‘He’s that photographer from Mervyn’s wedding. Remember? Who I climbed into the bin with? I seem to remember you being the one pointing him out. I thought he was nice. But we are totally incompatible. In the Cole Compatibility Test we’d score 0 per cent. And he’s also a zero on the commitment factor. He doesn’t believe in monogamous, long-term relationships. He doesn’t even believe in love.’
Sofia looked right in my eyes. ‘Emma, if you want things to work with Cooper you need to move out of Ben’s.’
‘We are going to move out! As soon as Bridget moves in with Paolo we’re moving back into my flat.’
‘Right.’
‘Anyway, thanks for listening. I feel better now I have a plan.’ I started quickly gathering up the salad containers.
‘Remind me of the plan again?’
‘Stay married?’
‘Sounds like a great plan.’
* * *
My fledgling marriage crawled through the next few days. Nita and I were flat out with wedding-cake orders, and by Saturday evening I was longing to collapse on the sofa in my comfiest (and therefore probably least attractive) pyjamas with a reheated curry. To my relief, Ben and Cooper had gone out. I’d told Cooper not to expect me home until late, given that we had a christening cake with accompanying cupcakes to finish off ready for Sunday morning, and I blissfully sagged across the sofa, giving no concern to how undaintily I was eating, how much of a wreck my hair was or what anyone would think about me bingeing on90 Day Fiancé.
I made sure I was firmly tucked under the duvet and sound asleep at whatever time Cooper and Ben arrived home.
* * *
Sunday was family dinner as normal. At least, as normal as things got when it came to my family.
Firstly, it was always going to be impossible for certain family members to behave normally given that there was a camera rolling, even if there hadn’t been a charming man coaxing them into action from behind it. Secondly… well. That came later.
‘Benjamin, sit here!’ Mum instructed, pulling up one of the Best Chairs that Dad had hand-carved her as a tenth anniversary gift. ‘Please, make yourself at home. Here, next to me.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Donovan, but—’
‘Gabriella, please! You make me sound old enough to be your mother!’
‘Mamma, please! That’s because youareold enough!’ Bridget cringed.
‘I can get better shots if I stay in the corner.’ Ben winked, at everyone in general so there was no reason for my cheeks to flush in response. ‘Pretend I’m not here.’
I glanced at Sofia, busy scooping potatoes onto Oscar’s plate, Orla having stayed at home with Sam, who for some reason didn’t feel up to joining a Donovan Sunday lunch. I’d been handling things fine until Sofia had prodded and poked about in my feelings. I did my best to ignore the rumble of annoyance mixed with embarrassment as places were taken and plates piled high. Then Cooper took hold of my hand under the table, and when I glanced at him he gave a wink and a smile that was definitely only for me.
‘So, how are you two settling in together?’ Mum asked, smiling sweetly as she flicked a bushy clump of hair over the shoulder of her shocking pink dress, eyes remaining firmly on Ben’s camera.
Annie groaned on my behalf, earning a ‘Shush!’ from Mum far louder than the groan had been. ‘We are supposed to be talking about the marriage project, aren’t we? To prove to all the big boffin scientists how love is blossoming between Cooper and Emma and finally, after all this time and all the many years of fruitless searching, because of Bridget’s amazing work, Emma now has someone who can love her.’
‘Um, well, that’s not really…’ Cooper said.
‘We aren’t meant to be proving anything,’ Bridget replied, her voice terse. ‘The whole point of scientific research is that you gather the data and then analyse it and draw a conclusion. You don’t try to only gather data that proves your point. If Cooper and Emma put on a show to pretend things are great when they aren’t, that’s completely unscientific and the whole project is null and void.’
‘But thingsaregreat!’ Mum exclaimed, affronted. ‘So, what’s the problem?’
No one was going to argue with that point.
‘Time to call New York,’ Mum announced, once the panna cotta had been served.
‘Um, hello?’ Annie waved from the other end of the table. ‘I’m here.’
‘As if we hadn’t noticed!’ Mum harrumphed. Annie had taken her documentary debut seriously, with stand-out make-up and perfect waves crafted through her chin-length bob. She wore a cream blazer over a bottle-green crop-top with matching cream culottes that were way too expensive to risk wearing at a family dinner. It had taken her twice as long as anyone else to finish her minuscule lunch, due to trying to eat it in tiny enough chunks to avoid any potentially unattractive chewing faces caught on camera.
‘Greg is not here though, is he? It is high time I saw my beautiful eldest son-in-law’s face. I need to check he is coping without you.’
