The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man

by Martyn, Susie

  ‘Now listen,’ he continues, pulling me over closer to him and slopping my brandy on his shirt. ‘Never mind that. What I want to know is, are you happy? With me I mean?’

  ‘Um, yes,’ I say honestly, then seeing his face, add ‘very, actually. Can’t you tell?’

  ‘I thought so,’ Marcus is very smiley. I think he’s a little bit pissed too. ‘Only, we spend so much time in each other’s houses, Lou. To be honest, I can’t imagine being without you.’ And he kisses me like he really means it.

  ‘Actually I…’ he starts. Then stops.

  ‘What?’ I say, pulling back slightly. There’s a strange look on his face. ‘What, Marcus?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he says, which is most annoying of him, but that, for the moment, is that.

  When I wake up in the morning, I creep out of bed so as not to wake him, wincing as I move my thumping head too quickly. After last night, I’m fragile and some nice bracing air is just what’s needed.

  A stable in the early morning really is one of the most peaceful places to be, and I stand for ages tickling Horace’s ears and stroking his noble head, while he just cosies up and enjoys it.

  We spend a lovely, lazy Sunday, then all too soon it’s over and it’s back to the fray. Monday morning is frenetic. It doesn’t help that the new computer’s delivered while Zac’s on his first day of Vet Nurse training. But it will have to wait, because clients have been ringing in all morning. There have been a couple of outbreaks of strangles in the area, which is horribly contagious and very nasty, and means an awful lot of anxious horse-owners want their darlings checked.

  I try my best to group the calls geographically but of course it doesn’t always work like that. Some of the clients have their favourites: like Mrs Dawlish, who will only see Miles, as will the horse sanctuary, but the snag is these are opposite ends of the county, and so the vets are tearing all over the place. It’s definitely one of those days. In the end, I call Beamish and ask him if there’s any chance he could spare a few hours. After all, he never said he was retiring completely.

  ‘You fine young people are doing a jolly good job without me,’ he told us all jovially, just a little while ago. Secretly I think he’s too busy canoodling with Agnes.

  Fortunately when he answers my call, he says ‘Um, no problem. Um, be right over,’ and five minutes later he’s there. I’m not at all sure he should drive at that speed, but today it might be quite useful, so I give him the list of calls and then he screams off in his car like Lewis Hamilton.

  That afternoon there’s another panic-stricken phone call. I don’t recognise the distraught voice at the other end of the phone, but eventually decipher the garbled words enough to establish that it’s Paris. One of her multi-million pound show-jumpers has colic.

  As I try to calm her down, Emma comes in. Holding my hand over the receiver, I call her over.

  ‘Em – do you have time to whiz up and take a look at PMT’s show-jumper? Colic?’

  Emma nods and heads off again.

  ‘Paris. Emma will be with you in two minutes. I hope he’s okay,’ I add, not terribly professionally but I feel sorry for her. She’s obviously really worried about her horse, but on the other hand, it is just the tiniest bit funny, that the one time she has a genuine excuse to see a vet, the only one that’s free happens to be a girl.

  I haven’t seen Karina for ages. She’s gone back to flying part-time, and Sylvie, I believe, has been enlisted in her capacity as Granny, as unpaid childminder to little Oscar.

  Now that it’s March, the worst of the winter is behind us, or so I’m hoping and there are daffodils springing up all over the place, making Lower Shagford look even more picturesque than ever. But something else is looming - and rather too quickly. Beamish and Agnes’s wedding.

  Rachel and I are very busy bees as we cross all the T’s and dot the I’s, suddenly aware of the enormous pressure of time. It’s all coming together though and all we need to figure out is how to get them to their own party without giving the game away. In the end, we decide that the only way to do it is once the happy couple have left the church, we’ll prime Will’s vet mate to phone Beamish and tell him there’s an emergency with one of Ben’s horses and that it’s all hands on deck. Beamish absolutely won’t be able to resist it. Nor will he smell a rat when we all go charging after them.

  Karina’s suggested that Rachel and I take the carriage horse for a spin, just to check we think it will be ok for the wedding. I tell her I’d love to, but I’ve never driven a horse and carriage, and don’t know the first thing about it, so Karina says she’ll come with us.

