The Impossible Search for the Perfect Man (29 page)

Not long after, comes what turns out to
be the morning from hell.  I’ve barely unlocked the office when I take a
call from someone on the A34 Winchester bypass.  He tells me, and I quote,
‘There’s a bleedin’ horse box on its side and some horrible noises goin’ on.’

My blood runs cold.  As soon as he
rings off, I’m back on that phone quicker than lightning.  Miles is
already the opposite side of the county on a rescue mission of some
description, but I reach Marcus, Emma and Will, who go straight over
there.  It honestly sounded horrendous.  Apparently one of the horses
has somehow broken out and been in a collision with a lorry. 

Later, Emma fills me in.  Vets see
some fairly horrible situations, but she’s terribly upset.  The horse had
to be put down there and then.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,
Lou.  It was terrified, and so badly injured… And all because some idiot
lost control while overtaking and ploughed into them, that’s the worst
bit.  It happened because someone was in a hurry.’

Karina’s late this morning, but I’m too
preoccupied to notice.

‘Sorry, Louisa,’ she says when she gets
here.  Then seeing my face adds, ‘What on earth’s been going on?’

I fill her in, but she already knows. It
turns out the horses were on route to Sylvie’s yard, which is why Karina’s so
late.

‘The one that survived is only a
baby.  He’s a three year old,’ she tells me.  ‘Hasn’t exactly had a
sparkling career on the racecourse, but if he’s come through this, perhaps he’s
destined for greater things.’

She doesn’t mention the other horse, and
I don’t like to ask.

‘So have you seen Will?’ I ask much
later, cautiously, in case she hasn’t.

There’s a small smile there before she
even answers my question.

‘Yes…’

‘And…’

‘He came for supper.  Actually he
helped put Oscar to bed, and read him a story if you can believe it.  I
mean for goodness sake, he’s only a few months old.  
Far
too young for stories.’

‘And…’ I ask brightly.

‘You’re so nosey,’ she says.  ‘If
you must know, Will and I talked, and that’s all, for most of the night.’ 
And she starts looking dreamy.

‘Stop looking so lovestruck,’ I tell her
bossily.  ‘You were late and you’ve got work to catch up on.’

But
wow
.  It’s exciting,
because I really think this is the start of something.

Marcus gets caught up with the police
for ages, which is a complete waste of his time because it’s far too late for
the poor horses.  He comes into the office at lunch time looking
exhausted.

‘God, Lou.  I’ve never had a
morning like that, ever.’

I make him a cup of strong coffee, and
we sit outside in the yard while he drinks it.

‘You okay?’ I ask sympathetically.

Marcus sighs rather too much like Miles
does, in response.

‘You know, it’s one thing when a horse
gets sick.  I can cope with that.  But road accidents are almost
always because there’s an idiot.  Which results in a horse that’s so
damaged you can’t put it back together.’

Oh my giddy aunt.   We need
some light relief, or we’ll all become as morose as Miles.  And, right on
cue, in comes Mrs Boggle.  Four hours early, God bless her soul, which is
entirely out of character.  And she’s dyed her hair bright orange. 
Not chestnut, or auburn, or any even strawberry blonde.  
It’s
nasturtium orange and my eyes are popping out of my
head.

‘Mrs Boggle,’ I say to her
earnestly.  ‘I absolutely LOVE your hair…’

Meanwhile Marcus is spluttering none too
quietly into his coffee.  Mrs Boggle gives him a killer look.

‘Don’t mind him,’ I say soothingly to
her.  ‘He’s had an absolutely terrible morning.’

Then I add, ‘You’re very early
today.  Is everything okay?’

‘Fine, duck,’ she says, still giving
Marcus dirty looks.  ‘Only the bike’s got to be serviced later. 
Won’t have
no
wheels, like. 
Thought
I better see to them loos.’
  

Which is immensely
thoughtful of her.
  And off she goes to get her
bucket.

I elbow Marcus in the side, hard.

‘You are very rude,’ I tell him bluntly.

