Love Is... (21 page)

I sat down next to Nick and forked some pancakes onto my plate.

‘I've been thinking,' began Matthew, between mouthfuls.

I poured the coffee. ‘That sounds good,' I said tentatively.

Matthew put his knife and fork back down on the table. ‘I've made a decision,' he said, then he paused to chew, and then swallowed. ‘I'm going back home,' he said eventually.

Nick looked up from his paper.

I leaned across the table and squeezed Matthew's hand. ‘Back to Barnes? That's such great news.'

Matthew sprang up from his seat. ‘No,' he said, ‘I'm going back to Lucy.'

Nick raised his gaze again.

Matthew continued. ‘I've been a fool, Ellie.' He jumped up and pranced around the room as though auditioning for an amateur dramatic production.

I put my knife and fork down. ‘Have you even spoken to her?'

‘Not yet,' he said, before lunging over the kitchen island and grabbing the spatula. ‘I'm going to take a leaf out of Ellie's book. I'm going fight for her. I'm going to fight for love.' He began thrusting the spatula as though it were a fencing foil. ‘I'm going to fight for my wife. I'm going to fight for happiness, I'm going to fight for my right…'

‘…to party?' Nick interjected, while Matthew jumped around the room, nimbly tackling his invisible enemy.

I glanced at Nick and smirked. He smiled back.

‘So what do you think?' Matthew said, concluding his performance with what looked like some kind of elaborate jeté.

I scooped up some egg. ‘It's a bit soon, isn't it?'

Matthew dropped down onto the chair next to me and let the spatula fall to the floor. ‘You said I should go back.'

I chewed while I considered my response. ‘That's not quite what I said.'

Matthew was nodding. ‘At Hooters, you said I should go back to my kids.'

‘Hooters?' Nick interrupted. ‘What were you doing at Hooters?'

I waved the question away.

Nick looked to Matthew for an answer.

Matthew shrugged his shoulders. ‘I was hungry,' he said.

Nick rolled his eyes, shook the paper and then continued reading.

I turned back to Matthew. ‘I told you to go back to your kids. Not to
her.
You can't just forgive her. She hasn't even apologised yet.'

Matthew poured more maple syrup over his pancakes. ‘I
still love her,' he said, the syrup drowning the pancake, ‘so I will forgive her.' He began to cover a sausage on his plate with syrup too, and then a slice of toast and then an egg. ‘Besides, I haven't apologised to her yet either.'

I leaned forward and snatched the syrup from him and placed it back on the table. ‘Apologised for what? What do you need to apologise for? Devoting your life to your children and the home you shared with her, so she could pursue her pointless career and shag her rancid boss?'

Matthew took a bite of syrupy sausage. ‘I was to blame too. It was my decision to look after the kids. Then I started moping about, bitching and whining about how hard my life was, half sozzled on Waitrose wine. No wonder she didn't want to come home at night.'

I narrowed my eyes. ‘I don't think you're being fair on yourself.'

He shrugged his shoulders and then shoved the remainder of the sausage into his mouth.

‘We were happy once,' he said.

I looked at Matthew more closely, wondering if he was advancing up the mountain of mental illness or if instead he'd already reached the summit and was now tumbling down the other side. He rolled up a syrup-sodden pancake and carefully folded it into his mouth. I watched him clear his plate, devouring every syrupy morsel. If only it were as simple as defiantly waving a spatula to make the hurt go away.

After Matthew had gone upstairs to pack, Nick was still avoiding eye contact and now feigning interest in the sports pages.

I stopped tidying for a moment and stood and stared at him until he couldn't ignore me any longer.

‘What?' he said, glancing up, eyes narrowed.

I threw the dishcloth at him and grinned.

He peeled the dishcloth off his shirt and glared at me.

I sighed. ‘Look,' I said. ‘It was accident. I never meant to oxytocin myself for Dominic.'

He shook his head. ‘That's not the point, Ellie.' He folded the paper onto his lap. ‘It's just—'

Suddenly my phone vibrated on the table. Nick grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen. He handed it to me.

