Crazy Little Thing Called Love

‘Where have you been? Thought you clocked off at six, been waiting here ages for you.’

Leila sighed, ‘Why are you here Freddie?’ It surprised her that the only emotion to course through her was irritation.

‘I came back.’

‘Evidently. But why?’ Leila shook her head again as Freddie motioned for her to take the paper cup, which he then balanced on a bus stop bench.

‘You can’t just leave it there, find a bin.’

‘It’s a gift for the next person to wait for a bus.’

‘It’s cold coffee Freddie, find a bin.’ Leila stopped walking. ‘Don’t be a prat.’

‘Is this about what happened in Jaipur?’

‘It’s about you littering up the streets of London for no reason other than not being bothered to find a bin.’

‘You’re still angry with me.’

Leila reflected on this for a moment, ‘You know what, Freddie, I’m really not. I’m just grateful for finding out when I did that you are a monumental waste of my time and energy. Now, if you don’t mind I’ve had a really long day and I want to go home. Pick up the cup, put it in the bin and go away.’

‘I only came back from India to explain. You owe me that at least.’

If Leila had been a violent sort of person she would have slapped him at that moment. She did toy with the idea of rescuing the cold coffee from the bus stop purely to fling it in his gormless grinning face, but she resisted. ‘Freddie. There is nothing to explain. You screwed up. I’ve moved on. Good night.’ She stuck out her hand and hailed a passing cab. She slammed the car door leaving Freddie standing open-mouthed in the street. It was a dramatic statement more than anything else – she wasn’t even sure she had any cash on her to pay for the cab. A quick rummage through her purse discovered that nope, she didn’t. ‘Um, sorry mate, can you just drop me here?’ The cab had just rounded the corner, less than 50 metres from where she’d got in. In the driver’s eyes, she must seem either deranged or extremely lazy. She looked in the rear view mirror and gave the cabbie a winning smile. ‘And will you accept a three quid Pret a Manger voucher for the fare?’

My ex surprised me outside work today with a cold coffee and a bucketful of hard-done-by-ness. The old me may have relented a little. May have agreed to go for a drink. At the very least the old me may have listened to his attempts to explain why he felt the need to entertain a naked buxom blonde in my absence. But the new me didn’t. The new me felt no stirring of emotion at all, no flicker of remorse or wistfulness. The new me is currently toasting myself with a well-deserved glass of cheap wine. Go new me.

***

There was never normally enough room in Alex’s car for Leila to get a lift with them down to Dartmouth for the monthly family roast. Despite it being a Range Rover, once you’d piled in two adults, three kids – two of them in bulky car seats – and bags full of the necessary detritus to keep three kids amused for a long car journey and a weekend with the grandparents, the car was full. Which Leila thanked the Lord for every time she stretched out on the train, ordered a cheese croissant and cappuccino from the buffet car and read half a book. But fifteen-year old Mia had special dispensation to stay at a friend’s this weekend, leaving a ten-inch gap between the two car seats that, according to her sister, had Leila’s name on it.

‘Remind me how Mia managed to get out of this, when I’ve been trying for the last fifteen years?’ Alex said, at the same time as craning his neck around trying to go across three lanes of traffic to his exit.

‘It’s Imogen’s birthday.’ Tasha replied, flicking through the Saturday supplements that were weighing on her knees. ‘And if we didn’t let Mia go to the sleepover she was going to die. And I didn’t want that on my conscience.’

‘Aunty LaLa?’

‘Yes Oscar?’ Leila turned her head to answer her little nephew, who was staring back at her keenly.

‘Play I-Spy wiv me pease.’

Leila loved her sister’s kids, she did. But they were less than eight minutes into a four-hour car journey. On a Saturday morning when all her friends were having lie-ins with their husbands or drinking coffee out of impossibly small cups at a pavement cafe, she was feeding a constant stream of cheesy wotsits to two little monkeys. One of whom had a trickle of green slime oozing from his left nostril.

Just as the M25 turned into the M4 Leila put a Peppa Pig DVD in the player on the back of the passenger seat which seemed to distract Oscar from a never-ending round of I-Spy. ‘Is Lucy coming as well?’ Leila asked her sister. She obviously didn’t do a good enough job at cloaking the disdain in her question because Tasha span around and asked her why.

‘No reason, I just find her a bit, um, cold,’ Leila shrugged.

‘She’s perfect for Marcus.’

‘He’s not cold!’

