The Dead Wife's Handbook (15 page)

‘And what would you make of
my
face, if you were photographing me?’

Sadie turns her body away from Max and looks back over her shoulder at him in a deliberately exaggerated imitation of a model’s pose. She laughs at herself with affected embarrassment.

Does she really imagine – for a second – that anyone’s buying this faux-demure act?

‘I’d say that you were a very fine subject. Great posture, clear skin, captivating eyes. I wouldn’t even need to light you to capture those cheekbones.’

Is it my imagination or is Max actually flirting with her?

Sadie bows her head and looks up at him, Princess Diana style, through almost certainly false eyelashes.

‘Perhaps we should collaborate artistically? Maybe I should, you know, commission you to take some photos of me for one of my shows? We could be like Lee Miller and Man Ray.’

Max smiles at her in response, a smile imbued with invitation and appeal, and it delivers the awful, nauseating confirmation I don’t want to receive. He’s actually attracted to her.

How can I have judged this one so poorly? How can Max, for that matter?

‘I’m not sure I’m quite in Man Ray’s league, but that sounds like it could be fun. We should make a date. But right now I need a trip to the little boys’ room – just excuse me for a sec, will you?’

The little boys’ room? Since when did Max start expressing himself in childish euphemisms?

On his way out, Max grabs Connor and I follow the pair of them into the toilets. I don’t generally make a habit of eavesdropping on urinal-based conversations but these are exceptional circumstances and there have to be some advantages to being a dead wife, after all.

‘I think she might quite like me. Do you think she likes me?’

‘Of course she likes you, little bro. What’s not to like? Just call me Cupid and thank me later.’

‘What do you think I should do? God, it’s been so long I don’t even know what the protocol is any more.’

‘Just carry on doing what you’ve been doing for the past three hours. It seems to be going down a treat if her flashing her thighs at you every five seconds is anything to go by. Trust me, Max. You’re in there.’

‘You really think so? You don’t think she’s – you know – out of my league?’

Max checks his reflection in the mirror as if to remind himself what he’s got on offer. I don’t know whether to be
annoyed that he fancies her or irritated that he might imagine for a second that she’s a better catch than he is.

‘What are you talking about, Maxy? There’s no one too good for my little brother. I wouldn’t have set you up with her if I thought she was out of your league, would I?’

‘But she’s so … I dunno … self-assured. I’ve never really met anyone quite like her before. What on earth is she going to see in me?’

‘Not a lot if you carry on acting like such an idiot. Just go for it, Maxy. What have you got to lose? It’s about bloody time you had a bit of fun.’

Connor issues a gesture of encouragement in the form of a drunken man-hug while the two of them declare their love for one another in an exchange I doubt either of them will recollect in the morning.

I think I’d throw up if there was anything left in my stomach to purge. He can’t really be about to make a pass at her. Can he? What will I do if he does? What will I do if he does and she reciprocates and I’m there to see it in all its gruesome technicolour glory? Watching him flirt with her has been nauseating enough. Witnessing him going any further – that’s got to be every woman’s worst nightmare, hasn’t it, dead or alive?

As Max and Connor stumble out of the toilets, I spy Sadie sitting at the table, head down, deep in clandestine conversation with Connor’s date. I hurry ahead of the boys just in time to catch the final snippets of Sadie’s confession.

‘He’s a nice enough guy but he’s not, you know, electrifying. Not really my cup of tea at all, to be honest. I’m not sure what Connor was thinking. Guess he just felt, you
know, sorry for his little brother. If you don’t mind I think I’m going to head off soon. You’ll be okay with Connor, won’t you? Looks like you two are really hitting it off, lucky thing.’

Sadie and her friend giggle conspiratorially as they’re joined by my hopeful husband and his misguided brother.

I hang uselessly above them, racking my brains to determine if there’s any way – any way on earth or beyond – that I can warn Max about what I’ve overheard. There must be some means I can employ to communicate with him or what’s the point of my being here? What’s the point of being able to see and hear all of this if not to help protect Max from a humiliation he’s so far from being ready to suffer?

