Pug Actually

by Matt Dunn

  Tom throws his stick down in the manner of a victorious gladiator and takes a bow in Julie’s direction.

  Luke scowls up at him, and for a moment, I fear he’s going to attack him for real. Then—perhaps remembering where he is and who he is—he scrambles to his feet.

  “Best of three?” he says, but Tom shakes his head.

  “No thanks,” he says. “I’ve neglected this lovely lady long enough.”

  Then Tom steps off the platform, struts over to where Julie’s still applauding him, and—taking my leash in one hand, and her arm in the other—escorts us away across the grass.

  28

  “That was...” Julie looks up at Tom, her mouth open, then shakes her head slowly when she can’t come up with an appropriate word.

  “Wasn’t it?” Tom grins, then grabs his belt buckle, and makes a show of loosening the front of his trousers. “Though I took one right in the batteries.” He winces exaggeratedly. “Still, I think we made our point.”

  “Didn’t we just!” She rubs Tom’s arm affectionately, then perhaps realizes she shouldn’t have. “So you can probably, you know, let go of...” She flicks her eyes down at where Tom’s hand is gripping tightly onto hers. “If you wanted to, that is.”

  Tom grins again. “Best not. Not yet, anyway. Wait until we’re out of sight. Just to keep up appearances.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sure.” Julie smiles at him tentatively, though she looks like she’s not too disappointed.

  The three of us walk on in a comfortable silence to find a bench, stopping off on the way at the bar, where Tom gets Julie another drink, and he and I share a bottle of water. Then, when we’re sitting in the early evening sun and I’m trying hard not to doze off, Tom clears his throat.

  “Listen, Julie, and please tell me it’s none of my business...”

  “It’s none of your business!” she says, then she smiles. “Go on.”

  “It’s just... You and that Luke guy...” He frowns, then takes a second or two, as if he’s trying to work out exactly how to phrase his question, then he shrugs exaggeratedly. “What exactly did you see in him?”

  I brace myself. I’ve seen Julie react in a bad way whenever Priya’s asked her this question, but for some reason—maybe because of what Tom’s just done for her, or perhaps because she’s halfway through her second Pimm’s—she seems happy to answer.

  “I guess the fact that he was just...interested.”

  “Interested?”

  “In me.”

  “I assumed you didn’t mean in stamp collecting.”

  “Ha ha!” Julie reaches over and pokes him in the ribs. “And I hadn’t had that—a man, interested in me, paying me so much attention—for a while.”

  “I find that hard to bel...” Tom face-palms himself. “Sorry. That sounded really cheesy.”

  “It did. But thank you, anyway.”

  “And, at the risk of asking the obvious question...”

  “Which is?” says Julie, after an awkward second or three.

  “The fact that he was married...?”

  “I didn’t know he was married at first. He didn’t tell me until we’d been seeing each other for a few weeks. And even then, he told me he was separated, that it was complicated...” Julie looks up to the heavens and does a silent scream. “But when you’re with someone, and you like them, and they treat you like a queen—and trust me, he was very charming, and attentive, in the beginning, at least—then after a few weeks they sit you down and say, ‘we need to talk,’ and you’re expecting the worst, but what they actually come out with isn’t quite the worst even though it’s still pretty bad, it’s a bit of a relief. And so you tend to forgive them, rather than...” She pauses for breath. “And then everything that happened, he always had an excuse for. When I found out he and his wife were still living together, it was because she couldn’t afford to move out, and when I asked him why we couldn’t be seen out together, it was because he didn’t want to hurt her until they’d finally made public the fact that they were separating, and in a perverse way, I respected him for that. Thought he was being caring. Stupid of me, I know.”

  “And the whole ‘getting her pregnant’ thing?”

  Julie shakes her head. “It’s crazy, I know, but even then a part of me wanted to believe him. Or at least, I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt...”

  She looks at Tom earnestly, noticing his widened eyes. “None of us are perfect, Tom. We all make mistakes.”

  She takes a sip of Pimm’s. “But then when I found out he and his wife had undergone IVF...”

  “How on earth did you find that out?”

  Julie’s cheeks darken. “That’s not important,” she says, perhaps not wanting to bore Tom with the stalking-Luke’s-wife episode. “But sometimes, somehow, something happens that means you can suddenly see everything else for what it was.”

  “So, that was the thing that made you realize things had to, you know...?”

  “End?” Julie does that thing where she sticks her lower lip out to indicate that she’s thinking. “Yeah. Plus by then, I’d met her, and...”

  “You met her?”

  “Yup. And she was lovely. And I felt really guilty.” Julie catches me watching her, so she reaches down and scratches the top of my head, and I nuzzle her hand affectionately. “I’d just about managed to convince myself that if their relationship was, as Luke had told me, over, then I wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. But it wasn’t, so—like you so kindly pointed out at your mum’s barbecue—I kind of was. And it’s a dilemma, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Tom nods, then he frowns. “Um, what is?”

