My Not So Perfect Life(74)

I feel a surge of hatred that’s a bit like bile but manage to suppress it under a smile.

“So!” I greet her. “Demeter! Welcome to our bespoke nature walk. We’ll head up into the woods, stretch our legs, and see a huge variety of wildlife. Sound good?”

“Well, all right.” Demeter looks a bit unconvinced. “Is there a lot to see in the woods?”

“Oh yes,” I say, with a bland smile. “Don’t worry. You won’t be bored. Do you have sunscreen on?” I add. “It’s hot today.”

It’s not just hot, it’s baking. Biddy slathered all the children with sunscreen earlier on, and she’s made some ice lollies, which will be ready for lunchtime.



“I’m wearing factor fifty, actually,” says Demeter smugly. “I use this wonderful brand which I get at Space NK; it has neroli oil and argan milk—”

“Great,” I cut her off before she can do my head in with her boasting. “Let’s start, then.”

I only mentioned sunscreen to sound professional. Where Demeter’s going, she won’t need sunscreen. Mwah-ha-ha-ha.

I lead the way briskly across the fields, the blood pumping through my veins. I’m a little hyper this morning. I woke at 5:00 A.M., fully alert, my head already full of Demeter.

And Alex. Both, I suppose.

OK, full disclosure: My head was actually full of Alex, with Demeter popping in for the odd cameo. Which is ridiculous. This is a guy I met a handful of times. A guy who’ll have already forgotten I exist. Why should he have got inside my brain? Why should I feel so…what, exactly?

Betrayed. That’s what I feel, I realize. I feel betrayed that he should go for someone like Demeter, who’s so married, so inappropriate, so Demeter-ish. When he could have had—

Well. All right. Before I sound totally tragic, here’s the thing. I’m not just saying, Oh, I wish he’d fallen in love with meeee….I mean, obviously I do wish that, kind of. But it’s bigger than that. It’s like: Are you really a Demeter person, Alex? Because I can’t see it. She doesn’t have your humor. She doesn’t have your flippant airiness, your live-wire irreverence. I can’t see the pair of you gelling, I just can’t, I can’t, I can’t…

“Sorry?” says Demeter, and I realize I’m muttering, “I can’t,” under my breath.



“Just doing a Vedari chant,” I say hastily. “Helps me focus. Now, keep your eyes peeled for voles.”

“Voles!” exclaims Demeter.

“They’re tiny creatures, rather like mice, but much more special.” I nod. “And there are stacks of them in this field.”

There’s no chance that she’ll catch sight of a vole, but at least it’ll keep her off my case for a bit. Sure enough, we walk on in silence, Demeter determinedly scanning the ground.

“So!” As we arrive at the edge of the woods, I turn like a tour leader. “Welcome to Ansters Woods. In here we’ll find a biodiverse world of animals, plants, and even fish, all working together in harmony.”

“Fish?” queries Demeter, and I nod.

“There are streams and ponds in the woods which are home to several very rare species.”

Which is, you know. Probably true. Whatever.

I’ve deliberately headed toward the thickest, most tangled part of the wood, and Demeter’s eyeing the brambles nervously. Well, what an idiot she is, wearing shorts.

“Ow!” Demeter’s voice suddenly rings out. “I’ve been stung by a nettle!”

“Bad luck,” I say blandly. As we walk on, I can’t help adding, “The trick with nettles is to grasp them. Grasp the nettle and everything will be OK. Don’t you agree?”

I can’t tell if Demeter gets the reference or not. She’s staring at the overgrown path ahead and seems unnerved.

“Don’t worry,” I say reassuringly. “I’ll cut us through the undergrowth. Keep close behind me and that way you’ll find it easier.”

I take a long, whippy stick and start slashing through the bushes, accidentally on purpose using such a vigorous, wheeling motion that I catch Demeter on the leg too.



“Ow!” she says.

“Oh, sorry,” I say in an innocent tone. “I totally didn’t mean to do that. Let’s carry on. Look around and you’ll see birch, ash, and sycamore trees, as well as oaks.” I give her about thirty seconds to peer at the trees, then continue: “So, what are you up to tonight, Demeter? It’s just you and the kids, isn’t it? You must be feeling so sad that your husband’s gone. So lonely, all alone in your yurt. Just you, no one else.”

As I speak, I feel resentment simmering. Look at her, in her denim shorts, catching some sun, revving up for a night of torrid sex.

“I know; it’s a shame. Just one of those things,” says Demeter with a shrug. She’s peering at the trees around us. “So, which is the sycamore?”

“I mean, you came here as a family.” I smile so hard, my cheeks start to tremble. “With your lovely husband who you made those special vows to. How long have you been married?”

“What?” Demeter looks puzzled. “Um…eighteen years. No, nineteen.”

“Nineteen years! Congratulations! You must really, really love him!”