Love Lies

54. Scott

‘Son, you’re a pro,’ says Mark, his delight and admiration oozing from every pore as we leave the room.

‘Agreed but what are you talking about in particular?’ I ask, giving in to a wide yawn. I love yawning. And stretching’s good too. Not the sort of stretching you do in yoga – can’t be doing with that. Well, I did go through a phase where I practised ashtanga yoga but that phase didn’t last long; it gets dead fucking boring, really quickly, and hideously uncomfortable too. But a normal stretch, first thing in the morning, or an I’ve-been-sat-still-too-long stretch – well, nothing beats that.

Mark continues, ‘Stroke of genius, you intervening when the wild cats were backing Fern into a corner about the wedding theme. Now she’s feeling all gaga about you.’

‘Default setting.’

‘Yeah, but now even more so.’

‘Flowers mean a lot to her. It’s sweet.’

‘Now would be a good time to talk about the pre-nup.’

‘Do we have to?’

‘Yes.’

‘I think she might get upset about it.’

‘I think she’s bright enough to understand exactly what we are trying to achieve,’ says Mark confidently.

‘Yeah, that’s what I mean.’ I don’t want to upset Fern. I’ve enjoyed the peaceful, no drama, no tantrum existence

‘Let me handle it. I’ll call the lawyers, they can be here in fifteen. At least they’d bloody better be, considering the retainer we pay them. You go and find the little lady.’

He flicks out his phone – I think he keeps it permanently up his sleeve, like some sort of magician.

I wonder what approach Mark will use to introduce the subject of the pre-nup to Fern: subtle, humorous or sympathetic? He goes for direct. He clamps his chubby hand on the base of her back the moment she comes through the door and he steers her towards the gang of crows, suited and booted, huddled in the corner. I sit behind the pianoforte. I always play chopsticks at tricky moments. Everyone loves chopsticks.

‘These are the lawyers that are dealing with the pre-nup,’ says Mark starkly. ‘I wanted you to meet them, Fern.’

‘The pre-nup?’ Fern looks like a rabbit caught not just in headlights but in the actual pie.

‘A pre-nuptial is a contract that clarifies your shared responsibilities and gives you and your partner peace of mind, security and more time to concentrate on enjoying your relationship,’ says one of the Blues Brothers look-alikies.

Fern looks around the room. I think she’s searching for the autocue because that sure sounded rehearsed. ‘I know what a pre-nup is,’ she snaps. ‘Although not necessarily from that description. I’m wondering why Scott and I need one.’ I feel her glance bounce my way but I keep my eyes firmly on the ivories.

‘To predict the outcome of any divorce settlement before the marriage even takes place,’ says another one of the gang with a studied grimace.

‘To prevent speculative claims following a short marriage,’ adds a third with a slight shrug.

‘To save thousands in legal costs in the event of a divorce,’ adds a fourth man gravely.

Fern doesn’t say anything and the lawyers take this as encouragement enough. The lawyer who spoke first picks up the baton. He sends a thin smile in Fern’s direction but it’s too weak to make it across the room. ‘Both parties should have lawyers to represent them to ensure the agreement is enforceable. You’ll need to hire a firm. You have to have the contract for a week before you can sign it. So we’ll meet again, Ms Dickson, with your attorney, next Wednesday. Shall we say 2 p.m.?’

He puts down the fat document and with that the suits vanish in a puff of smoke leaving Mark, Fern and me alone. I tinkle with the ivories again and wait for someone to speak. Fern is focusing on a small box of beads that Colleen has inadvertently left behind. I understand that these beads are going to be liberally scattered across the tables at the wedding, so the whole place gleams. I get the feeling Fern thinks their glistening promise is a tad tarnished in light of the lawyers’ visit. It takes a while before she finds her voice.

‘Did you want this, Scott?’ she asks.

‘Oh no. Scott rarely initiates discussions around money matters,’ says Mark jovially, saving me the effort of replying.

‘But you want me to sign?’ Again she launches the

‘It’s for the best. Look, Fern, these things aren’t water-tight if that’s what you’re fretting about. Pre-nups are, at best, a partial solution to minimizing the risks of marital property disputes in times of divorce.’

‘We won’t be getting divorced,’ says Fern firmly.

‘No one ever thinks they will, but forty per cent of the blighters who walk down the aisle are wrong, aren’t they? You can see my concern,’ says Mark.

Finally Fern drags her eyes from me and glares at Mark. ‘No, I can’t actually. Do you think I’m just marrying Scott for his money?’

‘Love, no one would blame you,’ says Mark, treating Fern to some rare truth.

‘I would blame me! I’m not marrying him for his money.’ Glancing back at me she yells, ‘I’m not marrying you for your money.’ It’s really uncomfortable.

‘Then there won’t be any problem with you signing it, will there?’ says Mark reasonably.

‘Yes, there’s a problem. The problem is, this means Scott does not believe that we’re for ever. Or at least he’s considering the possibility that we might not be and he’s already protecting himself against that possibility.’

It’s the first time she’s done that – talked about me as though I’m not in the room. I don’t care, as such. Everyone does it sooner or later and I’ve just blanked her direct questions. I’m just saying it’s a first for us. Fuck, I wish I wasn’t in the room. I really don’t think it was necessary for me to get involved in this.

‘Look, Fern, read it. Take some legal advice. It’s a very

I leave her alone with her shiny beads.