by Haley Hill
‘Fabulous what? That your wife is no longer the teetotal bore who stays in every night, waiting for you to rock up stinking of whiskey?’
He laughed, although his eyes remained pinched. ‘Fabulous that my wife is oblivious to the fact her twat of a colleague is trying to shag her.’
I sighed. ‘We just went for dinner.’
‘Oh, Dominic and I just went for dinner.’ He cocked his hand and starting parading around the room with clenched buttocks.
‘Well, that’s all it was.’
He paused his show for a moment. ‘Even in New York, restaurants don’t stay open to…’ he craned his neck to see the clock on the wall ‘…4.37 a.m. You must have gone somewhere else.’
‘A bar.’
‘Well, that’s bloody obvious. Which one?’
I screwed up my face. ‘I don’t know. We got a taxi there. I think it was a jazz bar.’
‘Ooh, Dominic took me to a jazz bar.’ He recommenced his silly walk around the room, his boxer and sock combo doing nothing for him. ‘My “colleague” and I went to a jazz bar. How wonderful.’
I was starting to get irritated. ‘And you?’ I asked. ‘Were you mentoring Jenna this evening?’
‘Mentoring?’
‘It’s a polite way of saying flirting.’
‘I don’t flirt.’
‘No, of course not. You’re just discriminately friendly to pretty girls.’
He scowled at me. ‘Don’t turn this around onto me, Ellie. You’re in the wrong and you know it.’
‘How am I wrong?’
‘You fancy that guy. I can tell. And you’re still hanging out with him. Worse still, you’re now going on holiday together.’
‘It’s a work trip,’ I said. ‘Besides, I told you, I’ll come back for a few weekends. And you can come visit me too?’
Nick shook his head. ‘Jenna and I are swamped at work right now, it will be almost impossible.’
I let out a long slow breath, as though trying to exhale any thoughts of Jenna, and then walked towards him and put my arms around his neck. ‘I love you,’ I said. ‘That will never change. You have nothing to worry about.’
He stepped back and stared at me. ‘I wish I could believe you, Ellie.’
‘You can,’ I said.
He looked me in the eye. ‘You of all people know that we shouldn’t be complacent.’
I took a deep breath. ‘We’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Now come on, let’s go to bed.’
He pulled me back, his eyes pleading. ‘I don’t want you to go with him.’
I frowned.
‘On the trip,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to go with him.’
I looked back at him and, for a brief moment, considered relenting. But then I realised that our marriage wasn’t just about Nick’s wants, it was about my needs too. And I needed to find the answers I’d been searching for. Not only for us, but for my clients too.
Chapter 20
It was only our second month in New York, but as I watched Nick heave my suitcase into the back of a yellow taxi, it felt as though I were leaving home all over again. I’d left my hopes for a family in London, but now part of me worried that I might be leaving something greater here.
Nick had offered to accompany me to the airport, an act which I would have liked to consider romantic, although I suspected was more of a final attempt to persuade me to stay or failing that, at the very least, an opportunity to take the piss out of Dominic.
Dominic was standing in the check-in queue when we arrived. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a Paul Smith shirt. I immediately sensed Nick tense.
‘Ooh look, Dominic has got his best shirt on,’ he said.
I glared at Nick. ‘Is it really necessary to start every sentence about Dominic with an effeminate “ooh”?’
Nick laughed. ‘Yes. It is.’
I turned to him and wagged my finger. ‘And you need to stop with the bottom-clenching walk too. He’ll notice.’
Nick chuckled. ‘That is the point.’
When we reached the check-in queue, Dominic stepped forward to greet us. He addressed Nick first.
‘All right, mate?’ he said to Nick.
Nick broadened his shoulders and shook Dominic’s hand. ‘All right.’
Then Dominic turned to me with a smile. ‘So, Ellie, are you ready for Reykjavik?’
I laughed. ‘Yes, although I still don’t fully understand why we wiped Bali off the list.’
Dominic turned to Nick and raised an eyebrow. ‘You know what women are like unsupervised with a travel budget.’
