Who Needs Men Anyway?

by Victoria Cooke

  Kate snorted. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  I shot her a glance.

  ‘Oh come on. Who likes being married?’

  ‘James is a wonderful man,’ I said. I was surprised by what she’d asked.

  ‘That doesn’t answer the question.’

  ‘Of course I like being married,’ I said for clarity.

  ‘And I didn’t get the chance, but I wanted to.’ Megan shrugged.

  ‘Are you saying you’re unhappy with Carl?’ I asked, feeling we were getting to the bottom of her issue.

  ‘I’m just saying, things can fizzle out a little.’ She drained her glass. ‘I’m going to the bar.’ She stalked off.

  ‘Well, that was odd,’ I said to Megan.

  ‘All marriages have those phases, I imagine,’ Megan said. Mine hadn’t, but I kept that to myself.

  ‘I suppose. So, doesn’t anyone in here take your fancy?’ I asked, changing the subject.

  She cast her eye around the room at the many carbon copies of intrusive-dancer-bloke from earlier. ‘Hmm, not really. I suppose I’m awaiting my very own Tom Hardy.’

  ‘Tom Hardy? Really?’ I giggled. I think it was the wine as girly chat was never my forte.

  ‘Well, who would you be holding out for? If there was no James.’

  It had been a long time since someone had caught my eye. I thought for a moment, flicking through a mental database of stereotypically handsome gentlemen who would seem acceptable: Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and so on. I could only think of James – nobody else came close. ‘Paul Newman,’ I blurted out eventually before adding, ‘in his time.’

  Megan pulled a face to say it was an acceptable answer just as Kate returned with three mojitos.

  ‘Sorry that took a while – the barman had all the gusto of a sedated sloth! Anyway, what was that about Paul Newman?’ she asked, handing out the drinks. Apparently she’d cooled off.

  ‘He’s Charlotte’s dream bloke,’ Megan answered on my behalf. Kate scrunched her nose.

  ‘Well, who would you pick then?’ I asked.

  ‘Well George C, obviously. Though there’s something about Jack Nicholson,’ she mused.

  ‘I get that,’ I said.

  ‘I’d go with Leonardo DiCaprio,’ Megan said. ‘He’s basically a younger version.’ She giggled.

  ‘Oh, dear girl, you’ll realise one day. The mature ones are the best ones,’ Kate said.

  ‘I’ve literally no idea what she’s on about,’ I whispered to Megan. I really didn’t – Carl was two years her junior. Her ex-husband, however, was a much older man.

  ‘Carl doesn’t notice me any more,’ Kate said suddenly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, opting for a more sympathetic tone this time.

  ‘I don’t know. His face used to light up when he came in from work and he’d wrap me up in those big burly arms and kiss me like it had been an eternity since we’d last embraced . . .’ She smiled, wrapping her arms around herself.

  ‘You’ve read too many romance books! And those things don’t last for ever, Kate. Life happens and we have to get on with that too. Is this what your downer on marriage and younger men has been about?’ She could be so petulant at times.

  ‘Maybe. I don’t know. Carl just comes in from work, asks about dinner, then slobs out in front of the television. Henry used to twirl me around and whisk me off at the drop of a hat; he made me feel like I was a princess.’

  ‘You and a string of other women,’ I countered. ‘Something has to be said about fidelity.’

  ‘I know.’ She shrugged. ‘I just wish Carl was more like James – he’s so attentive.’

  ‘James isn’t very attentive at the moment, though, is he? Work has possessed him,’ I said. ‘Maybe you should take a little of your own advice and get some saucy undies to spice things up a bit.’ I sipped my mojito to avoid looking smug.

  ‘All my undies are saucy!’ Kate retorted, causing Megan to splutter into her own mojito.

  ***

  The next morning, I awoke alone in bed feeling dehydrated and tired, both of which reminded me why I usually drank in moderation. Binge-drinking was so late Nineties it should be considered a retro activity, or shelved under ‘never again’. A glass of water sat on the bedside table; James must have fetched it for me before he went downstairs – he really is attentive. I drank the whole glass and checked the time. It was just approaching 10 a.m.

