The Good Bride Guide

by Matt Dunn

  ‘Er . . . Okay.’ I’m a bit stunned by her matter-offactness, but flattered too. ‘But I spend most of my time at my studio, so shall I give you that address instead? I mean, if you wanted to come and see me, then that’s probably the best place.’

  ‘I need them to process the refund, Ben. For head office.’

  ‘Ah. Of course. Sorry.’ I fill in my details on the pad, slide it back across the counter, then wait nervously as she rings the condoms through the till.

  ‘Have you got two pee?’

  ‘No, thank you. You just make me a little nervous, that’s . . . That wasn’t what you meant, was it?’

  ‘Two pence, Ben. So I can give you a tenner back.’

  As Seema watches me patiently, I check in both my pockets, but apart from an old tube of paint and a rather impressive bit of fluff, don’t find anything. ‘No. Sorry.’

  ‘No problem,’ she says, counting out a fistful of change from the till drawer and handing it over to me. I resist the urge to check it, and just stuff it into my pocket, realizing that now’s my big chance, but when I can’t think of anything else to say, Seema smiles. ‘Well, say hello to Ash for me.’

  I’m just about to say ‘Of course’, when something occurs to me. ‘Why don’t you say hello to him?’

  Seema regards me for a moment. ‘Well, I haven’t seen him for a while.’

  ‘You could see him tomorrow. It’s his big engagement party.’

  ‘I know, but . . .’ She shakes her head. ‘I might not go. Especially with all my family there. I don’t know if he said, but I’m regarded as kind of . . .’

  ‘The black sheep?’

  ‘Are you trying to be funny?’ says Seema, making me suddenly very aware of the colour of her skin.

  ‘No. Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’

  Seema rolls her eyes. ‘Relax, Ben. You’re so easy to get. It’s just . . . Well, my family and me don’t really see eye to eye. In fact, I’m surprised he even mentioned me.’

  ‘Of course he did. I mean, does. He cares about you. And so do your parents.’

  ‘My parents?’ Seema’s expression changes. ‘What were you doing talking to them about me?’

  Oh no. And just when it was going so well. Well, relatively. ‘We weren’t really. They just came round for dinner a couple of weeks ago. To my mum and dad’s. And you happened to come up in conversation.’

  ‘I bet I did. And I bet they also told you all about how I’m the bad daughter because I don’t want to follow their traditional ways, especially now because Ash is.’

  I’m starting to wish that another customer would come along and rescue me from this conversation, but unfortunately the shop’s almost deserted. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Well, what, then?’

  ‘Er . . .’ I’m faced with a dilemma. Spill the beans about what I’ve been up to and risk Seema thinking I’m an idiot, or lie, and pretend it was something to do with Ash’s forthcoming wedding. But I’ve never been very good at lying to women. And besides, I’m pretty sure Seema already thinks I’m an idiot.

  ‘Seriously, Ben. I’m interested. In what context was my name mentioned?’

  Seema’s tone leaves me in no doubt that she won’t be happy until I’ve given her an answer. And given the lack of people behind me, I can’t see any way out of it. Unless . . .

  ‘I can’t go into it now. But meet me for a coffee later, and I’ll tell you?’

  As soon as I’ve said this, I realize it’s a brilliant plan. Because apart from the fact that she might agree to have a coffee with me, it’ll also give me a good few hours to think of something less embarrassing than the truth. But when Seema looks at her watch, and waves one of her colleagues over, I’m stuffed.

  ‘Okay. I’m due a break in five minutes. See you in the Costa on the corner,’ she says, in a tone that leaves me no room for negotiation.

  Five minutes later, I’m sitting in Costa Coffee as instructed, at a table by the window, sipping my cappuccino nervously. I’m worried I’ve been rude by ordering before Seema gets here, but there was no other way to keep the table given the withering looks I was getting from the barista.

  As I stare out of the window, I can feel myself starting to perspire nervously. Still, I console myself, as the scent of Africa wafts from my armpits, at least this time I’ve got some protection.

  When Seema finally arrives, she’s not dressed in her white coat any more, but instead is wearing a low-slung pair of jeans and a short white T-shirt under an even shorter leather jacket, revealing what looks like a tattoo of a butterfly on her left hip.

