How to Win Back Your Husband. Vivien Hampshire

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СКАЧАТЬ his mate Paul mouthed at him, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, and Mark nodded. There was nothing to go home for, so why not? Home! That was a joke. The small bedsit he’d rented on a short-term lease, while he waited for the estate agents to do their bit and his share of the house sale money to come through, could never really be called home. It was more like a featureless box, graced with all the basics any bloke on his own was going to need. A bed, a small dining table and chairs, a TV he’d brought with him, two lumpy armchairs and an ancient sideboard, a fridge and a microwave. And lots of boxes stuffed full of many, but by no means all, of his worldly goods, still packaged up and likely to stay that way for a while longer yet.

      That was it really. It was somewhere to store his stuff, rustle up some sort of meal for one when he got sick of eating takeaways, and a place to lay his head down at night. Nothing more. So, why not have another pint? In fact, now that he was here, he might as well stay and have several.

      ‘We’re taking a short break now. See you again later!’ the singer announced chirpily, swinging her dyed blonde hair from side to side and flashing a cleavage that would make Dolly Parton envious as she reached for her bottle of water from the floor. There was a clattering through the mike as stools scraped back and the guitars were laid down, and everyone in the audience made a general dash for either the toilets or the bar while they had the chance.

      ‘Shall we move over to a table?’ Paul handed Mark his new pint and Mark quickly drained what was left of the old one. ‘Get away from the rush.’

      Mark stood and followed his mate across the pub to an empty table by the window. It was impossible to see the stage properly from this angle, which was probably why nobody else had nabbed it, but that didn’t bother him. It was all country and western stuff, not really his scene, and he dreaded the almost inevitable rendition of D.I.V.O.R.C.E that was bound to come up in the second half.

      ‘So, it’s all over then, is it? No going back?’ Paul took a swig from his drink and started playing with the beer mat, flipping it up from the edge of the table with the back of his hand and trying to catch it before it fell. It was obvious that talking about emotional stuff didn’t come easily. Mark could almost feel the thumping great feet of the elephant in the room.

      ‘Looks that way. I got the decree thingy a couple of days back, so less than six weeks to go and it can be made final. Just got the house to sell and then I can start putting my life back together.’

      ‘Jeez, I’m sorry, mate. Can’t be easy after – what is it now? Seven years, is it? Eight? God, it only seems like yesterday we were all dressed up in those penguin suits and trying to get the flowers to stick in our buttonholes. Mine fell out halfway up the aisle, and Nic’s mum caught it in that enormous great handbag of hers that was lying open on the floor, remember? Like a blooming Venus fly trap, that thing. What a laugh! And that joke I told in my best man’s speech. The one about the sick cow and the two horny bulls. Remember that one? Had everyone wetting themselves!’

      ‘I’d rather not talk about it, really. Any of it. The wedding. Nicci. Her mother. It’s still a bit raw, you know?’

      ‘Fair enough. Nice girl though, your Nicci. Quite fancied her myself! Not that I would have…you know. Not what mates do, is it? But I don’t suppose you really want to hear about that either, do you?’

      ‘No. I don’t.’

      They sat in silence for a while, Paul none too subtly eyeing up a couple of girls in short skirts who had just wandered in and were trying to jostle their way into a narrow gap at the crowded bar.

      ‘Mmm, nice arse,’ he muttered, not quite to himself. ‘I bagsy the blonde.’

      ‘Don’t even think about it, mate. A quiet drink, you said. We are not here to pull.’

      ‘Speak for yourself! Anyway, it would do you good to get back in the saddle. You might be a bit out of practice after all this time, but you never forget, you know. It’s just like riding a bike, if you’ll excuse the expression. Not that you’ll get far with that ring still on your finger.’

      ‘Habit, that’s all.’

      ‘Right. But, as I was saying, when I’ve broken up with a girl, I always find that there’s no better cure than a bit more of the same. Hair of the dog, works every time, if you know what I mean.’

      Mark couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Yeah, right. Not that you’ve ever had to properly break up with anyone, because you’ve never actually had a relationship that’s lasted more than a couple of months! And can I remind you that I’m not just breaking up with some girl? Nicci’s my wife, my supposed to be forever girl. Or she was, anyway.’ He took a slug of beer and gave Paul a gentle nudge with his elbow. ‘Oh, go on, get over there and fill your boots if you must, but leave me out of it, okay? I’m not ready for any of that stuff. Not yet. And the way I’m feeling right now, not ever.’

      ‘No, you’re all right. I’ll leave it. Male solidarity, and all that. I’ll stop here with you. I figure your need is greater than mine. And they came in as a pair, so you can bet they won’t want to be separated. And even I, Casanova that I am, don’t have enough charm to take on the two of them by myself. And, besides, the next round is on you, so I can’t miss that. Just waiting to see those moths come flying out when you open up your wallet!’

      ‘Ha! The amount of money I’ve had to pay out lately, I’d be surprised if they can find anything left in there to feed off. What with the solicitors, and the deposit for the flat, and the rent. And I’m still having to cough up for half the bills at the house, not to mention the mortgage payments. It’s not where I’d imagined all our savings ending up. I’ll be glad when the whole sorry business is over, I can tell you.’

      ‘And you were always so sure exactly where you were heading. Your famous ten-year plan, remember? Fancy church wedding at twenty-five. A small house to get you started, then a move up to something bigger. With a real gardener’s garden, you said, whatever that meant. Two cars. And your first kid at thirty-five. A boy first, then maybe a girl later. As if you could pick and choose! I can still remember the day you drew it all out on the back of that soggy beer mat the night of your stag do. Before you got pissed, obviously. Like some kind of spider diagram, it was, your whole adult life sewn up before it had hardly started. Mr Organised!

      ‘I laughed about it then. We all did, but you nearly achieved it, didn’t you? Okay, so you didn’t actually get the bigger house but, let’s be honest, that was a bit ambitious on a bank clerk’s wages, and the one you’ve got – sorry, had – is still a darn sight better than the poky place I like to call home. It just seems a shame, that’s all I’m saying. You and Nic. A waste, you know…that you didn’t make it all the way to the two point four kids and the happy ever after. Don’t you think there might still be a chance…’

      ‘No, mate. Let’s not go there, okay? It’s over. The plan’s not worth the paper it was written on. Or the cardboard, to be more accurate. I may as well have ripped it up right from the start and saved myself all the hassle. And the cash. End of. It didn’t work out, but I’m okay about it. Over it. Really. Or I will be. Just give me time, that’s all.’

      And then, to the sound of raucous clapping, mainly from their own family and friends hogging the front row, the band came back on and, even though he couldn’t see much, Mark was able to turn his chair in their direction, which meant turning his back on Paul for a while, and he let his thoughts take over.

      End of? Was it really? He couldn’t forgive Nicci. Of course he couldn’t. And he couldn’t contemplate taking her back. What bloke could? But he did love her. Always had. Whatever she had done, and whatever СКАЧАТЬ