Nick smirked.
‘Have you ever been to Reykjavik, mate?’ Dominic asked Nick.
Nick nodded. ‘Yes, mate,’ he said, enunciating the ‘mate’ as if to mock Dominic’s attempts at British colloquialisms.
‘He went there for a stag do,’ I added.
Dominic chuckled. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘any recommendations?’
Nick smirked. ‘Yeah, keep out of the whorehouses, they’re a rip-off.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘He’s joking,’ I said, noticing Dominic looking a little annoyed. I nudged Nick in the ribs.
Nick laughed. ‘Seriously, mate, it’s a beautiful country.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘I’d always promised Ellie I’d take her one day.’
Dominic glanced up at the departure board and then gestured to the check-in desk. ‘We’d better get a move on,’ he said, turning to me. ‘Let me take your case, Ellie.’
Nick swooped in and snatched it off him. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Thanks, but it has wheels. I’m really OK by myself.’
Once we’d reclaimed a place in the queue, Dominic manned the cases while Nick and I said goodbye.
Nick slipped his hands around my waist and glanced over my shoulder.
‘I’m finding it hard to be sincere with old beady eyes over there watching us,’ he said.
I looked behind me to see Dominic pretending to be busy on his phone.
‘Oh ignore him,’ I said. ‘I want to say goodbye properly.’
Nick swallowed. ‘You’ll be back at the end of May, right?’
‘Or before,’ I said. ‘Maybe I could pop back next weekend? Or the one after?’
Nick rolled his eyes. ‘Pop back? You’re not nipping out to the corner shop. You’re travelling across four different time zones.’
I scowled at him. ‘Millions of people manage long-distance relationships, Nick.’
‘Millions?’ he said, laughing. Then he kissed me. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said.
I took a sharp breath. ‘Me too,’ I said.
He held my waist tighter and looked me in the eye. ‘Don’t go,’ he said.
‘I have to.’
He sighed. ‘It’s not as if the matchmaking Mafia are holding you to ransom. You don’t have to.’
‘It’s something I need to do,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you can’t take a few weeks’ holiday and join me for a bit?’
Nick sighed. ‘I told you, I’m swamped.’ He looked down. Then he looked back up at me, eyes teary. ‘I love you, Ellie Rigby.’
I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his. ‘I love you too,’ I said.
He wiped his eyes and then took my hands in his. ‘Promise me one thing,’ he said.
I smiled. ‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Two months is a long time,’ he began. ‘The world is full of temptations.’
I nodded.
‘You have to promise me…’ his gaze intensified ‘… promise me that no matter what happens, in the time you’re away, you won’t…’ He paused again. ‘Promise me you won’t…’
‘Won’t what?’
Suddenly a smiled edged out from the corners of his mouth. ‘Get fat,’ he said and then burst out laughing.
I slapped him on the chest. ‘You’re not funny,’ I said.
He pulled me into his arms. ‘Oh, and don’t shag that twat either, you know it would kill me.’
The next morning, my phone alerted me to the fact that Reykjavik was four hours ahead of my body clock. In two hours, Dominic and I were due to meet Dr Gunnarsson, a sociologist, who, according to Mandi’s notes, was going to explain why Iceland’s inhabitants report the highest levels of happiness while at the same time suffering one of the highest divorce rates in the world. I jumped out of bed and shivered, briefly contemplating showering in my thermals.
I was still shivering at breakfast with Dominic.
‘It’s so bloody cold here,’ I said. ‘Maybe people are happier divorced because it means they can keep their clothes on in bed.’ I craned my neck to see if there was a coffee pot anywhere on the hotel breakfast counter.
Dominic, seemingly in tune with my needs, jumped up and grabbed a pot. I watched him while he poured me a cup. He was rocking the Iceland chic, broad shoulders insulated in a stylish cable-knit jumper, while I was layered in several old hiking fleeces. Once he’d poured the coffee, he picked up a hunk of rye bread and studied it.
