Love Is... (15 page)

I cleared my throat. I'd heard enough about crush-inducing Jenna and super-brain Amy. ‘And the offices, are they nice?' I asked.

Nick took a gulp of wine. ‘They are so cool. You can order a latte on an iPad. There are fridges stocked with drinks and snacks, you can just help yourself. And there are fresh doughnuts delivered every afternoon. Jenna says that when—'

‘I'll have to pop by one day,' I interrupted, ‘and try a doughnut?'

Nick speared another chunk of steak. ‘I'd rather settle in a bit first,' he said. ‘Wouldn't want people to think I've got a needy wife to contend with.'

I went to speak but accidentally breathed in some wine and started coughing.

‘You all right?' he asked, shoving the steak into his mouth.

I coughed one more time to clear my throat. ‘Fine,' I said.

After he'd gone on to list the multiple team-building social occasions he'd diarised, he eventually got around to asking how my day had been.

‘What was her name, the anthropologist?'

‘Susan Villecox.'

‘Willy cocks?'

‘Oh, don't you start. I had enough of that from Matthew.'

Nick rolled his eyes. ‘I thought we'd left him in London?'

I sighed. ‘We did. I mean, we didn't leave him there. But I didn't pack him in my suitcase either, if that's what you're worried about.'

‘Wouldn't be surprised.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, you don't do much without him right beside you, do you? Sometimes I wonder if I haven't married you both.'

I screwed up my face. ‘What? I hardly see him any more, remember.'

Nick refilled his glass and let out a deep sigh. ‘Anyway, moving on, so did you learn anything from this willy cocks lady?'

I shook my head from side to side. ‘She said that we can't avoid suffering. And that our values are at odds with our drives.'

Nick frowned. ‘Whose values? Yours and mine?'

‘No, humankind's.'

Nick nodded and chewed some more.

I continued. ‘Ancient males and females pair-bonded to raise children.'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘What, no effeminate male BFF hanging around too?'

I continued, ignoring him. ‘However, according to her research, during that time the couples were routinely unfaithful.'

Nick took another mouthful of steak. ‘I thought it was just the men who were hard-wired to stray?'

I laughed. ‘Nope, the women were at it too. Having a romp in the bushes with a genetically superior male and then fooling her partner into raising his children. It was for the better of the species, Susan Villecox told me.'

He chuckled. ‘Lucky for me there are no genetically superior males then.'

I smirked. ‘Whereas I need to keep a close eye on any girls younger and more fertile-looking than me.'

Nick looked down. It was as though the word ‘fertile' had sucked us back to London, back to the unfilled nest that we had left behind.

I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

‘Look,' I said, ‘we don't have anything to worry about. If we keep loving each other, then that's all that matters.'

Nick sat back and laughed. ‘If you believe that, Ellie, then what's this mission all about?'

I looked down at my plate and closed my knife and fork together. ‘To stop people falling out of love.'

Nick shook his head, smiling like one might at a three-year-old who had just declared she wants to be a princess when she grows up.

‘And what experts have you got lined up for tomorrow?' he asked.

I leaned back and stretched my arms above my head. ‘None. I've had enough information for today, I need to let it all settle. I'll probably take a stroll around Central Park and make a plan.'

Nick smirked again.

‘What? Why are you laughing?'

He stood up to clear the plates. ‘Nothing. It's just nice to see you wind down a bit and take some time for yourself.'

I sat up and folded my arms. ‘I'm not taking time for myself,' I said. ‘I'm contemplating the future happiness of society, which incidentally,' I added with a smirk, ‘is far more constructive than eating doughnuts and gossiping with Jenna and Amy.'

He leaned over and tickled me until I opened my arms again. ‘Stop it,' I said. ‘I'm serious.'

He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. ‘You know I could never fall out of love with you.'

I looked up at him and smiled. Then I refilled our glasses, realising that this might be an opportune time to introduce Mandi's weekend plans for us.

When Nick sat back down, I shuffled up next to him.

‘Are you up for some fun this weekend?' I asked.

He looked at me and frowned. ‘Sounds ominous. What sort of fun?'

‘Something new,' I said.

His eyes widened. ‘If there are surgical gloves and paddle whips involved, then it'll have to be a “no”.'

