Love Me Or Leave Me

by Claudia Carroll

  I say nothing, though to be perfectly honest, that was exactly what I’d assumed myself.

  ‘But they’re quite wrong, you know,’ she goes on. ‘There are two sides to everything you hear. Two sides to every story. Just remember that, Chloe.’

  ‘Of course,’ I tell her gently. ‘And if you ever want to talk about it, well, here I am.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she mouths, like her voice is choking back tears she’s too proud to shed in front of anyone else. ‘But I’m afraid now just isn’t the best time for me. So if you’ll excuse me …’

  As I take my cue to leave, it’s only heartbreaking. And I think the sight of her determined chin stuck out, like she’s too proud to crack in front of me, goes straight to my heart quicker than anything she could possibly say.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jo.

  I didn’t used to be like this, Jo thought now that Chloe had just left her in peace. And it was kind of the girl to check up on her, way above and beyond the call of duty. She’d kept on saying ‘Am I disturbing you?’ and Jo had instantly snapped her laptop shut, like she’d been busily working away. But the truth was, she hadn’t been working at all.

  She’d in fact, been re-reading emails. From just a couple of weeks before she and Dave had first got married, oh what felt like an eternity ago now. Hard to explain, and given that Jo was a complete emotional yoyo at the minute, even harder to put into words, but the unclouded part of her brain needed at least this much.

  She desperately wanted to remind herself that she wasn’t slowly going mad and there was once a time when she and Dave had been happy. When she’d actually been in love with him, and was genuinely looking forward to getting married.

  Might have sounded mental, but it was just something she needed to do right now, and badly. Because her acting like such a thundering cow towards him, as she had been for so long now, not to mention all his incessant barbs and put-downs couldn’t have been the way things used to be, could they? There surely was a time when the pair of them weren’t at each other’s throats, wasn’t there? Were even, dare she say it, happy?

  And then, scanning down through a pile of ancient emails, dated from three years ago, just a few weeks before they’d married, she began to read.

  From: Jo_Marketing_Director@digitech.com

  To: davesblog@hotmail.com

  Re: Outstanding pre-wedding tasks that need to be done today and please Dave, I really do MEAN today!!!

  January 31st, 9.17 a.m.

  DAVE!!!! Are you still asleep??!!! No apology if this email wakes you, feck you anyway, you should be up and about by now. Come on love, remember you’ve that massively big job interview this morning and by the way, I left out what I think you should wear for it on the spare bed. But please, please will you listen to me on this one Dave? NO TRAINERS. If someone walked into my office for an interview wearing trainers, I’d call security.

  Anyway, much, much, much to do and as you know, I’m en route to New York, then Chicago till the end of the week, so here’s a few outstanding jobs that I really, seriously need you to take care of by the time I get home.

  Firstly, can you confirm with the florist that the groom and best man’s buttonholes are the correct colour match? I know you think this kind of thing doesn’t matter, but trust me, every single woman who’s going to the wedding will notice. Mood board is on my bedside table; all colour schemes are clearly laid out there.

  Secondly, you’ve this afternoon completely free, so do me a huge favour and collect my dry-cleaning, would you? There’s at least two outfits there I need for the Digitech conference the day after I get back. Really BEGGING you not to forget this Dave, unlike last time I asked you and you forgot on account of you had to watch the Monaco Grand Prix live on Sky.

  Lastly, any chance you’d call into Brown Thomas re: the wedding list and tell them to strike off the Vera Wang teapot and to replace it with the one by Villeroy and Boch in the Grey Pearl pattern? This may seem trivial but it’s actually of EXTREME importance. Tom from Accounts very kindly offered to get us the Vera Wang, but when I look at the pattern closely, it looks less like ‘aquatic scene’ and more like killer scorpions are coming to get you.

  Think that’s everything for now, but I left you a copy of my pre-wedding to-do list on the kitchen table. Can you go through it with a fine toothcomb and make sure there’s absolutely nothing I’m overlooking? And don’t do what you did with the last schedule I gave you, and use it as liner for the cat’s litter tray.