  “Whether you do the right thing or not. Like I said, I realized how nice she was, and, of course, that she was, you know...” Julie mimes being pregnant. “So I decided I better just walk away and leave the two of them to it. You know, do the decent thing.”

  “As opposed to the indecent thing. Like he’d been doing all that time.”

  Julie ignores him. “And then, there was a part of me that thought she deserved to know. After all, she was going to be raising a child with this man, and she needed to understand what he was like.”

  “So what did you decide?”

  Julie shrugs. “Obviously I wanted some revenge, but that doesn’t make me out as a very nice person. And if I did tell her, and she left him as a result? I’d be responsible for their kids growing up without a dad.”

  “Kids?”

  “They’re having twins,” says Julie, and Tom makes a face. “And as someone who’s lost a parent, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Plus it turns out she knew anyway.”

  “No!”

  Julie nods. “Said she’s made her peace with it. So I thought to myself, the best thing I could do would be just leave them to it.”

  “That was good of you, you know?”

  “Maybe. Although it doesn’t make me feel very good about myself.”

  “Well you should. Because you’ve a lot to feel good about. Not the least of which is how you’ve shown yourself to be a decent human being, after all. Selfless. And with a lot to offer to...” He looks away. “The right man.”

  “Tom, I...”

  Julie looks like she’s about to start crying, and at once, Tom looks like he’s fearing he’s overstepped the mark. “Hey,” he says, nudging her playfully. “You just need to think about what you want.”

  Julie gives him the longest of side-eyes, then she grabs Tom’s hand, and stands up.

  “I want you to take me home,” she says.

  29

  The drive back home doesn’t take that long. Even so, Julie spends it staring quietly out of the window, as if the warm breeze combined with the soporific hum from the engine is making her so relaxed she’s in danger of dropping off to sle
ep. And when she does and, in fact, starts snoring, her head drops onto Tom’s shoulder. He has to drive slightly hunched over so as not to wake her, and I can’t help feeling there’s a connection between the two of them that goes a lot deeper than today’s pretending to be together.

  When we pull up outside the house, she’s still dead to the world. Tom parks the car as smoothly as he can, then lifts me from her lap into his, and sits there for a while, stroking me absentmindedly, looking like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Eventually, Julie snorts herself half awake, so he takes the opportunity to give her shoulder a gentle shake.

  “What? Oh.” Julie looks shocked to realize she’s been resting her head on Tom’s shoulder. She sits up with a start, recognizes where we are, and performs something akin to my big stretch. “Was I asleep?”

  “I hope so. Otherwise this car’s going straight in for a service.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “If that noise wasn’t you snoring...”

  “I don’t snore!”

  Tom just raises an eyebrow.

  “I don’t!”

  “Back me up here, Doug.”

  At the mention of my name, I let out a short bark, and Julie harrumphs. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

  Julie reaches across to pet me, just at the same time Tom does, so she ends up patting his hand like before. It’s a little awkward for a second or two, then possibly as an excuse to withdraw her hand without offending him, she looks at her watch.

  “So, thanks, Tom.”

  “For?”

  “Everything. Coming with me today. Driving me home. Putting Luke in his place. And pretending to...you know.”

  Tom smiles broadly, in a way that suggests it hasn’t been any trouble whatsoever. “My pleasure,” he says.

  Julie looks at her watch again. “Did you want to come in?”

  “Come in?”

  “Yeah. You know. To the house. For a coffee, or something.”

  Tom stares at her for a moment, then he bursts out laughing, stopping just as abruptly. “Just so we’re clear, you mean for an actual coffee.”

  “Yes! What did you think I...?” Julie blushes, then she reaches across and punches him lightly on the upper arm.

  “Sorry.” Tom rubs his bicep. “I didn’t know how far we were taking this pretend date thing.” He unleashes that smile again, and Julie swivels toward him in her seat and stares at him for a moment. Then—with a whispered “at least this far”—she leans across and kisses him.

  I suddenly feel like a gooseberry, so I carefully hop off Tom’s lap and into the back seat, and pretend to be interested in something in one of the door pockets. But then, as Tom begins lightly kissing Julie’s neck, and to the evident horror of everyone in the car, Julie says the worst thing possible.

  “Oh, Luke...”

  Tom freezes, then he disentangles himself from Julie’s embrace, maneuvers himself back into the driving position, and places both hands carefully on the steering wheel.

  “Oh god, Tom! I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  We sit in the car in an awkward silence for what seems an age, then Julie sighs. “Tom, I need to...”

  Tom holds a hand up in the stop position. “It’s okay. I...” He clears his throat, then he turns to face her. “Listen, Julie, I really like you, more than like you, and I know you’re probably not in a great place right now insofar as relationships are concerned, but the trouble is, I am, and I’d like to have one with you, to show you that not every man is like Luke. We could have a great time together, be great together.” He glances round at me. “The three of us. I mean, how many couples do you know who get to go on a dress rehearsal for a date like we have today, and have a fantastic time, which must make you think...”

