Love is a Four-Legged Word: The romantic comedy about canines, conception and fresh starts

by Michele Gorman

  ‘How are you getting on finding a new caterer?’ she asked as Margaret poured water over their teabags. The delicate stacks of bone china no longer came out of the cabinet. They used big hefty builder’s mugs now.

  ‘I’ve given up the search,’ she said, stirring in the milk. ‘It’s too late to find anyone now so I’m on my own.’

  She didn’t sound unhappy about it. ‘Are there still a hundred people coming?’

  ‘Oh, yes, and climbing all the time. Arthur can’t stop inviting people.’

  Scarlett didn’t want to worry Margaret, but she’d be having heart palpitations if a hundred people were about to turn up at her house. ‘Erm, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll just have to do the food myself.’ She shrugged. ‘My only plan so far is to get everyone so pissed that I could serve beans on toast and no one would notice. I’ve found a Prosecco wholesaler who’s doing me a very good deal. He’s got a decent bottle to start with and a more economical option for later.’ She winked. ‘So get your drinks in early. I am so pleased you’re able to come. I’ve also invited my WI friends, and I do like a few of the neighbours, so it won’t be so bad.’

  Scarlett frowned. ‘How many of the guests are actually yours?’ She had a feeling she knew the answer.

  Margaret snorted. ‘I could count them on two hands and a bloomin’ foot. The rest are Arthur’s colleagues and the children’s friends.'

  Scarlett stopped herself from huffing and puffing. It would only wind up the poor woman and she needed less stress, not more. ‘I see why you’re not too bothered about how it turns out, then.’

  ‘Oh, no, Mrs Fothergill, I feel sick about the whole thing going pear-shaped! I’m just doing the best I can, that’s all. It’s no use complaining when people deal with worse all the time and just get on with things.’

  Scarlett wished she could bottle Margaret’s attitude. She’d be drunk on it. ‘Who’s going to serve all those people, though? With a caterer there’d be wait staff to help. Will you have someone?’

  ‘I’ll have to hire some, I guess. I just need to find someone who’ll be happy with everyone’s undying gratitude and not much else.’

  It was clear as Margaret put Biscuit through her paces in the garden that it was to be their last session. Scarlett was always a little sad when this day came. Granted she didn’t like Biscuit as much as some dogs – she’d be very sorry when it came time to say goodbye to Barkley – but she had grown more than a little fond of Margaret. ‘You’ve done so well with Biscuit,’ she told her. ‘As I thought, our sessions have come to an end.’

  Margaret sighed. ‘I’ve loved having you here, Mrs Fothergill. I’ll really miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too, Margaret, but I’ll see you at your party.’ She really didn’t want to say goodbye to the woman. ‘And there’s nothing saying we couldn’t still meet up sometimes, if you’d like. I mean as friends?’

  The smile that beamed across Margaret’s face told Scarlett her answer. ‘As friends… Scarlett. Thank you.’

  She rang Shannon as she left Margaret’s. She could think of one person who’d do just about anything for his slice of the limelight. ‘Make sure you text him to tell him I’m ringing, okay? He may not pick up an unknown number.’

  ‘What, Julian, pass up the chance to talk to strangers? You are joking, right?’

  ‘Darling, leave it all to me!’ he said when Scarlett told him what Margaret needed. ‘What’s our theme?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure she has one. You can ask her when you speak.’

  ‘She must have a theme, darling, otherwise how will we all know what to wear? I know, I’ll make a mood board for her! There’s nothing better to help clients visualise ideas.’

  ‘Okay, but remember, Julian, she hasn’t got a lot of money for props and things.’

  ‘Not to worry, darling, my friends and I can raid our dressing-up boxes and I’m a genius at upcycling. You’ll be amazed at what I can do with everyday household items… and I’m not bad at decorating either, ha ha ha ha ha!’

  Rufus didn’t want to go to Dad’s for dinner and Scarlett didn’t want to fight with him. Their truce was uneasy, but at least it was holding. Fake it till you make it, she thought sadly as she drove to pick up her mum.