  ‘I’ll teach you, Louisa. It’s an absolute doddle,’ she says scathingly.

  Fine. Okay. So I don’t mind Karina teaching me, at all. I’m rather looking forward to it, in fact. But then, at the last minute Rachel pulls out because she can’t get away from work, and then, Karina gets called out on standby. I ask you. My friends are completely useless.

  With all this time suddenly on my hands, I call Marcus, who suggests a picnic.

  ‘Perfect,’ I tell him. ‘Only please, no talk about balloons and music and spit roasts - I need some serious, wedding-free time.’

  ‘Fine,’ he says briskly. ‘I’ll pick you up in an hour. And bring Elmer.’

  It’s a perfect day for a picnic. On the chilly side but sunny, with a few fluffy clouds in a pale sky.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask Marcus, as we head away from Winchester and into the rolling countryside.

  ‘Wait and see,’ he grins. ‘Elmer’s going to love it.’

  ‘Have you a plan B?’ I ask. ‘In case it rains?’ I’m looking at the clouds which are getting ominously darker the further we drive.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ says Marcus confidently. ‘It won’t, Lou.’ Then he changes the subject and witters on about this fancy bike Pete was telling him about.

  When we pull up in a stony car park, I’ve no idea where we are, but Elmer, as predicted, is out of her mind with excitement and making mad squeaking whimpers from the back. Marcus lets her out and when he closes the door, he’s carrying an old-fashioned picnic hamper.

  ‘Wow! A proper picnic!’

  ‘Of course,’ he says impatiently. ‘What other kind is there? Here - can you carry this?’ He passes me a folded rug. ‘It’s not that far from here. But it’s a great spot – it’ll be worth it.’

  Suddenly a large splat of rain lands on my head. But with a whistle to Elmer, Marcus strides off between the trees, oblivious to the fact that the sky is turning blacker by the second. But he’s right. In just a few minutes, the trees open out and we’re faced with what ought to be a glorious view – usually.

  ‘Oh,’ Marcus looks disappointed. ‘Pity. You can normally see right across the lake.’

  I have to take his word for it, because it’s now more like twilight than daylight. A monochromatic landscape stretches in front of us, painted in shades of grey. It’s true - I can see the water, but only a short way before it blurs into the mistiness.

  ‘Never mind.’ Marcus takes the blanket and spreads it expertly on the ground, just another drop of rain splats in my eye.

  ‘Um, Marcus… Are you sure this is a good idea? Only it looks as though it’s about to pour…’

  ‘Nonsense, Lou. It’s just a spot or two. It’ll pass.’

  He opens the hamper and it really is a proper picnic he’s brought us. I forget the clouds and dive in – there’s sliced ham and whole cheeses, with the Hope and Anchor’s crusty bread. And there’s strawberries too. Suddenly I’m starving.

  ‘This is wonderful,’ I tell him, fishing out the china plates that he’s packed carefully in the bottom.

  ‘I love it here,’ says Marcus wistfully, clearly reliving some of his misspent youth – or teenaged fumblings – he doesn’t say. I’m about to ask, but then two things happen. First Elmer appears from the lake and leaps on top of us. Then just as Marcus drags her off us, there’s a flash of lightning followed by a clap of thund
er overhead. And then, the heavens open.

  ‘Let’s get back to the car,’ shouts Marcus, grabbing the rug and flinging everything back in the hamper as we make a run for it.

  Elmer is loving every second of this, leaping into the air catching raindrops, then yelping at every crack of thunder as though it’s bitten her. Safely inside the car, however, Marcus looks crestfallen.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I reach for his hand. ‘You weren’t to know. And it’s like you said. It’s only rain. It’ll pass.’

  He sits there, silent, then suddenly he leaps out of the car and strides round to my door, opening it and pulling me outside too. The rain has become a monsoon, soaking my clothes, slicking my hair to my head.

  ‘Let go!’ I shriek, half laughing at him. ‘Marcus! We’re soaked! What are you doing!’

