“Ava, sweets, you look a bit shit, if you don’t mind me saying so. Are you coming down with something?”
“No.” I hesitate. “It’s just…”
“What?” demands Nell.
“I can’t sleep at Matt’s place,” I admit. “His bedroom’s freezing. And his bed is like a plank of wood.”
“Have you told him his bed is like a plank of wood?” queries Nell.
“Yes. But he says it’s really comfortable and he has no idea what I’m talking about.” As I look at my friends, I can feel my veneer slipping a little. “Look, Matt and I are compatible. We really are. But there are just a few tiny areas where we need to find a middle ground.”
“Oh, Ava.” Sarika wraps her arms around me, laughing. “You’re a love. I’m sure you’ll make it work, but not if you float around in denial.”
“If his art collection is the worst thing, it’s not so bad.” Nell shrugs.
They’re both being so nice and supportive, I feel a sudden urge to confide in them fully.
“It’s not the worst thing,” I confess. “The worst thing is I met his parents and they hate me.”
(I can’t admit the worst thing is I keep googling his ex-girlfriend. That does not sound cool.)
“How can they hate you already?” Sarika looks astounded, so I tell her and Nell about the book and Genevieve’s face being ripped in two, and they both burst into fresh hysterics.
“Glad you think it’s funny,” I say morosely.
“Sorry,” says Sarika, calming down. “But honestly, Ava, you do get into situations.”
“What about this ex-girlfriend?” says Nell, her eyes narrowing. “Is she an issue?”
“Dunno. There are two ex-girlfriends, actually. Or maybe three. But it’s Genevieve who works for the family company. And his parents love her.”
“Well, sod his parents,” says Nell robustly. “Ignore them. Refuse to engage, if they can’t be more polite.”
But already Sarika’s shaking her head.
“Bad strategy. Ava, you don’t want them complaining about you to Matt, putting a wedge between you. I’d say go the other way. Win his parents over. Go on a charm offensive.”
“Why the hell should Ava have to go on a charm offensive?” says Nell combatively, and Sarika sighs.
“She shouldn’t. I’m just being pragmatic.”
Nell rolls her eyes. “You’re such a bloody lawyer,” she says, and Sarika grins, because she and Nell have some version of this argument about three times a year. (Usually in the context of Nell telling Sarika to leave her job and her shitty bosses and stick it to the man. Whereupon Sarika ignores her advice, stays, and gets a pay rise.)
“Ava, Matt’s parents will love you,” reiterates Sarika, putting a hand on my arm. “They just don’t know you yet. You need to spend time with them. Next time Matt visits his parents, go along too. Bond with them. And don’t take Harold.”
“Sarika’s right,” chimes in Nell. “Don’t take Harold. I’ll have him.”
“But—”
“If you take Harold, it’s over,” Sarika cuts me off bluntly. “You think ripping the ex’s face in half was bad? Wait till he eats the lunch.”
“Or all the shoes,” says Nell.
“Or the priceless new goose-down pillow.”
They both gaze at me adamantly, and I fold my arms, not wanting to admit they have a point.
“Let’s wait till I get an invitation, shall we?”
“Anyway, I think Matt’s lovely,” says Sarika supportively. “What does he think of us?”
“Oh, he loves you,” I say automatically, then suddenly focus on Matt, who is approaching over the grass. He’s holding about ten bags of crisps in his arms, accompanied by Maud, who is talking very intently at him in a way I recognize.
“Oh God,” I say. “Maud’s got him.”
“Shit,” says Nell.
“Uh-oh,” says Sarika, biting her lip.
“I told him to say no,” I say. “I told him! But look at him, nodding away!”
“Poor love,” says Sarika, laughing. “Didn’t stand a chance.”
Matt is clearly captivated by Maud. I mean, everyone’s captivated by Maud, what with her amazing auburn hair and lustrous eyes and instant way of making you feel you’re special. He’s still nodding, and she’s clutching his arm, and as they get nearer, I hear her saying, “Thank you so much,” in her confident, penetrating voice. “You’re such a star, Matt. So, you’ll phone the storage company, will you?”
“Er…no problem,” says Matt, sounding a bit startled.
“You’re an angel.” Maud bats her eyelashes at him. “Now, tell me, you don’t know any MPs, do you? Because—”
“Maud!” I cut her off brightly. “Happy birthday!”
