Aphrodite's Workshop for Reluctant Lovers (7 page)

‘They've spent enough money on promoting it. Of course they're pleased it's paid off.'

‘I suppose my book must be pretty good too,' I said. ‘That's the best thing of all: I think I might have written a really good book.'

‘You shouldn't confuse popular appeal with quality,' he said.

‘I know that, but it is good.'

He looked at me and there was a light in his eyes.

‘I wouldn't know,' he said. ‘I haven't read it.'

I returned his gaze, taking in every feature of his face.

‘What?' He shifted in his chair. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?'

I picked up our plates and got to my feet. I stacked the dishwasher and put the kettle on.

‘No pud?' He deployed his best boyish smile.

‘No.'

He got up from the table.

‘Becca, don't be like that. Don't be a grump.' He pulled me close and I smelt the familiar mix of aftershave and cigarette smoke and something else, something that was uniquely him, and I closed my eyes and for a moment, as I relaxed in his arms, everything was all right.

He pulled away and smiled down at me with that same rueful little-boy expression.

‘I know, I know, it's probably all my fault. It's just that… well, you just seem to know how to irritate me.' He stroked my hair. ‘You just have to learn to handle me a bit better.'

I shrugged free.

‘Handle you? What the hell are you? Radioactive waste?'

His mouth pursed.

‘Don't start.'

‘And by the way, I'm buying a flat.'

‘What do you mean you're buying a flat? When? What for? We're not moving.'

I sat back down at the kitchen table and poured myself the last of the wine. I turned and looked up at him.

‘What I mean is, I'm buying a flat. It's a wonderful flat and I've fallen in love with it. I decided to buy it…' – I looked at my watch – ‘… about two minutes ago. Or maybe a little earlier when you could not bring yourself to be happy for me. Or perhaps it was when you were rude about my cooking. Or maybe it was when you told me to fuck off although I had done nothing to deserve it. Yes, I believe that was it, the fuck off, if you like, that broke the camel's back. Then again maybe it was when I got home and you heard me in the hall but you decided not to acknowledge me. Who knows? Who knows when something actually begins, seeing as everything is connected and one thing always leads to another? But quite simply I've had enough of being the butt of your foul temper. I'm exhausted and on edge from your criticising, your lack of respect or even basic civility. I'm tired of being humiliated in front of our friends, tired of trying to constantly appease you. Appeasement never works. With you, all one can be sure of is that you never want what you have and that if you're given what you think you want you end up wanting something else. You're a toddler, a terrorist …'

A will-o'-the-wisp, a clown
, Coco sang to the tune of ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria'.

I started laughing and Dominic, who had been looking scared, relaxed and walked over to the table, putting his hand out and touching my cheek.

‘Come on, Becca. Don't be a drama queen.'

I had stopped laughing and I said instead, ‘Do you know that when I hear your key in the lock my heart starts thumping …'

Dominic started smiling and his hand slipped down to my left breast.

‘Me too,' he said. ‘In spite of everything, that's how I feel too.'

I pushed away his hand.

‘With fear,' I said.

His smile shrank, bringing his cheeks with it.

‘Fear? Don't be ridiculous.'

‘You're right, it
is
ridiculous that in the twenty-first century a grown woman of independent means should allow herself to be bullied and controlled and demeaned in her own home by the man who is supposed to be her best friend and lover, so, Dominic, I'm through with playing red rag to your bull. I'm buying a flat for me, just me.'

And me
, Coco chirped.

I laughed again.

‘Have you lost your mind completely?' Dominic said.

I considered the question: it was important to be fair, to look at things from every angle and viewpoint, especially when making decisions that affected other people.

‘No,' I said finally. ‘I admit there are some signs …' – Coco waved encouragingly – ‘… but no, I don't think I have.'

Dominic stood in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest.

‘And how are you going to pay for this flat, may I ask?'

