The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man (19 page)

Karina’s had a brilliant idea which I
should definitely have thought of first. 

‘Why doesn’t Zac work alongside me for a
few days?’ she suggests.  ‘Then, when I disappear, he’ll already know some
of what I’ve been doing to help you.’

Which sounds like a
jolly good idea.
 

‘And by the way, Karina, have you
decided when you are finishing yet?’

‘Well,’ she says.  ‘I thought the
end of the week, if that’s okay. On Friday…’ she clarifies.

I know when the end of the week
is.  Just because I’m not a pilot doesn’t mean I’m stupid.

‘Oh,’ I say, then ‘You teaching Zac,
that’s a good idea.  Thanks.’

Miles and Beamish are having one of
their little confabs in
Beamish’s
office.  I’m
straining my ears to listen, but they’re talking in low voices.  It’s not
at all like when they had Stella in there.  That time, I could hear every
word.  Mind you, so could the whole of Lower
Shagford
.

Oh, the door’s opening. 

‘Leave it with me, old chap,’ Beamish is
saying.  ‘Um, don’t worry.  Er, I’m sure we’ll think of something.’

How mysterious.  Miles looks even
more down in the mouth than usual.  What could it possibly be?

‘Er, Miles?’ I say, once Beamish has
gone.  Very cautiously because he is looking rather fragile, I ask, ‘Are
you okay?  Only you seem, well, a little…’ I’d been going to say
troubled,
but instead I settle for ‘well, just a
little
out of sorts…’

He gives me what for Miles, passes for a
smile.  I give him one of my most understanding smiles in response. 
He’s definitely one of life’s worriers, is Miles. 
Takes
on the cares of the world.
  What he needs, I’ve decided, is a
thoroughly good woman to make a fuss of him and love him absolutely to
bits.  But if Emma is to be believed, he can never bring himself to be
interested in them.  Which is to say, of course he likes them, but puts so
much energy into his work,
there
none left for anyone
else.  He needs to meet another vet as dedicated as he is, so they could
exchange worries, shed the odd tear together, agonise over their more worrying
cases….
Or maybe not.
  It would probably make him
worse. 

Then I have this great idea.  Miles
needs some fun.  I will enlist Emma’s help on this one and between
us,
we will take him out and make him laugh. Golly. Suddenly
I’m stunned to realise that I’ve never,
ever
seen Miles laugh.  Not
once,
which is deeply disturbing.
 Not laughing
is like not drinking.  I don’t know how anyone can possibly survive like
that.  It
can’t
be normal.  And actually, I’m starting to
wonder if maybe he’s yet another example of one of these jolly fine young men,
forging ahead in the career of his choosing, only to reach the pinnacle and get
knocked viciously off it by the black dog itself - depression.  Like Pete.
The very thought makes me shiver.

Meanwhile, I have my own black dog to
attend to.  She may be demanding, as she is right now, howling
like
a wolf in the stables as she waits for a lunch time
walk, but at least she doesn’t completely ruin my life.

With Karina’s baby imminent, I decide to
organise a card for everyone to sign, and buy her a present.  I add it to
my growing to-do list.  I’ll have to go shopping after work tonight. 
Late night shopping somewhere after I’ve dealt with my
horses.
 Maybe Emma will come along too.

But Emma is cosily ensconced with Ben
tonight.  It seems that all is back to normal on that front.  Do I
dare to start thinking about my wedding outfit yet? 

So I’m on my own in Marks and Spencers,
looking at the cutest little baby clothes I’ve ever seen. 
Kind of pretty and cuddly-looking, in the most gorgeous array of
colours.
There are all these little blankets, the softest you’ve ever
touched, oh, and the toys.  I didn’t even know there were toys for
newborns.

It’s a whole new world to me and I have
to admit to the teeniest bit of envy, when I think about what lies ahead for
Karina.  I mean, a baby… Isn’t that the reason we’re put on this earth
after all? 
To go forth and multiply?
 
Maybe some of us more than others.