  ‘What can I get you?’ I say as I stand up to meet her, hoping she hasn’t caught me staring at it.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she says, walking straight past me towards the serving counter. ‘I’ll get my own.’

  ‘Are you sure? I . . .’

  ‘Quite sure, thanks.’

  By the time she’s sitting down opposite me, a steaming espresso and a chocolate brownie in front of her, I’ve finished most of my coffee, but I worry that it might be rude if I go and get myself another one. Plus, I don’t want her to bite my head off again.

  ‘So,’ she says, tucking ravenously into the chocolate brownie. ‘Spill.’

  I look down at my cup instinctively, although I’m pretty sure she’s not asking me to pour the rest of my cappuccino on the table. ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Er . . .’ I’m a little stuck, having not been able to come up with a single plausible alternative, so decide that the truth’s my only option. ‘Well, we were kind of discussing Ash’s wedding. To Priti?’ I add, unnecessarily. ‘And how it was, you know arranged. And how both of them seemed so, you know, happy about it.’ I look up to give Seema a chance to butt in, but her tactic of not saying anything means I feel pressurized to keep speaking. ‘And we were talking about’ – I clear my throat nervously – ‘me, and how I hadn’t met anyone to settle down with yet, and wondering whether, you know, it might be something that I, I mean, my mum and dad, might want to look into. For me. To meet someone, I mean. And my dad jokingly asked whether Ash had a sister, and your dad went pale – well, not pale, exactly, and not because of you, I hasten to add, but because the thought of me, um, marrying you wasn’t to his, er, liking, evidently. And they ended up nearly having an argument because, well, my mother was a bit put out about the fact that they didn’t think I was, you know, worthy of, well, you.’

  I can’t think of anything more to say, and besides I think Seema’s probably got the gist of it, so I stop talking, but all she does is sit there and sip her coffee while regarding me over the top of her cup. And even though it’s only an espresso, it seems to be taking her ages to finish it.

  ‘So you see,’ I say, unable to stand the awkwardness any longer, ‘they obviously do think highly of you.’

  ‘In what way?’ says Seema, breaking her silence for the first time in what seems like hours.

  ‘Well, in that they don’t think, I mean, think that I’m not, you know, the required standard. To marry you,’ I say, blushing furiously.

  Seema considers this for a moment, before half-smiling at me. ‘Don’t sweat it, Ben. And I wouldn’t worry about not being’ – she makes the ‘speech marks’ sign with her fingers – worthy. It’s probably just because they don’t want me seeing someone who’s not Indian. I mean, imagine the shame if I brought someone like you home.’

  ‘It could be worse,’ I say. ‘At least I’m not an accountant any more.’

  Seema laughs. ‘But they’d have thought you being one was a good thing. Honestly,’ she says, shaking her head slowly. ‘My parents. Think yourself lucky, Ben, that your folks are normal.’

  ‘Well, you haven’t met them. I mean, “normal” is a relative term, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not when you’re talking about my relatives, it isn’t.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ve only got your best interests at heart.’

  Seema narrows her eyes sceptically at me. ‘Yeah,
right. In fact,’ she says, sitting up suddenly, ‘that’s exactly what we should do.’

  I do a double-take at the word ‘we’. ‘What?’

  ‘Get married.’

  ‘Get married?’

  Seema shrugs. ‘Why not? I mean, you’re apparently desperate to tie the knot, and I’m keen to teach my folks a lesson, and that would really stick it to them. No offence, obviously.’

  I stare at her for a second, wondering whether she’s serious. ‘None taken. And, well, while that sounds really, er, romantic, I don’t think it’s the best basis for a long and happy . . .’

  Seema shakes her head, then allows herself a slight smile. ‘I’m messing with you again, Ben.’

  ‘I knew that,’ I say, giving the impression of the exact opposite.

  ‘Of course I don’t mean that we should get married. But we could pretend that we were going out, or even engaged. That’d really put the wind up them. Yes,’ she says, evidently growing more and more pleased with the idea. ‘Then, when I eventually tell them that, of course, we’re not, anything else I want to do in the future is going to be a piece of cake. And by the sound of it, it’ll get your parents off your back for a while too.’