  Tom stops talking and makes a face, and I get the feeling it’s at the hash he’s making of his declaration to Julie. “After what happened to me, like I said to you the other day, I’ve got what I think might be called trust issues, and so I don’t want to risk any of this if you’re not truly over Luke. So if there’s the slightest chance you and he might...” He shakes his head, then stares straight ahead, as if he can’t bring himself to think about it. “It might sound selfish, but I was hurt so badly when my wife...you know...when she...that I just can’t...”

  Tom seems to be losing the ability to finish his sentences, but Julie obviously gets it.

  “Tom...” She mimics his earlier stop sign and rests a hand on his thigh. “I’ve had a lovely time. Really I have. And I promise you we’ll talk about what you just said. All of it. And soon. But I’m a little drunk right now, and that’s a conversation I think I’d need to be...” Julie hesitates, though only to correct herself. “Like to be completely sober for.” She makes a “pained” face. “Just know one thing—Luke and I are over. Whatever that little slip was, Freudian or otherwise, it was just a slip.”

  “It’s fine,” says Tom, though by the way his voice is sounding, I suspect it isn’t. “So, I’ll call you? Or you can call me. Whatever works, really. Or I’ll just see you at Barkrun. Or, of course, if Doug gets into another scrap...” He looks round at me again, then rolls his eyes at himself. “I’ll shut up now.”

  “Probably best,” says Julie, with a smile. “So...”

  “So... We might do this again?” asks Tom, as Julie opens the car door, grabs the stuffed bear Tom won for her, and climbs out.

  “We might well,” she says, hurrying off toward our gate, then she mimes being on the phone. “Let’s, you know...”

  “Great,” says Tom, though he doesn’t sound all that convinced.

  He reaches for the ignition key, then starts the car, and begins to pull away from the curb, then all of a sudden, Julie stops, midstride, wheels round, runs back into the middle of the road, and begins waving her arms around frantically.

  “Tom! Wait!” she shouts, and he slams on the brakes, then hurriedly reverses to where she’s standing.

  “What?” he says, hopefully, and Julie grins guiltily.

  “Sorry!” With a pained expression on her face, she collects me from the back seat, then gives Tom an apologetic smile. “I forgot Doug!”

  And though she doesn’t catch the look on Tom’s face, I do, and...well, it almost breaks your heart.

  30

  It’s Wednesday, two days after the “Oh, Luke” incident, and Tom has not called—something I overheard Julie telling Priya on the phone during their forensic analysis of the “date.” And while one option might be for Julie to call him—something he might be expecting given their rather ambiguous goodbye the other day—apparently, that would “be ridiculous.”

  Instead, Julie spends a lot of time staring at her cell phone, hoping it’ll ring, a bit like I often sit in the hall and stare at the front door, willing Julie to come home from work. But unlike my sit-and-stare-at-the-front-door thing, where Julie always comes home eventually, her phone stays ominously silent.

  Early evening finds us heading to the corner store—Julie’s renounced her recent healthy ways and has managed to drink pretty much everything alcoholic in the house. When the bell on the door rings as we come in, Sanj looks up from his usual position behind the till and smiles.

  “Evening, Jules!”

  “Is it?”

  Sanj frowns and looks at his watch. “Well, yeah, unless...” He holds his wrist to his ear, as if to check his watch is still ticking, then realizes it’s a digital one. “Duh!” he says, good-naturedly, but the attempt at humor is lost on Julie.

  “Sorry,” she says, glumly. “I thought you said, ‘Good evening.’”

  “So your ‘is it?’ was meant to suggest it isn’t?”

  “Duh!” says Julie, back at him, though not quite as good-naturedly as his earlier one.

  She grabs a cart and makes straight for the wine section, where sh
e quickly fills it with as many bottles of her favorite Chardonnay as she can, then heads back to the register. As she unloads them noisily on the counter, Sanj looks up from his phone, and widens his eyes at the contents.

  “Having a party?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” Sanj looks down at me, then hurriedly begins ringing the bottles through the register. “That’s, um, thirty-six sixty.” He nods at the till’s display, then his gaze meets Julie’s. “For the wine.”

  “And your point is?”

  “Just wine.”

  Julie’s eyes flash, then she grabs a packet of chewing gum from the display next to the register and hands it to him. “Happy now?”

  “Well...” Sanj rings up the gum, then realizes Julie’s brandishing her credit card at him as if it’s an offensive weapon she’s using in a robbery, so he gingerly slides the card reader across the counter toward her. “Is everything okay?” he asks, as she presses her card into the machine.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “No reason.” Sanj hesitates as Julie angrily punches in her PIN, then he swallows loudly. “It’s just that Priya said...”

  “Well, she shouldn’t have!” Julie snaps, then her expression softens. “Sorry, Sanj. I’m just a bit...”

  “Time of the month?”

  Julie’s glare reappears almost instantaneously. “No, Sanj. Not every bad mood a woman has is down to her hormones.”

  “No. Of course.” Sanj stabs at a button on the card reader, then waits what evidently seems to him like an age for the receipt to emerge. “So it’s...” He swallows again, even louder this time. “Luke?”