‘I know,’ he grins.  ‘And I can be
even ruder… Come here…’

But his lewd suggestions are brought to
an untimely close as Karina yells out, ‘Louisa? Are you there? There’s a call
for you…’

Karina’s day ends at lunchtime, unless
there’s any reason for her to stay on.  And so when Will comes in later in
the afternoon, I swiftly corner him and find out exactly what’s going on.

‘Had a great evening last night,’ he
says happily.  ‘That Oscar is a great little nipper.  I told him my
favourite stories,’ he says, looking all starry-eyed. 

I’m not convinced that’s such a good
idea.  I should hardly imagine that Will’s favourite stories are suitable
for a three month old baby.  They’re probably x-rated and full of topless
nymphos, but then what on earth would I know.  Maybe the obsession with
the female form starts earlier than I thought.

‘And how did you and Karina get on?’ I
ask, knowing that it’s pointless beating around the bush when you’re talking to
Will.

‘Good,’ he says.  ‘I don’t want to
rush her, but she’s gorgeous, don’t you think?’

And he gives me a dopey smile.

That night, Marcus is still upset, but
this time it’s about something else.

‘That flaming estate agent,’ he says
irately.  ‘He’s farting about wasting so much of my time.  He’s
trying to make me go and see houses that I’m not interested in.  And
anyway, I don’t want to look at anywhere unless we go together.’

My ears prick up.

‘Marcus?’ I ask thoughtfully. 
‘Would that by any chance be Martin Slime, I mean Syme, who’s supposed to be
selling your cottage?  Super smug, shiny suit, very sleek car?’ I add,
just in case it helps.

‘That’s him,’ says Marcus
bitterly.  ‘And what’s more, he made me an offer himself. 
A bloody cheeky low one too.’
 He laughs hollowly.

‘Hmmm. Martin and I go way back,’ I tell
Marcus meaningfully.  ‘And actually I happen to know that he is a bit of a
sneaky bugger when it comes to house deals.’

‘Now I’m interested,’ says Marcus. 
‘Go on…’

‘Well, Mr Slime has quite a substantial
property portfolio.  Did you know that?’ I say, enjoying myself.  ‘I
think he must have a way with the old ladies, who end up practically
giving
their homes away.  
To him of course.’

Marcus is nodding slowly now.  ‘I
get it,’ he says at last.  ‘He doesn’t let any would-be buyers anywhere
near, then tells the old dears that it’s obviously over-priced, then makes them
a ridiculous offer.’

Golly.  Even I hadn’t worked out
the details.  Marcus’s imagination is almost on a par with mine – but he
must be right.

‘I’ll deal with that little toad
tomorrow,’ says Marcus.

‘Oh, do give him my best,’ I say
innocently.

But far from amused, Marcus is
furious.  ‘Tomorrow I’m putting the cottage on with a different agent,’ he
says angrily.

He’s still cross after we’ve had
supper.  In fact, I’ve never seen him in such a mood. 

‘Marcus…’ I run my hands up his arms and
fasten them round his neck. 
‘Darling?
  Why
don’t we have an early
night.
’

But for the first time ever, he brushes
me off.

‘You can if you like.  I’ll join
you later,’ he says abruptly.

Suddenly it’s like the wind’s been
knocked out of me.  Did Marcus really just say that?  Numb, and
without another word, I take myself to bed.

I’m too upset to sleep.  And I lie
there in the dark for all of about five minutes before Marcus comes thundering
up the stairs and hurls himself onto our bed.

‘Louisa,’ he says, in a very gruff
voice.  ‘I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean it.  It wasn’t you, it was
me…’ and for a split second there, he sounds exactly like Arian, which
unleashes a whole other set of emotions I thought I’d seen the back of.

But then he says, ‘Look, I’ve had one of
the worst days ever.  Is there any chance you could wriggle over and let
me climb in too?’

I think about giving him a hard time.
 But he’s had a truly horrible day and actually, I can’t be cross with him
for long.  I fold back the duvet and he climbs in beside me, still fully
dressed. 