Maybe there’s some telepathic way I could contact him, like an extrasensory equivalent of the silent looks we used to give one another across dinner-party tables or at crowded birthday parties, the looks that conveyed we were ready to go home or that we wanted a drink refill or that the person we were talking to was a bore and we were in need of the swiftest of rescues.

I close my eyes and visualize Max arriving back at the table and making the politest of excuses before heading home alone. Perhaps if I focus really hard he might just pick up on some signal from beyond the grave, a signal that might just spare him imminent embarrassment.

I open my eyes to see Max picking up not his coat but Sadie’s glass and handing it to his brother by way of ordering another round of drinks. He’s flushed and grinning, just edging over the precipice of tipsiness into the swell of inebriation.

‘Come on, you. Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone.’

As Connor shepherds his date back to the bar, Sadie looks at her friend with the faintest of frowns that only someone attuned to her intentions would detect.

‘You know what you were saying earlier, about us collaborating some time? Well, maybe we should start by me coming to see one of your performances? Maybe I could get a personal invite?’

Max places a hand on top of Sadie’s and looks directly into her eyes with a combination of lust, hope and fear. He’s flirting with her. He’s actually flirting. A little unsubtly and definitely drunkenly, but he’s flirting nonetheless.

I don’t know what’s more uncomfortable: watching Max flirt with a woman I’d never have imagined him finding attractive in a million years or watching Max flirt with a woman I pre-emptively know is going to reject him.

Whichever it is, I feel woefully unprepared to witness this.

I close my eyes and try to will myself away, hoping that the rarity of the wish will increase the likelihood of it being granted. But when I open them again, I’m looking down on the table where my husband is still in the process of grinning inanely at the woman with whom it would appear he’d like to spend the night.

Sadie glances down at his hand on hers and then back at Max with an expression of sympathy. As she pulls her immaculately manicured fingers from under his and back into her lap, she smiles at him, not her coquettish smile this time, but rather the consolatory smile, the one that tells him he hasn’t won first prize this time.

‘Now, I wouldn’t want to be seen to be giving out special favours, would I? You’ve no idea how jealous my fans can get. Just look up dates and venues on my website and I’ll expect to see you in the audience soon.’

She opens her clutch bag and pulls out a compact which she flips open to obscure Max’s view of her before theatrically powdering her nose.

Max looks momentarily confused. I don’t blame him. Every discernible sign has been pointing him in the direction of mutual attraction, only for him to find himself rebuffed at the eleventh hour. It would confound even the most confident of suitors and Max is far from that at the moment.

Who does this woman think she is? And how dare she not be interested in Max, how dare she not think him ‘electrifying’ enough, how dare she pull her hand away from his when I’d give anything – anything at all – to be touched by Max just one more time.

I could strangle Connor right now.

‘Well, I might just have to do that. And perhaps, maybe, I could take you for a drink afterwards?’

Max doesn’t seem to have understood the conclusiveness of the rejection he’s already suffered and it’s hardly surprising. Connor’s led Max into an exaggerated state of romantic confidence while Sadie’s led him into a false sense of flirtatious security; it’s a lethal combination. No wonder he thinks there’s still a chance of a happy ending.

Sadie looks at her watch.

‘You know, it’s getting pretty late. I think I might head home, if that’s okay with you?’

‘Oh, really? I think Connor’s getting us some more drinks. Won’t you stay for one more at least?’

Sadie bites her bottom lip coquettishly before producing yet another of her dazzling smiles aimed at masking the hypocrisy of the brush-off she’s delivering. This woman can’t put a lid on her flirtations even when she’s in the throes of a dismissal.

‘Not for me, sadly. I’ve got work to do tomorrow. There’s no rest for wicked artists at the weekend, you know. You’ll say goodbye to the others for me, won’t you?’

Max nods, half-heartedly, as he stands up to help her on with her coat.

‘Enjoy the rest of your evening. And I’m sure I’ll see you around, you know, at one of your brother’s infamous parties.’

