Some years ago, my mate Oliver got married. Honestly, he held out for agesOliver was already thirty-three. Hed always lived for himself, and was outspokenly against the idea of marriage. Popping round to his parents place, doing the weekly Waitrose run, the endless Sunday roastsall utterly unfathomable to him. Whenever friends or family teased him about it, he always replied with the same lines:
Ive got my own flat, Ive got a good jobwhy on earth would I need a family? I manage perfectly well on my own. Besides, Ive got a loyal friendmy dog, Churchill. We get on famously, and there isnt a care in the world. And women? Well, one day theyre here, next day theyre not.
But, inevitably, even a steadfast bachelors luck runs out. And Olivers day came. He stumbled into the arms of a woman, and she was as cunning as a fox. She made herself completely unobtainable, which only made Oliver want her more. Her name was Harriet, and they met over flat whites at a tucked-away café in Brighton. Twenty-nine, already divorced, no children.
They bumped into each other again by sheer coincidence, as often happens in dreams. Harriet stayed a few times at Olivers, and soon, bits of herher coat, her books, her perfumeappeared among Olivers neatly arranged belongings. Before hed even noticed, she was living with him.
One evening, as they sat in the kitchen sipping Earl Grey, Harriet looked up and said,
You know, Oliver, youve hinted about marriage a few times. I thinkI think Id be amenable to that.
Try as he might, Oliver couldnt remember ever hinting such a thing. But he couldnt dispute it either. He made a half-hearted attempt at protest, but Harriet blithely changed the subject by launching into plans for the impending wedding.
Oliver sensed reality wobble around him, but he couldnt resist the current. Maybe it was time, he thought, and besides, Harriet was a solid choice. So, another bachelor was snatched up and swept away.
Their first year together was lovely, mostly. There were the usual little spats between newlyweds. Harriet loathed that Oliver would roll in late, sometimes smelling of the pub. In retaliation, shed ring up her ex-husband for comfort, sharing all the marital grievances of the week. Oliver loathed his wifes lingering communications with her ex.
Harriet claimed she should try being a bit kinder to everyone. One evening, after celebrating his bosss birthday at the office, Oliver staggered home with the remains of a hangover. He lay groggily in the spare room, catching the gentle voices from the next.
Churchill, you sly old thing,” Harriet was saying to the dog. All you do is eat and sleep. Completely useless, dont you think? Just like your master. Althoughno, youre cleverer than him. You dont speak, and yet you understand everything perfectly. Your master doesnt want to understand at all. How does one live like that?
Oliver listened, torn between anger and a strange detachment that only comes in dreams. He wanted to rise and speak his piece, but suddenly the scene shifted.
There he is, pissed again. You cant stand the smell either, can you? Harriet continued, stroking Churchills ears. Hes drinking more and more. I cant bear to look at him sometimes. Such a shame I married him. At first glance, he seemed normal, but really, hes just useless. My ex was much betterhe hardly ever drank, made good money. Why did I ever leave? Sure, he cheated once or twice, but who doesnt? At least he bought me gifts. Always grovelled after, too. Hes still begging me to come back. What do you think, Churchill? The decisions all yours. Just give me a sign.
Suddenly, Oliver appeared in the doorway. He called Churchill, met Harriet’s eyes, and said softly:
If you thought a family was my dream, youre wrong. I never needed a wife. Especially not one like you. You barged into my flat. Watching you sickens me. Youve got an hour to pack. Maybe your ex is waiting, or maybe theres someone else out there for you. One more thingyou can post the divorce papers tomorrow.
Instead of leaving with her pride intact, Harriet broke down in tears, apologising and calling Oliver heartless. But he stood solid as a statue and ushered her out the door. Outside, beneath the wavering lamplight, she hailed a taxi, climbed in, and vanished, never to be seen again.