  Julia waited out front as Scarlett pulled up behind her car. She’d assumed her mum’s car was in the shop or something. Otherwise she could have driven herself to Dad’s. She must just want the company. Or she figured Scarlett did. ‘Why are you outside?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m enjoying this evening.’ She adjusted her pink cardigan over her dress. ‘It finally feels like summer, don’t you think? Thanks for driving.’

  ‘No problem, though I may not stay late, if that’s okay, with Rufus home.’ She’d never been one to plan her schedule around her husband. Yes, they spent a lot of time together, but she had her own life, too. Lately, though, she’d been reluctant to leave him.

  ‘It’s fine, sweetheart. We’ll leave whenever you like.’

  Julia didn’t think Scarlett had anything to worry about with Rufus. She hadn’t sounded the least bit surprised when Scarlett rang after the urology appointment. ‘He just needs some time to rebuild his ego,’ she’d said. ‘This kind of thing is hard on a man. He’ll come round, you’ll see.’ Scarlett wasn’t so sure her mum knew what she was talking about, given that the only relationship in her life had ended in divorce.

  Gemma was definitely more sympathetic and on Scarlett’s side, but then she was also extremely hormonal about anything that stood in the way of her sister having a baby. ‘He’s just going to have to get over that silliness,’ she’d said. ‘For both your sakes.’

  They stood together in Felicia’s kitchen. ‘You’re really showing.’ Scarlett reached out to touch Gemma’s tummy. ‘Do you get sick of people doing that?’

  ‘I don’t mind when it’s family or my friends. It’s just annoying when strangers do it, right? I wouldn’t walk up to a woman on the Tube and honk her boob, yet they think they can rub my tummy.’ Her expression clouded. ‘Is it getting harder seeing me like this? … Or easier?’ The last question was hopeful.

  ‘No, not harder.’ It wasn’t getting easier either, but it wouldn’t do any good telling Gemma that. It wasn’t like she could change the situation. Fate, that bugger, just had cruel timing.

  She’d gone back and forth over telling Dad and Felicia about Rufus’s results. Her mum had to be told because she was her mum, and Gemma because there’d be hell to pay if she didn’t. Dad and Felicia would want to know, of course, but what purpose would it serve? It’d just make them feel bad for her.

  She did tell them, because it felt wrong to exclude only them, and they were as sympathetic and supportive as she knew they’d be. Basically everyone was being great about it except the one person who got the last say.

  ‘You’re home early,’ Rufus said as she leaned down to kiss him. They hardly ever kissed standing up anymore. The sofa was their background now.

  ‘Didn’t miss me, then?’ The question came out harsher than she meant. Or perhaps it came out exactly as harshly as she meant. She couldn’t tell anymore.

  ‘Was dinner good?’ he asked.

  ‘Felicia sent some home for you. You’ve eaten?’ Oh, the mundanity.

  ‘I had a burger with Shannon. I’ll bring that to work tomorrow for lunch, though.’

  So he’d been out again. ‘Have fun?’

  His smile was relaxed, easy. Rufus 1.0, before his operating system changed and all her favourite programmes stopped running. ‘It was good. We went to that handmade burger place in the Oracle. I’m full of meat.’

  ‘Full of something anyway.’ She slumped down next to him. ‘What are you watching?’

  ‘The dogs wanted Doctor Doolittle, but we’ve seen it so many times. I’m broadening their horizons with Die Hard with a Vengeance.’

  ‘Which you’ve seen how many times?’ It seemed to be on telly at least once a week.

  He
covered Ginger’s ears. ‘Shh. They don’t know that. Without you here they outvote me.’

  ‘Then you need me.’

  He planted a wet kiss on her cheek. ‘Of course I do.’

  Her tummy flipped when she felt his lips. It was probably just a trick of the mind, like a phantom limb. Those feelings had been amputated.

  And yet she so wanted to believe that everything was okay, that they were just like any other couple jostling with their dogs for space on the sofa. In a little while they’d argue mildly over who’d take them for the last walk of the night. One after the other they’d go upstairs to clean their teeth. She’d put away the jeans or clean clothes piled on the bed and throw the decoration-only cushions into the corner. Rufus would put on his reading glasses and open his book. They’d sleep, wake and do it all again. Routine. It was easy, comfortable… secure. Was this what people meant by papering over the cracks? She could see the appeal.