  Funny the first time, not so funny now.

  Right, I’ve just arrived at airport security, gotta sign off. Be back to you soon as I board.

  Kisses and a big warm hug,

  Jo xxx

  From: davesblog@hotmail.com

  To: Jo_Marketing_Director@digitech.com

  Outstanding pre-wedding tasks that need to be done today and Dave, I really do MEAN today!!!

  January 31st, 9.47 a.m.

  Jaysus woman, I’m out of bed now. Happy? And as it happens, darling wifey-to-be, I’m actually not around this afternoon to jump through hoops and do your bidding. I’m working on an audition piece for a part in a Noel Coward show that’s going into the Gate. Then I’m meeting a bloke I know from the Equity for a few scoops; he needs advice on getting a new agent.

  But before you have a heart seizure up there in the business class lounge, relax, rest of the jobs outlined will all be done by the time you get home Thursday. Even if it does involve me having a conversation with some total stranger, about shagging china teapots.

  You are a complete control freak, you know that?

  Lucky for you though, I happen to love you, very much.

  Dxx

  PS. your dry cleaning? Get a grip.

  PPS. I lost my key to your flat. Caretaker have a spare by any chance?

  PPPS. re: this whole wedding of the century; I personally couldn’t give a shite if we cancelled the whole three-ring circus it’s turned into and just pitched up at the registry office instead. Told you we should have just gone to Barbados and got married on a beach, with two strangers for witnesses. HA! Starting to regret not listening to me now, aren’t you, my pet?

  From: Jo_Marketing_Director@digitech.com

  To: davesblog@hotmail.com

  Re: Outstanding pre-wedding tasks that need to be done today and please Dave, I really do MEAN today!!!

  January 31st, 10.42 a.m.

  Jesus Dave, are you kidding me about losing your key? This is the third spare key I gave you that’s gone AWOL. Angie on the second floor (apartment no. 7) has a spare; you can take hers and get it copied.

  Now you do realize that it’s now well past ten thirty and if you’re still in the flat, then that means you’ll be late for the job interview … so step away from your bloody iPhone and MOVE!! Let’s not forget the trouble I had even getting you this interview in the first place. And I know you don’t give a shite about the theatre critic’s job and think it beneath you, but trust me, you need to find something worthwhile to do with your time while you’re ‘resting between engagements’.

  But be warned, do not, repeat; DO NOT describe yourself as a ‘blogger’. Trust me, the minute you say that, all any potential employer hears is ‘lies in bed all day playing Angry Birds on Facebook’. Remember what I was saying about going in there and cutting a professional dash.

  Air hostess now blatantly glaring at me for emailing during the safety announcements; better sign off.

  Jo x

  PS. on no account are you to wear your black jacket to the interview, it makes you look like a Goodfella. Navy one I left out for you far more suitable.

  From: davesblog@hotmail.com

  To: Jo_Marketing_Director@digitech.com

  Re: Outstanding pre-wedding tasks that need to be done today and please Dave, I really do MEAN today!!!

  January 31st, 10.44 a.m.

  Sorry Jo, got emails crossed there with Jane Austen who actually came out with the phrase, ‘cut a professional
dash.’ Relax, chillax, you’re up in there on a Business Class flight, so for feck’s sake just knock back a glass of champagne and switch off your bloody phone, like a normal person.

  FYI, you’ll be delighted to know I’m wearing the gear you laid out, even if the shirt and tie are f**king killing me. If I happen to run into Bash or any of the lads while I’m in town, I’ll never hear the bleeding end of it.

  Kindly remember, dearest love, you’re the one who wanted this job for me, not the other way around.

  Travel safe,

  Dave x

  PS. Where’s the Cheerios?

  From: Jo_Marketing_Director@digitech.com

  To: davesblog@hotmail.com

  Re: Outstanding pre-wedding tasks that need to be done today and please Dave, I really do MEAN today!!!

  January 31st, 10.50 a.m.

