She lamented overlooking the parking spaces when there was a fabulous view of the river from over by the bar. The wine bottle was soon emptied and Eva ordered two cocktails. When four glasses arrived the waiter announced it was happy hour and buy one, get one free. The cocktails were meant as cover for their espionage but the lychee martinis tasted divine.
LYCHEE MARTINI RECIPE
50 ml Vodka
25 ml Lychee liqueur
25 ml Lychee syrup
Fresh lychee and its juice
Rachel watched a tall, handsome man walk into the bar. He smiled in their direction. Eva glanced at Rachel who was smiling back. ‘It’s my … the cats’ vet and I think he may be a vet … eran too. Army maybe. Dr … Perrier-Water, something like that. Anyway, he doesn’t like cats.’
‘Look at you – catnip to the dishy bachelors in town! And how can a middle-class urban vet not like cats? Go and speak to him.’
‘I wouldn’t know what to—’
‘Practise on me,’ Eva demanded. ‘Come on, quick.’ Rachel tried her ‘sexy’ pout while fluttering her eyelashes.
‘Why are you doing a Mick Jagger impression? Put your lips away. Don’t try to flirt with him, talk to him like a normal Earthling. Are you drunk?’ Before Rachel could answer the attractive man was at their table.
‘Hi, Doctor P. This is Eva,’ Rachel introduced them.
‘I’m Luke.’
‘Eva.’ She didn’t shake hands and ignored Luke’s attempt to do so.
‘Luke doesn’t like cats.’
Eva admonished Rachel with her eyes.
‘What? I love cats.’
‘You don’t like my cats.’
‘Your cats are great. Beautiful coats as I recall.’
‘But you said they were fat.’
‘They are on the portly side. But I only said to put them on a diet because I want them to live a long time. And I want them to live a long time because they make you happy. And I want happy patients.’
‘I thought you said Neville and Oscar were the patients. I liked that.’
‘You’re absolutely right. Think about it. If you were the patient, I wouldn’t be able to socialise with you like this.’
‘Is that what this is?’
Rachel tried her seductive pout again while Eva waved a dismissal at Luke, who looked a little confused and said he hoped the women enjoy their evening before excusing himself. Rachel could have died from acute embarrassment. She mimed hitting her head against the table. Glancing over, she could see the vet was out with his staff; an odd-bod collection of pierced and tattooed animal lovers. She allowed herself to wonder if Luke had any bodily adornments himself.
‘I bet he’s a vegetarian. Why am I such a loser?’ she asked.
‘You did really well!’
‘It was awful. He’s too perfect … handsome and a vet. Why are the beautiful men even single? What’s wrong with them?’
‘They’ve got their own shit to deal with – often they’re divorced with crazy ex-wives, or else they’re serial killers, or both.’
‘Will I be a crazy ex-wife?’ Rachel asked.
‘Probably.’
‘But the thing is, Eva, it’s over and I know I’m better off without David. Mentally, I know that. So, physically, emotionally, why does it still hurt so much?’
Eva raised her glass in a toast: ‘As the saying goes: how you get them is how you lose them. Good luck to whoever she is!’
Rachel felt melancholy seeping through her. She didn’t want to watch David with another woman. She didn’t want evidence of shared laugher and stories being exchanged, but she couldn’t help but wait to witness it. Like a bystander at a car crash, her eyes were trained on the scene, awaiting further developments. Her mood dipped even lower.
‘If you could do anything, what would you choose?’ Eva asked her.
‘Well, I’ve found a couple of cute cottages for sale … but really it’s always been my dream to live on a boat. When we first moved to Richmond, right by the river, it was amazing. Thank God it was all those years ago. We couldn’t afford to buy here now!’
‘There’s loads of boats by the bridge, they do day trips and weekend hire.’
‘David gets dreadful seasickness. He once threw up on a surfboard!’
‘Poor baby,’ Eva said sarcastically. ‘Look at it this way – it’s a plus in the life without David column.’