I laughed. ‘It's more of a cultural experience.'

‘The Burning Man? Aren't we a bit old to be dropping pills and dancing with our tops off?'

I laughed. ‘It's in Texas.'

He smiled. ‘Rodeo?'

I shook my head.

‘I'll need more details before I can commit.'

I took a gulp of wine and then leaned over and pulled the brochure from my file.

He glanced at the cover and then back at me. ‘What is this?'

‘Read it,' I said.

‘“Enhance your intimacy,”' he read out, then turned to me. ‘You said no paddle whips.'

‘Read on,' I said, nodding back down at the brochure.

He continued. ‘“Strengthen your bond. Group counselling sessions.”' He pushed the brochure away. ‘No fucking way are we doing that.'

I topped up his wine. ‘Come on. Mandi booked us in. We should give a shot.'

He pointed back to the brochure. ‘It says for distressed couples, or marriages in crisis.'

I snatched it off him. ‘Yes, but look here, it also says for couples who want to take their relationship to the next level.'

‘Sounds like some saggy couple pushing tantric sex.' He flipped through the brochure to the end. ‘“Love is like a bonsai tree, it needs constant care and attention.” Seriously, Ellie?'

I glared at him.

He glared back.

‘We have to go,' I said. ‘The future of humanity is at stake.'

He raised his eyebrows.

‘If you don't, then I'll stalk you at your new office, ordering lattes on an iPad while acting up like a needy wife.'

He narrowed his eyes, then sighed. ‘Fine,' he said. ‘I'll come.' He rolled up the brochure and pretended to spank me on the bottom. ‘But you owe me, Mrs Rigby. Big time.'

Chapter 13

B
y 11 a.m. on Saturday morning, Nick and I were sat cross-legged in a tepee in Texas. The founder of the retreat, a thin lady named Elspeth Kennedy, was standing before us. She was wearing an embroidered kaftan and dangly earrings which tinkled every time she moved, like tiny wind chimes. She addressed us along with the three other couples in the group.

‘Welcome,' she said, clasping her hands together. ‘Welcome, all.' She then opened her arms to the group. ‘Before we begin I would like to explain the rules.' She paused to take a breath. ‘During your stay there will be no communication with the outside world. No phones, no iPads, no laptops. No electronic devices whatsoever. There will be no Instagram, no Twitter, no Facebook and no texts. While you are here, you will reserve all your attention for each other. You will remind your bodies how to watch and how to listen. You will learn how to engage and how to connect.' She
handed around a basket. ‘Place your devices in here, please. They will be locked in our safe.'

Once she had collected our phones plus Nick's iPad, Mac Air, Kindle and headphones, she continued. ‘Rule two: no alcohol. Rule three: no inter- or intra-couple sex. That means no sex with your partner or anyone else's partner.'

One of the men raised his hand to question whether solo sex was permissible. Elspeth glared at him.

‘Sex or the expectation of sex,' she said, still glaring at him, ‘disrupts the process. Alcohol clouds our senses. Rule four: follow all instructions. You have to trust the process to benefit from it. Does anyone have a problem with the rules?'

Nick went to put his hand up, then obviously thought better of it.

Elspeth clapped her hands. ‘Right,' she said, ‘everyone, on your feet and into a circle.'

Nick smirked and seemed to deliberately take his time getting up.

Elspeth continued. ‘Now we're going to go round the group introducing ourselves. Tell us your name and why you're here.' She squeezed my shoulder. ‘You start.'

Everyone turned to me and smiled, including Nick, who seemed quite amused by the situation.

‘My name is Ellie and I am here because…' I paused to consider what to say.

‘Take a breath and be as honest as you can,' Elspeth said, stroking my back.

‘Because I want to learn how to prevent divorce.'

Elspeth's eyes widened momentarily and then she nodded.

‘Thank you for sharing,' she said, then moved along. ‘Next,' she said, poking Nick.

‘Hi, everyone,' he said looking around, ‘I'm Nick. And I'm here because Ellie made me come.'

I could sense a fleeting frown from Elspeth but she tempered it and smiled instead. ‘Excellent,' she said. ‘Very honest, Nick. Well done.'