‘No, but he is a bit nice but dim. She’s the perfect trophy girlfriend, isn’t she? With her perfect nails and perfect blow-dried hair.’

‘She’s wonderful. What’s not to like?’ Alex interrupted. ‘Ow!’ he said, rubbing his arm where Tasha had punched him. ‘There’s no need for that, I just mean, she’s a bit of a looker, isn’t she? Way above Marcus’s league.’

‘I’m not even going to respond to that. Ignore me, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything,’ shrugged Leila.

‘I thought you were all about female solidarity and sisters doing it for themselves these days Leila?’ Alex looked in the rear view mirror at his sister-in-law.

He was annoyingly right. ‘I am, you’re completely correct. I shouldn’t speak ill of one of my own. Consider myself castigated.’

‘Speaking of your man-ban—’

‘We weren’t.’

Alex ignored her and carried on, ‘Speaking of your man-ban, I think I’ve found the perfect bloke for you. Name’s Andy, new guy in the office, a real laugh, rugby player, single, loves a good time, likes his booze, he’s not looking for anything serious, just a bit of fun—’

He wasn’t the first to assume that her celibacy vow was down to not meeting the right man, that she was just treading water until the next bloke came along. Shelley wasn’t getting it either, and still expected Leila to accompany her to those horrific blind date nights where desperate men made rubbish jokes and you were expected to laugh. She’d got really shirty with her last week when Leila had turned down yet another offer of warm wine and stilted speed-dating chat in a Mexican restaurant.

‘Andy sounds charming.’ Leila replied from the back seat. ‘But the whole point of a man-ban is to ban men, not sleep with them.’

‘Who mentioned anything about sleeping with them? But you’re only doing this because you’re lonely, and I’m just pointing out someone to stop you being lonely, that’s all.’

‘Is that what you think? That I’m just trying to fill my time before the next man comes into my life? Oh my God Alex, you’re so annoying.’ After fifteen years of having Alex as her brother-in-law, Leila felt justified in speaking to him the same way she would her own brother. ‘That just shows your complete lack of depth and understanding of women. I am doing this year – a whole year – to prove to myself and everyone else that I do not need to be attached to someone else to be happy.’

‘There’s no way you’re going to last a year. How long has it been so far?’

‘Forty-one days.’

‘So on day forty-one of three hundred and sixty-five you’re still going strong. By day one hundred you’ll be doing the walk of shame from someone like Andy’s house. Five grand says so.’

‘I haven’t got five grand.’

‘According to you, you’re not going to need it. So take the bet.’

‘Fine.’ Leila said, ignoring her sister’s clucks of disapproval from the passenger seat. ‘I’ll take your bet, and raise you five.’

Alex accelerated down the motorway. ‘Game on. Leila, Game on.’

The next day, Judy had just cleared away the remains of the sticky toffee pudding and placed the tray with coffee, and Lucy’s peppermint tea, in the middle of the table when Marcus gave a little cough. ‘Um, everyone,’ he placed his hand on top of Lucy’s. ‘We have some news.’

Everyone jumped up from the table and loud declarations of ‘Congratulations!’ ‘Fantastic news!’ were exclaimed amid a flurry of hugs and kisses. Leila caught Tasha’s warning eyes over Marcus’s shoulder, as if she was going to drop in the middle of her congratulations mention of his fiancée’s frostiness.

‘Where’s the ring?’ Judy asked excitedly.

Marcus looked a little uncomfortable, but Lucy didn’t flinch, ‘It wasn’t exactly to my taste, so Marcus took it back and we’re going ring shopping together this week to get something more suitable.’

‘Bigger.’ Leila mouthed to Tasha across the table.

‘Oh, well, that’s nice.’ Judy said. It was very obvious to Leila and Tasha that their mother did not in fact think that was nice. In fact, her words of platitude were so fake, she may well have said, ‘you made my son return the ring he painstakingly chose for you, you selfish, greedy mare.’

Tasha hurriedly butted in. ‘So, any ideas for the wedding?’

Again, Marcus shifted uneasily in his seat, ‘Um, well actually, Mum, Dad, we wondered if we could have it here?’ Since the refurbishment three years previously, the hotel had been featured in all the wedding magazines as a must-visit location, and they had a booming bookings book filled with brides and grooms-to-be eager to celebrate their nuptials in the oak-beamed dining hall. The outdoor terrace, built into the hillside, enjoyed panoramic vistas over the harbour and River Dart below and was the perfect spot for pre-dinner Pimms and a jazz band.

