Page 15 of Mad About You

Eesh, Harriet had forgot that. Jon had produced a bottle worth a grand when everyone was in their cups. It looked flash but put everyone on edge, suddenly having to switch from post-prandial, carefree raucousness to mumbling their polite appreciation as he somewhat pompously talked them through its ‘cherry and blackcurrant nose’. They’d had tense words afterwards; Jon confused that largesse could ever be taken badly.

‘If he’d worked in Specsavers, the Barraclough grift would’ve been much shorter,’ Lorna concluded.

‘I don’t see how that isn’t on me though, if you’re saying I wouldn’t have stayed if he was skint?’

‘It wasn’t that you wanted him to spend money on you but … He created gratitude in you. Constantly. You felt gratitude that he was so obsessed with you, and gratitude at all his mad spoiling to demonstrate it, and that gratitude made you think you owed him the relationship. He used his spendingtoobligeyou and control things. It wasn’t generosity, it was a messed-up power dynamic.’

Harriet grimaced. She’d have to think on this, but she didn’t see how she could be innocent. Then again, she remembered times when trying to go Dutch with Jon caused such a fraught showdown, she gave up. It was, she realised with hindsight, disempowering.

‘Nor did he remotely pass my Day Three At Glastonbury test,’ Lorna said. ‘Which is foolproof, in my opinion.’

‘What’s that again?’

‘It’s the third day of the festival. It’s a rainy, muddy year, someone in the chemical truck that cleans the Portaloos has pressed the wrong button and sprayed gallons of actual human shit straight into the dance tent, covering both of you. You’re subsisting on those foil trays of compacted noodles that have three slivers of greasy onion in them, the cider hangover’s kicking you like a donkey. Toploader are the Sunday headliner. But. Are you having a laugh about it?’

‘That is a harsh test, Lorna.’

‘Born of much experience. If it’s right, terrible adversity somehow makes your chemistry shine brighter. That’s when you find out if it’s genuine joy in each other’s company: if it can make the worst times good, or reveal if your relationship relies on all the trappings.’

‘I’m never going to meet anyone that makes me think not being coated in faeces is a “trapping”.’

They looked at each other and both collapsed in laughter. Harriet felt a pang of guilt at Jon’s disgust if he witnessed the scene.

‘Apologies, I know I’m being Lorna Plus tonight. I’m so glad you’ve seen the light. Also,’ Lorna spoke more quickly: ‘You wanted kindness, and I know why. I’m sure itfeltkind.’

Their eyes met and Harriet’s throat felt tight. They rarely spoke about Before Jon, but somehow it was always there, like a sleep paralysis demon squatting in the bedroom shadows.

Lorna returned to a lighter tone: ‘I was starting to get seriously worried. I gave you and him eighteen months, tops. This is why, if you’d told me you’d said yes this weekend, I was going to have to put our friendship on the line to sayoh no you fucking don’t. Good women are not a rewards system for silly men.’

Harriet hooted. ‘It wouldn’t have put it on the line.’

‘Might’ve ruled me out as a bridesmaid though, huh?’ Lorna said. ‘How’s living in Jon’s spare room going? Was it a headache choosing which one?’

‘It’s … bad,’ Harriet said. ‘But only because I feel so bad about it. Jon’s being nice and giving me space. Of which there’s lots anyway, as you say.’

‘Is he now. We need you out sharpish, then. Rox will have somewhere.’ Their friend Roxanne was an estate agent for a company that did lettings as well as sales. She normally completed what Lorna called their ‘Dark Triad’ but had an unmissable work event that evening, if drinking acidic warm white wine with honking Hoorays in Hackett shirts was unmissable.

‘I’m also relieved that you didn’t marry Jon, buy a house with him, have kids, and only then come to your senses,’ Lorna said. ‘He was super nice as a partner, but I predict he’d be one hell of a vindictive ex if you had to unentangle anything.’

‘Jon?! No,’ Harriet laughed, and she was gratified to be completely sure of herself for once in this conversation. ‘He couldn’t be more considerate and respectful. I was even surprised he swore at me in the conversation when I finished it.’

‘Harriet, you only know Boyfriend Jon, not Business Jon. I doubt Captain Gravy got to be MD by cuddling everyone.’

Harriet laughed again, shaking her head.

‘He’s currently trying to develop a macaroni and cheese with kale, he’s not Tony Soprano.’

‘As I say, I’m glad he has no hooks in you, so we’re never going to find out.’

An hour and a half later, feeling the most stable she’d felt in days thanks to Lorna’s support, Harriet got back to Jon’s house, and found a note stuck to the fridge:

H (only if you want to!) pots labelled 1, 2 and 3 are a baba ganoush recipe we’re trying out, let me know which you like? Pretty sure 2 is shower grout, not to unduly influence the results. Jx

Lorna was right about so much, but wrong about Jon.

9

Jon had been the final date in a string of about a dozen woeful encounters, transacted via an app to find your soulmate. It trumpeted that it was ‘designed to be deleted’. Harriet certainly agreed with this description, as time went on.

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