Page 66 of Paper Roses

Raff’s voice is a welcome interruption. I turn my head to see him approaching us, Joe at his side. They’re both bundled up in coats, and Raff’s strawberry-blond hair is a bright splash of colour on this cold morning.

Raff directs a curious look between us and then smiles. It’s the socially calming smile he employs with nervous brides and grooms. “Lovely morning,” he says congenially, threading his arm through mine and giving it a squeeze. “Just right for the monthly meeting where Jed will inevitably deliver a fulsome eulogy to me.”

“I’d be very happy to oblige you with one of those today,” Jed says, distracted. He fixes a stern gaze on me. “Artie, I need to speak to you.”

“Can it wait?” The words are practically a shout. I no longer seem capable of controlling my tone or volume.

Jed’s eyes widen, and he takes a small step back.

“Raff and I have to get the coffee.” I put on a big smile, but from the way they’re all staring at me, it’s not convincing.

“Come along, Raff,” I command, ignoring Jed’s urgent call.

Raff and I stride across the square and down a side street leading to an Italian deli where I often buy coffee.

I hear rushed footsteps and then Joe appears beside us.

“Sorry to butt in,” he says. “But I’m not staying behind with Jed. He looks like his head is going to explode, and I’m wearing Prada.”

“Can I just enquire if we’re going for coffee or marching to repel an alien force that’s landed on Buckingham Palace?” Raff sounds slightly out of breath.

I slow down a little. “Sorry. I’m just very cross.”

“Please don’t be sorry,” he says earnestly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cross. It’s vastly entertaining to someone who it’s not directed at.” I glare at him, and he falters. “Or not.” He offers with a winning smile.

Joe groans. “Just ignore Raff from now until eternity.”

“Marriage is hard,” I say. We enter the deli, and I inhale the scent of fresh coffee from the huge machine near the door.

“You’re telling me, mate,” Raff says. “It’s especially hard trying to navigate the relationship waters between a couple when one of them wants a seventies theme at their wedding and the other desires restrained elegance.” I stare at him, and he winces. “Sorry. I’ve got a meeting with a client this afternoon, and I have to tell him his bride-to-be has vetoed shag carpeting, patterned wallpaper, and a hookah bar.”

My mouth twitches in amusement. He has this effect on me. “Sorry for earlier. Jed just pissed me off.”

His whole face comes alive with interest. “And you should of course only feel free to confide in me if you really want to,” he intones. “No pressure to spill the details at all.”

Joe groans. “You lie.”

“Of course I do. This isJed. Mr Perfect. I’ll give you five hundred quid if you tell me what he’s done, Artie.”

I gape at him. “Five hundred pounds?”

“Oh, okay a fiver. Stan’s spent our household budget on vinyl again this month.”

I smile at the thought of Raff’s fiancé. “Stan is so lovely.”

“Far too lovely for Raff,” Joe mutters. “But then that’s Stan’s particular cross to bear in life.” He winces as Raff pokes him in the ribs.

Raff turns back to me. His humour has vanished, and he gives me a kind look. “Relationships aren’t easy, Artie.”

“Watching Raff give advice is like observing a slow-motion train wreck,” Joe says conversationally.

“The main problem with relationships,” Raff continues loudly, glaring at Joe before turning back to me, “is that a lot of people expect that after they’ve found their dream partner, the rest of their lives will be as smooth as good custard.”

“And those expectations are wrong?”

“Of course,” he says. “A good partner will stand next to you while you navigate the shit parts of life. They won’t eradicate it from your life altogether.”

“Wise words.”

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