The Love Market (22 page)

‘Those are, admittedly, obstacles.’

‘Obstacles are his parents don’t like me. His dog likes to sleep between us on the bed.’

‘Are you sure you’re over Mike?’

The question stops me cold. I’m about to say of course! But what comes out is, ‘Can anyone ever be over the person they were married to? Unless that person really hurt them? Mike never hurt me, and I know him more than I know any other human being. Even more than I know my own daughter, I sometimes think.’

She stares at me with so much sympathy that I have to change the subject because I don’t know why I gave the answer I just did. ‘Have you seen him yet? Mr. Somebody’s Strange Idea of an Office Heartthrob?’

She looks sadly across the room. ‘I saw him this afternoon, by the coffee machine. He did that thing of following me with his eyes—a little bit flirty again, and a little bit smug.’ She shudders. ‘Ergh, it was horrible. Like a time warp. Like I was Doris Day and he was Cary Grant. Liz said something about him saying the other day that he likes very ladylike girls.’

‘Oh please! He’s worried that word has got out. He thinks you’ve told people, and now everybody’s laughing at him.’

‘I told you, he thinks he’s Cary Grant.’

I have a laugh. ‘Cary Grant was bisexual.’

She beams. ‘ God, I love you. You always make me feel better.’ She raises her glass to mine. ‘To love and other disasters.’

‘Mistakes,’ I correct her.

~ * * * ~

I’m just pulling up in front of the house when my phone rings.

‘Hi!’ he says, sounding happy.

‘Where are you?’ I ask him, thinking
Thank God he rang!

‘At my desk, in my apartment, staring out of the window, waiting for a phone call.’

He’s back in Canada. And life moves on. And everything feels more impossible again, than possible.

‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ he says. ‘In fact, I don’t know what I thought about until my mind started going automatically to you.’

‘That’s nice,’ I tell him. ‘You’ve just created the perfect fifteen second sound bite. You should be proud.’

He laughs. ‘Look,’ he says. ‘The reason I called, Celine, I wanted to tell you something I should have said a very long time ago. I wanted to tell you that I love you.’

Could he have heard me just talking about him? I laugh a little. ‘You love me?’

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘But I have to go now. My other call’s coming through. We’ll talk more later.’

And then, in typical Patrick fashion, he goes again.

But he’s not gone, is he? Not when he leaves me with those words.

I meet Mike’s Jennifer Platt in Costa’s coffee shop opposite the Theatre Royal. She has just been to a meeting with National Express East Coast, and excitedly tells me that the head of catering for the train company has agreed to hear out her proposal. She drinks off one latte looking like she hasn’t even tasted it, then asks me if I fancy another. I tell her I’ll buy.

‘I really, really, really like him!’ she says, before my bottom reaches the seat, when I return with two more coffees. ‘I never thought I would, you know, meet someone this fast.’

I dive into my coffee cup while I remind myself not to show the uber-curiosity about whether or not they’ve had sex. ‘Actually, the most successful matches were lukewarm about each other the first time they met. Generally the average person goes on dates with three different candidates before she meets the one who seems like he might be right. And by that I mean, one she actually ends up having a few dates with and going to bed with.’

Her gaze slides from me, out of the window, and back. She’s glowing like a hundred-watt light bulb. ‘Mike’s interesting, he’s mature and sensible, he’s very down to earth. He’s not crude, like some who make you feel more like a buddy than a lady. He’s actually funny too! Just little things he comes out with. And he listens to you. He seemed fascinated with my business idea, although I might have talked his ears off about it,’ she tinkles a laugh. ‘We really hit it off.’ Her eyes are iridescent with new love.

‘After that first date, I barely got home and he rang me, and we talked for another two hours!’

Now feels as good a time as any to tell her. ‘Did Mike mention how I know him?’

She nods. ‘I know that you were married. And in a way, this is why I feel I can say so much about him to you, because, well, you know all this about him, don’t you? You’ll understand.’