“Oh, thank you!” says Maud, blinking at me as though this greeting is a complete surprise. “What a lovely day.”
“Where are the children?” inquires Nell, and Maud looks around vaguely.
“They were here….Now, Matt, that reminds me, you don’t have an electric mower by any chance, do you?”
“No, he doesn’t,” I say quickly. “Matt, a word?”
I drag him away a little distance and say in a stern undertone, “You have to say ‘no’ to Maud, remember? We went over this.”
“I’m not just going to say a flat ‘no’ when someone asks me a favor,” says Matt, frowning. “I’m a decent human being.”
“That’s how she gets to you!” I retort. “She makes you feel like a decent human being, she flutters her eyelashes gratefully…and then boom. You’ve been got. I love Maud, but it’s true.”
Matt laughs and bends to kiss me.
“Thanks for your concern,” he says. “But I can look after myself.”
Fourteen
Famous last words. Sure enough, two hours later, Matt looks utterly beleaguered. God knows what he’s agreed to do for Maud, but she’s been monopolizing him and saying things like “I’ll text you the details” and even handing him Royal Mail notices about parcels. In the last conversation between them, I overheard the phrases “passport office,” and “school run,” and “so kind.”
Well, he’ll learn.
By now we’re all sprawled on the picnic rugs, searching for the last of the cava. Maud’s children were eventually located trying to cadge food from another family picnic and corralled back to ours. Now, having heard that Matt does martial arts, they’re attacking him with “kung fu” punches.
“I’m going to beat you up!” Bertie yells at Matt for about the hundredth time.
“Stop it, Bertie, my love,” says Maud, glancing up briefly. “Matt, I’m so sorry, only he does adore martial arts.”
“It’s fine,” says Matt good-humoredly, although I see him flinch as Bertie prepares to kickbox him again.
“I’ve found it,” Nell addresses Matt, looking up from her phone. “ ‘The fundamental problems with Harriet’s House: a feminist viewpoint.’ It’s a blog. I knew I’d seen it. Have you read it?”
“Can’t remember, I’m afraid,” says Matt, looking even more beleaguered. He and Nell have been debating Harriet’s House all afternoon—at least, Nell has been telling him how patriarchal and misogynistic it is, and he’s been occasionally offering replies like, “We have a new feminist line of character dolls,” which barely causes her to break stride.
“ ‘Who buys into this capitalist, exploitative version of girlhood?’ ” Nell reads out with a thunderous frown. “ ‘What architects of bullshit think to create such a misleading fantasy world?’ You should read the piece, Matt,” she adds, offering him her phone. “It’s good.”
“Right,” says Matt, without moving to take the phone. “Yes. Maybe later— Oof!”
Bertie has landed a vicious blow on Matt’s chest, and finally Maud raises her voice.
“Bertie! Stop attacking Matt! Just…You mustn’t…” She takes another gulp of cava, then heaves a massive sigh. “Oh God. It’s my birthday.”
I exchange looks with Nell and Sarika, because this is what always happens on Maud’s birthday. She gets drunk and morose and starts saying she’s ancient and usually ends up weeping in a taxi.
“I’m so old,” she says, right on cue. “So old. Where’s the other bottle?”
As she gets to her feet, she sways dangerously on her wedges, and I see that she’s been quietly getting more drunk than I’ve realized.
“Maud, you’re not old,” I say reassuringly, as I always do. But she ignores me, as she always does.
“How did we get this old?” she says with a dramatic flourish, grabbing the last full bottle of cava and swigging from it. “How? You realize we’re going to disappear?” She narrows her eyes. “We’ll be invisible women, all of us. Ignored and belittled.” She takes another glug of cava and sweeps a hand around to include all of us. “That’s the wretched society we live in. But I won’t be invisible, OK?” she gives a sudden impassioned cry, gesticulating with the cava bottle. “I refuse to disappear! I will not be invisible!”
I bite my lip to suppress a smile, because Maud could not be invisible if she tried, with her flowing vivid hair and maxi dress patterned with pink and violet flowers. Not to mention the cava bottle in her raised hand. In fact, the people at the next picnic rug have turned to stare at her.
“I exist,” she proclaims, even more passionately. “I exist. OK? I exist.”
I glance at Matt and he’s staring up at Maud, looking freaked out.