Rachel nodded and shared a silly thought. ‘I have this fantasy. It’s nuts, but sometimes I think about the future and tell myself: what if? What if, perhaps, maybe, I could get him to fall in love with me again? And we could get married properly this time.’ The drink had loosened her lips.
Eva frowned, not following.
‘And then you’d divorce him?’
Rachel hadn’t actually thought about the divorcing part; most of all she wanted David to love her, to hold her like he used to. She gave a half-hearted nod.
‘That’s evil,’ Eva said, followed by, ‘I love it!’
‘It would be great, wouldn’t it?’ Rachel mused. ‘I think it’s genius. You should definitely do it.’ ‘Thanks, Eva. You’ve really cheered me up.’ Eva drew up a battle plan. It was simple:
1) Rachel would be the nicest, sexiest wife she could be and make her husband fall madly in love with her again.
2) They’d renew their vows.
3) Then she’d divorce him!
Rachel thought it was a good plan in theory but voiced some concerns about actually going through with it – what was the point? It wouldn’t work and she was already embarrassed and felt like shit. She was tired of it, of him, of their sham marriage. She couldn’t handle any further rejection from David. Unperturbed, Eva persuaded her at least to try!
Although the idea had started as a joke, it lodged in Rachel’s mind. What if she could get him to fall back in love with her? They could get married properly this time. And – this was the bit she couldn’t tell Eva – even live happily ever after. Without an unpleasant divorce at the end. Was that too much to hope for?
Rachel checked her phone again.
‘Quick – it’s time to go.’ She pointed to the blue beacon on her phone. ‘David’s already at home!’
‘But how—’
‘Come on!’
Rachel tried to order an Uber but there were no cars available. Typical. Eva hailed down a black cab for Rachel and gave her a hug. She shouted ‘thanks’ as she climbed in unsteadily.
‘Home, Jeeves!’ Rachel laughed, and the driver switched on the meter and chuckled with her.
‘Remember, love, the longer it takes you to remember where you live, the more I get paid.’
She gave him her address and allowed herself to daydream in the back of the taxi about her and David growing old together. She knew that he was her Achilles heel and hated herself for such weakness, but what if …?
David was sat at the breakfast bar, bent over his laptop when Rachel sashayed in. It was an entrance intended to project a sense of sobriety she certainly did not feel.
‘Someone is heavily refreshed.’ Rachel slowed to investigate David’s face – he was joking, there was a twinkle in his eye. She kissed him on the cheek.
‘I thought you were going for drinks after your squash game?’
‘Barry got a last-minute date. What about you, what time do you call this?,’ he joked as he tapped his watch.’
‘Eva and I needed to brainstorm.’
‘Do people still do that? I thought it was all mind-mapping and such.’
David looked up from his laptop for long enough to stare at his wife as if seeing her for the first time. Rachel improved her precarious posture and gave him a twirl.
‘What?’ she asked.
David shook his head.
‘What is it?’ she asked again.
‘Are you seeing someone?’
Rachel kicked off her heels and laughed hard. It blasted through the room like a foghorn. She couldn’t stop laughing; the question was abs
urd. When she had collected herself and her breathing returned to normal, she asked, ‘What – you mean, an affair?’
‘It was a joke. You’ve been different and you look great.’
It was a genuine compliment. Beauty sleep was real and tangible. Why didn’t more people bang on about how great sleep was? Even if for her it was chemically induced with sleeping tablets most nights, to give her brain respite for eight hours, but at least she was well rested.
‘Why? Are you jealous? I once read: you know who gets most suspicious – those who are having affairs themselves. Something to do with the laws of duplicity; when one is up to no good, they automatically thinks everyone else is too. Perhaps the husband doth protest too much?’
She was immediately rewarded for the boldness of her remark. David’s mouth dropped open. Rachel pretended to scroll through her calls, as his cheeks flushed. He blustered about removing something from the fridge, Rachel didn’t hear what. But whatever it was, it had to be at room temperature right away. David’s unease coloured the air as Rachel watched him try to squeeze the worms back in the can.