  But he pulls me into a clearing where we stand unsheltered beneath the sky.

  ‘Okay… You said you were happy, Lou…’ he’s shouting, because it’s raining so hard the noise is deafening. He’s drenched – we both are and I’ve still no idea what this is about.

  ‘And proposals are supposed to be memorable, aren’t they?’

  Did I hear him right? My heart misses a beat and suddenly, I’m not thinking about the rain. There’s another crack of thunder and a howl from the car, as there, surrounded by water, he goes down on one knee, holding my hand tightly, pressing something into it.

  ‘I know you’re right off weddings and it can be a small, simple one, I don’t care, but Louisa… will you be my wife?’

  As he says the words, time stands still, paradoxically, not unlike it did when Arian left me. Only that was a lifetime ago and this couldn’t be more different, because this is Marcus, who I love more than anyone in the world. His eyes are bright with excitement and the rain and with hope, as he waits for me to say something. I look at him, then at the beautiful ring he’s just given me, trying to scorch this extraordinary moment into my memory forever.

  ‘Yes!!’ I screech, flinging my arms up at the merciless heavens and twirling round, and as he gets up, throw myself into his arms.

  As we drive home, the aroma of wet flatcoat filling the car, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I can’t take my eyes off the ring and I keep touching it and twisting it slightly.

  ‘Are you sure it fits?’ Marcus asks.

  ‘Perfectly,’ I tell him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop smiling. ‘It’s the loveliest ring. I can’t believe you chose it.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He pretends to be huffy. ‘I have excellent taste.’

  Then a bit later, he pulls over and turns the engine off, then pulls me into his arms.

  ‘Did you really have no idea?’ he asks.

  ‘None,’ I tell him. ‘Whatsoever. You have been quite cryptic, though.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Just saying things,’ I smile at him. ‘Nice things, though. So don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m not worrying. I’m just happy.’ He kisses me.

  ‘So am I,’ I mumble.

  And I am. I’d no idea I could feel like this. It surpasses all of my weird dreams. Then the horrific thought occurs to me that this is actually one of them and any moment, I’ll wake up and be in my own little bed with a sad, empty feeling because I imagined it all... And then I’m returned to the moment by the smell of dog fart.

  And for once, there are no words.

  41

  I feel incredibly self-conscious, as if I’m wearing the crown jewels on my left hand. My beautiful ring is an antique, Marcus says, because he wants everything about our getting married to be different to my first time. Hallejah! I can get married in pink or black or something I really love, with my hair blowing in the wind and my feet bare on the grass… And absolutely no bridesmaids of course, because then I’d have to ask Emma, and much though I love her, I’m not being upstaged by anyone on my wedding day. In the end, I decide I’m not going to tell anyone. I’ll wait and see if anyone notices. But no-one says a word, until later on, Karina calls.

  ‘Well?’ she says. I’ve no idea what she’s talking about.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Louisa,’ says Karina irritably. ‘Did you say yes?’

  ‘Oh. That. Of course I said yes!’ I say, then I’m suspicious. ‘Was this a set-up? There is a carriage horse, isn’t there? It’s really important, you know…’

  ‘Thank God!’ she says. ‘Of course there is. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Look, congratulations. I’m sorry but Oscar’s screaming - I have to go.’

  Most disappointingly I don’t see Emma the whole of the rest of the day. Sam gives me a wink across the yard, but not even Mrs Boggle comes in tonight to tell me how she always cries at weddings.

  And now I’ve another wedding to plan. Mine and Marcus’s. In spite of the lack of interest around me, I feel so zingy and happy, I could cry.

  Marcus comes over to mine as soon as he finishes work.

  ‘Haven’t changed your mind, have you?’ he asks teasingly, holding me close against him.

  ‘No way not ever,’ I say, and throw my arms round his neck.

  ‘Have you fed those horses yet?’ he asks.

  ‘Ages ago,’ I reply.

  ‘Well, it’s a bit early for the pub,’ he says, looking at his watch.

  So I take his hand and lead him upstairs, because after all, we have lots to do. And to start with, we need to decide whose house we’re going to live in, and absolutely the best place to do that from, has to be my bed.

