The Couple

by Helly Acton

  Millie’s phone beeps.

  It’s a message from Ruth.

  Ruth:

  Can you talk?

  After checking under the stalls, Millie dials Ruth’s number.

  ‘So, I’m guessing you know by now,’ Ruth answers. ‘I’m officially an ex-Slider. God, it feels good to say that.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t feel good to hear it! What happened? And where have you been all morning?’ Millie cries, feeling hurt that Ruth could be so glib about something so huge. ‘You can’t leave me hanging with three missed calls and then just disappear off the face of the earth. I was worried!’

  ‘Sorry, Mils. That was a bit insensitive. I’m still on a bit of a high.’

  ‘OK, well, I’m glad you’re smiling and not weeping into a bottle of tequila,’ Millie replies begrudgingly, still struggling with processing it all. Truthfully, she’d rather Ruth was weeping into a bottle of tequila. Maybe it would make her feel less like chopped liver.

  ‘I mean, tequila is on the cards for later, but it’s definitely more of a fiesta situation,’ Ruth replies.

  ‘I’m not sure I’m quite ready to celebrate being left on my tod with Sasha, but give me time.’

  ‘Again, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Can you tell me what actually happened? Adrian wasn’t specific,’ Millie asks. ‘And he’s hardly a trustworthy source.’

  ‘You know I’ve been feeling like I don’t belong there for a while. And Adrian’s treated me like an outcast ever since he found out I was in a couple. Constantly questioning the credibility of my professional opinion on single matters because of my personal relationship status. Bringing it up at every board meeting. Repeatedly asking me to explain myself, so they could understand couples better, like I was some kind of guinea pig. Then, in our catch-up last night, he dropped the biggie. I told you, Mils, if I ever quit it would have to be over a biggie.’

  You also said you’d take me with you, thinks Millie.

  ‘Oxytoxin,’ Millie replies.

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘It’s pretty massive.’

  ‘It’s pretty bloody vile, too, don’t you think?’ Ruth says.

  ‘Mmm,’ Millie replies, noncommittally. Now’s not the time to get into a moral debate.

  ‘That was the last straw,’ Ruth continues. ‘I told him I wanted nothing to do with a pill that makes couples like me and Sam feel like there’s something wrong with them. I don’t want to make anyone feel that their way of life is something to fear or be fixed. It’s so insulting. I can take teasing, but this is going too far. How many times do I have to tell people that being in a couple is a choice, not an affliction? There’s nothing wrong with us. I could break up with Sam tomorrow if I wanted to. Get back on Slide. Be like everybody else. But I don’t want to. I’m happy just the way I am. And I can’t work somewhere that believes otherwise. Slide used to pride itself on being open-minded. Now it’s part of Human, and on an anti-couple agenda. And that means it’s time for this couple type to jump ship.’

  ‘I get it,’ Millie says. ‘I just hate that you were pushed.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. But really, he did me a favour. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get hold of you before he did.’

  ‘Did you get my messages this morning?’ Millie asks.

  ‘Not until lunch, sorry. I had my phone on silent and I slept until midday – it was bliss! Hope you weren’t too worried,’ Ruth says.

  ‘I think I’ll recover,’ Millie replies. ‘But I do need to go and call off the search party. So, deadbeat, what are you doing for the rest of the day? Back to bed?’

  ‘This deadbeat is going for a long walk in the sun on the heath, followed by a Perfect for One feast. Sam’s on a work trip. Millie, I can’t tell you how much freer I feel to be out of there.’ Ruth sighs.

  ‘It’s so weird to think of you not being here. Promise you’re OK? You’ve been at Slide forever.’

  ‘I guess Sam’s my forever now,’ Ruth replies.

  Millie flinches at ‘forever’. Being in couple is weird enough, but being with someone forever sounds utterly bonkers. She ends the call with conflicted feelings. Relieved that Ruth is OK, but hurt that she didn’t try harder to contact Millie to let her know. Frightened for her friend about all the emotion she’s investing in her relationship with Sam. Thrilled about the chance to land her dream job, but guilty about dancing on her friend’s workplace grave. Concerned about how Ruth will feel about Millie staying at Slide to work on something that goes against all her values, her way of life. Then again, Ruth didn’t ask Millie to go with her, like she promised.

