Love Is... (7 page)

‘I've been twice actually. And I went to Disney World when I was twelve.'

‘Aha,' Matthew said, in the manner of a psychotherapist who had just pinpointed the cause of a patient's neurosis. ‘Florida in the eighties doesn't count. They were going through a difficult time: all visors and fanny packs.'

I chuckled. ‘And there's no way I could join a nation who voted for a president who said: “most of our imports are foreign”.'

Matthew sighed. ‘They didn't vote him in. He voted himself in. And, besides, they have a new president now, only since 2008.'

‘Yeah, one who sided with Argentina over the Falklands.'

‘Ellie, you can't discount an entire nation based on political knowledge gleaned from a ten-year-old Michael Moore documentary and Perez Hilton's blog.'

‘I can.'

He laughed. ‘So when you leave, who's going to look after your clients?'

‘I've told you I'm not going. Why isn't anyone taking me seriously?'

‘I suppose you could work from New York too. At least then you'd be rid of old twatty-pants Dominic.'

‘Are you listening to me?'

‘And the Sporting Lucas. I suppose you can take him with you?'

‘Matthew!'

He let out a deep sigh. ‘Ellie, beautiful, gorgeous Ellie, platonic love of my life.' He sighed again. ‘When you repeatedly say you're not doing something, usually it means you are.'

I paced around the hallway, ready to shout down the phone at Matthew that no matter what anyone said, I had no intention of moving to America, ever, when I noticed Victoria peering through the front window.

I attempted to ‘sign' to her that I was on the phone, an act that I immediately realised could be no more explanatory than my actually holding a real phone to my ear.

She ignored me and started thudding on the door, by which point, Matthew had begun humming Frank Sinatra.

‘Bm ber der der der, start spreading the news,' he sang, ‘Ellie's leaving today. She wants to be a part of it…'

I rolled my eyes and hung up the phone.

Victoria bustled in, the moment I opened the door. Her arms were laden with Rupert-related paraphernalia.

‘Morning,' she said. ‘I forgot a few things.' She placed the items down onto a large pile in front of me, then smoothed down her ponytail. ‘There's the mattress for Rupert's bed.' She pointed at a thick circular cushion. ‘It's made from coconut fibres so it's more breathable. Here's the pamphlet,' she said, reaching into her pocket and handing it to me. ‘It's been clinically proven to reduce the incidence of Sudden Puppy Death Syndrome.'

I glanced at it and scratched my head.

She continued, plucking something else from the pile. ‘This is his heartbeat cushion Olga found at Pets Are Our World. Apparently it settles him…' she pointed at something else ‘… along with his pheromone spray and plug-in. There's his brush, made from natural fibres…' she continued pointing ‘… his puppy shampoo—don't over-wash him, he's sensitive—toothbrush, toothpaste.' She turned to me. ‘Dental hygiene is paramount to prevent future decay.' She turned back to the pile. ‘There's one week's food. He's on Paula's Kitchen Puppy meals. They're grain-free, from ethically sourced meat, with no fillers, and also with added bergamot and dandelion for his liver and kidney. And there are some special grain-free treats in this bag.' Rupert jumped up, sniffing the packet and wagging his tail. She handed him one. Then reached in her other pocket and continued. ‘I've printed off a list of human foods he must not have, under any circumstance, and also a list of garden plants that are poisonous to dogs. It's best to remove them from your garden just in case.' She glanced through the kitchen to the back door. ‘Chances are you've got some of everything in that overgrown mass back there.' Then she handed me a bundle of papers. ‘Here's his pedigree certificate and passport application forms. He can't go abroad until he's had his rabies vaccine. His vet's number is on the back…' she pointed
out where ‘…just below the grooming salon. Also he has a few sessions with his nutritionalist plus a month's worth of canine psychology sessions to help him adjust to his new home.' She looked down at Rupert, then back at me. ‘And just in case,' she added, her expression cooling, ‘here's the number of a dog therapist in New York.' She looked me in the eye. ‘If you were to go, it would be immensely traumatic for him and he would need extensive emotional support to adapt to such a change.'

‘But I'm not going,' I said.