‘That would be wonderful!’ Thomas said, ‘We’d be delighted to have it here!’ We’ve got a lot of weekends left after October, or a couple in June next year if you want better weather, so let us know soon what dates you were thinking of.’

‘July 1st this year,’ Lucy said.

Judy laughed, ‘Oh, this summer is completely chocka, I’m afraid, and that’s only six weeks away! But I think we do have a weekend in September and then, like Thomas said, most after October?’

‘No, we definitely want July 1st this year.’

‘But that’s a Saturday! We can certainly do a midweek wedding in July if you fancy it though? But I don’t see what the rush is? It would be nice to take your time over planning it, rather than doing it all in a rush? Oh! Unless you’re pregnant?’

Leila and Tasha cringed at their mother’s lack of subtlety, but Lucy didn’t flinch, ‘No, I’m not pregnant Judy, but neither of us are getting any younger, particularly Marcus, so we don’t see the point in dragging it out unnecessarily.’

‘And we definitely want a Saturday Mum, there’ll be people travelling all over for it, and midweek wouldn’t work,’ Marcus added.

‘I’m sure you can shuffle some things around for us Judy? It is your son’s wedding day after all.’ Lucy’s smile made Leila itchy. The table had lost its joviality of a few minutes before and everyone’s eyes were darting between Lucy and Judy and Thomas to see who would talk first.

‘Let me look in the book, and we’ll see what can be done.’ Judy replied with a pinched smile.

This was absurd. ‘You can’t cancel someone’s wedding just because Marcus has decided to get married then!’ Leila heard herself exclaim. ‘Those people had booked it last year, or the one before!’

Judy flashed warning eyes at her youngest daughter, while maintaining her slightly twitchy composure and smile. ‘I didn’t say I was going to cancel someone’s wedding, just to see what could be done. Maybe we could ask a couple to move to the Sheldrake, or the Winbourne, but let’s look in the book first shall we?’

Lucy clapped her hands together, ‘Oh this is so exciting, how it’s all coming together! We’ll need to talk about menus Judy as soon as possible so that you can order in the ingredients, I want organic Welsh lamb for mains, and then for dessert…’

Leila excused herself and carried the empty coffee cups into the kitchen. Thomas followed her carrying the milk jug and cafetiere. She rounded on him before he’d even put them down on the countertop. ‘Dad, you can’t just cancel someone’s wedding because Lucy has decided that’s the date she wants! It’s completely unethical and will damage your business! And you’re talking about a prime date in July – you’d be getting ten grand at least for that date, are you just going to give it to them for free?’

‘Calm down Leila, this all needs to be thought through before we make any decisions.’ Thomas started loading the dishwasher. ‘It’s all just been sprung on us and we don’t know any of the answers yet. No point getting all worked up. Pass me those plates there.’

‘Well don’t take too long, because I guarantee she’ll have the invites sent out by next weekend, that’s if she hasn’t done so already.’

Her dad straightened up, ‘Why do you care so much Leila, you’ve never bothered about our bookings or business much before, why now?’

‘I just don’t want you and Mum to be completely walked over, that’s all!’

‘Feeling jealous is completely natural love, you’re what, thirty-four now?’

‘Thirty-two, and I don’t know what that has to—’

‘Thirty-two, and your sister is happily settled, and now your brother is getting married, and you’re doing your nun thing, it’s completely understandable you’re going to feel put out and a bit green-eyed. Come here.’ He held out his arms for a hug, and as much as she didn’t want to, she found herself reluctantly falling into them, a little defeated.

It’s odd making a declaration of how you want to live your life in complete contrast to those around you. Society is completely geared up for a man and woman to meet, fall in love, marry and have kids. Yet there are thousands, millions of us that don’t fit that mould or expectation. I have gay friends, religious friends of different faiths, friends that have married inter-culturally, and each of them in their own way has come up against barriers to their happiness, for no other reason than people not understanding or being judgmental.

My decision to be single for a year is a personal decision based on my own unique circumstances. I haven’t made a placard, or protested outside the registry office trying to convince couples about to marry to embrace my way of life. Instead, I’m just quietly minding my own business, trying to navigate through a pretty tricky time. I don’t hate men, in fact I like them possibly a bit too much, which made me lose a bit of myself along the way. I’m only forty-two days into the three-hundred and sixty-five, and have been laughed at, mocked, accused of being sad and lonely, and there’s currently a pot with fourteen grand of my family and friends’ money who are fully expecting me to fail. But I’m not going to, and, just for the record, I’m allergic to cats.