Whatever happens between Karina and
Arian, she’ll have her baby, to nurture and care for and give the best of
herself to.  She’ll be a mother.  I’m not at all sure how Arian will
cope with that, playing second fiddle while it’s tiny.  Knowing my ex, I
see trouble looming.

I wonder if I’ll ever have
children?
  And then I decide that actually, I will,
even if I have to go and bribe some fine specimen of manhood like Will for his
sperm, so that I can artificially inseminate myself.  And actually,
wouldn’t it be a whole lot easier to have just the children and no
husband?   And I can’t imagine Will would take too much
bribing.  It’s certainly a thought.

I awake in the middle of the night
certain that I can hear the faint clip-clop of hooves, but when I lie there
listening, there’s nothing.  And next morning, Wurzel’s grazing harmlessly
in his paddock - but, who’s that marching up the lane? Oh.  It’s Mr
Jones.  Not looking happy at all.

He knocks on my door and I open it,
mystified as to why he’s here.

‘Morning Mr Jones, how are you this
morning?’ I ask brightly.

‘Now look ‘ere. Right sorry, miss, but
it’s that dang pony out back.  
Its bin in my carrots
again.
Little bustart pulled ‘em all up by the green and ate the ’ole
flaming lot.’ 

And from behind his back he produces a
handful of carrot tops that some creature has indeed eaten the bottoms
of.  Some
creature,
and quite a clever one at
that, which has left very horse-like teeth marks behind.

‘But Mr Jones,’ I say soothingly. 
‘It can’t possibly have been Wurzel.  Look.  He’s out in the paddock,
just where I left him last night, though thinking about it, I woke up at some
point and heard hooves.  But it can’t have been Wurzel.  Like I said,
he’s been in that paddock all night.  It must have been someone else’s
horse…’

‘E’s that Mrs Winkle’s pony, isn’t he,
God rest her,’ says Mr Jones, most disbelievingly.  ‘I know ’im. E’s a
regular ’oudini that one.  You mark my words.  It
were
’im alright.’

After Mr Jones has left, I go out to my
horses.  Wurzel’s little ears are pricked and he’s a picture of
innocence.  But wait a moment.  There’s something on his
headcollar.  It looks ever so slightly like a bit of carrot top.  I
stare at Wurzel, and those unblinking brown eyes look knowingly back at
mine.   
Just a touch too knowingly.
Maybe Mr
Jones was right after all and the little sod goes out for midnight jaunts,
getting home before anyone’s the wiser.  Mr Jones is obviously no
fool.  Quickly I remove the evidence and grind it into the mud.

Karina is making fine progress with
Zac.  He’s razor sharp and remembers everything she tells him straight
away.  I had a devil of a job with her to start with, but then I suppose
she had pregnancy-brain at the time.  And as far as all things
computer-related go, Zac is quite clearly a whiz – which gives me an
idea.  Seeing as he’s so chummy with Beamish, maybe he’d like to suggest
to him that it’s about time our office ditched our ancient PC and moved into
the twenty first century.

Rachel is popping over tonight. 
We’re going to talk about the wedding.  I’ve been thinking and thinking
about it, and had this absolutely inspired idea.  Okay, so Agnes and
Beamish only want a tiny wedding, but who said anything about afterwards? 
I mean, no-one’s said anything at all about not having a little bit of a party…

It’s not a nice evening when Rachel
pitches up.  It’s cold and raining, and sounds like it’s blowing a gale
out there, which with all the curtains drawn and logs burning merrily in the
fireplace, makes my cottage feel even cosier,.

‘Hi’ she
says,
when I open the door.  ‘What a night!’  Even in her enormous coat,
she’s still tiny.

‘Come in Rachel and I’ll open some
wine.’

‘You know, I was quite surprised, when
Mum told me,’ she says.  ‘I’d kind of guessed
,
you know, that something was going on there, but even so.  Still, it’s
nice isn’t it?  I mean Beamish is very fond of her, isn’t he?’

‘Emma and I had kind-of-guessed too,’ I
tell her.  ‘And I agree.  It’s lovely for both of them.’