She took a deep breath and looked at me. ‘You'll take care of him, won't you, Ellie?'

I nodded, bending down to pick him up. Victoria leaned in to stroke him.

Rupert wriggled, then jumped up into her arms.

Either he'd already been Stockholmed, or, I began to wonder, perhaps Victoria had been kinder to him than she'd let on.

‘So,' she said, peeling him off her and placing him on the floor. ‘Everything all right with you and Nick?'

I nodded, distracted by Rupert arching his back on my carpet.

Victoria squinted her eyes. ‘Right, OK,' she said, before giving Rupert one final pat on the head. She shut the door quickly before he was able to follow her out.

Moments later, I caught sight of her running back up the front path. She posted a large envelope through my letterbox. Inside were multiple newspaper and magazine clippings highlighting various shocking facts about the US, including but not exclusive to terrorism threats, obesity crisis, gun crime, poor social welfare and the number of unresolved puppy abductions in New York City.

I stuffed the clippings back into the envelope and left it on the side, then took Rupert, along with the list of poisonous
plants into our garden. I'd decided to stay home with him that day to settle him in and show him around.

I pushed open the old French doors and stepped out onto the patio, trying to recall the last time I had actually ventured into the mass of weeds and tangled shrubbery that was our ten-metres-square London garden. It must have been over a year ago when we'd just moved in. I placed Rupert down by my feet and watched him explore. To little Rupert, faced with dense foliage over twice his height, it must have seemed like a jungle. He stepped tentatively forward, then a crow squawked and he ran back between my legs. Moments later, he tried again, this time venturing a little further.

Just as I'd spotted a potentially toxic-looking weed, my phone rang again. It was Mandi.

‘Ellie, where are you?'

Rupert bounded back between my legs. I shifted him away from the plant. ‘At home,' I said.

Mandi paused for a moment as though she didn't quite know what to do with that information. ‘Doing what?'

I bent down and tugged at the roots. ‘Weeding.'

Mandi paused again. I imagined her twitching her nose. ‘You need to come in.'

I threw the weed onto the patio. Rupert sniffed it then ran back between my legs. ‘Can't it wait?' I said.

‘No,' she replied, more sternly than Mandi usually spoke. ‘It's important.'

When I arrived at the office, having transported an increasingly perplexed Rupert in his Louis Vuitton dog carry case, Mandi jumped out at me. She was wearing what looked like an Aztec-patterned tepee with a coordinated neck scarf.

‘Ellie, you're late,' she said. ‘Into the meeting room
quickly.' Then she stopped, turned and peered into the carry case. She held her hands to her chest and made a high-pitched squealing noise.

‘Aw,' she said, ‘a puppy! I absolutely love puppies. Did I tell you how much I love puppies? And kittens, of course. I love kittens. But not as much as puppies. Puppies I simply adore. He is just too cute. Can I cuddle him? Please can I?' She peered in closer. ‘What's your name, little fellow?'

Rupert growled. I went to turn the carry case away, assuming Mandi's attire must have alarmed him, when I noticed Dominic standing behind her. Rupert growled again and then bared his tiny teeth.

Dominic sneered at the carry case. ‘No animals in the office,' he said. ‘Clause 13.5b on our lease. He'll need to be removed immediately.'

Mandi waved Dominic away. ‘Oh, get a life,' she said. ‘It's not as though he's running wild, chewing the table legs and weeing up your trousers. Besides, it's essential Ellie is present at this meeting.'

Dominic's jaw tensed before he followed Mandi, Rupert and I into the meeting room.

Once we were all seated, Mandi flipped open her laptop. I smiled at her, quietly hoping she was about to unveil an e-petition for which she had solicited a hundred thousand client signatures objecting to my relocation.

She stood up and cleared her throat. ‘Eighty per cent of our matchmaking workforce is women,' she began.

Dominic sighed and checked his watch.

‘Forty-three per cent of those are mothers,' she continued.

Dominic rolled his eyes.

‘Our maternity package is grim.' She looked down and started rubbing her tummy. ‘We offer little more than statutory
pay, no child-care benefits and no additional support to mothers at all.'

Dominic sat back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. He let out an extended sigh. ‘Have you got something to tell us, Mandi?'