  The smell of sweet pastry roused me, and I trudged downstairs, snuggled up in my UGG dressing gown – the perfect attire for a chilly spring morning. James was in the kitchen, baking. ‘Mmm, those smell good,’ I said as I walked up, wrapping my arms around his neck. He picked his phone up off the counter and stuffed it into his pocket before turning to face me. At least he could push work aside for me sometimes.

  ‘I thought you might be in need of something stodgy after your night out.’ He kissed me on the forehead.

  ‘I don’t know why I do it. I blame Kate.’ I took a delicious bite of a hot pain au chocolat. ‘These are almost as good as mine!’

  ‘Careful, my baking is already a rarity.’

  ‘True.’ It seemed a while since we’d spoken like this, like we used to, so I thought I’d jump on the opportunity to suggest doing something nice together. ‘How about a walk today? We could go to that woodland path we’ve talked about.’

  ‘I’m sorry, darling. I’m still swallowed up by this case. It won’t be for much longer now.’

  I drew a deep breath to remind myself to keep calm. His work paid for our wonderful lifestyle after all, and the case would soon be over. Instead of giving a reply, I simply smiled and went to sit and eat in the orangery. Looking out over the garden always gave me a sense of calm.

  After breakfast, I loaded up my laptop. Talking to Megan the night before had given me an idea. She’d mentioned wanting to meet someone when the time was right and I thought I could help that along a little by setting her up with an online dating profile. That way, when she was ready, I’d already have some options lined up.

  I scoured her Facebook page for a suitable photograph. There was dressed-up ball-ready Megan, sporty workwear Megan, Halloween Megan, old baby pic Megan . . . All that was missing was ginger Megan and we’d have had the full Spice Girls set. I opted for the ball picture then at the last minute changed it for the one of her in sportswear. It was a nice Sweaty Betty yoga set that I’d bought her for Christmas the previous year. She had a minimal amount of make-up on as usual and looked gorgeous, and her hair was tied back neatly. It suggested effortless beauty.

  The ‘Me & You’ website was very easy to use, and once Megan’s picture was loaded in, there were just some tick boxes and a few paragraphs to write. Her interests were pretty similar to mine on a general level so I ticked everything I would have.

  ✓ Sports

  ✓ Socialising

  ✓ Bars

  ✓ Walking

  ✓ Film

  ✓ Music

  ✓ Dining out

  The next section asked about personal preferences. I had no idea, but Mike wasn’t particularly attractive and she’d always seemed to like James so I just ticked anything that was relevant to him:

  ✓ Brown hair

  ✓ 6'0" or above

  ✓ Medium build

  ✓ Similar interests

  Next, I had to fill in a paragraph about ‘myself’, or in this case, Megan. For a moment, I considered how hard this would be to write about yourself and felt glad I’d never had to do my own profile. Internet dating was a new concept to me. When I’d met James, people used it to look up information and that was it really. There wasn’t any online dating.

  I waffled on about being a personal trainer and liking to stay in shape, which was really a huge euphemism for ‘hot body and active in the bedroom’ wasn’t it? Did men want anything more than that? I didn’t think so. The final thing to do was set the distance. I tapped at the keys, having no idea how far Megan would travel for lo
ve. Deciding local would be best I set it to within three miles.

  Once I was finished, I scanned the page over and clicked ‘save profile’. I was convinced that when Megan was ready to start dating men, there’d be a bank of interested parties to choose from. I closed my laptop, feeling pretty smug with myself.

  The walk-in wardrobe was thick with James’s aftershave. The unmistakable fresh scent of his Creed Aventus lingered heavily in the air. It was my favourite, though why he was wasting the expensive stuff on a trip to an empty office for a few hours was beyond me. Still, little else compared that delicious scent so I sort of understood. Part of my attraction to him was that he took pride in himself.

  My phone buzzed as I walked out of my wardrobe, finally dressed.

  Sorry I’ve not been around much lately. How about a date night? Love U, J x

  My heart leapt. It had been far too long. My fingers were tapping back before I’d even thought about a reply.