‘So,’ says Rachel.  ‘About this
wedding…You know my mother has this ludicrous idea that it’s just going to be a
small affair.  Like me, you and everyone at work, and
Beamish’s
brother and sister in law.  Mum has a couple of good friends she wants to
invite too…’

 ‘How many is that then?’  I
do a quick calculation.  ‘Less than twenty isn’t it?  That’s awfully
small,’ I add doubtfully.

‘But she says that’s what they want,’
says Rachel.  
‘And a party later on.
  But I
don’t know.  It just doesn’t seem quite right.’

She’s quite right.  It’s not. 
Beamish and Agnes
are
wonderful people and stacks of
people absolutely love them.  And it really isn’t fair to deprive all
their friends
of a jolly good knees
up.

‘You know what we
could
do.’  I tell her the plan I hatched earlier and her eyes go like
saucers.  Then she grins.

‘It’s fab!’ she says
enthusiastically.  ‘Perfect! Oh Louisa, this is going to be such
fun.’  Then she looks more sober.  ‘We will have to keep this
absolutely secret.  No slip ups, not a single one.  Or knowing my
mother, she’ll probably run off and elope.  She’s a devil to keep things
from, you know.’

Oh gosh.  I’d forgotten for a
split-second that Agnes always knows everything that’s going on. How do we keep
something like this under wraps?  If she found out, it would ruin
everything.

‘Okay,’ I say.  ‘Shall we meet up
at the weekend?  Saturday afternoon?  Come round and we’ll draw up
our battle plans.’

Will’s been flirting outrageously with
Karina again.  Rather too outrageously.  I think he’s rather keen on
the whole pregnancy thing.  And she looks as though
she’s
loving
it.

‘Well, I think you’re absolutely
gorgeous,’ I hear him say to her, rather admiringly and none too quietly, and
weary though she is with being eight months plus pregnant, I can tell she’s
flattered. Then he swoops down and kisses her on the cheek and she blushes.

Will
winks
at
me as he leaves.  ‘See ya later.’

‘Ha, ha,’ I laugh delightedly at her, when
he’s gone.  ‘Now do you believe that there’s nothing between me and
Will?  You never know, if Arian doesn’t pull his socks up, you’ve got an
ardent admirer there, ready and waiting in the wings.’

She doesn’t say anything, just throws me
a look like daggers.

Then before I know it, it’s
Friday.  Karina’s last day.

I’ve secretly organised everyone to call
in to the office at as near to lunchtime as they can manage.  They’re all
out in the yard with Sam right now, waiting for me to wave them in.  If
she’s guessed something’s afoot, she hasn’t said.

Beamish comes in first, in his usual
fumbling fashion.

‘Ah.
Um.
Karina.  Um, any chance you could come with me a moment?’

And while he whisks her away under the
pretence of something work-related, the others scoot in with a cake and some
very low alcohol champagne, so that when she comes back in, everyone shouts
‘surprise’ and claps loudly.  There’s an ear-splitting wolf-whistle which
comes, I imagine, from Will.

‘Well, we just all wanted to say er,
thank you,’ says Beamish.  ‘And, er, well, good luck!’

There’s more clapping and then I give
Karina the card and present from all of us.  She looks as though she’s
going to cry.

‘Thank you so much,’ she says
quietly.  ‘I’ve really enjoyed being here.’

Just before she leaves, I give her
another present.  This one is just from me and it’s one of those
super-soft baby blankets in lemon yellow.  I couldn’t resist.

‘Thank you,’ she says, looking really
touched.  ‘And I’m sorry, Louisa, about everything.  You’ve been
really good to me.’

Oh golly.  There are tears in my
eyes now.

‘Don’t be,’ I say and give her a
hug.  I mean it.  ‘Everything really has worked out for the better.’

And I never thought in a million years
I’d say this, but I’ll miss her.

On Saturday morning, Horace and I brave
the elements. It’s grey, cold and windy again, and it really feels like
December.  I’m bundled up in a waterproof jacket which is the most
unflattering garment imaginable and Horace has a blanket thrown over his rump,
just so he doesn’t get cold.

