The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man (20 page)

Oh.  I know teenage pregnancy
happens, but it’s just so dismal, because with role models like that, what
chance does the baby have?

‘I know,’ says Marcus quietly. 
‘It’s depressing.  And there’s nothing any of us can do about it, which is
why it’s so great that Zac at least has got a chance of breaking away from it
all, and it’s all thanks to Beamish.’

I am so glad he’s told me all
this.  I mean, it’s ghastly, but like everyone else, I too am now going to
do my best to help Zac make a go of this.  He
can’t
go back to
those awful, terrible people and end up like his vile stepfather.

‘Where’s he living?’ I ask Marcus. 
‘Surely he can’t be back at his Mum’s every night…’

‘He’s bunking at Sam’s. 
In a little box room.
  Beamish supplied a bed, I took
him home to collect his stuff, and well, that’s all there is to know.’  He
stops for a moment,
then
adds, ‘actually I had the
pleasure of meeting the delightful parents.  She started screaming at me
that I was kidnapping her baby, and she’d see to it that I was put on the
paedophile register, and then
he
came out, yelling obscenities and
looking for a punch up.’

My jaw drops.

‘By then, Zac was on his way back out
again.  So I told the step-father, that next time he tried to poison
anything, he’d have the police to contend with, and not just about cruelty to
animals either.  Then we left.’

Golly.  I’m in awe.  He’s a
bit of a hero on the quiet.  What with Beamish coming up with a spare bed
for Sam’s box room and Marcus dealing with the wicked parents, I really do work
with some wonderful people. 

Then changing the subject, he says
thoughtfully, ‘You know, I think you coped really well with the whole thing
with Karina.  It must have been quite difficult for you, especially to
start with.’

Well, it was.  Bloody difficult, as
I said to Agnes, but to be truthful, I’ve forgotten the worst bits.

‘I’ve ended up really liking her,’ I say
honestly, half wishing that she was here this evening too.  Only the snag
is of course, she’d have Arian with her. 

It’s one of those evenings where
everyone is on good form and the time just flies.  And when we finally get
kicked out of the pub, Marcus, Miles and
Will
troop
back to mine with me, Rachel and some beers. 

As I rummage in the kitchen hunting for
glasses, I’m suddenly aware of someone behind me.  I turn round and it’s
Marcus – and he’s frowning.

Just as I’m thinking
what
have I
done this time,
he comes and stands quite close.

‘Lou?’ he asks, sounding not at all sure
of
himself
.  ‘I know you and I haven’t exactly
managed to spend much time together without me putting my foot in it or you
getting uppity…’

‘
Me?
Uppity
?’
I say incredulously, completely
outraged.  ‘Well, thanks very much, Marcus.  Looks like you’ve just
put your foot in it yet again.’  I glare at him.

He looks most contrite when he realises
what he’s said.  ‘I’m sorry.
Really.
  Look,
calm down, I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just that whenever I ask you
anything personal, you go off at the deep end.’

‘And do you know why, Marcus? 
Well, I’ll tell you. Because you have this incredible, unerring talent for
homing in on all my weaknesses and shortcomings, which I’m already fully aware
of, thank you very much, and it makes me feel very small, inadequate and… and
fat.’

Wow. 
Deep
breath.
 That felt
good.
 At last I’ve got it off my
chest, because in a nutshell, that’s exactly what he does, time and time
again.  I turn back to the sink.

‘So, now that you’ve made yourself amply
clear, do you want me to leave?’ he says calmly to my back, as I start washing
glasses.

‘Yes,’ I mutter, then ‘no,’ in a very
quiet, pissed-off sort of voice.

He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel
him move even closer and this time when I turn round, he’s there, right in
front of me.  Then somehow his arms are round me and the next thing, his
lips are on mine.

We don’t actually make a final
decision.  In fact I completely forget what we were deciding about. 
Marcus’s kiss just about wipes every other thought clean out of my head.

‘I’ve wanted to do that for a long
time,’ he says, when we stop.  His brown eyes are looking so intently at
mine, it’s as though he’s looking right in to my soul. 

‘Just one thing, though - why do you
always sell yourself short?’

