The Accidental Honeymoon. Portia MacIntosh

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СКАЧАТЬ Jack calls over an air hostess and orders my drink, I examine his body language. He’s not like John at all. He’s so cool, with his relaxed demeanour and easy, charming way with everyone he speaks to. He reminds me of how I used to be, or how I thought I was, at least. The day I met John I was on my way back from an audition for the role of a rich, suburban housewife. I’d wasted a lot of time and a lot of effort on a lot of failed auditions, but I still wasn’t ready to give up, so I decided to take the clichéd, ‘dress for the job you want’ advice and wore exactly what I imagined a snooty housewife would wear. Turning up in the type of outfit I usually wore, like a plaid shirt-dress and pair of Converse teamed with bright-red lipstick and too much eyeliner, wasn’t going to cut it. From my pastel lemon twinset to my pearls, to my minimal make-up and newly trimmed bob, I looked nothing like myself and everything like the kind of girl who would catch John’s attention, it turns out. I was walking down the street, the weight of the world on my lemon-clad shoulders after yet another rejection, when a man sitting outside a café struck up a conversation with me.

      ‘How can someone be so sad when it’s so sunny outside?’ he asked me from over his cappuccino, which, I suppose, is just a posh person’s way of saying ‘cheer up, love, it might never happen’. As we sat and chatted I learned all about the kind of person he was, and having realised it was the temporarily classy-looking me who’s caught his eye, I kept the image up when he asked me on our first date, and then our second, and then it just stuck. Dating an orchestral pianist, going to his performances and the swanky events that go with them, hanging around with his fancy friends… I had to keep it up, or I never would’ve fitted in. His friends would mock girls in yoga pants and boys in flip-flops, and I would keep my head down, my mouth shut, and the door to my flat full of offending outfits closed, because I loved John, and I wanted his people to accept me.

      Around the time I met him, I was starting to consider whether or not I should move back home. Not just because I missed my family, but because things weren’t really working out for me career-wise. Not only did he convince me I should stay because he’d help me find work (he’s worked on a few movie scores and said that he could introduce me to the right people in the industry – although that never happened), he promised me we’d start our own family someday.

      I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now; I should be filling Jack in on all the info he needs to pretend to be my elusive fiancé. It used to really upset me he wouldn’t let me put things on Facebook – I thought he was ashamed of me. But right now I couldn’t be more thankful, because the fewer people know about him, the fewer facts Jack and I will need to stick to. We can ad-lib the whole thing, and there will be no one with a dated timeline of information to fact-check any of it.

      I explain to Jack that no one knows too much about John, so it shouldn’t be too hard for him to keep up the act.

      ‘So, you’re an orchestral pianist,’ I remind him. ‘We live together in LA but you travel around a lot for work, and most of the time I go with you. I work different temp jobs, so it’s easy for me to take time off. I’m between jobs at the moment.’

      ‘Pretty sweet life you’ve got going on,’ he observes through a mouthful of breakfast.

      ‘Had going on,’ I correct him. ‘So, you love classical music, pop culture makes you angry, social media makes you furious—’

      ‘Do your family know this stuff?’ he interrupts.

      ‘They know he doesn’t have a web presence. Well, I mean, they’ve noticed he doesn’t.’

      ‘Do they know he’s boring and kind of a douchebag, though?’

      ‘He’s not…’ I jump to John’s defence then wonder why I’m bothering. ‘No, they don’t.’

      ‘Cool, so I can reinvent the guy, make him seem like you have better taste.’

      ‘Must you?’ I ask with a slight whine.

      Jack laughs as he polishes off the last of his meal, washing it down with the last of his champagne.

      ‘So, what kind of temp jobs do you do?’ he asks.

      ‘Erm, this and that. Office jobs, dog walking, marketing…’

      ‘Is that what you wanted to be?’

      ‘I wanted to be an actress – I still do. Things got put on hold when I met John. He was just so busy with work, and he was already established so…’

      It always sounds like an excuse, when I say it out loud.

      ‘How did your parents feel about you moving thousands of miles away to become an actress?’

      ‘Well, I moved away for uni, so they were happy I was studying. And they’re happy I’m happy there with John – was happy,’ I correct myself. In the midst of all this make-believe, I mustn’t forget what has actually happened. Life as I know it is over.

      Jack rubs his chin thoughtfully.

      ‘You got brothers or sisters?’

      ‘Two brothers,’ I reply. ‘Olly, who is a couple of years older than me. He’s like the model son because he’s got a good job and a house and a pregnant wife. Then there’s my little brother, Jacob, who’s currently studying for his A-levels. He’s eighteen.’

      ‘That’s a bit of an age gap,’ he observes. ‘So, he was how old when you moved to the States?’

      ‘My parents had Olly and me in their early twenties. My mum calls Jacob her “little surprise”, which I think means accident,’ I laugh. ‘He can’t have been more than nine or ten when I moved out.’

      ‘Would you say you’re close with your family?’

      ‘OK, now you’re just being nosey,’ I say with a laugh. ‘You can’t possibly need to know that.’

      ‘Just wondering,’ he replies.

      I’m definitely the unremarkable middle child in the Parker family. They think Olly is wonderful because he got a steady job selling double-glazing, a house, and a wife – and now he’s got a bun in the oven, he’s flying through the motions, just as my parents hoped he would. The thing about Olly is, he was always the most popular guy in school, and he always found it effortless to wiggle his way out of trouble – as far as my parents are concerned, he can still do no wrong. Even now we’re adults, he still tortures me and teases me in the way siblings do. Jacob is Olly’s opposite; he’s very quiet and keeps himself to himself. Studying is his number-one priority at the moment, and it’s hard to tease him for it, really, because he gets results. It seems like the As come easily to him, but I know he studies hard. Still, I wish he’d let his hair down a little bit sometimes. I suppose, because I moved away when Jacob was only ten years old, we haven’t really spent much time together.

      ‘Do I have any siblings?’ Jack asks me.

      I stare at him for a moment, wondering why he’s asking me, before I realise he means the role he’s playing.

      ‘Oh. No, you’re an only child.’

      ‘Well, that won’t be hard to fake,’ he says with a slight laugh. ‘I’m an only child.’

      ‘This is going to be OK, isn’t it?’ I ask him anxiously.

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