           
I can’t believe that Christmas is just around the corner.  All I’ve been
thinking about is Karina leaving, Wurzel escaping, flirtatious Americans and
now the wedding.  And it doesn’t really feel like Christmas.  My
parents are expecting me so I can’t imagine getting out of it.  But at
least they don’t want me to stay the night, thanks to my mother’s aversion to
Elmer.  There are times when being the owner of an unhinged dog does
actually work in my favour.

After lunch, I head over to
Leonie’s.  We’ve a lot of catching up to do.  She’s working hard at
the moment too and I don’t think she likes to leave Pete for too long when
she’s home.

But when I get there, she’s on her own. Pete,
it transpires, has joined a cycling club.  He is now not only a man in
lycra
, but hangs out with a whole crowd of similarly
tightly-clad enthusiasts.

‘Actually, Lou,’ says Leonie, ‘Between
you and me, I think he’s become a bit obsessed.  If he’s not on his bike
or cleaning it, he’s online looking at cycling websites or finding out what
latest gadgets he’s convinced he needs to buy.’ 

Then she frowns.  ‘He spends a
small fortune at the moment,’ she says anxiously.  ‘I mean, that’s okay
for a bit, but really Lou, I mean
a lot
of money…stuff like different
bike pedals.  The latest padded lycra shorts because they’re more
efficient as wicking moisture away or some crap like that.’

Padded
lycra
shorts that wick moisture away
… I have to say it’s
never crossed my mind before that such a thing even exists.

‘Well,’ I say, sensibly.  ‘He’s
come a very long way from where he was three months ago.  When does he go
back to work?’

Her brow furrows as she thinks.
 ‘Not until the New Year,’ she says.  ‘They’re going to be quite kind
and start him back in gently, or so they say.  I guess we’ll just have to
see how it goes.’

‘Are
you
okay Leo?’ I ask
sympathetically, only because I know she’s had a rough time of it lately. 
And had to carry on working full time, while Pete fell apart
at the seams.

‘I am now,’ she says honestly. 
‘I’ll tell you what though, there have been days where I’ve felt like screaming
- or falling apart myself.  But we’ve survived!  I’m just hoping that
when Pete goes back to work, everything will be back to normal again.’

I hope she’s not overly
optimistic.  Pete’s better, definitely, but I’m not at all sure if
depression works like that.

Gosh, what a jolly busy social time I’m
having.  I’ve rushed home from Leonie’s to put my horses to bed. 
That now includes Wurzel, who gets locked up every night with Horace, just in
case he gets it into his head to go on another of his midnight jaunts down to
the allotments.  And Rachel is due round any minute to talk about wedding
plans.  Perhaps we might go to the pub after.  I’ll wait and see how
huge I feel when she gets here.

Rachel and I, I’ve decided, are a
dynamic duo when it comes to wedding planning.

‘They’re thinking about spring at the
moment,’ she says. 
‘To give Mum a bit more time to
recuperate first.
 At a push I think I can persuade them to go for
May, which was really warm this year and then it’s all systems go with your
idea.  I don’t think it should be anything too big or formal, just a
party, so people can come and go.  But we need to decide where. 
And honestly, Lou.
 If you’d heard them last night,
talking about Winchester Registry Office followed by a fish and chip lunch at
the Hope and Anchor…’  She screws up her face.  ‘Nothing against the
Hope and Anchor,
nor
fish and chips for that matter,
but really, for your wedding day…’

‘I think we can do better than that,’ I
say to her.  I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot.  ‘There’s a
bloke called Les who does a mean spit roast.  He’s not commercial or
anything, so he’s quite cheap and Beamish is his vet, so I’m sure we could do a
deal.’

‘A pal of mine works in the wine trade,’
says Rachel excitedly.  ‘She’s offered to help us on that score.’

‘And music,’ I interrupt.  ‘Will’s
the person to ask about that.  He’ll know someone.  He’s quite into his
dancing, is Will.’