  Millie exits the toilet cubicle and stands up straight in the mirror. Ruth has made it loud and clear that her personal life is more important. Millie’s truth is that her professional life comes first. Her career is her Number One. Staring at her reflection, she makes a silent pledge to throw herself into the pitch, land the job, achieve her life’s dream and become chief creative officer by her thirtieth birthday.

  Millie picks up her Perfect for One meal delivery, swings open her front door and scurries quickly through the hall.

  ‘Ha!’

  She turns round, seeing Bruce’s paw stuck in the rug.

  It retracts slowly.

  She places her laptop on the kitchen counter, clicks on tonight’s catch-up episode of Single Me Out! and starts to chop the half of a pepper that came in her Panang Curry Kit.

  ‘What?’ she says, when she sees Bruce staring at her from the kitchen door. ‘It’s research.’

  ‘Tonight on Single Me Out!,’ the narrator starts, ‘we follow Ashley as he leaves the retreat and dines out alone for the first time in five years. How does he feel about Alice’s rejection? Will they keep in touch? And will he stay single?’

  The camera zooms in on Ashley at Steaks and Cakes.

  ‘Yeah, feeling pretty good, actually. Alice is a vegan, so this is a real treat for me. Do you know if she’s watching?’ he says, stuffing a large piece of sirloin into his mouth.

  ‘Also on tonight’s show: Alice takes a leap and joins Slide to see what she’s been missing!’

  The camera closes in on Alice zooming in on a bare six-pack, then cuts to her talking to camera.

  ‘What am I most looking forward to in my future? I suppose having my own space again,’ she says.

  Millie winces at the thought of someone else living here. A guy in her flat, being near her the whole time and watching what she’s doing. His feet up on her coffee table. His boxers on her floor in her bedroom. Smelly man things strewn across the bathroom and a scattering of beard hair stuck to the sink. Only having half the bed to herself. The snoring. Being forced to find something on TV that they both want to watch. Having to offer someone else a cup of tea the whole time. Asking for a bite of her cheesecake. Who could bear it?

  Wandering over to the sofa with her laptop in her left hand and the curry in her right, she places both on the coffee table before curling up on the sofa and reaching for her phone.

  Ruth and June were right – Millie hasn’t had a slide in months. She hovers her finger over the app and toys with the idea of having a look now. After a few seconds, she lowers her hand. Now isn’t the time to find a slide for the night. Not when she needs to focus on the pitch. Not when she’s had a curry.

  Her phone buzzes in her hand, making her jump, but when she sees who it is, she finds herself unexpectedly grinning broadly.

  Ben:

  Team Ashley or Team Alice?

  He must have looked for her number on his emails.

  Seven

  At 6 a.m. on the dot, Millie sits up, throws her duvet off and swings her feet over the side of the bed before placing them firmly on the floor. Right foot first, then left, and never the reverse. ‘Starting off on the right foot’ has been a superstition that she’s held ever since her mother had mentioned how important it was. As a child she thought it was meant literally, and though she now knows it’s not, it remains an important part of her routine. Sh
e realises it’s irrational, but Millie is convinced that if she doesn’t start her day on her right foot, it will be awful.

  At her dressing table, she runs a brush through her hair, starting from her left temple and moving over to her right, making sure not to miss a single strand before placing her headband on.

  Thursday’s jogging outfit is all black. Mixing colours makes Millie feel messy, as does wearing something unplanned. Every Sunday evening, she prepares her wardrobe based on three things: weather, meetings, evening plans. Then she organises her cupboard accordingly. It saves her at least ten minutes a day, which really adds up over time. She learnt the trick, as she did most of them, from her mum. She doesn’t understand how people like Al can leave the decision to the last minute. It makes her shudder just thinking about it.

  There’s a lot to do before leaving for work at 7.30 a.m. sharp, so Millie divides the time into manageable fifteen-minute blocks. It’s the only way she can tick it all off.