He helped himself to a cold lager and guzzled it down. He didn’t know that Rachel had swapped the labels and he was drinking the non-alcoholic version of his favourite brand. She sat watching. The beer wasn’t producing the magic release David was expecting. He opened a second bottle and wondered aloud if it was beer consumption adding to his waistline. Rachel gave his practically flat stomach a stroke and tried to pinch an inch.
Before bed, she watched as he brushed his teeth. The toothbrush head débacle still worried her. Only recently she’d thought he deserved a fate worse than death; today he might actually get it. He could die from dysentery and she would be responsible.
But she forgot all about David’s potty mouth when he unexpectedly kissed her gently on the mouth. His warm tongue pressed against her lips, seeking an invitation. Her body automatically arched towards his. The warm haze of attraction was instantly dispelled when her brain kicked into overdrive, besieging her with thoughts of the other woman and her firm young body. Rachel had visions of the sex David had had with the redhead, the positions, the sounds he and his lover would have made.
She ducked into the bathroom with her mobile phone. She must message Eva and ask what to do. Rachel really did want to sleep with her cheating pretend-husband but would she regret it in the morning? This could all play into the plan to get David back … It was almost as stressful as the decision to lose her virginity. No, she wouldn’t call Eva. She didn’t want to be told it was a bad idea.
Rachel returned to the bedroom and the decision was made for her: David was asleep and gently snoring. For once she didn’t need sleeping tablets nor had she dosed his water with caffeine pills. They both slept dreamlessly, side-by-side.
The next morning, guilt about the toothbrush-in-toilet incident still plagued Rachel. She called Dr Lester’s surgery. The lovely dental receptionist, Julie, answered the phone in her sing-song voice. She asked if Rachel would like the slot in two Saturdays’ time at 14:30.
She called up the stairs to suggest this to David.
‘I went recently.’
‘When?’ she shouted.
David didn’t answer so she booked him the appointment and hoped a first-world case of dysentery wouldn’t develop in the interim.
‘When?’ Rachel repeated up the stairs, although it would have been far easier for her to venture up them to have the conversation.
‘December. When I had that toothache.’
‘Where was I?’
‘I don’t know. On your spa thing?’
Her annual spa retreat; the thought immediately relaxed her posture. Rachel and three friends spent two days at a luxurious spa every December, unwinding in preparation for their nerves to be shredded over Christmas. It helped to ease the stress of cooking for more than twelve guests, coping with in-laws, still-frozen turkeys, Boxing Day games, too much sherry, and piles of unwanted gifts.
‘That was nearly six months ago,’ Rachel told him. ‘I’ve booked you an appointment.’ Rachel wanted to Google the possible repercussions for drugging one’s spouse but she hardly needed Stephen Hawking’s intellect to realise it was a stupid idea and most probably illegal; plus she didn’t want it left on her internet search history. She knew she should hand herself in at the nearest police station for spousal abuse. Do not pass go. Go directly to jail.
Rachel got to the office an hour earlier than she usually did as she had promised Eva she would try harder. She put her head down and checked in with all her clients, sending emails offering them a complimentary mid-year review. It was amazing the productivity that could be achieved when she was alone in the office.
She managed her inbox, deleted all the spam, and scrolled through the headlines. She couldn’t concentrate on the details. Where was the good news?
Lydia bounced into the office and was delighted to find the clone of old-Rachel waiting for her. They spent the day working on her PA’s brainchild: a new vodka launch.
Rachel didn’t fancy cooking and David hadn’t sent a message to say he was going to be out. She looked at the Marks & Spencer’s website for inspiration and found they had a meal deal. She headed over to choose two mains, a side, dessert and bottle of wine for the magical price of £10.
Ready to woo her faux-husband, she skipped home and was informed by a note on the kitchen worktop that David had gone to the gym. Any non-verbal communication, whether it be handwritten, a text message or an email, was surely his way of avoiding the lie showing in his face. She opened her phone and searched for his location. There was no beacon of hope that he was in fact at the gym or anywhere else – his phone was switched off.