  I’d love to. What did you have in mind? X

  I hit send and my chest came over all fluttery while I planned what I’d wear.

  We could go out for dinner . . . or you could show me that sexy little number again ;) x

  A smile spread across my face. At least I didn’t have to worry about what to wear.

  Chapter Five

  I awoke the next morning wrapped in a strong pair of arms with a smile on my face. The previous night had been a reminder of what our marriage had been like before James turned into a medium whose body was possessed by work. He kissed me lazily on the head and I relished in his warmth.

  ‘Morning,’ his voice croaked to life.

  ‘Morning yourself.’ I tilted my head to kiss him back.

  ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Me too.’ I smiled, snuggling back down into his arms. It had been too long. ‘We need to make more of an effort, you know – like have a date night, once a month – no ifs or buts?’

  ‘Will you be wearing that little number you had on last night?’ He nuzzled my neck.

  ‘Probably not that exact one,’ I said, smirking at the memory of him ripping it off my body.

  It was nice to feel like Charlotte and James again.

  After James left for work, I started up my laptop. After my own love life had been reignited, I was eager to see if Megan had received any interest on the Me & You dating site. There were two new messages. A twinge of excitement poked at my chest as I opened the first one.

  Hi, loving your profile picture and smoking body and saw your local. Fancy getting to know each other over a few drinks at mine? Tom.

  I winced at the grammatical error but, unsure as to whether or not Megan would care, I took the time to look at the tiny thumbnail picture of him just in case. It was of a very impressive, tanned, muscular torso, and you could just see the top of his tight designer boxer shorts, which sat far too low. Was that supposed to be his unique selling point? What had happened to good old-fashioned personality? ‘It’s a no from me, Tom. You’ll have to at least show your face.’ I hit the dustbin icon without a second thought and took a deep breath before opening the second message, my mind full of online dating doubt after Try-not-at-all-Tom’s message.

  Megan, me and you, Netflix and chill. Hit me up – I’ll show you a good time. Mr Luvva x

  I didn’t even bother looking at his profile picture. Mr Letchy Luvva definitely wasn’t going to be breaching any proximity boundaries with Megan. I knew what Netflix and chill meant. I slammed my laptop shut, feeling a little perplexed and disenchanted by the whole online dating debacle. Everyone seemed to rave about the Me & You site, but I couldn’t think why – it was going to be harder than I thought.

  My intercom startled me, cutting my disappointment short. I walked over to the screen and saw my gardener’s van – Smith’s Landscaping. Without speaking, I opened the gate and went to the front door, wondering what on earth the gardeners were doing working on a Monday when they weren’t due until Thursday. I admired their eager work ethic though – it was certainly an improvement on not turning up at all.

  ‘Sam?’ I said, surprised to see the company owner. Despite knowing Sam for years, we weren’t close friends or anything and he’d never turned up on official gardening business before.

  ‘Mrs Emsworth, I do apologise for turning up out of the blue. I just wanted to check on everything and apologise about Jim. He’s been unwell. I also wondered if you wanted anything new planting as I’m going to the nursery tomorrow morning?’

  I eyed him with suspicion. He was dressed in khaki combats and a ‘Smith’s Landscaping’ navy T-shirt. Sam hadn’t done manual garden work for years – since his business had grown, he’d been very much office-based, sourcing the contracts and such for his employees. He had a fleet of vans and everything.

  ‘That’s kind of you,’ I said. ‘James has had this thing about planting a eucalyptus tree so perhaps find a spot near the pagoda.’ I turned to go inside, but as I reached the threshold I turned back. Something about him was off. He was usually so sparky and bright. Something about the way his shoulders slumped bothered me. ‘Is everything okay, Sam?’

  ‘Yes, everything is fine.’ He pulled the corners of his mouth into what I assumed he thought was a smile and wandered off around the side of the house. I went inside, unable to shake the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right. All kinds of things ran through my mind, but with budget cuts to council funding, pay caps and everything else, I was concerned he might have lost some of his big contracts. There had to be something I could do to help. I took a jug of some strawberry, mint-and-lime-infused water from the fridge, grabbed two plastic beakers from my picnic set, and went back outside.