‘I don’t,’ I say, genuinely surprised.  
‘I mean, there’s nothing to sell.  I’m an unremarkable, mouse-haired
newly-divorced office worker.  Plus I have a weird dog.  And I’m
completely inadequate, as you keep reminding me.’

Marcus looks astonished. ‘You can’t
really think that?’  He pulls me closer again, and this time he takes my
face in his hands. 

‘I’ll tell you what you are,’ he says
softly.  ‘You’re strong. 
A brilliant friend.
 
I’ve seen you.  You cope with everything and everyone that life throws at
you without complaining.  You’re also smart, wonderful and very
pretty.  Okay, so you have a weird dog, but none of us are perfect. 
Only you should also know,’ he pauses for a moment, ‘…that I want far more than
your brilliant friendship…’

And this time, the kiss is far more
urgent than before and I find myself kissing him back, just as passionately as
the thoughts whirl giddily in my head.

Oh My God.  If I chuck him out now,
he’ll think I don’t want this. 
Which I do…but I’m not
at all sure about the carnal knowledge part, not just yet, which is where this
is clearly headed.
 I mean, it’s a bit quick.  I’ve only just
found out how he feels and I have to admit that far from feeling strong, at
this moment I feel quite scared…and definitely cautious.  I mean, I don’t
want to risk the whole broken-hearted thing again.  At least, not for a
while...

I pull back just a little bit, and with
great difficulty break away from him.  But I have to say this.

‘Marcus?’ Oh dear.  Just how do I
put this into words
…

It’s my turn to stroke his face.  It’s
a lovely, kind, caring face.  I can’t believe I ever thought he was
arrogant.

‘Hey.  It’s okay. Don’t look so
worried!’  He laughs - then says more soberly, ‘Things were getting a bit,
well, hot there for a moment, weren’t they…’

I look at him, trying to gauge just
where he’s going with this.

‘Very,’ I say. Followed by ‘positively
steamy where I was standing actually’ nodding behind me at the sink of hot,
soapy water.  It lightens the mood.

‘Oh, sorry, I hadn’t noticed.’ 
Marcus perches on the side of my old kitchen table and pulls me to him again.
This time the kiss is more contained.

‘Well,’ he says afterwards.  ‘Am I
right in thinking that you’re quite happy about this?’

If he means the kissing, then oh, I’m
more than happy with it.  I nod.

‘Look,’ he says reasonably.  ‘I
know you’ve only just got divorced, but how about we spend some time together -
away from work?  And just see…’

He’s looking quizzically at me, waiting
for a reply.

I think, but only for a second or two.
It’s a no brainer.

So I say, ‘Um, going out a bit,
properly, is fine, Marcus.  I’m definitely okay with that.  In fact,
I’d go so far as to say that just seeing would be fine too.  Perfect, in
fact.’

‘So for the first time ever we are in
agreement?’

It’s far too late to gossip by the time
Marcus and Miles eventually leave, so it’s over a pot of fresh coffee the next
morning that Rachel and I get down to the nitty gritty of last night.

‘You changed your tune quick smart,’ I
say to her curiously.  ‘I thought it was Will you had the hots for, not
Miles!’

Her face turns beetroot.  Ha!
 It’s nice to see Rachel looking less like a perfect little Barbie doll
and more like a normal human.

‘Do you know…’ she says in a most
astounded little voice.  ‘I’ve never believed in that whole love at first
sight nonsense.  I mean, you can hardly fall in love when you don’t even
know someone…’  Then she does one of those girly, breathy sighs like
clients do about Marcus.

And oh my God... I have to say I’m
gobsmacked

‘Only, the minute Miles and I started
talking, it was like we’d known each other forever…’

‘Well,’ I say very sensibly, ‘he has
known your mother for years…’

Rachel gives me a look.  ‘What’s
that got to do with anything?’  Then the soppy look comes back. 
‘Miles is quite possibly the nicest man I’ve ever met,’ she says, looking
utterly lovestruck.  ‘He’s so lovely and unselfish, and so devoted to his
work.’

‘Rachel, there’s something you really
ought
to know about Miles on that subject,’ I say warily.  Well, it’s only fair
that she knows the truth – sooner rather than later.