  ‘Ah.’ I don’t quite know how to admit that this is one area where I asked for my parents’ help.

  ‘So, how about it? Shall we announce our engagement?’

  ‘Shouldn’t we, you know, at least go on a date first?’

  ‘What do you call this?’ laughs Seema, nodding towards the coffee cups. ‘And at least we met more than once beforehand. Unlike a certain brother of mine and his fiancée.’

  ‘You don’t like Priti much, I take it?’

  Seema shrugs, and picks at the crumbs from her brownie. ‘I’ve never met the girl. I just wish she could have been a bit more . . .’

  ‘Independent?’

  ‘Exactly. Like I said before, you’re not as stupid as you look, Ben.’

  I smile back at her. ‘You’ll have to stop with these compliments. I’m getting big-headed.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘And you shouldn’t be so down on your family, you know. They only want what’s best for you. Or rather, what they think is best for you.’

  Seema shakes her head. ‘But that’s their problem. Because surely you’re the only one who truly knows what’s best for you?’

  ‘Maybe so,’ I say, particularly in the light of the past few weeks. ‘But you can’t blame them for trying.’

  ‘They set me up to marry a gay man, Ben.’

  ‘Yes, but that wasn’t their fault. I mean, I’m sure they didn’t know.’

  ‘Maybe not. But they could have checked.’

  ‘How? By getting Ash to make a pass at him first? Some things you can’t tell beforehand, no matter how much research you do,’ I say, mindful of my recent bad date experiences. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘No, Ben, you’re right. I can’t blame them. But I can resent them. Especially after what happened. Why do you think I moved out in the first place?’

  ‘Er, because you’re independent and free-spirited?’

  ‘You think so?’

  It’s a wild stab in the dark, but it seems to have provoked a favourable reaction. ‘I do. And so do they, come to think of it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Seema, reluctantly. ‘But not in a good way, I fear.’

  ‘Any parent has got to be proud that their child can stand on their own two feet. Make their own way in life. Their own decisions.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so.’

  ‘I tell you something, though. If I ever do get married again, it’ll be on my own terms. To someone I choose. And my parents will just have to live with that,’ she says defiantly. ‘At least they’ll be grateful that they don’t have to pay for another wedding for me. Do you know how much those things cost?’

  ‘Maybe you could just ask them for the money instead?’

  Seema laughs. ‘That’s very funny, Ben.’

  ‘So this whole experience hasn’t made you, you know . . .’ I swallow hard. ‘Anti-marriage?’

  ‘Not at all. In fact, I think the concept of two people wanting to be together for ever makes perfect sense. As long as they’re straight with each other from the beginning.’

  ‘Or even just straight. In the groom’s case, I mean.’

  ‘Not so funny, Ben,’ says Seema, trying to hide a smile. ‘Honestly. My parents.’

  ‘Even so, you might want to cut them a little more slack. And I’m sure they’d love to see more of you. Ash too.’

  She stares at me across the table. ‘Ben, with all due respect, I’ve known you for five minutes, and you’re trying to give me advice on how to deal with my family?’

  I look at my watch. ‘It’s probably closer to fifteen minutes, actually. And I wouldn’t dare give you advice, Seema. But it’s obvious they care about you.’

  ‘Yeah? How?’

  ‘Well, from the fact that they didn’t want you associating with the likes of me, for one thing.’

  She laughs. ‘Well, they can’t know you that well, if that’s the case.’

  As we sit there in silence, me a little uncomfortable at receiving an actual compliment, and Seema perhaps feeling awkward at having given it, for the first time I spot a little vulnerability. A chink in the emotional armour that Seema seems to be wearing whenever I see her. And it’s at this exact moment that I know – if I wasn’t before – that I’m well and truly hooked.

  And I also realize that this is what I’ve been looking for all this time – and what was missing between Amy and me: this feeling of complete helplessness – not in Seema, but in me. While it’s exhilarating, it’s scary too, but I realize that feeling scared should be a part of it. Because that’s what stops you from becoming complacent. Taking the other person for granted. If you’re scared that you might lose them, then surely you’ll work harder to keep them, and besides, as Sarah pointed out, there’s nothing more flattering than knowing someone’s scared to lose you. Especially if you’re afraid of the same thing.