‘Do married people have sex? I thought they didn’t,’ he said, taking a bite.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Of course we do.’
He raised his eyebrows and reached for the jam. ‘No need to be defensive. I wasn’t necessarily referring to you.’
‘Necessarily?’
‘Well, you are married, so you would have a better idea than me.’
‘Nick and I have sex.’
He nodded and slathered some butter on the bread. ‘As gorgeous as you are, Ellie, I doubt you have as much sex as you did when you first met.’
I eyed a boiled egg that was on the table. ‘Is this really a breakfast conversation?’
‘Maybe not,’ he said, spooning on the jam, ‘but it’s a valid question.’
I picked up the egg and put it on my plate. ‘Well, it sounds like more of a judgement than a question.’
‘I apologise,’ he said. ‘I was just wondering, that’s all. I read something about how sex is essential to maintain a couple’s bond. There’s a hormone that is released during sex and that is how a couple bonds and stays bonded.’
I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Oxytocin,’ I said.
Dominic looked back up at me. ‘You really have done your research, haven’t you?’
I nodded.
‘So how does it work?’
‘It’s released when you stroke your dog or have sex.’
Dominic coughed. ‘With your dog?’
I frowned. ‘Of course not. Also when breastfeeding. Both the baby and the mother release it. It’s basically physical contact or orgasm which causes it to be released.’
Dominic smirked.
I continued. ‘So if a couple stop having sex, or have cuddles which last less than ten to twelve seconds, apparently the levels drop.’
Dominic hooted with laughter. ‘Cuddles? Do grown-up people actually have cuddles?’
I sighed. ‘You know what I mean.’
He stared at his bread for a while and then back up at me. ‘And friendship?’ he said. ‘You and I talking right now. We’re bonding, aren’t we?’
I laughed.
‘But we haven’t had any cuddles, have we?’ he said, smirking. ‘Or orgasms.’ Then he leaned back in his seat. ‘Unless, of course, you count that dream I had about you last night.’
I felt my cheeks flushing. ‘Stop it.’
He grinned. ‘I’m joking,’ he said, his smile widening. Then he took a quick slurp of coffee. ‘Come on, eat up, I’m dying to meet this guy.’
The taxi ride to Dr Gunnarsson’s office took us through the quaint streets of Reykjavik. I stared out the window as we passed the rows of Lego houses. I envisaged their architect to be a four-year-old child armed with crayons and a naive vision of how a town should look. I sat back ready to take in more scenery but was distracted by my phone, which kept vibrating.
Dominic leaned over, glancing at the screen. ‘Someone missing their cuddles?’
I batted him away, and scrolled through my messages. I hadn’t checked any since we’d landed. Three were from Nick.
7pm: Hope you had a good flight x
11pm: Miss you xx
1am: Remind buttock twat you’re married xxx
I laughed out loud at the last one.
‘What?’ Dominic asked. I wouldn’t tell him, so he huffed and pretended to look out the window.
Then I noticed there were three voicemails and a strange text from Matthew. I called him straight away.
He answered on the third ring. ‘Ellie, where have you been?’ He was almost shouting. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days!’
‘Days?’ I asked.
He let out a sharp sigh. ‘Well, since yesterday. And now it’s today, so technically, that’s two days I’ve been trying to reach you.’
‘I’m in Iceland. Are you OK?’
‘No, I’m not.’ His voice sounded pained, like he was being held up at gunpoint. ‘Iceland the country?’
I laughed. ‘No, Iceland the frozen food store. I thought Sara Lee might help combat the rising divorce rate.’
Matthew sighed. ‘This is no time to joke, Ellie.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, leaning across to slap Dominic, who was now laughing loudly at my joke.
‘Is that Nick?’ Matthew asked.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s Dominic, my colleague. He’s helping me with the research.’
‘The CEO guy?’ Matthew asked.
I nodded, although fully aware Matthew couldn’t see me.
‘The one you hate?’
‘Yes,’ I said, glancing at Dominic to make sure he hadn’t heard. ‘But I thought we were supposed to be talking about you.’