Leila re-read her post from the night before while she was still in her pyjamas eating her rice krispies. She should have matured into more grown-up breakfast cereals by now, but the snap, crackle and pop still made her smile. She was in two minds whether to delete the post or not. Up until then, all her other entries had been so upbeat, extolling the virtues of single life. There were three hundred and three followers now, which was amazing, and the number was growing by a few every day. She got such a pulse of excitement every time she saw the number increase. When it went over the three-hundred mark she did a little celebratory dance in her tiny kitchen. But surely the whole point of writing this blog was to tell her story, describe her journey and the bumps in the road – or was it to paint a picture of a rosier version of her life that wasn’t real? What did the followers want to read, and what did she want to write?

Leila got dressed and went to work and the post stayed live.

Chapter 4

‘I don’t think your sisters like me very much.’

Marcus knew that a long pause between his new fiancée uttering this statement and his effusive denial of said statement was not a good thing, but neither could he hand-on-heart disagree with her. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t glimpsed the side-eye glances that batted back and forth between Tasha and Leila when Lucy was around, not to mention the almost imperceptible eyebrow raising and whispered asides. He’d wanted so desperately for them all to get on, but for some reason his sisters, who were normally so warm and welcoming, were being a bit, well, off, with Lucy.

‘I wouldn’t necessarily say that I don’t think they don’t like you,’ he finally offered.

‘There are far too many negatives in that sentence for me to even begin to decipher it,’ Lucy replied crossly. She slammed the fridge door shut and handed him a cold bottle of white wine. ‘Can you open that? I know they might be protective of you, but I don’t think they’re giving me much of a chance.’

Marcus unhooked a corkscrew from the wall-mounted metal utensil rod and started turning it in the top of the bottle, pleased to have something to focus on other than forming a response.

‘I mean, I think I’ve been perfectly pleasant, haven’t I Marcus? I bring flowers to your mum every time we go down, I’m nice to Tasha’s kids, even though they’re always a bit mucousy, I even told Leila that her haircut suited her.’

‘You said that she looked androgynous.’

‘I said that the androgynous look suited her. Suited her, Marcus. It was a compliment.’

‘I’m just not sure she interpreted it like that darling. They’re different to you, that’s all. They’re not as…’ Again, Marcus paused, and a dictionary of nouns ran like a ticker tape in front of his eyes until he rested on ‘composed.’

‘Composed?’ Lucy put down the colander of lettuce leaves that she was swilling water through and rested it on the draining board. ‘What the heck is composed supposed to mean?’

‘Composed, calm, ladylike, call it what you will, they’re a bit mouthy and emotional, act first, think later, that sort of thing. They all are, Mum and the girls, you’re much more focused and poised.’

Focused and poised. Lucy liked that description of herself. It was exactly how she’d like to be thought of. Especially by her future husband.

‘Here, get this down you. Cheers!’ Marcus clinked his wine glass to hers.

‘God,’ Lucy groaned, ‘I can’t wait until we get the wine glasses on our wedding list, these stems are so clunky.’

Marcus hovered his hand over the pan that had been warming on the hob to check it was hot enough, before dropping a lump of butter into it, which immediately started sizzling and fizzing around the griddle. He picked up a large wooden spoon out of the china pot in front of him and held it a few centimetres away from his mouth, ‘And today on Marcus and Lucy Cooks, it’s steak au poivre. Lucy, can you tell me how you’re making the sauce?’ He moved the spoon in front of Lucy’s face. She resisted for a couple of seconds then broke into a giggle as they acted out the now familiar cooking routine.

‘Well, Marcus,’ she said into the wooden spoon, ‘while you’re searing the steaks with a peppercorn crust, I’m mixing cognac and cream together, then we’ll add this to the lovely pan juices. Back to you.’

‘Thank you Lucy, that sounds delicious. Now as you can see, the steaks are browning wonderfully, and I’m just going to flip them over, and ta da!’

Lucy leaned over to speak into the spoon again, ‘That really does look marvellous Marcus, and so easy to do at home.’

‘Absolutely Lucy, even though we are indeed pros, even the amateur cook can master this dish.’

‘Yes, spot on Marcus. Thank you for joining us today on Marcus and Lucy Cooks, until next time.’