She left David’s dinner in the microwave and went to bed. By ten she’d taken a sleeping tablet and arrived at the Land of Nod.
David
19
David was sitting in a meeting he wasn’t sure he’d been officially invited to when he excused himself and walked out. He wasn’t any use at work; they had no need for him now that the buy-out was all but finalised.
He was useless at home too. Rachel was slipping further away from him day by day. The reality of the situation hit David; he was an idiot who’d been led by the contents of his boxer shorts – the same boxer shorts that were now feeling unusually tight. There wasn’t a time in the last fifteen years when he hadn’t had his wife to help him through any challenge he encountered. Now he wrote a list of all the problems that needed to be addressed, one by one. His main worry was that he’d left it too late and any day now he could expect to be exposed for the lying cheating bastard he was. David decided he needed an action plan. He called Barry for advice.
Barry said he’d have to be quick, he was with a client.
‘Are you around later?’ David gulped. ‘It’s important.’
‘D&D, six.’
Their code for meet at the Dog and Duck at 6 p.m.
Barry was not in the best place to be doling out relationship advice but David could trust him to be honest and, most importantly, non-judgemental.
Beers with Barry turned out to be a waste of time. David didn’t confide any more in Barry beyond that he thought Rachel was acting suspiciously and wondered if she was going to leave him. Barry didn’t ask for the details – he was more of a big-picture man. In fact, it turned out that he was utterly useless when it came to affairs of the heart. His advice was summarised: keep your head down and don’t rock the boat. He said that if he hadn’t let Gina find out about his tomfoolery, then he wouldn’t have been thrown out of the marital home, and wouldn’t currently be living in a studio smaller than his former two-car garage. Even more depressing was when he showed David his Tinder dating profile. He had swept right, or was it left, to indicate interest – and got nothing in return, not a sausage.
‘And not even from the ugly ones,’ Barry said. ‘I thought it was gonna be great. Bachelor around town. Do you remember uni? We were the dog’s bollocks.’
David nodded. He didn’t want to be reminded of being single and in his twenties. Barry was literally a combination Ghost of David’s Past and Future.
‘Let’s have a look at that.’
He scrolled through the hundreds, HUNDREDS, of available women. In spite of the different pictures, ages, locations, for him the profiles all merged into one.
‘Why have you filtered women between the ages of eighteen and fifty?’ he asked his friend.
‘You dated an eighteen-year-old. Fuck, you married her!’
‘That was fifteen years ago. And she was nineteen.’
‘It’s a numbers game. All the women our age have loads of kids or are desperate for kids.’
‘I thought you had a date the other day?’
‘That was, uhm, a different site. They’re a bit less fussy over there.’
Barry didn’t elaborate further and David wasn’t sure he wanted to know where the less-fussy people were situated.
‘Might be nice to meet a single mum.’ David suggested.
‘Do you know what I really want? For Gina to take me back. I miss her so much. I want to live and die in her bosom.’
‘Good luck with that.’
‘How about another game of squash this week?’
‘I’m useless at it – last time you beat me ten–one.’
‘Don’t be a sore loser. It’s a no-brainer. I need a partner to play with and you need a place to let out your frustration.’
‘Maybe you’re right.’
It was David’s round. He gave Barry a £20 note and asked him to get the drinks in while he called Rachel. The stark reality of his friend’s lonely plight ignited something in David. He had left a note to say he was at the gym, which was where he was planning to be before he’d called Barry. Now David wanted to be honest with Rachel and tell her his change of plan. He didn’t want to lie anymore, even unintentionally.
He tried to unlock his phone. It was no use, the battery had died.
Barry sat with two pints and a packet of pork scratchings in front of him. He offered a fried pig trotter to David. The hairy smoky bacon bit in Barry’s outstretched fingers turned David’s stomach. He didn’t feel like he could ask his friend for the change.
How to Marry Your Husband Page 12