  There’s yet another surprise in store when we get to the pub. As we go in, I notice that everyone from the practice is there, which is most unusual, and then they all yell ‘surprise!’

  I can’t believe it. All the vets, Zac and Sam, Beamish and Agnes, Leonie and Pete, Rachel, even Karina, but fortunately she’s had the good sense to leave Arian at home. That would have been just a little too weird. But nothing can spoil this evening for me.

  It turns out I was right and the whole lets-go-carriage-driving bit was a complete set-up, right from the beginning. Rachel was in on it and Karina wasn’t called out anywhere. Which means Marcus must have been feeling reasonably confident to tell them before he’d even asked me.

  ‘My boyfriend can be just soo romantic, I had no idea…’ I tell Emma very smugly, feeling warm and tingly again, now that I’m telling her about it. ‘A picnic in one of the most glorious spots you’ve ever seen…’ I omit the part about the thunder and my farting dog.

  Will sweeps me up in an enormous hug and even Miles manages a wan smile. Then someone pushes another glass of champagne into my hand, and Beamish clears his throat and knocks on the table.

  Oh no. Not one of Beamish’s speeches. I hope everyone’s sitting comfortably - this isn’t going to be quick.

  ‘Ahem.’

  Here we go…

  ‘I um, really am delighted you are all here tonight.’ He beams round at every one, looking highly pleased with himself as Marcus squeezes my hand. ‘I’m sure all of you, um, would like to join me in a toast to er, Marcus, who is a splendid um, vet, and to Louisa, who, um, keeps our er, practice on its feet… so without, further ado, a toast – to Marcus and Louisa.’

  Phew. That’s it. Marcus and I clink our glasses together and then everyone else want to clink glasses with us. I’m so happy I could fly - and it just keeps getting better.

  By the time we wander home to mine, I’m floating, literally on air, my head full of plans for our future.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ he remarks.

  ‘Just thinking – about weddings - and where we’re going to live, darling Marcus. Tell me where you would like to live.’

  ‘Do you know Lou, much though I like my cottage, I think I’d like to put it on the market,’ he says decisively, making me float a little higher.

  ‘So, why don’t I move in with you and your animals, and we can just take our time deciding. What do you think?’

  ‘Oh Marcus,’ I say, my heart singing becau
se it’s exactly what I want too. Then we’ll have oodles of time to find ourselves a family sized house with a paddock and stables for Hamish and Mavis, and bedrooms for children…and then it strikes me. Oh my God. We’ve never even mentioned the subject of children… What if he’s like Arian and doesn’t want them? I’ll have to give him back my ring and tell everyone the wedding’s off and it will be even worse than when Arian left me.

  Then he says casually, ‘I suppose we ought to find somewhere with at least three bedrooms. I mean, hopefully…’

  Then I come back a little to earth, because he stops walking and turns to look at me. ‘Well, I sort of assumed we’d have children… you better tell me if I’m wrong… we haven’t talked about it, have we?’

  There’s a brief silence as the hugest smile plasters itself across my face.

  ‘I want loads and loads of children,’ I say, flinging my arms around him. ‘Well, at least two or three. If we can. And if not, we’ll adopt lots of orphans…’

  Marcus silences me with an absolute smacker of a kiss. I think I can safely say that we’re in agreement on this one, too.

  Oh, Lordy. I am now instrumental in planning two weddings, and am whirling around feeling madder than ever. Normal humans who do that are rather glamorous and

  called wedding organisers, so I’ve no idea what’s going wrong.

  Last weekend I took Marcus home to meet my parents. Mum was a bit sniffy to start with, but Dad was Dad, and welcomed him warmly to our family. Even Mum thawed in the end, especially when Marcus told her what a delicious lunch it was, which it really, truly wasn’t, though thankfully she didn’t cook sprouts.

  Marcus can be very charming. He also said to them that seeing as it was my second marriage, it would be different this time and that though we weren’t quite sure what we were doing yet, we would love them to be an important part of it, but we would be paying. So Dad said immediately that he’d like to buy the wine, and Mum wants to help me chose my dress – all this, even though we haven’t set a date…