The Marriage Act(54)



But tonight’s version of Arthur Foley was a very different man from the one his colleagues might remember. Because preparing to meet the woman he had selected from a matchmaking service terrified him.

He shrank so far into a quiet snug inside the Fox & Hounds country pub in the village of Harleston that he worried he might fold in on himself. Arthur was so far removed from his comfort zone that he could no longer see it from where he was sitting. When sweat developed under his arms and dripped down his sides, he rolled an ice cube inside his mouth to cool himself down. To calm his nerves, he swigged a large mouthful of whiskey and Coke. His stress levels and heart rate escalated so much that even his Smart watch asked him if he was in need of medical assistance.

Toni Cooper was punctual, opening the door at exactly seven p.m. Arthur hesitated before he waved at her, allowing himself a moment to take in her appearance as she looked around, trying to locate him. She was dressed pleasantly in a jumper, trousers and flat shoes. June might have picked that outfit. Toni was certainly attractive, a little younger than him – although not by much – with dark-brown hair and grey streaks, hazel-coloured eyes and a Mediterranean skin tone. He rose to his feet and flattened out a kink in his tie.

‘Arthur,’ she began as she approached him and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘So lovely to meet you.’ Her natural poise put him at ease.

‘And you,’ he replied. ‘Have you travelled far?’

‘In life or this evening?’

Arthur stared at her blankly.

‘Sorry, a little wordplay to ease the nerves.’ She smiled. ‘I’m about twenty minutes away in Gayton. And you?’

‘I’m over in Kingsthorpe, near what used to be Thornton Park before they covered the grass in concrete and turned it into a railway depot,’ Arthur replied. ‘May I get you something to drink?’

‘What’s in your glass?’

‘Jack Daniel’s and Coke,’ he said, suddenly embarrassed by his choice of spirit so early in the evening.

‘Then I’ll have the same.’

When he returned from the bar, Toni was slipping her phone into her handbag.

‘Just letting my daughter know that she can leave as you don’t look like a serial killer.’

Arthur turned his head. ‘Is she here?’

‘She was in the car outside. She insisted on staying until she knew I was all right. Do you have children?’

‘No, I don’t,’ he replied and was reminded of an unfulfilled yearning he hadn’t felt in years. ‘How many do you have?’

‘Two boys and a girl. They all live close by and I have a granddaughter who I look after two mornings a week while her mum’s at work. Your profile mentioned you’re a widower?’

Arthur loathed being attached to that word. ‘Yes.’

‘And by the fact you’re twisting your wedding ring, I assume it wasn’t long ago?’

He nodded his head but didn’t elaborate beyond. ‘Ten months.’

‘Two years for me,’ she replied. ‘An undiagnosed brain tumour.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I lost him within a fortnight. And your wife?’

‘She had a heart attack in her sleep. She also had a rare untreatable form of dementia.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Did she stay with you until the end?’

‘Yes.’ He also held back from admitting she also remained with him for seven months after the end.

‘So you didn’t send her to one of those “countryside facilities”, as they call them? Or as they should more accurately be described, “body farms”?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘I wouldn’t have either. I hate how those advertising campaigns shame the sufferer into believing they’re a burden and how it gives their so-called loved ones an escape from their moral obligations.’ She took a sip from her drink. ‘Apologies, I’ll get off my high horse now. So is this your first date?’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘I’ve been on enough to know when someone doesn’t want to be here.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry if I’m giving you that impression.’

Arthur feared he had offended her when Toni stood up suddenly and flipped her handbag over her shoulder. ‘Let’s move to somewhere a little livelier,’ she said and he followed her to a noisier section of the pub where they sat under a speaker playing songs by Britpop bands he recognized from his twenties like Oasis and Radiohead. She pointed to his Smart watch, took his hand and placed his palm over it before speaking directly into his ear. She did the same with her own.

‘Don’t worry. If you’re anything like me, you’re not dating again out of choice but because you’ve got too much to lose if you don’t.’

Arthur nodded.

‘While I’m happy they don’t listen in to widows and widowers at home, it angers me that as soon as a date has been arranged through their organization, they can tune in through our tech to listen to ten minutes of our conversation.’

‘Really?’ said Arthur quietly. ‘I didn’t know that.’

‘I feel as if I can be honest with you, Arthur. I agree to participate in just enough dates to remain under the radar and appear that I’m looking for a spouse. I do what they suggest, I don’t wear my wedding ring so men think of me as “emotionally available”, I ask plenty of questions and I listen to the answers. Did you know after each date we are supposed to fill in a questionnaire about one another and give each other critiques and ratings?’

John Marrs's Books