  06.00–06.15

  Drink hot lemon, get dressed

  06.15–06.30

  Run to the park

  06.30–06.45

  Run around the park

  06.45–07.00

  Run back home

  07.00–07.30

  Shower, get dressed, hair, make-up

  07.25–07.30

  Attempt a goodbye with Bruce, leave home

  Millie’s running route takes her round the big pond in Battersea Park, where people sit on chairs and dangle their toes over the water. On Saturday mornings, Millie and June like to drag two chairs together and snack on cheese toasties while the ducks float close by in hope. As Millie turns the corner towards their favourite spot, the morning sun hits and she feels the sweat start to bead on her forehead. She takes a long, slow breath.

  ‘Shit!’ she whispers, stopping abruptly when she sees a familiar face eating a bap by the water. Ben. The last person she’d expect to see so early in the morning, and the last person she wants to run into, for professional reasons, of course, with her bee-stung cheeks, blotchy skin and a wheezing chest that makes her sound like a chain-smoker. She doesn’t want their new strategist to see her as a sweaty mess in skintight clothes that leave little to the imagination. She quickly searches for the nearest hedge.

  ‘Millie?’

  Ugh.

  Millie pats her cheeks with her sleeves, checks the time on her phone and turns round.

  ‘Well, you’ve put me to shame. The last time I ran was away from an extremely amorous dog. Just over there, last week.’ Ben points towards the river and grins.

  ‘I just fancied a quickie to blow away the cobwebs,’ she pants.

  ‘Excuse me?’ He stares at her, amused.

  ‘Yeah, that came out wrong,’ she says, laughing. ‘How come you’re here so early?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep. I still have my pyjamas on under my coat.’ He shakes his ankles.

  ‘Cosy.’ She smiles, wondering how he isn’t sweltering in this heat.

  ‘So, do you live near here, then?’ he asks.

  ‘Over there, on the other side,’ Millie pants, pointing in the direction of her flat.

  ‘Ah! I’m right there.’ He points in the opposite direction to the red-brick mansion block on the corner. ‘Hold on, that might explain it. Were you outside my window last night? I heard someone screech an insufferable rendition of “Nothing Compares 2 Me” and then vomit into the bushes after the high note.’

  ‘That was me! What did you think?’ She laughs.

  ‘A for effort. D for delivery,’ he replies. ‘I mean, next time, just call me?’

  ‘That’s how we welcome people to the area. You’ll learn our London traditions soon enough.’

  ‘In Cardiff we screech “I’ll Never Fall In Love”.’

  ‘Tom Jones!’

  ‘The Welsh king himself.’

  They smile and stare at each other for a borderline-toe-curling few seconds of silence.

  ‘OK, don’t be alarmed,’ Ben whispers, making Millie instantly panic. ‘But I think you’re being watched. Look slowly to the left, and don’t make any sudden movements.’

  Millie frowns and turns her head towards the pond to see a goose eyeballing her from the water’s edge.

  ‘That’s another thing you’ve got to watch out for, Ben,’ she whispers. ‘Goose gangs.’

  ‘Would you say it’s a few bad eggs, ruining it for the rest of us?’ he asks, seriously.

  ‘You’ve cracked it,’ she replies, grinning. ‘I should go. See you at work?’

  ‘Oh, I see how it is. Every human for themselves. Go on then, save yourself. I’ll see you in there, if I survive.’ He shakes his head, looking at the goose.

  ‘Run, Ben, run! Save yourself!’ she shouts as she starts jogging backwards, feeling self-conscious about him watching her run from behind.

  He salutes her from afar, his thick black hair shimmering in the morning sun. She wonders if he’s still watching her as she turns the corner.

  Millie stares at the tiles in front of her as the hot water gushes over her shoulders. She replays yesterday’s events in her head and tries to imagine her worries washing down the plughole. Ruth saying Oxytoxin is vile. Adrian saying she’s too cautious. He’s right to be worried. She is young, wary and cares what people think. But she can’t change who she is. Millie will never be someone who takes big risks – certainly not without weighing up the consequences first. So, why did Adrian bother asking her, if he thinks she’s so likely to fail? He must see something in her. If she can’t change herself, she’ll just have to change his mind and convince him that you don’t have to be ruthless to be ambitious for the role. And that she shouldn’t get black marks for weighing up the risks before making a decision. That she can be her own style of chief creative officer and make Oxytoxin a global game changer. One with her name on it.