  She snuggled down further into the crook of his arm when the film came back on, but as it played across their flat screen telly, she found she wasn’t really watching it. That’s because Rufus was stroking her tummy. ‘Full of good food?’ he asked.

  ‘Mmm hmm.’ It wasn’t really a question to be answered. And it wasn’t an innocent gesture either. Rufus knew exactly how it turned her on when he did that.

  He’d just better not be teasing.

  Her hand found his thigh. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to press buttons. She knew what he liked, too. When they were first together they used to stroke each other like that for hours. Such tantalisingly slow, not-quite-innocent foreplay eventually landed them in bed every time.

  They kept their eyes on the screen as Bruce Willis beat up the bad guys. Scarlett heard the change in Rufus’s breathing. He moaned when her hand found his crotch. She smiled into the blue telly light. No slugs.

  They turned to each other at the same time to kiss. Ginger jumped off the sofa to leave her humans to their weird rituals. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she said.

  ‘No, here.’ He was pulling up her jumper.

  She glanced through their large front window to the street beyond. ‘At least turn off the TV so no one can see in.’ Though part of her liked the idea that someone might be watching. What had gotten into her?!

  Their lovemaking was slow, yet passionate and giggly in turns, and it felt so familiar and carefree that Scarlett wanted to cry with relief. Every time she looked into Rufus’s eyes he smiled back. When he closed his eyes he became more urgent, then faster.

  She knew when he was about to come, and not because he told her, like a few exes had done in the past. As if that kind of thing needed an announcement.

  ‘Oh my god,’ he gasped into her shoulder, ‘Shannon!’

  Neither of them moved. Rufus’s body lay on top of hers, completely still. He’d better hope he’d died. For a moment she couldn’t speak.

  ‘I love you, Scarlett,’ he murmured, still not moving.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I love you?’

  She shoved him to the floor. ‘No, before that.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He looked up at her. ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Try again.’ She felt the bile rise in her throat. Felicia’s Cajun chicken threatened to make another appearance. ‘What did you say?’ She pulled her legs up to her chest.

  He grabbed his pants to shimmy them back on. Not easy from a sitting position, but he was awfully vulnerable with his willy waving about like that. ‘I didn’t– I was… I was out with Shannon tonight. That’s all. It was a slip of the tongue.’

  This couldn’t be happening. ‘A slip of the tongue, Rufus? Really? Exactly where has your tongue been slipping?’ She knew the tears would come later to flood all the whys, whens and whatfors. Right then she was so angry she wanted to kill him. She had her mother’s iron core after all. ‘You just said my best friend’s name as you came.’ The words sounded hard and cold. Like she felt. ‘How could you?’

  ‘I haven’t, Scarlett. Come on, you’ve got to believe me. It’s not what you think!’

  It took her mind a second to catch up. So far it had only registered the words and set the alarm bells ringing. Now it was starting to work out their meaning. Oh god, she really was going to throw up.

  She didn’t have time to do more than lean over the arm of the ugly sofa. Dinner hit the floorboards.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said as he moved towards her. She pulled her jumper over her head, not bothering with her bra first. She didn’t want to be uncovered in front of him.

  Was this how her parents felt when they divorced? Was there an edge that they couldn’t step back from? She’d never asked. She’d always thought they weren’t a good blueprint for her relationship. Maybe she was wrong about that. Maybe they were a very accurate one after all.

  He put his head in his hands as he spoke. ‘Nothing’s going on between me and Shannon.’

  ‘You’ve just shouted her name while having sex with me.’ She wasn’t sure who she felt more betrayed by.

  He pulled himself up on to the sofa and found his shirt. It went on inside out. ‘All right. If you must know, I haven’t found things easy lately.’

  She stared at him in horror. He hadn’t been finding things easy?

