Unsuitable Men

by Pippa Wright

  ‘Did I offend you in some way, Rory?’ Amanda asked, raising a supercilious eyebrow.

  I felt oddly emboldened, by what I don’t know. Usually I would have muttered, ‘No’ and seethed about it in private. But audiences with Amanda were so rare I knew I would regret it for ever if I didn’t speak up properly.

  ‘Amanda, I like writing those art history pieces. That’s why I work here. I like visiting country houses, and researching the artworks, and finding out the history behind things. I – I don’t think I’m the right person for this job if my value to you comes only from writing a dating column, and being related to someone who was once famous. I think, actually, it might be time for me to move on from Country House. I think I should find somewhere that I fit in better.’

  Amanda gripped her pen between her fingers and stared at me crossly. ‘Firstly, Rory, the person who decides what makes a good features editor is not you. It is me. Which is why you will apply for this as I asked.’

  I started to speak, but Amanda raised her hand to stop me.

  ‘Secondly, baby. Bathwater.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I asked.

  ‘Rory, you have invested a lot of time at Country House and, whatever you might think, you are valued here. Don’t go throwing the baby out with the bathwater because of some silly notion that you don’t fit in. I’ve told you there will be changes here. Write me a proposal. Tell me how you propose to integrate the old Country House with the new – how you can keep the art history but bring in new readers. Pitch me an idea for an advice columnist. Baby, bathwater. Think about it.’

  ‘But . . .’ I felt my grand gesture had been swept under the carpet. I thought I had just resigned, but Amanda didn’t even seem to notice.

  ‘End of conversation, Rory,’ said Amanda, turning back to her computer screen. ‘Let me have your pitch by Monday.’

  I left her office stunned, hardly able to take in what she had been saying. Amanda considered me a valued member of the team? She thought I fitted in? She was considering promoting me, and not dismissing my ideas out of hand? I had gone in there expecting to be made redundant, ended up offering my resignation, and now I was leaving not only still with a job, but with the possibility of a promotion that I wasn’t even sure I wanted. My shocked face was like a lure to Ticky, who sprang to my side out of nowhere as I passed the kitchen.

  ‘Roooooars,’ she drawled, deeply sympathetic. ‘Was it appalling? What did Maaahn say? Are you okay? How are you feeling? When do you leave?’

  ‘Leave?’ I asked.

  Ticky nodded. ‘Yah.’

  I noticed how the office seemed to have stilled, waiting for me to answer. They all thought Amanda had called me in there to get rid of me. That she would fire me the day I came back from the bedside of my aunt.

  ‘Roars,’ said Ticky suddenly, clutching at my arm. ‘It’s faahrking shit. Maaahn is insane. This place would, like, fall apart without you.’

  Lysander appeared on my other side, holding his fooling-no-one piece of paper. ‘Aurora, please say it’s not true. Isn’t there something we can do?’

  Noonoo’s head rose up above Lysander’s shoulder like a pashmina-swathed moon. ‘I raaahlly can’t believe she’d do it, Rory Who’s going to make all of my friends sound like they can actually string a sentence together if you’re not here?’

  Jeremy came striding down the corridor from the art department, squaring his dark-framed glasses determinedly with his hand. ‘I’m going in there, Rory. I’m going in there right now and telling her we won’t work until you’re reinstated.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Wait, all of you. I’m not leaving.’

  ‘You’re not?’ said Ticky. ‘Faahrking hell, Roars, way to make the lot of us have, like, a collective faahrking heart attack.’

  Lysander glared at her and she hastily continued, ‘Oh yah, sorry, no offence to your aunt, Roars.’

  Jeremy looked enormously relieved, placing a palm flat on his chest and exhaling loudly. ‘So I don’t actually have to go in there? Oh thank God, Rory, because I don’t know if I really could have done it.’

  ‘So what’s going on then?’ asked Flickers, drawn by the knot of people in the corridor.

  ‘Is the sweepstake ruined?’ I asked.

  ‘Rory,’ he said, looking wounded. ‘There are some things that even I won’t bet on.’

  Later I saw him returning pound coins to a few people. But by then I didn’t really mind. Amanda had told me I was valued at Country House, but I had thought it was just to stop her losing another member of the team when she was already short-staffed. The reaction of my colleagues, however, had astonished me. I did have friends here. I was of value. I was going to write that proposal. I was going to get that job.