‘He may
tell
you he’s not
married,’ I continue, as a look of complete horror crosses her face.  For
her own
sake, I have to be brutal.  ‘But he is
,
I’m afraid. 
Two hundred per cent.
 
To his job.’

‘God, just for a moment, I wondered what
you were going to say there,’ she says looking annoyed then relieved again.

‘So what about you and Marcus?’ she asks
me, keen to change the
subject.
  ‘It took you a
jolly long time to get those glasses…’

‘Me and Marcus?’
 
I say airily.  ‘Well, we talked for ages.  Then if I hadn’t
extricated myself from his amorous advances, we would have ended up ripping
each other’s clothes off and having passionate sex right here on my kitchen
table.’

Rachel looks
uncertain,
as if she’s not at all sure I’m telling the truth.

‘Well, it looks strong enough,’ she says
doubtfully.

Rachel goes to have Sunday lunch with
Agnes and Beamish and at last I am alone. Did Marcus and I really actually
agree that we’d sort of try going out again?  Well, this time I’m going to
get the full story of what happened with his ex.  And as we’re going to
try going out properly, perhaps we should also try a bit more of that kissing
while we’re at it.

By the middle of the afternoon, I’ve
decided that I’m not waiting around any longer.  After all, there’s no
time like the present, so I send Marcus a text and invite him over for supper,
then go out to feed my horses.

When I get out to the paddock, darling
Horace does his usual nicker when he sees me, and mooches over to say
hello.  But there’s no sign of Wurzel anywhere.  Thinking, ‘I bet the
little bugger’s eating Mr Jones’ carrots again,’ I traipse across the field to
see if I can find him.  And then stop in my tracks.  Because there,
in the long grass right at the far end, is Wurzel, stretched out, not moving.

My heart is thumping in my chest, as I
run over, at the same time reaching in my pocket for my mobile to call Marcus.

‘Hi Lou,’ he says cheerfully. ‘Just got your
text…’ but I stop him mid-flow with

‘Oh Marcus,
it’s
Wurzel.’ And as I reach down to touch the cold, furry ears, I say tearfully, ‘
Oh
Marcus, I think he’s dead
…’

I’m so grateful to have Marcus
here.  He came over straight away.  Once he’d confirmed that Wurzel
was indeed dead, he got on the phone and arranged for the disposal people to
come over right away.  So while he deals with all that side of things, I’m
in the stable with Horace, putting all his rugs on and crying into his
mane. 

I’ve no wish to watch the indignity of
little Wurzel being winched into the knacker’s lorry.  I’d prefer to
remember him as the feisty, cheeky, clever little chap that he was.  I
hope that somewhere, wherever it is he’s gone to, he’s reunited with Mrs
Winkle.  Somehow I think she’ll be awfully pleased to see him.

It’s not exactly the romantic evening
I’d envisaged.  I’m tearful, sad, and not much fun at all, but Marcus
stays anyway.  

‘It was probably his heart, Lou. 
Especially if he was fine this morning?’ he says.  ‘Just ‘bang’.
Quick as that.
  He wouldn’t have known a thing.’

Small
comfort,
and it helps - a little. 
As does snuggling up to Marcus
on my sofa.
  But the trouble with horses, however small they are,
they steal into your heart – then break it.

And of course, back in the office on
Monday morning I now have a brand new boy assistant.  Zac, who comes in
looking
very
spruced up, boxers
nearly
completely under cover and more than a little unsure of what to make of this
new arrangement.

‘Morning Zac,’ I say.  ‘I’m really
glad you’re here.  Would you mind putting this lot away while I get
started on the calls?’

‘Kay,’ he says, then turns and mutters,
‘sorry ‘bout your pony.’

Gosh.  I didn’t expect that. 

‘Um thanks,’ I say, tears threatening to
spill over again.  ‘Thanks very much, Zac.’

When I’m bent over the computer later,
cursing and swearing, Zac comes over and fixes me with a stare.

‘Wot the fuck you doin’ to it?
‘Ere…lemme do it…’

And in no time, his fingers are whizzing
around all over the place.

‘Do you give lessons?’ I ask hopefully.

He sits back, stares at the screen and
says, ‘I don’t get why you ‘ave such a crap computer.  A new one would
make loads
a stuff
easier.’

Gosh, that’s the most he’s ever said to
me.