  Back in her bedroom and seated at her dressing table, she opens a drawer and removes a small purple velvet pouch. She carefully wiggles her finger into the gap to prise it open, tips it upside down into her left palm and examines the glossy black pendant. Nan’s onyx necklace. Nancy was her mum’s best friend from childhood. Vivian’s June. She was effectively a co-parent, although they never made it official. Lacing it through her fingers in contemplation, she takes both ends and clasps it at the back of her neck, admiring it glistening in her reflection. Millie moves to stand up again, but hesitates for a second time. Finally, she reaches for a bottle of perfume that sits, mostly decoratively, on top of her dressing table and sprays herself three times across her neck. It’s 7.27 a.m. and, for the first time in as long as she can remember, she’s in danger of running late.

  ‘Well, of course they want you to be the new chief creative officer, Millie, there’s no one better suited to that role than you! You’ve been there long enough. You’ve won them enough awards,’ Vivian’s voice shrieks down Millie’s phone on the bus. ‘You could have done it five years ago with your eyes closed. I’ll stock the fridge with champagne for Sunday.’

  ‘It’s not definite, Mum. There’s someone else in the running who has a good chance too.’

  ‘You do know what this means, don’t you?’ Vivian asks.

  ‘I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of being made chief creative officer at Slide?’

  ‘No. It means you’re one step closer to starting your own agency.’

  ‘Mum, can we just handle this first?’ Millie laughs through the clamped feeling in her chest which she always gets when Vivian talks about her future.

  ‘Well, you’re almost thirty, Millabelle. Time is ticking. You don’t want to leave it too late. No one wants a washed-out CCO, I promise you. They want fresh young meat with a finger on the pulse.’

  ‘Ew.’

  ‘It’s true! I should know. I’m sniffing out fresh meat all the time at Big.’

  ‘Yuck, Mum. Anyway, I’ll see you on Sunday.’

  ‘I’m actually quite astounded, Millie.’

  ‘That they’re consi
dering me?’ Millie asks, having a sudden crisis of confidence as she reaches forward to press the stop bell.

  ‘That Ruth’s walked! That she’s choosing this “relationship” over her career.’ Even down the phone Millie can hear the judgemental air quotes. ‘She always seemed so together. Independent. In control. I just can’t imagine it. It’s tragic, really.’

  ‘She isn’t dead, Mum.’

  ‘Well, she’s dead to me.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘I’m joking, Millabelle, don’t be so sensitive! You know you can’t be sensitive as a CCO, don’t you? You need to be tough, fearless. Brave.’

  ‘Some people would think Ruth is brave, to prioritise her personal life over her professional one.’

  ‘There’s a fine line between courage and crazy. As long as you don’t get any funny ideas. I mean, I know you looked up to her. Good grief.’ Vivian laughs. ‘Can you imagine if you were in a couple? I’d feel sick with worry. Promise me right now, Millie, that you’ll never ruin your life for a relationship.’

  ‘Mum, chill out.’

  ‘I know, I know. You’re far too rational to ever find yourself in that situation,’ Vivian replies.

  Millie glances at her screen when she feels her phone vibrate against her ear.

  Ben Evans has shared a photo

  ‘Mum, I have to go,’ she says.

  ‘Chat later. I’m so proud of you, my perfect girl.’

  Millie rings off and immediately opens the attachment, bursting out laughing, quickly covering her mouth in case people stare.

  Ben:

  I need an ambulance

  In the photo, Ben is lying on the grass with his bap bag over his face.

  Millie:

  I’ve got GOOSEbumps!

  Ben:

  Stop ducking around and call the old bill!

  Millie:

  Calm down, that goose just needs a bit of dough for some quack

  Ben:

  Worst. Neighbour. EVER