‘A text from lover boy,' he said with a sneer.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Hardly,' I said.

Nick stared at me while I read the text, as though searching for any outward signs of arousal.

‘So what does he want?' he asked.

‘He's decided he wants to supervise my research from now on. Like he gives a shit about helping people. Or attending a Love Language seminar headed up by a guy named Jed Tandy.'

Nick raised his eyebrows. ‘That's where you're going today?'

I nodded. ‘Mandi booked it. She's obsessed with NLP.'

Nick screwed up his face. ‘NL what?'

‘Neuro-Linguistic Programming,' I said glancing back at my phone. ‘It's a life-coaching technique. I just don't get why Dominic would want to come.'

Nick tutted. ‘It's obvious, isn't it?'

‘Is it?' I asked reaching for my mug of cold coffee and taking a sip.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘He fancies you. You must know that.'

I laughed, snorting the coffee out my nose. ‘I appreciate your faith in my universal appeal,' I said, ‘but seriously? You think Dominic, who I've worked with for nearly five years and who has taken every opportunity to push me out of the company that I founded, and who has gone against pretty much every value I stand for, actually secretly wants me?'

Nick nodded.

I laughed again, though louder this time. ‘Oh, come on. I know you're legally obliged to think I'm the most gorgeous girl in the world—' I glanced at him for confirmation ‘—but I don't think Dominic is really lusting after a married woman in her thirties.'

Nick's frown deepened further. ‘I saw the way he looked at you. Trust me, a man knows these things.'

I shook my head and sat down next to him. ‘Even if you are right, it would take a vat of intravenous oxytocin for me to bear even envisaging such a scenario.'

Nick finally let go of the paper he'd been clinging to and looked at me. ‘I just want you to be aware, that's all.'

I checked my watch. ‘I doubt Dominic has any plans to slip a roofie in my coffee in front of three thousand Jed Tandy disciples,' I said, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. ‘Love you,' I said, before charging upstairs to get ready.

‘Love you too,' said Matthew, charging down the stairs with his suitcase.

I stopped and spun around on the stair. ‘You're going now?'

‘Yes, I'm on the 10 a.m. flight, thanks for having me!' Matthew was shouting but his voice quickly tailed off as he grew further away from me.

‘I'll call you!' he hollered from the street outside. He blew kisses and then waved in the general direction behind him.

They were about to close the doors by the time Dominic and I arrived at the conference centre, but Dominic jostled through the crowd and grabbed my hand so I could follow. At first I flinched, then I reminded myself that it was perfectly normal for two colleagues to link hands in a potentially dangerous crowd-crush-type situation.

Once inside, we were issued with name badges, but because Dominic had booked at the last minute, and because several people were involved with the booking process, there'd been some confusion and Dominic's badge had Mandi's name on it instead. There was no time to dispute. We were ushered in by a man dressed in black who was talking urgently into a walkie-talkie. He hurried us to our seats three rows from the front, glancing around the room as though searching for Islamic insurgents.

The lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. I turned around to see hundreds of eager faces, seemingly desperate to get a glimpse of their saviour.

A booming movie trailer voice suddenly shook the room. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,' it said.

The recording paused and the crowd was silent. Then it continued: ‘Will you all please welcome…' It paused again, then continued: ‘America's most revered Master of Neurolinguistic Programming. Mr Jed Tandy!'

Flames shot up from the side of the stage and Jed appeared at the centre of a revolving circle, wearing an earpiece and a million-dollar smile.

The audience cheered, hollered and clapped. The woman next to Dominic spontaneously burst into tears. Jed lifted
his hand to the crowd in mock modesty as if to say:
Me? A revered Master of Neurolinguistics? Well, only if you say so.

The audience continued to clap and cheer throughout the ten-minute duration of the stage flames. When the flames died down, Jed held out his arms to the audience.

‘Hello, New Jersey,' he said, ramping up the grin.

Then the audience and the flames began to roar again.

I glanced at Dominic and then looked around the room, wondering where all these people had come from, and why they believed Jed could solve their problems.

Eventually the audience quietened down again.