  Me again love,

  I know I’m driving you insane with all my emails plus there’s an air hostess now threatening to confiscate my phone and I’m being glared at by a highly overwrought looking businessman sitting right beside me.

  But I forgot to say I love you and I can’t wait to marry you,

  Jo x

  PS. Best of luck with the interview, but then I know you’ll ace it.

  PPS. Cheerios are the top cupboard, the one to the left of the fridge. Jesus Dave, where they always are.

  From: davesblog@hotmail.com

  To: Jo_Marketing_Director@digitech.com

  Re: Outstanding pre-wedding tasks that need to be done today and please Dave, I really do MEAN today!!!

  January 31st, 10.53 a.m.

  And very fortunately for you, I happen to be in love with you too, in spite of all the complete control-freakery.

  Dave x

  Funny thing, but sitting in her Hope Street Hotel room right now, Jo even knew where she’d been when she’d first written those emails. She vividly remembered sitting on that transatlantic flight all those years ago, kicking off her neat LK Bennett court shoes, sitting back and for the first time in weeks, allowing herself to relax and just concentrate on breathing deeply.

  She remembered closing her eyes and repeating her mantra: all is well and my wedding WILL be wonderful. Everything that could possibly be organized had been, and the only thing over which she had no control was the weather on the day. (Long range forecast was good though; at that stage, she’d been Googling it twice daily.)

  Then, just as the plane started thundering down the runway for take off, she remembered thinking about Dave. And okay, so even though he needed looking after pretty much as you would a ten-year-old, how lucky was she to even have him in the first place?

  Three short years ago, she’d reminded herself, you were a thirty-six-year-old single woman who hadn’t even had a date, never mind a serious relationship since turning thirty. There had been three popes since the last man she’d even kissed, never mind dated seriously. Hadn’t the time.

  Besides, by then, Jo had been promoted to marketing director of Digitech and was now working with the world’s top ten agencies and advertisers. She was on a flight twice a week, every week; it had got to the stage where she was on first name terms with a lot of the cabin crew.

  And yet something had shifted inside of her. God knows, she loved work and loved her career but couldn’t stop herself from asking, was this really what she wanted for herself at the grand old age of forty? Living out of a suitcase, shuttling from hotel room to hotel room and from one conference centre to another? With no time to socialize, no time to do anything in her downtime, bar catch up on laundry and then last thing at night, to go to bed alone and lonely.

  So Jo made an executive decision and did what she always did – took complete control. She made an appointment with a good, old-fashioned matchmaking agency called Two’s Company and briefed them thoroughly on precisely what she was looking for.

  Then after an agonizingly long wait, the agency eventually came up with Dave. Their first date had been a lunch at her request, just in case she took one look at her blind date and needed to make a hasty exit. And sure enough, when Dave first strolled in to meet her, a full ten minutes late, her heart had sunk like a stone.

  This bedraggled, overweight, hairy, out-of-work actor, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts who smelt like he hadn’t even bothered to shower that morning, was about as far removed from what Jo was looking for as you could imagine. Yet the very fact he’d come to her via a dating agency at least showed he was serious about getting serious with someone too.

  So she forced herself to stick it out. It’s just lunch, she told herself. It’s only an hour. And okay, so Dave mightn’t have exactly been the alpha male she’d always imagined she’d end up with, but to her surprise, she found he was warm and kind and funny. And just somehow got her and poked gentle fun at her and made her laugh at herself. And he was generous and thoughtful in small ways too, which meant an awful lot to her.

  Yes, he wasn’t without his flaws, but there was a downside to just about every man on this planet, wasn’t there, Jo reminded herself. Dave had fantastic points, that was for certain. Just a few rough edges that needed sanding down and working on, like any other man. Yet she remained utterly convinced that with just a bit of gentle prodding, he’d ultimately make a great husband for her. Maybe not perfect, but was there any such thing? And after all, wasn’t this better than being single and married to her career?