‘I wondered,’ I say cautiously, ‘whether
you could help me explain that to Beamish,
Zac?
 
He might just listen to you…’

‘Dunno.’ says Zac, then, ‘’Kay. 
I’ll try it.’

I go outside to make sure Sam is okay
with Zac spending all this time in the office.

‘Sure,’ he says, those gleaming, green
eyes of his twinkling bewitchingly at me like the devil he is.

‘He’s a good lad, Lou,’ he says, nodding
in the direction of the office.  ‘Sorry about your pony,’ he says.

‘Thanks,’ I say.

Oh gosh, how do they all know
already?  Then just as I turn to walk back to the office, Marcus drives in
to the yard. 

‘Hello gorgeous,’ he says, loud enough
for Sam to hear.  Sam gives me a wink.

‘Hey yourself,’ I say.  ‘How is
your day?’

‘Pretty shit actually,’ he says. 
‘I’ve just been up to Sylvie’s place.  Well, you know I have. 
Anyway, I ended up having to put that mare to sleep. She was only young. 
One of those things you wish you didn’t have to do.’

I put my arms round him and hug
him.  I know we’re at work, but I can’t help it.  After all, he was
lovely to me last night, about Wurzel.

He looks a little brighter.  
‘Anyway, got to get on.
  I just popped back to pick up
something.’

‘Of course.
 
Actually, I also have work to do,’ I say importantly and head back for the
office.  Behind me, Marcus shouts, ‘How about dinner tomorrow?  Pick
you up about eight?’

‘Lovely,’ I shout back, catching sight
of Sam making kissy faces at me from one of the stables.  I poke my tongue
out at him. 

That night, when I put Horace in his
stable, he’s not himself.  I think he’s missing Wurzel.  We both
are.  Maybe I ought to put the word around, that if there’s a four-legged
waif or stray somewhere that needs a field and a new Mummy.  Actually, now
that I’ve as much as formed the idea in my head, and knowing how things go on
around here, it will, I imagine, only be a matter of time before it
happens.  The magic, remember?  I’ll mark it in my diary and see how
long it takes.

Horace and I have a long talk about all
sorts of things and I groom him for ages by which time we’re both a little less
sad.  Then I give him carrots, which makes us think of Wurzel again and
before I know it, I’m howling into his mane.  Horace is relatively
unperturbed.  After all, he’s got rather used to emotional goings-on since
he moved in.  He carries on munching his hay and lets me get on with it.

And then, just when I could do with some
good news, something wonderful happens.  No - not a pony, not just yet,
but when I go inside, the phone rings and it’s Arian.

‘Karina’s had the baby!’ he says
sounding the most excited I’ve ever heard him sound. ‘I’m a Daddy!  I
can’t believe it!’  His voice is high pitched and he sounds as mad as a
hatter.

‘Congratulations, Daddy!’ I say. 
‘How is Karina?’

‘She’s great!’ he says.  ‘Actually,
for a while there, I did wonder… she was being rather strange…’

‘What exactly do you mean Arian?’ I say,
most concerned, because after all, oddly, I do now class Karina as a friend.

‘She told me to fuck off and never come
near her again.  Karina never swears.  And she kept making the oddest
grunting noises and moaning…’

Ah.  The penny drops.

‘Arian.
you
idiot,’ I say, then slowly, because after all,
this is Arian, ‘Karina was in labour.  It hurts
.
A
lot
.’
  I think for a
moment.  ‘Imagine if you can, just for one moment, you are trying to shit
a football - or a huge melon.’

There’s silence, then, ‘Oh.’

‘You haven’t told me what sex the baby
is,’ I say, not only to break the silence but because I want to know.

‘It’s a boy,’ he says proudly.  ‘I
have a son and heir,’ he adds ecstatically, sounding high-pitched and mad
again.  ‘We haven’t named him yet.  Er, having trouble agreeing on
that, but we’ll get there.’

‘Give her my love,’ I say.  ‘And
I’ll pop in to the hospital to see her. Er, when you’re not there
probably.  Which is when?’

Arian’s far too excited to take offence
and rings off to make some more calls.  If I were Karina, I think I’d stay
in hospital as long as possible and lie to him about the visiting hours.