  37

  Auntie Lyd’s house was still full of flowers, although some of them had started wilting by Friday. Mum had sent a box of peculiar lemon-favoured Spanish chocolates and a bottle of brandy, and had had to be prevented from flying over to look after her sister – her penchant for dramatics would have been strictly against doctor’s orders. There had been other gifts, too: a box of books selected by Lysander from his shelves of freebies and sent with a grovelling note that begged an audience with ‘the divine Lydia’; a cashmere blanket from Linda Ellery, who begged to know when her former co-star was allowed visitors. The oddest gift though had been a vast hamper of assorted meats from the butchers, mortified at Auntie Lyd’s collapse on their premises. Eleanor and I had packed away as much as possible into the freezer, but there was still an entire leg of lamb that we couldn’t wedge in no matter how we arranged the frozen peas.

  Auntie Lyd declared that she was going to cook it for all of us as a thank-you for our help while she had been ill. Her only concession to our objections had been to agree to Jim helping her cook while she dictated instructions from the armchair he had carried downstairs to the kitchen. She had even suggested to me that I could invite Martin if I liked, but I hadn’t passed on the invitation. I had promised him an answer tomorrow, and I hoped that by then I would finally have made up my mind.

  I had thought about it. I really had. Especially since I’d spoken to Amanda. Baby, bathwater. Was I going to throw away eleven years just because he had made one mistake? I’d put in all that time and effort and love, and now I was considering turning my back on him – on us – for ever. And for what? It wasn’t like I’d been swept off my feet by the available men out there. If anything, the thought of the unsuitable men I’d encountered should have me running back gratefully into Martin’s arms. I was nearly thirty; it was time to behave like a grownup, not the delayed adolescent dater that I had been over the last few months. Did I really want to walk away from a stable adult relationship for sordid encounters with unemployed musicians and teenaged sexters? Like my job at Country House, my relationship with Martin wasn’t perfect. But maybe it was good enough. Perhaps things could change between Martin and me. Perhaps we could be happy together again.

  Everyone in the kitchen was slightly hysterical when I got home from work. I thought they must have started drinking already, but nothing stronger than tea was in evidence, even in Eleanor’s cup. She and Percy were lining a complicated-looking fish-shaped mould (‘From eBay – can you imagine? Someone was selling it for a song!’ said Eleanor) with smoked salmon, and arguing over the consistency of a pale-pink mousse that was to be placed in it. Percy wanted to add more lemon juice but Eleanor slapped his hand away when he ventured near the bowl, and pointed authoritatively towards the recipe book, announcing, ‘Do not question Delia.’ Rich smells indicated the lamb was already in the oven, while a plaster on Jim’s thumb suggested that Auntie Lyd had had him using her lethal mandolin slicer for potatoes dauphinoise. The kitchen table had been cleared of its normal detritus and was laid for five, with Auntie Lyd placed at the head.

  ‘What can I do?’ I asked, putting down the wine I’d bought on my way home.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ said Auntie Lyd, just as Jim said, ‘Open the wine.�
�

  ‘I’ll open the wine then,’ I said, and went towards the drawer where the corkscrew was kept, but Jim got there before me. We both reached for the drawer handle at the same time and he nudged me out of the way with his hip.

  ‘Oi, I’m in charge of the kitchen tonight, Dawn. Out.’ He handed me the corkscrew and guided me by the shoulders away from the work surface, where vegetables were laid out for chopping.

  ‘So masterful,’ I said, feigning a swoon. Since our awkward talk in the van I’d kept my distance from Jim a little, and he from me. The overt hostilities were over now that we were united in looking after Auntie Lyd, and he had resumed his constant teasing, but it was clear that neither of us was keen to repeat our kitchen tête-à-tête any time soon.

  From across the kitchen Eleanor shrieked, ‘Percy-will-you-get-away-from-that-bowl-with-the-lemon!’

  Percy reluctantly handed over the half of lemon that he’d secreted in his palm, and Eleanor threw it in the bin. ‘Don’t blame me if the mousse is solid,’ he declared.