‘Oh didn't I tell you … Gemma's negotiated this big – enormous actually – advance. It will be enough for a down-payment.
With my share of this place and a bigger mortgage obviously it should be fine, tight but manageable.'

‘You think they're going to increase your mortgage? You don't have a steady income. One swallow doesn't make a summer, you know.'

‘Didn't I tell you that either? I've got a three-book contract. That should do it, I reckon. Now, where did I put those tea bags?'

‘EROS, EROS, WHAT'S GOING on?' Mother has been watching the screen but now she's turning round, calling me.

I have been minding my own business at the other end of the room, listening to some music, chilling.

‘What?'

‘Eros, take off those silly earmuff things and come over here
now.'

I sigh but do as I am told, removing my headphones and sitting down next to her.

‘Can we watch the States?'

‘No, we cannot. You watch far too much North America. You're even beginning to talk like one of them.' She points at the screen. ‘Now
what
is going on?'

‘Someone's moving home,' I tell her.

‘I can see that. I do have eyes in my head. But can't you see who that someone is? It's Rebecca Finch. Why is she moving? Didn't you get her together with what's-his-name just the other day? Wasn't that supposed to be the big romance, the great all-conquering love?'

I shrug.

‘Dunno. But mortals don't need long to muck things up. What really pisses me off –'

‘Don't use that vulgar language up here, Eros. Don't you understand the gravity of the situation?'

What's-his-name comes out of the front door waving his arms around and I think he's shouting. (It's hard to tell as Mother's turned the sound right down. I expect she doesn't want the others to hear.) The removal guys try to carry on as if they're not noticing. Two of them are pushing a huge piano up the ramp to the van, while Rebecca Finch fusses around as if she's worried they'll damage it. She's crying. She's obviously trying to pretend she isn't but she's definitely crying. The shouting guy – I still can't remember his name – has stopped yelling and is just standing there on the doorstep, his arms slack at his sides, watching.

Rebecca Finch walks off towards her car.

‘I can't believe it,' I say to Mother. ‘The woman's driving a bloody Skoda.'

‘Don't swear. And concentrate.'

What on? I mean nothing's happening. What's-his-name's still looking gormless and Rebecca Finch just stands there by the lame car staring at the house as if she were counting each brick.
Finally
she gets into the driver's seat and heads off, leading the way for the van.

Mother has calmed down and is saying that, as Rebecca Finch and What's-his-name weren't actually married, there will be no increase in the divorce statistics, and Harmonia points out that, as there were no kids either, the whole thing isn't a big deal. And I agree with them totally. But there's always someone, isn't there? With us that someone is usually Ate.

Before long she slides up to Mother and says, ‘If only things were so simple.'

We've all got Ate sussed by now and Mother says, in this really clipped voice, ‘What is it you are trying to say, Ate?'

And Ate says, ‘Maybe you missed it, Aphrodite, but only the other day your mortal, your favoured acolyte, counselled a young woman against love, against marriage.'

‘What are you talking about?' Mother snaps.

‘Your favourite, Rebecca Finch. A vulnerable young girl comes to her for reassurance and instead she gets a giant bucket of cold water poured over her hopes and dreams. Now that, I think you will agree, is a worry.'

‘Oh just piss off, Ate,' I tell her. ‘Anyway, you're not even meant to be up here.'

For once Mother doesn't tell me off for using bad language.

Ate smirks.

‘And you are? So when did you become a member of the mighty twelve? Or have you forgotten: you got demoted.' She gives Mother a sideways glance. ‘Looks like someone else might be in line for the same treatment, the way things are going.'

I tell you, if Mother hadn't been there I would have shoved her off the summit, but as it is I keep my cool.

‘Mother's invited me,' I say. ‘Who invited you?'

‘Oh stop it, the two of you,' Mother cries, ‘or I'll have you both removed.'

‘What do you mean both of us?
I
am actually trying to help.
I
am your son.' I state that last bit with more conviction than I actually feel.