‘Oh, is he?’ All of a sudden Rachel
sounds coy.  And her cheeks have flushed pink. Suddenly I’m confused - I
thought she’d been dating Marcus.

‘Um Rachel,’ I ask cautiously.  ‘I
thought you were going out with Marcus?’

There.  I’ve done it.  Now
she’ll think I’m a nosy old cow, which I suppose is exactly what I am.

‘We went out for dinner.  Only once
– and he’s really nice, but not my type. He’s quite well,
intense,
isn’t
he?’

‘He is?’ 

Is he?
  Her
comment leaves me slightly mystified.  I suppose he is a bit.  Not
like Miles, who does full-blown intense to the extreme.

‘So are you seeing someone else?’ I say
nosily, because girls
are
supposed to share this sort of information.

‘No,’ she says, a bit cagily. 
‘You?’

‘No,’ I say shortly.  Then, because
I suddenly realise that she probably doesn’t know about the whole
Arian-Karina-pregnancy-divorce saga, I give her a potted summary of the events
of the last few months, including about how I’ve been out with Marcus a couple
of times, but we just didn’t quite hit it off.  Well, sort of did but sort
of didn’t too.

‘Funny,’ she says afterwards.  ‘He
talked about you quite a lot when I went out to dinner with him.’

Very funny.
 That’s almost exactly what Will said about him too.  My stomach starts
doing that fluttering thing.

‘He also told me about his ex. 
Seems she was a prize bitch, and when she dropped him for his so-called best
mate, not only was he on his own, but because they’d worked together, he had to
move jobs because she wouldn’t.  You can’t blame him, really.’

Golly gee.  That would explain a
few things. 
What if Marcus
is
secretly in love with me, but
terrified that I’m on the rebound?  That we’ll start this mad passionate
affair, only for me to come to my senses and go running back to Arian, only
because we work together, it’ll be just like the last time his heart was broken
and he’ll have to find yet another job…

‘Louisa? 
Louisa
….’ 
Rachel’s waving her hand in front of my face.  ‘You were miles away. 
What on earth were you thinking about
…’

‘Oh nothing,’ I say, then seeing her
face, I add, ‘Okay.  It was what you said about Marcus.  I think that
probably you’re right and that he has baggage in the shape of his
bitch-vet-ex-girlfriend.’

I have to say that Rachel’s remark has
made me think.  I’m still thinking, much later, when we go to the pub, by
which time we’ve both decided we’ll drink lots of wine and she can sleepover at
mine.

We brave the elements, buffeted by the
wind and rain for all of about four minutes, then make a bit of an entrance
that absolutely no-one can miss as the wind slams the door closed behind us.

Then I notice Marcus. 
And Will.
 I nudge Rachel in the side.  Good
grief.  Miles is here too – and Emma.  It looks like there’s a
serious vet conversation going on, because they haven’t even noticed us.
 Then I spy Paris M-T over by the bar, in designer jeans and a boob tube,
with a glass of what could be lemonade but is more likely vodka, sending
unsubtle, sultry looks in Will’s direction and daggers at us as we wander over
to join them.

‘Hey, can I get you girls a
drink?’  Will, ever the gentleman, is on his feet and gets a round
in.  It looks as though they could do with it.  It’s a very sombre
gathering at the moment.

‘Hey,’ Rachel says to me.  ‘Isn’t
this just the perfect time to fill them all in on the wedding?’

I grin at my co-conspirator. 
‘Most definitely.’

After making each one of
them
swear on their life not to utter a word to anyone, we
tell them what we’re planning.

‘Just one snag…’ says Marcus. 
‘Where are you going to hold it and how will you get them there without giving
the game away?’

‘We’ll think of something,’ I say
confidently.  After all,
it’s
months away isn’t
it?

‘Well,’ says Will, stretching out huge,
muscly, denim-clad legs which I can’t help but gaze at. ‘Just let us know the
date when you’ve got one.  I could probably ask a pal of mine to cover
calls, don’t worry about that.  He owes me a favour…’  He grins
broadly to himself about something that he’s obviously not telling us about.