  ‘It’s supposed to be solid, Percy,’ hissed Eleanor. ‘Or it will run all over the place.’

  ‘What’s for pudding?’ I asked Jim, easing the cork out of the bottle of red wine.

  ‘Surprise,’ grinned Jim, exchanging a glance with Auntie Lyd. It was weird: I didn’t feel jealous of their rapport any more. If I moved out of the house, and back with Martin, I felt grateful that Jim would still be around to help out if Auntie Lyd needed it. Not that I wouldn’t be – of course I wasn’t going to entirely disappear – but there was a bond there that made me feel that Auntie Lyd was not going to be alone. She had a family – it might not be the husband and 2.4 children that I wanted for myself, but it was a family nonetheless, and she was safe within it. Perhaps in a way that made them my family too.

  ‘A surprise pudding?’ I said. ‘Mmm, what’s it going to be, Jim, plumber’s plum pudding with a delicious sauce of grouting?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see. Like I said, surprise,’ he said mysteriously.

  Percy and Eleanor were bickering in fierce whispers about who would carry the fish mould over to the fridge, tugging it between them like squabbling toddlers. Auntie Lyd tilted her head in their direction to indicate that I should step in, and I was just about to when the doorbell rang.

  ‘The postman?’ asked Eleanor hopefully, looking up from the fish mould. I think we had all hoped that her new addiction to internet shopping might replace Eleanor’s early morning whisky habit, but so far she seemed to be able to run both concurrently and quite happily. New eBay monstrosities arrived at Elgin Square daily.

  ‘Not at this hour, woman,’ said Percy, pulling at the fish mould again.

  ‘Did you invite someone else?’ I asked Auntie Lyd.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘Did you?’

  I shook my head.

  Jim wiped his hands on the apron that he’d tied around his waist. ‘Probably a gift from another admirer, Lydia. I’ll get it.’

  Eleanor took advantage of Percy’s momentary distraction to wrest the fish mould from his grasp and march it over to the fridge. I opened the door so she could place it on a shelf and Percy cast me the wounded look of the unexpectedly betrayed. ‘Et tu, Brute?’ he asked.

  Auntie Lyd ignored us all. She appeared to be straining to hear the conversation from upstairs, probably hoping it wasn’t another gift of meat from the butcher, an apologetic wreath of beef or something. Her face darkened. I started listening too. I knew that voice.

  Steps thundered down the stairs to the basement and Martin burst through the door with Jim close behind him. His hair was dishevelled and his face red, as if he’d been running.

  ‘Martin?’ I asked, stepping towards him. He looked like someone else – not the calm, ordered man that I knew. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ said Martin, breathing heavily. He dropped his briefcase on the floor. ‘I’ve come here straight from work. I couldn’t wait any longer, Rory. I needed to see you.’

  ‘Mate,’ said Jim, moving cautiously towards him as if approaching an unpredictable wild animal. ‘Do you want a drink or anything?’

  ‘I don’t want a drink,’ Martin said, swatting him away without taking his eyes off me. ‘I just need to talk to Rory. Now. There are things I need to say. I can’t wait any longer.’

  ‘Martin,’ I pleaded. Not now. Not here. We agreed we’d talk tomorrow.’

  He looked around the room as if he’d just awoken from a dream in which he was somewhere else entirely. The table laid for dinner, the wine open on the windowsill above the radiator, pans bubbling on the stove.

  ‘Well, isn’t this lovely?’ he said, taking it all in. ‘Everyone all together. Thanks for the invitation.’

  ‘This isn’t appropriate, Martin,’ I said firmly, taking his elbow. Didn’t he remember that Auntie Lyd wasn’t to be agitated under any circumstances? Although she didn’t seem angry. She was looking at Martin with a curious expression; not so much anger as a kind of pity. ‘Let’s go upstairs and talk there.’

  ‘No!’ He wrested his arm away from me and took my hand instead. ‘I’m happy for everyone to hear what I want to say to you. It’s about time I said it.’

  ‘Martin,’ I hissed, feeling the eyes of everyone on us. I couldn’t believe he’d burst in here like this, demanding my answer before I was ready.