  ‘But that doesn’t mean I cheated on you. I’m just saying that there’s been so much tension these last months. Even before the doctors, when we were trying. God damn it!’ He wiped his hands over his face. ‘It hasn’t been fun for me around here, to be honest. There’s a lot of pressure with you, Scarlett. It’s been all about a baby for months and then all the tests and I know how disappointed you are in me. I know. I can see it all the time. When I’m out with my mate I can forget all that. It’s relaxing. I guess I was just relaxed now with you. For the first time in a long time. Isn’t that good?’

  She thought about that for a moment. ‘What kind of twisted– You are not seriously blaming me for this.’

  ‘No?’ It was more of a question than an answer.

  ‘Well, obviously you are, because that’s what you just said.’ She took a deep breath. Ten minutes ago they were having sex. Giggling, naked together. An hour before she was wondering if she’d been overreacting. She’d dared to hope things weren’t as bad as they’d seemed. She’d doubted her instinct.

  Fate, you heartless bastard.

  Never in a million years did she think she’d say the next words. ‘I want you to leave. I can’t have you around me right now, not after this. You need to go.’

  Part of her wanted him to refuse, to beg to stay so they could find a way through it together. She’d probably still kick him out, but she needed to hear him want to stay.

  Instead he nodded. ‘I understand. I’ll get some things together. Scarlett? I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t even think about going to Shannon’s,’ she spat.

  He turned. ‘This isn’t about Shannon.’

  ‘I mean it, Rufus.’

  ‘I’ll be at the Travelodge.’

  Chapter 26

  Scarlett dozed off sometime after 4 a.m. with a dog gently snoring on each of the goose down pillows she’d splurged on when she’d picked out their bed. Fred and Ginger couldn’t believe their luck when she hoisted them to the mattress, though she took most of the fun out of the sleepover by sobbing all over them.

  Four words ran round and round in her head. It. Hurts. So. Much. She thought the words. She shouted them and she snivelled them into already-soaking Westie fur. She couldn’t wrap her head round what had happened. It had happened, hadn’t it? This wasn’t some terrible dream where Fred was about to stand on his hind legs and sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. It wasn’t something she would wake from.

  She hadn’t misheard him. He admitted that. Oh. My. God. Shannon. Another four words to obsess over. Rufus’s words.

  For better or for worse, her husband had said them.

  After they’d stood in front of all their family and friends and made promise
s and she’d never felt anything as solid and sure as his love. He’d said them.

  What happened?

  For richer, for poorer, they’d made it through hard times. Having to put Oscar down when the cancer came back, parents’ health scares and the sleepless nights when they’d stretched to buy the house. One would lose their nerve, buckle or crack under the weight of emotion, only to be gathered in by the other and convinced everything would be okay. Because they were in it together.

  In sickness and in health, no matter what, they were supposed to be in it together.

  Until death us do part.

  Or until he shouts another woman’s name during sex, in which case he goes to live at the Travelodge.

  If she’d ever needed her best friend, it was now. How utterly kick-in-the-head ironic was that?

  How was she supposed to confide in the woman who figured in her husband’s sexual fantasy? His eyes had been closed, as she now remembered it. So who, exactly, was he imagining he was having sex with? Obviously, whoever it was, he was having no problem performing with her.

  Scarlett would go mad if she didn’t talk to someone, though. The Westies just weren’t giving her the answers she needed. She put on last night’s clothes and brushed her teeth again, but she could still imagine the sick.

  It was pouring when she reached Gemma’s London office. Her sister worked in a giant glass box. The rain streaming down its windows reminded Scarlett of going to the car wash with their dad as a child. It was the highlight of their Saturdays together, snug inside the old Volvo belting out ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ in performances that would have made Gene Kelly wince. Scarlett loved the force of those spinny brushes as they buffeted the vehicle and the soapy water pouring over them, knowing they were safe inside.

  She’d give anything to crawl back into that car.

  ‘What’s wrong, honeypots?’ Gemma said when she picked up. ‘You never ring me at work.’

  True, as she thought about it. She’d always rung Shannon during the day instead. ‘I need to see you. Can you come out for coffee? I’m downstairs. In your lobby.’