But Mother isn't listening. Clad in thunder rather than her usual golden aura she paces the floor, muttering to herself.

‘This is most annoying. What is Rebecca Finch thinking of? And she's not getting on with her new book. No, this
won't do, it really won't. She's got responsibilities, to her readers, to
me
.'

Athene seemed totally engrossed in her embroidery but it turns out she's been listening: she's really creepy like that, Athene.

‘Maybe your mortal's seen sense at last?'

Mother stops pacing.

‘And what is that supposed to mean?'

‘Don't get exercised, Aphrodite dear,' Athene says in that reasonable voice which totally freaks me. ‘I'm simply pointing out the possibility that your mortal might have come to realise the grave problems your cult causes.'

‘Problems? Problems? How can that possibly be? How can love ever be a problem, tell me that, eh?' Mother's eyes darken from sky-blue to teal but Athene isn't phased.

‘The kind of love portrayed in those books,' she says, ‘does nothing but foster impossible expectations and foolish notions, which in turn lead to many of the ills the rest of us have to contend with, such as broken families, social disorder, juvenile delinquency, poverty.'

‘And you blame all that on my mortal? Well, you might as well blame it on me while you're at it.'

There is a pause while Athene executes some weird sewing stuff then she looks up at Mother.

‘Well, you said it, dear.'

And what does Zeus do through all of this? He just sits there stroking his beard and trying to look wise.

Then Mother appeals to him.

‘And Zeus, does he agree with this … this extraordinary analysis?' And because you can usually get round the old man
with flattery, however gross, she adds, ‘Does someone as wise, as experienced as Zeus actually agree that
love
is a problem?'

Zeus strokes his beard some more and then he delivers his bombshell.

‘I do believe that love is being brought into disrepute, yes, I'm afraid I do.'

Of course Mother goes ballistic. Back in her own rooms she shouts and curses and paces and guess what, she blames it all on me. Since she was demoted from Aphrodite Urania to Aphrodite Pandemos she has lived in fear of being demoted further, possibly ending up having to move down from the summit like I did. Personally I don't think that would be so bad because then we could hang out more but Mother just hates the idea.

I have been about to go up to her and maybe put my arm around her, comfort her a bit but she turns and gives me this really mean sea-green look.

‘Why did you have to go and get her together with that Townsend person, eh? Surely you could see that relationship had no future?'

‘That's so unfair.' I back away. ‘You didn't say anything against it at the time. In fact you told me just to get on with it.'

‘That's called
delegating
, Eros. You're supposed to be able to handle such things by yourself, but oh no, someone's become sloppy, careless, shooting off his arrows blindly in every direction with no thought about even basic compatibility or suitability.'

‘That's so unfair.'

‘Oh do stop saying that.'

‘You stop being unfair,' I say, but so quietly that she can't hear. ‘Anyway,' I say louder now, ‘I'm not meant to think about those things: I'm just a boy.'

Mother sinks down on her bed. She seems too tired even to rant. Instead she sighs; I hate it when she sighs.

‘Oh Eros, you're always just a boy.'

‘And that's my fault? Anyway, you're supposed to be in charge of strategy.' But even as I protest I know she's right to be pissed at me. My heart just hasn't been in the job lately.

Truth is, I'm bored. So obviously it shows in the results. You should see my pending tray: man, it is stacked high. But think about it from my perspective. I work really hard getting people paired off; I mean I could just hang out with my friends and have a nice time but no, I work. And it feels thankless. I shoot – the person lights up as if they've just had a hundred-volt light bulb shoved up their arse.
She
loses weight.
He
walks around saying he's finally realised what's important in life. They love each other like no one's ever loved before and next time I look they've cocked up.

‘You're right,' Mother says suddenly. ‘I shouldn't blame you. You do what's in your nature. But Eros' – she puts her hand out so I go over and take it – ‘Eros, I'm terribly afraid that they'll demote me. I'm telling you, I couldn't go through that, not again.'