But it doesn’t feel like the time to joke,
and silently, I help him peel off the shirt and trousers, after which he falls
asleep in my arms.

It’s Saturday.  No alarm
clock.  No horses to get up for, it being the time of year that Horace and
Mavis are turned out in the field.  Marcus lies peacefully sleeping. 
He actually has a whole weekend off.   I’m thinking perhaps we ought
to spend some of it talking about our wedding, because even small weddings
don’t happen on their own.

I creep downstairs and make us a pot of
tea and hot buttered toast.  When I take it back upstairs, Marcus is awake
and looking more like his usual self again.

It’s a rare morning that we can lie in
bed without one of us having to rush off to do something.  And after the
tea is drunk and some of the toast eaten, he turns to me and says earnestly,

‘I’m really sorry about last night, Lou.
 I was in a foul temper.  Forgive me?’

I know he’d had just the worst day.
 And looking at those brown, imploring eyes and the lips I’m itching to kiss,
of course I do.

‘I might,’ I say.  ‘It depends.
 You might need to do a little persuading, though.’

Marcus is quite happy about the
persuading idea, which was quite inspired of me, I decide.  After all,
there’s no better way to spend a lazy morning than gloriously, decadent sex.

When we do finally get round to
discussing our wedding, Marcus suggests that we book a registry office.

‘We can always have a church blessing
later, when we have our party,’ he says.

Which could be quite romantic, being
secretly married for as long it takes to organise the second bit. 

‘I suppose…’  And it’s not quite
how I’d imagined it, but at least we’ll actually be married.

Then he says, ‘I don’t suppose you’d
like to pay our Mr Syme a visit with me? 
Today?
 
Only I’ve had an idea.  I think you might find it entertaining.’

But before we do, Marcus calls a couple
of other local estate agents and we agree to meet one of them at his cottage
before we go and visit Martin.  The new agent seems to think that Marcus’s
cottage would sell very quickly, particularly as it’s already empty, and he
values it far higher than Martin has.

Then, we drive into town.  Marcus’s
face is grim as we enter the offices of Symes Country Property.  Martin’s
sitting at his large, mahogany desk and leaps up the instant he sees me,
pasting one of his smug smiles on his face.  Then, when he catches sight
of Marcus beside me, his face is an absolute picture.

‘Hello Martin,’ I say airily.  ‘I
believe you know my fiancé, Marcus Fitzpatrick?’

‘Mr Fitzpatrick,’ says Martin
smoothly. 
‘Of course.
  How can I help you?’

With a face like thunder, Marcus tells
him, ‘I’m afraid you picked the wrong person to play your little game with, Mr
Syme.  I’ve just spent a very interesting morning with some other agents
who will market my house far more cheaply than you, and interestingly, have
valued it at a much higher price. One already has buyers lined up... ‘

Martin starts, ‘Funnily enough sir, I
was just about to call you myself, ho
ho
.’ He does
that horrible smug little laugh of his.

Marcus says calmly, ‘Don’t bother. 
I am taking my business elsewhere.  As of now, I no longer wish to have
any further dealings with your agency.’

And just as Martin opens his mouth to
protest about contracts and agreements and whatnot, Marcus adds in deadly
seriousness, ‘Oh, and by the way, I shall be dropping a line to the National
Association of Estate Agencies - I’m sure I’m don’t need to explain why -
suggesting that they take a closer look into exactly what goes on in this
office.  After all, I believe you have quite a little portfolio of your
own.   Come on Louisa.  Let’s go.’

As we leave, I wink at Martin. 
‘Love the suit.  It’s only a little bit shiny,’ I say brightly, with a
beaming smile in his direction.

He glares back at me, but before he can
say anything, there’s an almighty crash out in the street.  There’s a red
Peugeot 205 embedded in the side of the brand new Mercedes.  Martin’s day
has just got a whole lot worse 

‘Oh golly,’ I call back to him, a look of
mock-surprise on my face. 
‘Looks like someone’s just
driven into an awfully expensive Merc out here.
  You wouldn’t
happen to know whose it is, would you?’ and nearly get flattened as he belts
out of the door boiling with rage.

