sitting back in her chair. “You should teach her.”
Ivana looked at me closely. “You no iron?”
I reddened. “Not really,” I admitted.
“And you want learn?”
I nodded firmly. To be honest, I was pretty sure that ironing came pretty far down the list of attributes of the perfect wife, butat least it was something tangible. Being a good listener was so much more difficult to measure.
“She thinks it’s going to save her marriage,” Helen said, grabbing a magazine from a neat pile, then putting it down again when she saw that the title was
Mother and Baby
.
“Merriage? What is wrong with your merriage?” Ivana asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Nothing!” I said, shooting Helen a meaningful look, because the last thing I wanted was for yet more people to know what was going on. “I mean, not specifically with our marriage. It’s more that—”
“Hugh Barter,” Helen cut in. “And don’t look at me like that, Jess. Ivana knows already. She was in the bar when you went off with him, remember?”
Ivana looked at me curiously. “You still fill guilty about kiss gay boy?” she asked. “You no boom-boom, no?”
“No,” I said wearily. “We didn’t boom-boom, so to speak. But I never told Max the truth about it. And now Hugh’s … He’s …” I didn’t want to say the word, didn’t want to accept what it was he was doing.
“He’s blackmailing her.” Helen’s voice was serious. “Fifteen grand so far.”
Ivana’s eyes darkened. “He bleckmail you? You want me get rid of problem? I do it. I do it now for you.”
I shook my head and cleared my throat. It wasn’t the first time Ivana had made such an offer, but Ivana’s way of “getting rid of the problem” involved making a call to people I really didn’t want to know existed. People who wouldn’t just get rid of the problem but would get rid of Hugh himself. “I appreciate the offer,” I said carefully. “But I don’t think that’s quite what I had in mind.”
“So you learn how to iron instead?” Ivana folded her arms and stared at me, incredulous. “This will help?”
“No,” I sighed. “It isn’t going to help. Not really. I just thoughtthat if I could be the ideal wife in every way, then when Max does find out—or even if he doesn’t—it’ll kind of make up for it. Does that make sense?”
“Perrrfect,” Ivana said dismissively, rolling her R dramatically. “You want feel better. You learn to iron, so no feel guilty. Yes?”
I looked uncertain. “No, it’s not about me. It’s about being more worthy of Max.”
“If you say so,” Ivana said.
“I do.”
“Okay.” It was a stalemate; Ivana had returned to her ironing, evidently not at all convinced. Then she looked up. “So what else on plen?”
I frowned. “On what?”
“Your plen,” Ivana said irritably. “Your plen be perrrfect wife.”
“Oh, right. The plan.” I dug out my list, slightly embarrassed. Helen grabbed it and started to read it out.
“1. To be honest. As far as possible.”
“Why only as far as possible?” Giles asked.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably.
“Because she’s not going to actually tell him about Hugh,” Helen said knowingly. “Are you, Jess?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Ah,” Giles said carefully. “Good point. And, anyway, white lies are the fundamentals of most relationships. Tell people what they want to hear, that’s what I say.”
“You don’t really think that,” I complained. “And what if Hugh tells him?”
“He won’t. If he tells, he’s got nothing on you,” Giles said firmly. “So, what next?”
Helen continued:
“2. To learn to cook fabulous food and to cook a lovely meal every night. Some nights . On occasion.
3. To make sure Max’s shirts are always dry-cleaned. Or just laundered. Beautifully. And ironed.
4. To learn to iron.
5. To listen to Max, to hear what he actually says instead of hearing what I think he says or, worse, what I want him to have said.
6. To
Ivana looked at me closely. “You no iron?”
I reddened. “Not really,” I admitted.
“And you want learn?”
I nodded firmly. To be honest, I was pretty sure that ironing came pretty far down the list of attributes of the perfect wife, butat least it was something tangible. Being a good listener was so much more difficult to measure.
“She thinks it’s going to save her marriage,” Helen said, grabbing a magazine from a neat pile, then putting it down again when she saw that the title was
Mother and Baby
.
“Merriage? What is wrong with your merriage?” Ivana asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Nothing!” I said, shooting Helen a meaningful look, because the last thing I wanted was for yet more people to know what was going on. “I mean, not specifically with our marriage. It’s more that—”
“Hugh Barter,” Helen cut in. “And don’t look at me like that, Jess. Ivana knows already. She was in the bar when you went off with him, remember?”
Ivana looked at me curiously. “You still fill guilty about kiss gay boy?” she asked. “You no boom-boom, no?”
“No,” I said wearily. “We didn’t boom-boom, so to speak. But I never told Max the truth about it. And now Hugh’s … He’s …” I didn’t want to say the word, didn’t want to accept what it was he was doing.
“He’s blackmailing her.” Helen’s voice was serious. “Fifteen grand so far.”
Ivana’s eyes darkened. “He bleckmail you? You want me get rid of problem? I do it. I do it now for you.”
I shook my head and cleared my throat. It wasn’t the first time Ivana had made such an offer, but Ivana’s way of “getting rid of the problem” involved making a call to people I really didn’t want to know existed. People who wouldn’t just get rid of the problem but would get rid of Hugh himself. “I appreciate the offer,” I said carefully. “But I don’t think that’s quite what I had in mind.”
“So you learn how to iron instead?” Ivana folded her arms and stared at me, incredulous. “This will help?”
“No,” I sighed. “It isn’t going to help. Not really. I just thoughtthat if I could be the ideal wife in every way, then when Max does find out—or even if he doesn’t—it’ll kind of make up for it. Does that make sense?”
“Perrrfect,” Ivana said dismissively, rolling her R dramatically. “You want feel better. You learn to iron, so no feel guilty. Yes?”
I looked uncertain. “No, it’s not about me. It’s about being more worthy of Max.”
“If you say so,” Ivana said.
“I do.”
“Okay.” It was a stalemate; Ivana had returned to her ironing, evidently not at all convinced. Then she looked up. “So what else on plen?”
I frowned. “On what?”
“Your plen,” Ivana said irritably. “Your plen be perrrfect wife.”
“Oh, right. The plan.” I dug out my list, slightly embarrassed. Helen grabbed it and started to read it out.
“1. To be honest. As far as possible.”
“Why only as far as possible?” Giles asked.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably.
“Because she’s not going to actually tell him about Hugh,” Helen said knowingly. “Are you, Jess?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Ah,” Giles said carefully. “Good point. And, anyway, white lies are the fundamentals of most relationships. Tell people what they want to hear, that’s what I say.”
“You don’t really think that,” I complained. “And what if Hugh tells him?”
“He won’t. If he tells, he’s got nothing on you,” Giles said firmly. “So, what next?”
Helen continued:
“2. To learn to cook fabulous food and to cook a lovely meal every night. Some nights . On occasion.
3. To make sure Max’s shirts are always dry-cleaned. Or just laundered. Beautifully. And ironed.
4. To learn to iron.
5. To listen to Max, to hear what he actually says instead of hearing what I think he says or, worse, what I want him to have said.
6. To
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