Ben arrives, much to Emma’s
delight.  Will keeps dropping Karina’s name into everything, then tells me
he thinks Arian’s a dimbo if he doesn’t hang on to her, and that maybe someone
should have a word with him.

I tell him he’s got it exactly
right.  That Arian is indeed a dimbo, that all his brain power goes into
flying aeroplanes and breathing and things, and that it’s a waste of time
anyone trying to talk sense into him.

‘I should know,’ I say wearily. 
‘Lord knows I’ve tried.’

Someone’s put Nickelback’s ‘Rockstar’ on
the jukebox and suddenly I forget our serious conversation and collapse
helplessly with laughter.

‘Hey? What’s the joke?’ asks Will. 
‘It’s a great song, this…’

Ha.  Of course, don’t all blokes
love it? To be fair, I do too. I just find it funny.

‘What’s funny is that it’s the
soundtrack to Arian’s life,’ I try to say through my giggles. 
‘Really!
  Nickelback wrote this song just for my
ex-husband, with all his deluded notions of what real life is …’

Oops.  I think I’ve just shattered
one of Will’s illusions – he’s looking most disappointed, and saunters off to
chat to a client he’s spotted by the bar for a minute.  Then from behind
me a guarded voice asks, ‘So what exactly is the soundtrack to
your
life, Louisa?’

I stiffen, and as I turn to face Marcus,
I’m thinking, do I give him an honest version or the censored one.

‘Oh it’s got to be Ironic, hasn’t it,’ I
say cryptically, thinking quickly to distract myself from the sudden racing
that my heart seems to be doing.  ‘Wouldn’t you agree?  
Or maybe Free Bird?’
  I’m quite pleased with
that.  This is quite fun.  ‘And I’m quite partial to a bit of Boys of
Summer too…’

Marcus is smiling.  Phew.  You
can never be sure that Marcus won’t take the strangest things personally. 

‘Okay,’ he says.  ‘Ironic. 
That’s good….Now what about that American friend of ours?  What would do
for him?’

‘Easy,’ I say promptly. 
‘Nickelback again, ‘Feeling way too damn good’.  
Your
turn.
 
How about our two lovebirds over there?’

We both turn to look at Emma and Ben.

‘Two hearts?’ suggests Marcus. 
‘Phil Collins?’

‘Hmm, not bad,’ I say.  ‘Or Oasis,
let there be love…’

And not one of us has noticed
Miles. 
And Rachel.
 
Deep
in conversation and totally oblivious to everything around them.
 
Heads together as they talk.  I wonder what on earth
about
?

‘There’s a very lame horse in the car
park,’ I say in a loud voice, as a test. 
Nothing.
 
Miles doesn’t even so much as twitch in my direction.

‘Leave them alone, Louisa,’ says
Marcus.  ‘Now, how are you getting on with Zac?’

‘I think he’ll be fine, once he stops
glaring at me.  He works hard enough, that’s for sure.’

‘He just doesn’t trust people,’ says
Marcus.  ‘He’s been through too much for someone of his age.  Just
give him a chance…’

‘What exactly is it with Zac?’ I
ask.  Why is everyone so keen to give him a chance?

Marcus looks at me for a moment, then
says, ‘I suppose
it’s
okay to tell you.  I mean,
you’ll keep it to yourself, won’t you?  Only his step-father is a vicious
thug.  He’s done time and he’s knocked his step-kids around a fair bit
too.  Including Zac – and Beckham.’

‘God.’
 
 I’m shocked.  I mean, my parents might drive me insane, but just the
thought of Dad lifting a finger against anyone.

‘Poor Zac.
 
But what about his mother?
  Surely she
wouldn’t put up with the step-dad if he goes around doing that…’

‘Apparently she spends most of her time
in the pub, and always sides with her husband,’ says Marcus.  ‘Plus she’s
more concerned with Stace,
who’s
Zac’s fourteen year
old sister and has just had a baby.’