‘Will you really do that?’ I ask Marcus
a bit later, quite impressed at how he wiped the floor with smug Martin back
there,
who’s
now considerably less smug.  And his
car getting driven into was just brilliant.
Such perfect
timing.

‘And how do you know about the National
Association of Estate Agents? Have you done this sort of thing before?’

Marcus grins. 
‘Looked
it up on the internet while you were in the shower!
  I don’t think
it matters whether I actually write to them or not.  Our good friend Mr
Syme’s probably sweating nervously and scurrying around trying to cover his
tracks as we speak - well, once he’s had his car towed away.  Thing is,
he’ll never know, will he!  I reckon he’ll be watching his back for some
time to come, don’t you?’

‘Brilliant,’ I say delightedly. 
‘You are so clever, Marcus.  Now, can I buy you lunch to celebrate?’

And the afternoon gets better, when we
carry on mooching around town and stumble across a menswear shop where we find
Marcus a fabulous suit just perfect for a secret wedding.

‘Can I buy you a tie?’ I say
persuasively.  ‘Only I have to hide it, otherwise it’ll give the game away
about my dress…’

‘Okay, just as long as it’s not pink.’

‘Hmmm, ok…’ I say. 
Bugger
.
  Pink was exactly what I had in mind,
and I’d just spotted one the perfect colour.  I sneakily buy it when he’s
not looking.  On the day, he won’t really mind because he’ll be so happy
to be marrying
me,
he probably won’t even notice.

That evening we go to the pub. 
Being Saturday night, it’s packed, and we take our drinks outside and find a
table in the garden.  In no time we’re joined by Ben, on his own because
Emma’s on a call, and then by Will and Karina, which is lovely and only a bit
weird.

As I chat to her and
Will
,
we end up looking at photographs from Agnes and
Beamish’s
wedding.  And I get a pang which I instantly dispel, about Marcus and
I
keeping our wedding a secret, because part of me would
love to be talking about it all and sharing it with our friends.  But no,
I tell myself.  It’s what Marcus and I both want
,
just to be married without a fuss.

Will is looking very lovey-dovey,
clearly besotted with Karina.  She too looks happy, even though in some
ways, he’s her total opposite, but then isn’t that the mystery of love?
 And you could knock me down with a feather when an
embarrassed
looking Miles comes over, characteristic frown in place, with a bony,
horsy-looking looking girl he introduces as Fiona.

‘Fiona works at the horse sanctuary,’ he
tells us, as they sit down at our table.  Oh golly, she looks as serious
as Miles.  I can’t imagine how that will work.  They probably go home
and play Nick Drake CD’s and get all maudlin and depressed together about the
poor starving horses around the world.  

Then he drops a bombshell.  ‘Fiona
and I are going on holiday,’ he says, nearly managing to smile as he takes her
scrawny hand in his.  

Which makes us all
nearly fall off our chairs.
 

‘We’re going to India to one of those
welfare places where they try to educate the locals about basic horse care.’

It’s not my idea of a holiday, but bony
Fiona looks as thrilled as he does.  What a funny old world it is.

Marcus and I walk slowly home, our arms
round each other’s waists.

‘Who’d have thought it?’ says Marcus with
a grin.  ‘Old Miles and a girl as obsessed as he is?’

‘She would have to be, wouldn’t
she?  Marcus?’ I say questioningly.  ‘Er, do you definitely want a
secret wedding, or have you thought you might like some other kind?’

‘Definitely the secret one,’ he says and
kisses the ear that’s nearest to him.  ‘Why? Have you changed your mind?’

‘Oh no, no,’ I say hastily.  ‘No,
our secret wedding will be perfect.’  If it’s what Marcus wants, then I
want it too.  And I’m sure it will be just perfect.