Lucy had set the table in the dining room earlier that evening, as she did every evening. Even though the kitchen had a small circular table, which suited the purpose for breakfast just fine, a proper dinner always tasted better in the more formal surroundings of the dining room surrounded by candles. A couple of mouthfuls in, Lucy started talking again. ‘I’ve found the dress I want to wear for our wedding, so I’m going to make some appointments this week.’

Marcus had his mouth full so just gave an encouraging noise.

‘I don’t want to go by myself though, and Aimee and Emily are at work. All the magazines say that a bride should go with their mother, but the idea exhausts me.’

Marcus felt uneasy again. The relaxed frivolity of their pretend studio skit moments before had evaporated and he knew that he had to navigate this conversation carefully. He’d only met his future mother-in-law once, and she seemed nice, so was always a bit perplexed whenever Lucy mentioned her in a negative way. ‘How so?’ he asked.

‘Just the expectation levels I guess, it’s meant to be this seminal bonding moment isn’t it, and Mum might cry or something, which would just be awful.’

‘You could make a day of it, take the credit card, treat yourselves to lunch somewhere.’

Lucy grimaced. ‘I know I should, I’m her only daughter after all, but I’m just a bit uncomfortable with it, what would we talk about all day?’

‘Dresses? Shoes? I don’t know Lucy, you’re asking the wrong person. Why don’t you ask Leila or Tasha to come along as well? You were saying earlier that you don’t think they like you, this would be the perfect chance for them to get to know you better.’

It wasn’t a bad idea, Lucy thought. Having another person there would certainly lower the risk of gushes of sentimentality from her mum, and it would be a nice gesture on her part to include his side of the family. She really wanted his sisters to like her, but she just didn’t know how to make that happen. She wrinkled her nose. ‘But what if they don’t want to?’

‘You haven’t asked them yet. Ask. I’m sure they’d love it. All girls love dress shopping don’t they?’

‘Leila’s a gardener, she lives in wellies.’

‘She has dresses, I’m sure of it. When were you thinking of going?’

‘This week. I’ll book a day off work. Honestly Marcus, I have no idea how I’m juggling it all, it’s exhausting trying to plan the wedding, while rushing about at work, doing everything for everyone. I literally feel as though I’m being pulled in a thousand directions all the time. I swear this wedding is going to be a complete disaster because of it. Either that or I’ll give myself an ulcer with the stress.’

Marcus congratulated himself on another well-timed mouthful, he knew that Lucy couldn’t abide bad table manners, so as long as he made sure to do dramatic chewing motions with his jaw, he’d be forgiven for not responding.

Lucy carried on talking, ‘I don’t even have time to concentrate on the flowers and centrepieces, it really needs my full attention to get it exactly right, and I just can’t focus on that with work being so full on. I’m so anxious that the wedding is going to be ruined, and you deserve so much more.’

‘Mmmm, you do have a lot on.’ Marcus agreed. Which was always best.

‘I do, don’t I? And I really do want to be the perfect wife to you Marky, and make sure that our new house, when we eventually find one we like, is exactly right, and that we always have nice food in, and I’m just so concerned how I’m going to fit it all in, it’s a little overwhelming.’

Marcus swallowed his last forkful and took a sip of wine. ‘You know what I think? I earn more than enough for you not to work at all, there’s no reason to get stressed about it all. Just resign and concentrate on the things that you want to. Simple. Right, shall I get dessert?’

As Marcus left the room with the dirty plates and busied himself loading them into the dishwasher, Lucy sat twirling the thick-stemmed wine glass in her fingers and smiled. Well, that conversation couldn’t have gone better.

Chapter 5

Leila was so bored, she actually wished she was back sandwiched between two car seats trying to guess that ‘I’ belonged to ‘I-brow’.

This was the fifth wedding dress shop of the day and she’d lost the will to live somewhere around dress three of the first shop. Except they weren’t called shops, they were boutiques or salons. She’d learned that after getting the stare of death from one of the ‘bridal liaisons’ (shop assistants). Marcus had called her to prewarn her of Lucy’s impending invitation, and he’d been so earnest, so heartfelt in imploring her to accompany Lucy and Lucy’s mum shopping she couldn’t say no. Well, no that was a lie, she’d tried, but he just batted her remonstrations away and guilted her into submission. ‘She’s hardly got any friends, and those she does have are stuck at work,’ he’d said, completely oblivious to the massive neon warning sign that accompanied this statement. Who didn’t have many friends?