Next was a gay couple, Malcolm and Doug. Malcolm explained that Doug had been unfaithful and they were trying to rebuild trust. Doug seemed desperately repentant. The third couple was Maureen and Walter, who'd asked about solo sex. They must have been in their late sixties. Maureen explained that since retirement Walter had developed an unhealthy obsession with dirty magazines. And that he had suddenly quite out of character begun flirting with her friends at the bridge club.

The fourth couple, Chloe and Tom, were newly married and starry-eyed. Their parents had paid for the retreat as a wedding present. Neither of them had any idea why they were there.

Elspeth continued. ‘Now hold hands, everyone.'

I held Nick's and Walter's hand. Walter winked at me.

Elspeth looked at us each in turn. ‘Two out of the four couples here today will divorce,' she began. ‘Counselling won't make you immune. Forty per cent of couples relapse within six months of the cessation of counselling or therapy.' She nodded her head and her earrings jangled like percussion to her speech.

She pointed to me. ‘Are you happy?' she asked.

I glanced sideways at Nick and then back at her. ‘Yes,' I said.

She narrowed her eyes. ‘It is widely accepted that self-reported happiness, especially from women, is rarely reliable.'

She turned to Walter, who was sitting a little too close to Chloe. ‘Are you happy?' she asked.

He looked sideways at Chloe, then back at Elspeth. ‘Yes,' he answered.

Elspeth raised her eyebrows and stared at him.

He cleared his throat. ‘OK, most of the time, I am,' he replied.

Elspeth smiled. ‘Excellent honesty,' she said.

‘And you?' She pointed to Malcolm.

Malcolm looked down. Doug reached across and squeezed his hand.

Malcolm shook his head. ‘No,' he said. ‘I'm not happy at all.'

Doug snatched back his hand and shuffled away from him.

Elspeth turned to Doug with a kind smile. ‘The truth is often painful to hear, isn't it, Doug?' Then she turned to the rest of us. ‘That's why we lie, to protect others and ourselves.'

Doug and Malcolm glanced at each other; both of them had tears in their eyes.

Elspeth continued. ‘This weekend, we are going to find the truth in ourselves. Then in a blameless safe environment we are going to learn to communicate it to our partner.' She nodded again and her earrings jangled. ‘But first you must adjust to your surroundings and enjoy some free time. This is a beautiful ranch and you must treasure your time here. Go for a swim in the lake, take a walk, there's a buffet lunch laid out in the hall. You can do whatever you like. But you must stay in your couple. Please be back by 2 p.m.'

She then handed out some truth beads, which she instructed us to wear around our necks throughout our stay.
After a few polite nods, the couples dispersed, although Walter lingered until Elspeth ushered him out.

Nick took my hand as we made our way out of the tepee. ‘This isn't so bad,' he said, looking up at the sun shining and then across the vast grassy planes. ‘No droopy downward dogs in sight. And a buffet to tuck into.'

I sniffed the air. ‘I smell ribs,' I said, licking my lips. ‘Let's get there first before anyone else gets a look in.'

Nick laughed. ‘That's my girl,' he said, patting me on the bottom.

By 2 p.m., after Nick and I had scoffed a giant rack of ribs, a twelve-ounce steak and a vat of BBQ sauce, and taken a long walk around the ranch, we dashed back to the oversized tepee that was the counselling centre.

We were the last couple to return. It wasn't until we sat down that I realised Elspeth had been replaced by her ‘spiritual life partner', Ernest. I immediately recognised him from the brochure, although with his drainpipe leather trousers and shaggy dyed hair he looked more like a displaced Rolling Stone than a revered professor of psychology.

He sat cross-legged and addressed us all as though he were about to present story time at nursery school.

‘You've probably all heard of the psychologist John Gottman,' he said.

I nodded but everyone else looked back at him blankly.

Ernest laughed to himself. ‘He claims he can predict divorce with ninety-six per cent certainty.'

More blank expressions.

Ernest ran his hands through his hair. ‘What many people don't realize—' he rolled his eyes and mumbled ‘—because I'm not whoring myself around every chat show that'll have
me—' he blinked and then looked up ‘—is that I can predict which couples will divorce with ninety-nine per cent certainty.'