Better Than Easy by Nick Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

think that if he’d been some poor skivvy builder I never would have ended up with him.”
    I grimace. “Ouch,” I say.
    â€œBut that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him,” Jenny says. “And it doesn’t mean I was only with him for the money. It’s just that you, you know, have a relationship with the whole thing, the whole package. And that includes love and sex, and how easy they are to get on with, but also lifestyle, holidays and house, and blah-dy-blah. What I mean is … no, I’m not quite sure
what
I mean.”
    She pulls a face and frowns, then smiles and looks at me intently. “Yes I do! What I mean, is that you’d have to have a computer for a brain to be able to separate each bit out, to isolate each part of your overall contentment, or lack of …”
    I nod. “Yeah, I kind of see what you mean,” I say. “So, say Tom’s motivation is sixty-percent the gîte and forty-percent me and mine is the other way around – does it really matter?”
    Jenny shrugs. “Well yeah,” she says. “Not if you’re happy with it. That’s what I would say.”
    I nod and smile. “Wise words,” I say.
    â€œIt’s like people with, you know, toy boys or sugar daddies. People get so self-righteous about it all.” Sheshakes her head and then sips her tea. “But I always think, what does it matter? As long as everyone’s happy. People leave all the time because of shit lifestyle, because the husband never gets up from in front of the telly, because there’s always too much debt; shit like that breaks up relationships every day. If you can’t get the things you need in a relationship, then you fuck off. So what’s so wrong with enjoying being with someone because they
do
give you the things you need? Including, in some cases,
money.”
    â€œI suppose so,” I say, doubtfully.
    â€œAnd just because one person supplies money and the other one doesn’t, well that doesn’t mean that there isn’t any love or respect,” Jenny says. “That’s my point. Surely the whole basis of love
is
the desire to give the person you love whatever they need, whether that be sex, or security, or hard cash?”
    â€œOr a new-life-in-a-box,” I say.
    Jenny nods. “Exactly!” she says, clapping her hands. “Well, in a gîte. So it’s settled.”
    I grin at her. “You are very wise,” I say. “When you try.”
    Jenny laughs, picks up her mug and peers inside. “Only for other people though,” she says. “Not so good at my own shit. More tea vicar?”
    I hand her my mug. “More tea!” I say.
    Jenny’s right of course, and my anger slips away, and suddenly I’m left wondering quite why I was angry in the first place. But then, as she makes the tea one last thought does cross my mind – that if sixty percent of Tom’s equation
is
the gîte, then what happens if it
doesn’t
work out? Then and only then will we find out if the forty percent that remains is enough to keep us together. And that
doesn’t
strike me as an entirely irrational worry.

Uh Oh!
    When I get back downstairs to our flat, Tom is being chirpy. He doesn’t really do
sorry
, not even sorry-lite, the,
I’m sorry you’re upset,
kind of sorry that placates without accepting any personal responsibility. But he does a great,
let’s-change-the-subject-and-pretend-it-never-happened
act, and when he makes that effort – for it clearly costs him quite a lot to do so – I do my best to take it as an apology and let whatever is happening go.
    â€œHey, if we found the husband, would that mean we could buy the place?” he asks me excitedly as I step back into the flat.
    I shake my head, a little stunned by his energy levels. “Sorry?” I say. “If we found a husband
what?”
    â€œChantal’s husband,