Love Is... - Haley Hill MIRA

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on her cheek. ‘That bastard might have cost me £1.3 million in settlement and my last fertile years, and…’ she pulled the skin tight on her face ‘…given me greater need for Botox, but now I’m rid of him.’ She punched the air again like a motivational speaker.

      The guests cheered and clapped and she gestured for me to bring her the tequila bottle.

      ‘As I said,’ she continued, having taken another swig, ‘some of you knew me before, and some of you knew me during. But everyone will know me after! Let’s get this party started!’

      Cassandra jumped down from the chair and the music was replaced by synthesised siren. A group of faux policemen stormed into the room. They had sunbed tans, thick thighs and crew cuts.

      Matthew caught my eye, with a ‘can we please leave now?’ expression.

      I glanced back at Cassandra, who had begun to emit a noise not dissimilar to that of a mating tree frog.

      Matthew immediately abandoned the redhead and shuffled up beside me nervously. The crowd, mostly comprising single women, parted and chanted as the dance troop ripped off their Velcro fastened trousers in one synchronised movement and went on to execute a choreographed ‘stop and search’ procedure, intermingled with an array of dance moves, which Matthew identified as the rear arrest, the handcuff hustle and the truncheon treadmill.

      Once the routine had finished, and the only garments that remained were black satin pouches, Cassandra lifted up her skirt and called out to the dancer with the largest bulge. I did a double take. He looked disconcertingly like Nick.

      ‘Officer,’ she said, slapping her bottom, ‘I’ve been a very naughty girl.’

      After she’d manhandled his pouch, she whispered something in his ear and slipped him a fifty-pound note, followed by a cheeky wink in Matthew’s direction.

      A short while later, after Matthew had been the non-consensual recipient of an extended lap dance from PC Schlong, he asked me if we could leave. I led him out of the house and closed the door closed behind us. He glanced around skittishly and then sped down the front path to hail a passing taxi.

      I giggled as we climbed in. ‘You can’t have the smooth without the rough,’ I said.

      He scowled at me. ‘There was no need for him to dangle the bloody thing in my face,’ he said.

      I giggled some more.

      ‘Stop laughing,’ he said, folding his arms and staring out the window.

      I leaned towards him and smirked. ‘You’ve still got some whipped cream on your chin,’ I said, still laughing.

      His hand flew to his face until he realised I was winding him up. Then he glared at me. ‘Speak about this to no one,’ he said.

      After I’d eventually managed to stifle my giggles, I shuffled up next to him.

      ‘Cheer up,’ I said. ‘We had fun tonight.’

      He sighed. ‘Well, I’m glad you had fun while I was being lap-raped by PC Right Said Fred.’

      I smirked. ‘So you didn’t have any fun at all? Not even squeezing Cassandra’s bottom?’

      He rolled his eyes.

      ‘Or checking out that redhead’s boob job?’

      ‘She was asking my opinion.’

      I sighed. ‘Because she thought you were gay.’

      ‘I can be objective.’

      I shook my head.

      He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Lucy wouldn’t care anyway.’

      ‘Really?’ I asked. ‘You have a clause in your marriage contract stating that objective assessment of non-spousal secondary sexual characteristics is permissible?’

      He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Something like that.’

      I raised an eyebrow. ‘Is everything OK with you two?’

      He folded his arms tightly across his chest. ‘It’s amazing. It really is.’ He forced a smile. ‘Since we chose to breed, our relationship has transcended that tiresome phase of animalistic passion and become a more spirit-centred union.’

      I frowned. ‘You mean spiritually centred?’

      ‘No, spirit. She drinks gin, I prefer vodka.’

      I slapped him on the arm. ‘Can you be serious for just one minute?’

      He sighed again and then gazed up to the roof of the taxi. ‘What do you want me to say, Ellie? It’s shit. My marriage is shit right now. It hasn’t always been and I’m hoping that it won’t always be, however, right now, it’s shit.’

      I turned to him with a scowl. ‘You’ve got two beautiful children, a gorgeous home and a wife who loves you. You’re so lucky, Matthew. You should be grateful.’

      ‘Oh yes, because you think having a family is the key to your happiness. Ellie, you spent years thinking the perfect man was the key to happiness. When are you going to realise?’

      ‘Realise what? That you like willies?’

      He rolled his eyes. ‘That there is no key…’

      I stared at him.

      He turned to me. ‘You want to know the truth?’

      ‘Go on then,’ I said, half smiling.

      ‘I enjoyed looking at that girl’s boobs tonight, because I’ve forgotten what a normal pair looks like. In the past two years, Lucy’s have been swollen, veiny and grotesque, if not leaking milk or infected. Her nipples have been cracked and furred with thrush. And now, when finally they’ve been handed back to me, empty sacks lined with stretch marks, she worries they don’t turn me on. And, as much as I love her, as much as I want them to and as much as I reassure her otherwise, we both know deep down that she’s right.’ He turned to me. ‘You think having babies will complete the you and Nick white-picket-fence happy-ever-after. Well, it won’t.’

      I smirked. ‘You’re just grumpy because you’ve had a ten-inch penis slapped in your face.’

      He glared at me. ‘Having kids changes everything, Ellie. I love Zach and Angelica, but Lucy’s the one who wanted them. Then straight away she went back to work leaving me at home to wipe bottoms and boil pasta.’ He looked down. ‘She treats me like I’m staff. You should hear her: “Matthew, pick up the dry-cleaning. Matthew, clean the windows. Matthew, did you call the upholsterer? Matthew, are you listening to me? Matthew. Matthew!” She’s lost all respect for me.’

      ‘No, she hasn’t.’

      He rolled his eyes and let out a protracted sigh. ‘Well, why else did she shag her boss then?’

      For the rest of the taxi journey, we didn’t speak. I knew there was nothing I could say that would lessen his pain. I squeezed his hand and we stared out the window.

      ‘Not a word to anyone,’ he said, as he climbed out the taxi.

      I nodded.

      ‘About PC Schlong, I mean. I have a reputation to uphold.’

      I’d prefer to think it was because I was starting to feel like myself again, rather than a fear of ending up like Matthew and Lucy. Or worse, Cassandra and Richard. Either way, as I climbed into bed and snuggled up next to Nick, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months. I leaned over and kissed him. I could tell he’d been drinking again but this time it didn’t bother me. I kissed him again, and he kissed me back.

      That night, making babies was the furthest thought from my mind.

      First thing on Monday morning, I noticed a voicemail from Cassandra.

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