim lady and a small boy peering into our front window.
She jumped back when she saw me.
‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, pulling her son away from the window to stop him from pressing his nose against the glass. ‘You must be the owner.’ She wiped her hand on her skirt and then held it out to me. ‘I’m Kerri. We’re moving in next week. I hope you don’t mind us nosing in your window. It’s just—’ she looked down at the boy ‘—Freddie, he was dying to see the place and we were just heading back after his swimming club and he’d done so well tonight, so I thought it would be nice to show him where we’ll be living. I’m so sorry. I hope you don’t mind.’
I laughed. ‘Of course not.’ Her petite features and pretty blue eyes looked disconcertingly familiar. She reminded me of someone
from the past. ‘Why don’t you come in?’ I turned to Freddie. ‘You like dogs?’
He grinned and nodded.
His mother smiled. ‘Freddie loves dogs. Thank you so much.’ Then she stared at me for a moment and her eyes suddenly widened. ‘Ellie?’
I studied her more closely. She looked so familiar but I just couldn’t place her. Then I looked into her eyes again and my mind immediately flashed back to a time when they were framed by three sets of false lashes.
‘Kerri?’ I said.
She jumped up and down, then ran towards me and flung her arms around my neck.
Five minutes later, after she’d attempted to verbally download the past seven years of her life, Freddie began to huff and puff.
‘Can we see the dog now, Mum?’ he asked. ‘Please?’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ I said, reaching for my keys. ‘I should’ve invited you in straight away.’ I turned to Kerri. ‘You will stay for a drink, won’t you? We still have so much to catch up on.’
She nodded and then shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s not like we have anything to go home to anyway.’
When I opened the door, Rupert leaped out and into my arms as though he’d been abandoned for months. Freddie’s grin faded and he looked up at me through knitted brows.
‘Has he been home by himself all day?’ he asked.
I nodded, feeling my stomach knot as I did.
Freddie looked back at Rupert’s full-body wags and then at me.
I bent down to Freddie’s level. ‘I’m so busy at work at the moment,’ I said, ‘and Rupert’s not allowed in the office.’
Freddie scowled at me.
‘But I walked him earlier though,’ I added, as though a seven-year-old boy could comprehend, or even care about, the justifications adults make to appease their consciences.
In the manner of a determined social worker, Freddie carefully extracted Rupert from my grasp and then took him inside. Without invitation, he made his way to the kitchen and filled Rupert’s bowl with fresh water. Then he started opening cupboards presumably in search of Rupert’s dinner.