  ‘I’ve brought you some refreshment. You must have worked up a thirst,’ I said, using a tone that suggested he’d better come over and sit down.

  ‘I’ll be right with you.’ He was scribbling some notes in a small jotter. I sat in one of the patio chairs and looked out over the garden. It was always immaculate thanks to Sam’s team – when they turned up. The generously sized lawn was framed by a variety of plants and shrubs, which I couldn’t name if my life depended on it, adding colour and texture. Behind the shrubs was a redbrick wall that stood six feet tall and ensured privacy and security all the way around. Sam stuffed his pad into his back pocket and headed towards me.

  ‘Take a seat.’

  He sat down dutifully and gulped down the water. ‘Thank you, Mrs Ems—’

  ‘Charlotte. Please, I’ve told you countless times, call me Charlotte. We go way back, for goodness’ sake,’ I said. Though James and Sam had never been close, they had mutual friends, and we’d used his services for years. Besides that, him calling me Mrs Emsworth made me feel old and Frances was already doing a good enough job of that.

  ‘Sorry, it’s a habit. Part of the professional service and all, Charlotte.’ He smiled, and this time it did reach his eyes. He was handsome when he wasn’t moping. His chestnut hair would benefit from a trim, though, and he was at least two days overdue a shave. There was obviously something bothering him.

  ‘Why are you really here, Sam?’

  Something about his beaker suddenly became very interesting. ‘Is the business in trouble?’ I asked.

  He shook his head; his eyes remained firmly fixed on his beverage. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go.’ He set his barely touched water down and stood up. ‘Thanks for the drink. I’ll be back to plant that eucalyptus tree on Thursday.’ He nodded me farewell and almost sprinted back around to his car. I sat for a moment, processing the weird exchange. I knew I could be pushy but I meant well and had he shared his problem, I would have helped. As I sat sipping my water, my phone buzzed.

  Can’t stop thinking about last night. J xxx

  Heat flushed my cheeks. I felt like a teenager again. I decided to talk to James about booking a holiday for after the big case he was working on ended – somewhere romantic and exotic like the Maldives would be a perfect setting for more nights like last night
. I made a mental note to talk to him about it over dinner. Before I had a chance to reply, though, my phone buzzed again.

  Sorry, can’t do date night tonight. Sorry. J xxx

  I sighed. No rest for the wicked. Deciding that Megan would probably be feeling a little lonely, I sent a message inviting her over for dinner. She’d cancelled our training session and I wanted to make sure she was okay.

  The rest of the day passed quickly as I prepared a pasta sauce, made sure there was enough Prosecco in the wine fridge, and had a shower. Since Kate had also invited herself, I popped an extra bottle in the fridge, just to be on the safe side.

  James had been given a rather crude bottle opener as his secret Santa gift from the team at work and I thought using it might cheer Megan up so went into the wardrobe to dig it out. He had a drawer of knick-knacks where I suspected I’d find it. As I rummaged through the buttons and collar stiffeners and various papers, a receipt caught my eye. It was from the Tiffany & Co concession, where he’d bought my bracelet the previous Valentine’s Day. I knew I shouldn’t, but couldn’t help sneaking a peek to see how much he’d spent. I’d bought him that fancy watch after all.

  My eyes bulged – it was a fair amount though not as much as the watch cost. Not that I cared about that. As I was tucking it back beneath junk, I noticed the date and my stomach knotted. February the fourteenth. That was odd. I distinctly remembered him saying that morning he’d left my present at work. Why had he lied? He must have forgotten and been too ashamed to say.

  ***

  It was supposed to be an evening of support, allowing Megan to cry, vent, or do whatever it was she needed to do, but once Kate arrived, it turned into something else entirely. ‘I’ve brought champers and posh crisps,’ she said, bouncing through the door.

  Megan sat on the bar stool in the kitchen, looking slightly nervous. She was swaddled in the gorgeous Balmain jacket she’d bought on our shopping trip.

  ‘Are we celebrating?’ I asked curiously on my way to get the ice bucket from the pantry.