‘You’re probably wondering why, if he’s so fantastic, we’re divorced,’ I try a laugh.

She tries the same. ‘No! I don’t believe in judging people. I mean, the only two people who really know what their marriage is like are the two that are in it, aren’t they? Sometimes you can think you’re marriage is all right, and be kidding yourself.’

Why is she so fabulous? And how did she manage to get such massive natural breasts on such a petite frame?

‘Is that what he told you?’ That last comment sounds like just what he’d say.

‘No. Honestly he never got into any specific details about his marriage. When you meet someone, you don’t want to bring out all your old baggage, do you? Not right away.’

I nod, trying to swallow the idea of my being old baggage.

‘Same as me, I rarely talk about my divorce. Because while I think I’m doing fine now and I’m all right, I don’t want someone to sit there looking for chinks in my armour, or then I’ll probably start acting like I’m not all right, if you know what I mean.’

‘I never asked you why it didn’t work.’ Because something about her just made me take her at face value. But now I am brimming with curiosity about her.

‘It’s all right. I don’t mind saying.’ She looks at me with a certain reconciled expression. ‘It was an affair. Not especially original. I remember thinking that there was so much I should be feeling—anger, jealousy, sadness—yet all I felt was an overwhelming disgust. Disgust at myself for not suspecting, and disgust that he could be with her and then come home and be with me, sometimes in the same night, as I’m pretty sure happened. It seemed monstrous.’ She wrinkles up her nose, and I notice she’s got a rather big freckle on the edge of her top lip, that looks like a crumb she needs to dust off. I can see Mike becoming enamoured with that freckle the way he used to fixate on the small mole on the inside of my elbow. ‘But once I made him leave I was determined not to let his actions ruin my own self-image. His decision to screw around was a reflection on him, not on me. I had to keep reminding myself of that. So that’s one of the reasons I don’t want to talk about it with Mike before we really know each other that well. I don’t want anybody thinking I’ve been shaped at all by what he did.’

I drink some of my now unwanted coffee and stare out at the dashing, neo-classical façade of the Theatre Royal opposite, one of Jacqui’s favourite buildings in the city, thinking she’s a bit goody-goody, isn’t she? Just a weeny bit. Then I think, God that was a catty thought, Celine! She’s lovely. She’s better for him than I ever was.

Suddenly she reaches a hand and briefly lays it on the back of mine. ‘You’re obviously a very good person wanting to set him up with someone else and see him happy.’

Tears inexplicably burn in the back of my eyes. I look across the road, turning my head slightly so she won’t see. When I can speak, I say, ‘It was his idea I take him on as a client, not mine. I didn’t want to tell you I was married to him when I set you up because I thought you might think I was weird or something. You know, as though I had no one else to offer so I touted my ex around.’

She laughs. ‘Touted your ex around! That’s a funny picture!’ She cuts her half of the muffin down the middle. ‘I’d have thought nothing of the sort. I hope, Celine, I hope that it’s not awkward in any way for you, you know, if Mike and I…’ She pushes the muffin around the plate, while I hang in anticipation. ‘I can certainly promise you that if Mike and I do work out in the long run, I will never try to be any sort of mother to Aimee. Only, I hope, a friend.’

I swallow hard, shake my head a little too enthusiastically. I wonder if Mike knows she’s already seeing herself as Aimee’s second mum.

‘It’s not awkward for me in the slightest. You’re a client and I took you on to help you find someone. And you were quite right, I want nothing more than for Mike to be happy because he deserves to have everything he should have got from me.’

We smile together, holding eyes, and in one synchronized move our hands go out for our respective coffee cups, and they touch. It’s almost as though we are shaking hands.

It’s only when we have parted ways at Grey’s Monument, she about to go into Waterstone’s, and I about to trot down the steps of the Metro to go home, that I remember something. I hesitate there one foot poised to keep on going, but then I shout her back.