  Her flight was airborne by then, Jo remembered, and as she looked at the city receding away from her climbing skywards, she finally started to breathe a little easier.

  Okay, so Dave could try the patience of a saint, but he also made her laugh at her own absurdities. Yes, he was stubborn and there were times when she honestly thought having a toddler under her roof would be less hassle than Dave wandering around in his underpants with a piece of toast in one hand, going mental because he’d lost his iPhone. Yet again.

  But back then, she was a thirty-eight-year-old woman with a ticking biological clock and a wedding planned for less than two weeks away and counting. One hundred and eighty guests were flying in for the big day from all round the world, including most of the board of directors at Digitech. The reception alone was costing Jo the bulk of eighteen thousand and her dress was a Vera Wang special import from New York.

  This was not the time for last minute doubts or worries about whether someone like her actually needed a wife, rather than a husband.

  Come two weeks that Saturday, she was getting married.

  *

  No, Jo thought back at Hope Street, as she snapped her laptop shut and headed to the bathroom to take her nighttime dose of pills.

  You’re not losing your grip on reality.

  The wedding really was one of the best days of your life.

  And there really was a time when you and Dave were happy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chloe.

  Just after 8.30 p.m. and I’m frantically trying to do a discreet check on all guests. Low level panic driving me, mainly because my worry is if Dave managed to get that ossified drunk, chances are high he had a boozing buddy with him. I’ve worked in the hotel business a long time and trust me, I know the way these things play out.

  I check the bar first, but it’s empty. Which is good, means they’re all still at dinner. Odd that Tommy’s not around, but then he could be downstairs in the wine cellar restocking, while it’s quiet round here.

  So I slip into the back of our Yellow Dining Room just to check everyone else is all-present and correct, which by the way, is a hugely impressive room off the first floor, meticulously restored with a stunning Farrow & Ball paint job and sweeping views all the way down onto the gardens below.

  We’ve laid on a set menu for tonight and it’s no exaggeration to say there really is something for everyone in the audience. Well, given everything our guests will be facing into this weekend, it’s my mission to see at the very least that everything else around them, the food particularly, is world class and completely fabulous. O
ur maître d’ and I pre-approved the whole menu together and to be honest, I thought everyone would turn up for dinner, just so they could salivate over it. You wanna see it! Hand dived scallops in garlic butter, lamb rump with homemade ricotta, fillet of pork with black pudding rosti. ‘Worthy of a bloody Michelin star,’ as Nick, our head chef had proudly – and not unjustifiably – boasted to me. To be perfectly honest, if it were me, I’d want photos of each finished mini-masterpiece dish, just so I could post them up on Facebook and Twitter.

  And while it’s fairly full in here and most couples at least seem to be enjoying the banquet laid out for them, a second glance round the tables and somehow I don’t exactly get the feeling that all’s well.

  For starters, two absent couples stick out like sore thumbs. Dawn, Kirk, Jo and Dave. Some chance of any of them wandering in here late and looking to be fed and watered now, I think ruefully.

  Another lightning quick scan of the room and to my surprise, tucked into a discreet corner I see Andrew Lowe, eating alone. Polite, polished Andrew Lowe, who looks so handsome, greying and distinguished that I almost feel there should be a portrait of him hanging up on one of our walls somewhere. He just has that kind of face, that carries fifty plus years of authority with him. He looks up and catches my eye, so I weave my way through the tables over to him.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Lowe,’ I smile politely. ‘Just making sure everything is alright for you so far?’

  He raises an eyebrow and pushes aside the Financial Times he’d been reading.

  ‘I’m afraid, my dear Miss Townsend,’ he says with a gracious nod, ‘that I can only answer that particular question in relation to your fine service and menu. Which, as you’d expect, are completely flawless.’

  ‘Glad you’re enjoying it,’ I smile back warmly. But then, I really like Andrew Lowe. If all of my other guests were like him, I’d have absolutely no bother round here.

  ‘And I hope your initial mediation session before dinner wasn’t too exhausting for you or Miss Belton?’