  I know now that I have to ask Seema out, even though I’m going to be devastated if she says no. But I can hardly ask her to Ash’s party, can I? I mean, if she really doesn’t get on with her family, she’s hardly likely to want to come to a party where they’re all going to be, so if she does turn me down, she might be saying no simply because she doesn’t want to see them, rather than me. And what if I ask her out and she says no, but then does go to the party? That’ll leave me feeling even worse.

  Of course, she might say yes – if only to rub her mum and dad’s faces in it. And so what if she does want to go out with me purely to spite her parents? Well, at the end of the day, I still get a date with her out of it, and once I’m ‘in’, so to speak, well, surely that’s my chance to prove that I’m worth a second date for more than simply revenge purposes. And people get together for reasons a lot weirder than that.

  Just as I’m working up the courage to say something, my mobile rings, and my dad’s number comes flashing up on the screen, but when I don’t answer it immediately, Seema frowns.

  ‘Shouldn’t you get that?’

  ‘It’s just my dad.’

  ‘Quick. Maybe he’s found you a bride?’

  ‘Ha ha,’ I say, wondering why on earth he’s calling. I’ve already told him and Mum about Amy and me splitting up, and they seemed surprisingly okay about it – a little relieved, even. But as the ringing continues, I can’t ignore it. Particularly after my mum’s recent arrest. ‘Sorry, I ought to . . .’

  ‘Be my guest,’ says Seema, glancing at her watch, then standing up abruptly. ‘I’ve got to get back to work anyway.’

  ‘Wait, I . . .’

  Before I can say anything further, Seema leans across the table and kisses me lightly on the cheek. ‘See you, Ben,’ she says, before making for the door.

  I watch her leave, then stab the ‘accept’ button on my phone angrily. ‘What?’

  ‘We w
ere just worried about you,’ says my dad. ‘I mean, it’s nearly lunch time, and there’s no sign of you.’

  ‘Very funny. I was just having coffee, actually. With a friend.’

  I can almost hear the cogs whirring in my dad’s brain. ‘A girl friend?’

  ‘That’s what I was trying to establish when you rang.’

  ‘Ah. Sorry. Who is she?’

  ‘She’s Seema Mistry.’

  My dad laughs. ‘All girls seem a mystery to you, son.’

  ‘No, Dad. Her name’s Seema Mistry.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you ask her what they are?’

  I sigh loudly into the handset. ‘Do you do this on purpose?’

  ‘Is she pretty?’

  ‘No, Dad,’ I say, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine. ‘That’s Ash’s fiancée. This is Ash’s sister. Although she is. Pretty, I mean.’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ he says. ‘Well, don’t let me interrupt you.’

  ‘Too late, Dad. She’s gone.’

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ he says, exasperatedly. ‘Go after her.’

  ‘Dad, didn’t you hear me? It’s Ash’s sister. It’s not that simple.’

  ‘Yes it is, Ben,’ says my dad. ‘At the end of the day, whatever the complications, it’s still just boy meets girl. And what could be simpler than that?’

  Chapter 35

  ‘How’d you get on with that woman?’

  ‘What woman?’

  ‘You know,’ says Ash, shouting into his mobile to make himself heard above the music playing in the background. ‘The one who you pictured spending the rest of your life with.’

  ‘Amy? She’s not in the frame any more.’

  ‘Ah.’ There’s a pause, and then: ‘So you’re not doing it?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Pleased to hear it,’ says Ash. ‘Where are you anyway?’

  ‘Just on my way.’

  I grip tightly on to the door handle as Terry throws the taxi round another corner, then screeches to a stop outside the Indian Queen. I wouldn’t have risked calling him, but I’m running late, and besides I’ve been under strict instructions from Ash not to drive this evening, as apparently there’ll be a lot of alcohol. Plus, Terry’s been only too pleased to chauffeur me here for free now that he knows my wedding’s off. ‘Think of it as a lucky escape,’ he’d told me, which is ironic, because given the way he’s been driving this evening, I’m thinking exactly the same about getting out of the cab in one piece.