Sadie places a patronizing hand on Max’s arm who responds with a stoical smile, albeit perhaps a little too apologetically for the sake of dignity on either side. He leans over to kiss Sadie goodbye, but she turns her head away dismissively, leaving Max no option but to kiss the air beside her cheek instead. And with that she sweeps out of the club and out of Max’s life, almost certainly forever.

As Max stands by the table, engulfed by his own bemusement, Connor bounds over with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other.

‘I thought I’d help spice things up for you two. Where is she? Gone to the ladies to freshen up for you, has she?’

Max looks blankly at his brother as if only semi-aware of his presence.

‘Max. What are you looking at me like a moron for? Just take the bottle and the glasses and enjoy a late night tipple on me.’

As Connor bangs the bottle down on the table, Max emerges from his private reverie.

‘She’s gone.’

‘What, to the loo? It’s fine, it’ll still be cold when she gets back.’

‘No. She’s gone home. She’s left. I don’t get it.’

‘Nah, you must be mistaken. She’s probably just gone to powder her nose. You know what women are like. I’ll get Saskia to go and check on her if you like.’

‘No, Connor, you’re not listening. She’s gone home. She told me she was going home. As soon as we got back from the toilets she couldn’t get out of here quick enough. I don’t understand.’

Now it’s Connor’s turn to look perplexed. He stares at the door for a few seconds, then at Sadie’s empty chair, then at Max before repeating the drunken charade twice more until the penny finally drops.

‘Well that’s bloody weird. Sorry, mate. Don’t know what happened there. I thought you and her were a dead cert this evening. But don’t look so miserable. The night’s still young. Let me retrieve Saskia from the bar and we’ll do a quick tour of this place to find you someone else.’

Max shrugs Connor’s heavy arm from where it’s slumped over his shoulders and pulls his coat wearily from the back of his chair.

‘I don’t think so. I’m going to call it a night.’

‘What? Don’t be stupid. This place doesn’t close for hours yet.’

‘I’m going home. I should never have come in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking letting you talk me into this. I knew it was a mistake.’

‘Hey, bro, don’t be so down on it all. So one woman gives you the brush off? So what? Plenty more fish in the sea. Especially in a place like this. Come on, have a glass of champagne.’

‘No, thanks, I’ve had enough. I’m an idiot. I acted like an idiot and I just want to go home.’

‘Don’t be soft. Course you didn’t. It’s just the way these things roll sometimes.’

‘No, it’s not. Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m just not ready for all this. Maybe I’ve been out of the game too long to know how to play it any more. And after tonight I’m not sure I can be bothered to relearn the rules. Thanks for trying, really, but I think I’m just going to sit on the bench a while longer.’

Max starts to put his coat on but Connor pulls it out of his hands and takes his brother by the shoulders.

‘Listen, you cannot get freaked out by one single rejection. I know it’s been a while but you’ll soon get into the swing of things again. Tonight was just supposed to be a bit of fun. You didn’t expect to be running off into the sunset together, did you?’

‘No, of course I didn’t. But I didn’t expect to get it quite so wrong either. I don’t want to get back into the swing of things if those things involve dates with women who are impossible to read and pretending that I’m in any
way over Rachel, because I’m not. I should have listened to myself. I’m just not ready.’

‘Okay, bro. Go home and get some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow and perhaps you’ll feel a bit more upbeat about things.’

‘I don’t think so, but thanks anyway. You can’t say I didn’t give it a go. But I think it’s best all round if I just give up on all this dating malarkey.’

The boys have one last hug before Max heads for the exit and out into the streets of Mayfair.

As he pulls out his phone to check for messages he stops in his tracks, phone in hand, staring at the screen in his palm. I hover over his shoulder and am greeted by my own smiling face beaming back at me, Max to my left and Ellie on my lap, the three of us grinning in the face of the windswept Dorset beach we’re sitting on. I remember us asking a sweet elderly couple to take the photo, him insisting he knew how to use the ‘newfangled’ camera phone, his wife raising an affectionately doubtful eyebrow and proving to know his capabilities better than he did as he fiddled frustratedly with the buttons until finally, possibly more by luck than judgement, he took that lovely shot. The shot that Max must still look at every time he makes a phone call and which he’s gazing at now with only his own, private thoughts for company.