She ignored him. ‘If our business is about bringing couples together, then surely our business should also be about preventing couples from separating.'

I leaned forward.

Mandi continued. ‘If we don't support the family unit, then how can we say we are supporting the couple?'

Dominic sighed again. ‘So let's cut to the chase, what do you propose?'

Mandi smoothed down her blonde flicks and pressed some keys on her laptop. ‘I'll email you my full proposal, but, in short, I would like us to provide on-site childcare, flexi-working hours, extended holidays, extra sick pay when children are poorly, priority parking for pregnant women and breast-feeding stations in the office.'

He laughed again. ‘How about prenatal yoga while we're at it? Or nappy bins in the meeting rooms. A jungle gym in the lobby?'

Mandi scowled at him.

‘What about paternity rights too?' I interrupted. ‘One of my closest friends is a house husband.'

Dominic rolled his eyes. ‘Men shouldn't be looking after babies.'

Mandi and I both stared at him.

Dominic shrugged his shoulders. ‘We're not built for it,' he said. ‘We don't have the hormones or the attributes.' He nodded to my chest and raised his eyebrows. ‘We were
meant for world domination, not bottle feeding and nose wiping,' he said.

I glanced at Mandi, whose mouth was wide open, then back at Dominic.

Dominic smirked. ‘Although the breast-feeding station sounds intriguing.'

I shook my head and stood up to leave.

Dominic followed me. ‘Oh, by the way, Ellie,' he said, ‘the investors rejected your request.'

I turned to face him. ‘What request?'

‘The request to conduct your research from the UK.'

I stepped back. ‘I wasn't aware I had formally requested that yet. I didn't even know a meeting had been scheduled.'

He leaned forward and squeezed my shoulder. ‘I sent you an email. The meeting was this morning,' he said. ‘You missed it, while you were tending to—' he glanced down at Rupert, who was now sleeping in his carry case ‘—your
dependant.
'

That night Nick and I sat in bed together with Rupert nestled between us. Nick had insisted Rupert not be left alone with the weird heartbeat toy on his first night with us.

‘Dogs are pack animals,' he'd said, seemingly trying to justify his sentimental side. ‘They feel insecure unless the alpha dog is there to protect them.'

A lengthy debate as to whether Rupert would view me or Nick as his pack leader followed, before our conversation moved on to the topic of New York. It wasn't long until my arms were folded. ‘How many times do I have to say this? I'm not leaving my clients,' I said.

Nick raised his eyebrows. ‘You don't have any clients
any more. When was the last time you actually did any matchmaking?'

‘The business needs me.'

‘You can work from New York.'

‘Well, I'm not leaving Rupert.'

‘Oh, come on, Ellie. You're not going to let the perceived needs of a nine-week-old canine come between us and our future happiness.'

I stared at Nick. ‘Sorry, whose future happiness?'

He stared back at me.

‘Besides,' I continued, ‘he's our responsibility now. There's no way I would consider rehoming him. He's been through enough turmoil in his little life already.'

Nick smirked. ‘I wasn't suggesting that for a second. We would take him with us.'

I glanced at Rupert, then back at Nick. ‘What sort of life would he have in Manhattan?'

Nick laughed. ‘Ellie, we have a Brooklyn budget. I was thinking Park Slope.' He picked up his iPad and showed me an image on the screen. It looked nice enough, but there seemed to be lots of traffic.

‘What about the pollution?' I asked.

‘We live hundred metres from the South Circular. I suspect there is a higher concentration of sulphur dioxide on Battersea Rise than there is on Broadway.'

I glanced down at Rupert. ‘I just want to give him the best life we can.'

Nick rolled his eyes. ‘Are you going to fret about his schooling now? Or the cultural clash he might face when integrating with native American breeds?' He laughed again, though louder this time. ‘Do you think the Brooklyn street dogs are going to back him into a corner, mug him of his
grain-free puppy snacks, and say, “Hey, Stan, we've got us a Sporting Lucas here. He says he's from Engerland.”'

I folded my arms more tightly across my chest. ‘What about my friends?'

‘You've seen Cordelia once in the past year.'