Love Is... (11 page)

And Kat, who had been a teetotal fruitarian for the past three months, was now on her second burger and her fifth cocktail.

‘Don't leave us, Ellie,' she said. ‘What will become of me if you go?'

Matthew turned to her. ‘You're wearing a saffron robe and have shaved your head. What else could go wrong?'

Kat burst out laughing. Then started slamming her hand on the table. ‘Saffron,' she said, her laugh escalating, ‘that's so funny. Peshwari naan. Hilarious. Can we have another burger?'

Victoria, who had been quietly consuming a Burgundian Chardonnay for the past few hours, sniffed and blinked repeatedly.

‘I just don't understand why you're going to that ridiculous country,' she said. ‘You have everything here.'

Matthew held his hand up to stop her. ‘At least Ellie is trying to find happiness rather than just waiting to die in South West London, like you.'

Victoria sat up and poured herself a glass. ‘I'm very happy thank you, Matthew. Just because I'm living a grown-up life, doesn't mean it's boring.'

He laughed. ‘Your life is so boring, I can't even bring myself to describe it. It's all PTA and tennis club and: “how else can I spend my husband's money?” You want Ellie to have the same pointless life as you, just to validate your own uninspiring choices.'

I tried to interrupt but Matthew was in full flow.

‘Ellie's miserable. Just look at her.'

I glared at him. ‘No, I'm not.'

‘She has a business that's failing.'

‘It's not failing,' I interrupted.

‘Oh, come on, Ellie. Record sales does not a successful business make. Your clients are deeply unhappy, they're all getting divorced.'

I put my hand up to speak but Matthew rattled on. ‘Your house is falling into disrepair and your marriage is in crisis.'

‘Hang on a second.' I put my hand up higher this time. ‘You're the one with the crisis of a marriage. Not me.'

Victoria and Kat turned to Matthew.

He closed his mouth and his shoulders slumped.

The waiter, who had resumed his hovering, leaned in. ‘Excuse me, sir, we need the table. The next guests are waiting.'

Matthew looked up at him, gripping his steak knife. His knuckles whitened.

Immediately, I imagined the scene culminating in a
Peaky Blinders
–style bar brawl and a ‘Bloodbath at Blood Burger' morning headline, with a caption under Matthew's mugshot: ‘Red meat binge sends patron into murderous rage'. There might even be a comment from Klive along with a link to the enrolment form on Swami P.'s website.

‘If they want the table so badly,' Matthew said, jaw tensed, ‘tell them to come and get it.'

The waiter raised his eyebrows and then wandered off muttering something about another five minutes not being a problem.

I leaned back in my chair. ‘This is the reason I'm going away,' I said.

Kat frowned. ‘Because there's only a two-hour sitting for restaurants in London?'

I looked at her and then around at the diners in the restaurant. I couldn't see a genuine, non-alcohol-induced smile in the room.

‘Because none of us have really figured it out,' I said, downing the last of my cocktail. ‘I still need answers.'

Victoria nodded her head from side to side.

Kat leaned forward. ‘What answers do you really hope to find, Ellie? The cure for disillusionment?'

Matthew, who until then had been holding his head in his hands, looked up. ‘No,' he said, ‘she expects to find the cure for a broken heart.' Then he started laughing.

I shook my head. ‘I'm not looking for a cure,' I said. ‘Simply a way to reduce our risk.'

Matthew stopped laughing. ‘Ellie, love is not a medical condition. It doesn't have a prognosis.'

I stared at him. ‘If love isn't something we can enhance, prolong or modify then what is it?'

He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Best you ask the experts that one,' he said.

I leaned forward and looked him in the eye. ‘That's precisely what I intend to do.'

Kat leaned towards me and draped her arm around my neck. ‘Just don't ask anyone who's named after an Indian flatbread,' she said.

Matthew didn't even crack a smile. He sat in silence, staring ahead.

Kat shuffled up next to him. ‘Come on, you,' she said, squeezing his knee, ‘it could always be worse. At least you're not bald.'

Matthew looked up and stared at her for a moment. Then he cocked his head.

‘It quite suits you,' he said. ‘Very
Alien
chic.' Then they both laughed.

When he had stopped laughing, he looked at us each in turn.

‘I'm sorry,' he said. ‘I've been a bit of an arse tonight.'

‘Tonight?' Kat replied.

He laughed again. ‘OK, I've been a total arse since I
found out my wife was shagging a fifty-year-old with a comb-over.' He dropped his head in his hands again. ‘He wears Moss Bros. suits, for fuck's sake.'

Kat and Victoria looked at each other. I went to speak but quickly realised I had nothing to say.

Suddenly Matthew threw down his knife and fork and jumped up onto the table, grinning like a serial killer.

‘This is your last night with us, Eleanor Rigby,' he said, striking a pose and knocking over the condiments. ‘And I'm in the mood for dancing.'

We arrived at Shoreditch House a short while later. Matthew and Kat insisted we bypass the queue and walk straight in the entrance. Kat had a company account, but I suspected the main reason we were waved through by the burly doorman was because he fancied Matthew.

‘I'll happily tolerate a hair ruffle and a bum squeeze for my girls,' Matthew said when we were at the bar.

‘And a willy up the bottom too, I suspect,' Kat said, with a wink.

Matthew's eyes widened.

Kat flung her arms around his neck. ‘Come on, you loved it,' she said. ‘Isn't it about time you came out?' she said with a wink. ‘You know we won't judge you.'

Matthew rolled his eyes. ‘What would Krishna Klive say if he found out you were inciting homosexual acts?' He fluttered his eyelashes and flicked his wrist. ‘Besides, honey-bundle, I am so not gay.'

‘You so are,' Kat replied.

Matthew lurched forward and squeezed Kat's boobs together, nuzzling her cleavage through her sari and making strange primal noises.

‘I'm as red-blooded as the rest of them,' he said.

She laughed. ‘You're all talk.'

‘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

I
t 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.'