Jed pointed one finger in the air. ‘What's the most widely spoken language in the world?' he asked the audience.

The man with the walkie-talkie was now clutching a microphone and darting around the crowd. He finally settled on a middle-aged man with his hand up.

‘American,' the man said, puffing out his chest.

I heard Dominic tut.

‘Uh, uh,' said Jed theatrically shaking his head. ‘Good try though. Anyone else?'

The man with the microphone dashed through the rows of seats to reach a young woman with curly red hair.

‘It's Spanish,' she said eagerly.

Jed wagged his finger. ‘Good guess, but no. Try again.'

The man with the microphone appeared beside the woman next to Dominic, who'd burst into tears earlier.

‘Chinese,' she said, almost squirming with victory.

Jed shook his head. ‘Great guess,' he said and she slumped back in her chair.

Dominic exhaled loudly. ‘That's not a great guess,' he said. ‘Chinese isn't even a fucking language. Neither is American. This is painful.'

Jed continued. ‘The most widely spoken language in the world…' he opened his arms to the audience again ‘…is a language which is spoken by each and every one of you.' He began pointing to each member individually in the audience. ‘You, you, you, you, you.'

Just as walkie-talkie man made his way towards another audience member who had his hand up, Dominic snatched the microphone from him.

‘It's the language of love,' Dominic said, with an expression usually reserved for the acutely constipated.

Jed began to clap and also look relieved. ‘Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this young man has identified the correct answer. So today, at the seminar entitled “The Language of Love”, we will be indeed discussing that very language. Not Chinese, I'm afraid, ma'am.'

Dominic turned to me with a tight smile. ‘Chinese isn't a language,' he said, under his breath.

Two hours into the audience participation ordeal, we were granted a coffee break. While the majority of the audience queued to ask Jed a question or to share their experiences, Dominic and I made our way to the refreshments.

‘This is hell,' he said handing me a grey-looking beverage, which could have been either coffee or tea.

‘It is what it is,' I said reaching for a digestive biscuit. I took a bite and regretted not opting for the ginger nut instead. ‘I have to say, I was surprised you wanted to come.'

He laughed. ‘He's got great reviews.'

I smirked. ‘Probably written by his staff and brainwashed clients.'

‘And Mandi,' Dominic added.

I laughed. ‘She said Jed changed her life.'

Dominic raised his eyebrows. ‘Was that the “I can change your life” seminar?'

I giggled. ‘Think so.'

‘My brother rates him too,' he said, offering me a ginger nut. ‘He attended a few business seminars, said Jed transformed his business.'

I sniggered. ‘Was that the “I can transform your business” seminar?'

Dominic grinned. ‘OK, we've killed that joke now.'

I took a few gulps of what I'd now identified as coffee. ‘So why are you here?' I asked.

Dominic looked around the room as though searching for an answer. ‘I don't know,' he said. ‘I suppose I just wanted to find out more about the product we're selling to our clients.'

I laughed. ‘Love isn't a product.'

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is really.'

I shook my head.

Dominic continued. ‘People buy a product to solve a problem, right?'

I frowned. ‘Do they?'

He nodded. ‘Yes, of course. Think about it. What was the last thing you bought?'

I blurted the answer out before I had a chance to think. ‘A cocktail at Hooters.'

Dominic blinked. ‘Not what I was expecting, but let's go with it. So what problem did it solve?'

I looked to the ceiling. ‘I was thirsty.'

Dominic raised his eyebrows.

I took another sip of coffee. ‘OK, my friend was feeling bad. He'd recently separated from his wife and he needed cheering up.'

‘Why didn't you just buy
him
a cocktail then? Why did you need one?'

I looked up to the ceiling again. ‘Because I'm feeling the pressure at the moment.'

‘What pressure?'

‘To make everyone's relationship happy.'

‘Whose relationships?'

‘I don't know, my clients', my friends' and my own, I suppose.'

‘Your relationship?'

‘No, I mean, yes, my relationship is happy. I love Nick very much.' I looked down at the ginger nut in my hand. Then shoved it in my mouth before I could say anything else.