Matthew took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. ‘She’s left me, Ellie.’
My stomach lurched. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.’
I sighed. ‘Please not another Smart car Red Bull road trip,’ I said. ‘You can’t leave your kids again.’
Matthew huffed. ‘She left me. And she took the kids. None of this was my choice. And it wasn’t a Smart car. It was a Cinquecento.’
‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘I thought you two were sorting things out.’
‘We were.’
‘What happened?’
‘I told you, I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.’
I sighed. ‘Well, you’re going to have to. I’m in Iceland and you’re in London.’
‘I don’t want the buttock clencher to overhear.’
‘He won’t, don’t worry.’
‘No. I can’t. I have to go. I’ll call you later.’
Then the line went dead. I tried to call back but it went straight to voicemail. I left a garbled message promising that next time the buttock clencher would be out of earshot. As soon as I said the words, I realised that just because Matthew couldn’t hear me, it didn’t mean that Dominic couldn’t.
Dominic turned to me with raised eyebrows. ‘Buttock clencher?’
I winced and then offered a smile. ‘His words, not mine,’ I said.
Dominic frowned. ‘But he hasn’t met me,’ he said.
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I’m sure he did one time.’
‘Hmmm,’ Dominic murmured, eyeing me suspiciously.
It turned out that Dr Gunnarsson’s office was based off campus on the outskirts of town. The taxi driver dropped us off in the car park, which was deserted apart from a man wearing a pair of micro shorts and a fleece. He had wild blond hair and a beaded necklace and looked like a hybrid of Boris Johnson and Bon Jovi.
He greeted us. ‘Góðan daginn,’ he said.
Dominic and I looked at each other. The eccentric caretaker, or whoever he was, picked up a tatty-looking rucksack and gestured for us to follow him.
We took a small grassy path up beside a cluster of buildings, which led to another path along the side of a hill.
‘Is Dr Gunnarsson’s office up here?’ I
eventually asked, slightly concerned we’d been duped by a serial killer.
The man stopped and laughed heartily. Then he turned to me. ‘Bore,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Bore Gunnarsson.’
I felt my face flush. ‘Sorry,’ I said, taking his hand. ‘I’m Ellie, lovely to meet you.’
Dominic laughed and stepped forward. ‘Good to meet you, Dr Gunnarsson,’ he said, giving me a sly wink. ‘I’ve been following your research for some time now.’
‘Bore, please call me Bore,’ he said, continuing up the path. ‘And as you’ve been following my research, as you say, you’ll know precisely where we are going.’
Dominic glanced at me.
I shrugged my shoulders.
The path followed a river. Its grassy banks and misty turquoise water made me think that it too had been the brainchild of the four-year-old with the crayons.
Dr Gunnarsson stopped and turned to us.
‘This is known as Steam Valley,’ he said, raising one arm out in front of him. ‘Iceland lies in the middle of the continental rift, the point where the tectonic plates of North America and Europe join.’ He pointed at the ground. ‘The country was created by magma seeping out between the joining of the two plates. The plates continuously shift,’ he continued, ‘creating a weak point where energy can be easily released.’ He paused and scratched his chin. ‘Rather like a marriage,’ he added. Then he unzipped his fleece and threw it to the ground. ‘This results in what is known as a hot spring.’ He whipped off his micro shorts and underpants, then ran and jumped into the steaming pool beside us. ‘Come on,’ he said, before dunking his head under the water.
I glanced sideways at Dominic.
‘I’m game,’ Dominic said, pulling off his jumper. I stood silent and watched. His chest was broad, tanned and toned and his stomach flat and taut.
He looked at me and smiled. ‘You coming?’ he said, unzipping his jeans.
I quickly turned the other way, placing my hands over my eyes. ‘No, I think I’ll sit this one out.’
Bore laughed. ‘You have to be at peace with your body to be at peace with your soul.’
‘My body is at peace. Thank you very much. It’s just nice and warm in its fleece right now.’
I heard a splash.
‘You can look, I’m in now,’ Dominic said.