  ‘I know you, Rory,’ he said. ‘It was killing me waiting for you to make up your mind and then I realized – you never make decisions about anything. You always wait for me to do it. Remember when we bought the house? You left everything to me, and wasn’t it better like that? Don’t I know what makes you happy? So here I am. I’ve decided for us.’

  He let go of my hand and reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a velvet box with a curved lid. He stretched it out to me unopened, bending unsteadily down on to one knee. I could feel myself shaking. Could feel the whole kitchen holding its breath.

  ‘Martin, don’t do this,’ I said. ‘Please.’

  ‘Rory,’ he said. He clutched the ring box in his palm so tightly that it looked almost as if he was threatening me with his fist instead of proffering something I should have been glad to see. ‘Rory, let me make you happy. Let me make it right. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?’

  I started backing away, shaking my head. Suddenly it was all incredibly clear. As if I was seeing Martin properly for the first time. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with him. I wasn’t even sure if I could bear to spend the next five minutes with him.

  ‘I can’t marry you,’ I said.

  His smile faltered slightly, but remained, as if resistance was only to be expected. He rose to his feet and came towards me.

  ‘Rory,’ he urged, ‘you don’t have to do this any more. Just let go of the past. It’s all behind us now. We’ve got a future together. You and me.’

  ‘Please don’t, Martin,’ I said again, retreating away from him.

  He dropped his arms by his side. ‘Rory?’ he asked. He squinted at me as if he might have accidentally proposed to Eleanor or Auntie Lyd, the wrong person entirely; his Rory would never refuse him like this.

  Perhaps his Rory wouldn’t have. But this Rory had.

  ‘What’s wrong, Rory?’ he said. ‘I thought this was what you wanted.’

  ‘No, Martin, this is what you wanted,’ I said, my fingers bunching into fists. ‘Everything is always about what you want. If you knew me at all, you’d have enough respect not to come in here like this, interrupting me and my family—’

  ‘Your family?’ he laughed, sneering as he looked around the kitchen. ‘One dried up old has-been and her half-dead friends? A tradesman? This is what you call a family?’

  I saw Percy take a determined step towards Martin, squaring up to a man twice his size and less than half his age. From the corner of my eye I saw Jim shake his head at Percy and mouth, ‘Stay out of it.’

  ‘It’s more of
a family than I ever had with you, Martin,’ I said steadily. ‘They’ve been more supportive and kind and loving in a few weeks than you ever were in all the years we were together.’

  Martin stepped backwards, bumping into one of the kitchen chairs. His voice was thick with anger. ‘After everything I’ve done for you.’

  ‘Martin. I am grateful. You’ve been incredibly kind over the last week. But I’m not going to marry you for it.’

  Martin went very quiet. The belligerence seemed to drain away as we watched, his shoulders rounding over his deflating chest. He looked down at the velvet box in his hands. ‘Don’t you even want to see the ring?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t care if it’s the Koh-i-noor diamond in there, Martin, I can’t say yes.’

  He wrung the box round and round in his hands. ‘You’ve changed,’ he muttered at the floor.

  I looked at Auntie Lyd. She hadn’t stirred from her chair or said a word. She’d left me to deal with this just as I saw fit. Percy and Eleanor held hands beside her. Behind Martin, Jim stood ready to help the moment I asked. None of them would have dreamed of acting for me; they were just here to help with whatever I decided. And I had decided.

  ‘I have,’ I said proudly. ‘I have changed.’

  38

  I remember reading in a book once that a turning point in your life only becomes one in retrospect – that at the time you almost always fail to actually turn. You continue living your life, and change creeps in by stealth, by many little turning points that you still fail to notice until – there it is, you’ve turned. There is rarely a moment of great and shining revelation in real life. It’s only afterwards, looking back and trying to construct a narrative for your confused mishmash of conflicting decisions, that you think, Oh yes. That was it. That was the point at which I knew things were going to change.

  It was like that with Martin. The moment of refusing his proposal hadn’t been the turning point at all. Hadn’t I known as soon as I went back to our house, all those months ago to collect my things, that it wasn’t really my home, and never had been? Hadn’t I taken steps to change my life by dating the unsuitable men? And yet I’d continued to dream about getting back together with him, tortured myself about whether to return to the life he was offering, without even seeing that I had a whole life of my own going on right under my nose.