For a second I think she hasn’t heard me and I’m prepared to let it go, but then she turns. ‘Did you call me?’

I am already walking over digging in my handbag. ‘I forgot, I brought this with me…’ I hold out a folded up piece of foolscap paper. ‘I intended to give it to you, but, well, anyway…. It’s yours.’ She takes it, looking curious. ‘It’s just some questions and answers I put down when I was considering taking Mike on as a client. A little exercise I put myself through to somehow reposition him in my mind—you know, as Mike the client not Mike the ex-husband.’ I give her a smile. ‘I thought that perhaps you might like to have it.’

As it exchanges hands, a shift seems to occur in me. It’s too late to take it back. It’s gone now. Like Mike, or so it seems, it’s hers now not mine.

Aimee sings along with Duffy, to Warwick Avenue while she has the task of setting the table. It’s Father’s Day and I have invited my dad. Aimee was supposed to take Mike out with the money she’s saved up but changed her mind and wanted to invite him over here. My dad said he wanted to bring Anthea, who he has apparently been seeing a lot of when he’s not molesting models, or trying to pick up my clients. Then I casually asked Mike if he wanted to bring Jennifer, and he did. Jacqui is coming alone.

Aimee’s little warble on the high notes makes me smile as I bash a piece of garlic and ginger in my mortar to make a dressing to toss over the watercress salad that I’m laying out with the grilled salmon. I’m just adding the oil when the phone rings.

‘Hi.’ I hear Patrick’s voice, and light up.

I wipe a sticky hand down the front of my apron. ‘Hi to you indeed!’ Aimee looks at me, witheringly, out of the corner of her eye, and I motion for her to turn down the music.

‘God, I miss you.’ he says.

‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’

‘But to you I actually mean it.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘What are you doing, wearing, thinking… I want the whole picture.’

‘Oh!’ I laugh. ‘Well, I’m making dinner. It’s Father’s day and I’m having my dad over.’ Aimee casts me another sidelong glance at the conspicuous absence of Mike’s name. ‘I’m wearing an apron, and I’m thinking, erm, what am I thinking?’ I whisper, ‘that I’m very glad you called.’

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘That sounds good.’

‘Which bit?’

‘All of it. I wish I was there.’ The dampened note of his voice.

‘So what have you been up to?’ I ask him, brightly.

‘Oh, organizing my office and a few other things. I’m working on an outline for a book on my time in the Middle East. Did I mention that to you?’

‘Ah!’ He did. ‘So you made a start? That’s excellent.’

‘Finally. Yes. Although I don’t have much to show for my efforts. You could say I’ve been distracted.’

‘Have you?’ I smile and Aimee goes upstairs, casting me another disapproving look.

‘Every time I sit down to think about the Taliban I end up thinking about you.’

‘I wonder what that says about me?’

He laughs. ‘Anyway, I wanted to tell you something—the reason why I rang. I’ve decided to take the job.’

I stare at the oblongs of salmon lying on foil on the grilling tray. ‘It’s a good opportunity for me to establish myself somewhere. I’m thinking I can work on my book at the same time, and maybe it won’t be such a bad life…’

I clear my throat. ‘Congratulations.’ What else was I hoping he was going to say? ‘I’m sure it’ll be a great life. I’m happy for you.’

Tense silence. Upstairs I can hear Aimee singing along to Leona Lewis’s
Bleeding Love
. ‘I gave it a lot of thought. I didn’t really see what the other options were.’ He sounds like he’s explaining himself.

‘Of course.’ I force a smile into my voice. What was I even thinking his other options were? That he was going to give up his life and move to northern England?

It never would have worked. Because it was never meant to. Stupid!

‘You know my dad and Mike should be here soon.’

‘Mike?’

‘Well, it is Father’s day.’

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Of course. But I was going to ask you something, before you go…’ He hesitates then says, ‘I wanted to know if you’d like to come here in the summer holidays with Aimee? Maybe middle of August?’