Aphrodite's Workshop for Reluctant Lovers Read Online Free

there any more it’s still her home, you know. It’s still important that it’s
there
.’
    I nodded. I knew what she meant. When I left home I had expected my mother to remain for all eternity in the same flat where I had grown up, surrounded by the same furniture and pictures right down to the china ornament on her desk. I might be moving on; my mother, if I had my way, would live out her days preserved in aspic.
    â€˜Bella’s father is miserable and stressed,’ Angel-face continued, ‘but her mother seems exhilarated more than anything. It’s just all so disheartening.’ She sighed and poked at her fish with the fork.
    â€˜It’s not that bad, Angel-face, it really isn’t. The world is full of people who are happy in long-term relationships.’
    â€˜Give me a list,’ Angel-face said. ‘How long were you married to Tim?’
    â€˜Eleven years.’
    â€˜Ha! Well, as it happens, that’s actually the national average. That would bring me up to thirty-four for my first divorce. How long have you and Dominic been together?’
    â€˜About four years.’
    â€˜So you have a few years left.’
    And for the first time, right then, at the lunch to celebrate my god-daughter’s engagement, I wondered consciously if Dominic and I had much time left at all.
    The waiter asked if we wanted another glass of champagne. Angel-face said no thank you but I nodded a yes. Sometimes I found that champagne actually alleviated a headache.
    I lowered my glass to find Angel-face staring intently at me.
    â€˜Don’t tell me
you’re
not happy!’
    â€˜Oh darling, it’s not as if I
want
to be unhappy.’
    â€˜So I’m right. You and Dominic aren’t good, either.’ Angel-face sat back, her arms folded across her chest, her pointed chin raised and a frightened look in her eyes.
    Words were dangerous things. Once let out they took on a life of their own, pulling consequences along with them, reproducing, prompting reactions, making solid that which had been shadowy and only partially formed. Words, once spoken or written, chased your illusions away.
    â€˜No,’ I said eventually. ‘No, we’re not very good.’
    â€˜That’s it, I give up.’
    â€˜There’s no point getting cross with me.’
    Angel-face looked as stern as anyone with a face like hers could.
    â€˜I’m not sure there isn’t. What was it they called you in the papers last week? The High Priestess of Romance, if I remember rightly.’
    â€˜You know what those headlines are like.’
    Angel-face ignored the comment.
    Instead, she said, ‘I’m afraid it’s people like you: poets, film-makers, ad-writers, wedding-magazine editors – romance-mongers the lot of you – who are to blame, who are absolutely responsible for little girls growing up still dreaming of finding the perfect love and marrying while wearing the perfect frock in the perfect venue and going on tolive the perfect romance. Oh we pretend we’re not. We tell ourselves and those around us that what matters is our careers and our independence and our darling girlfriends, but back in the privacy of our own minds we go on dreaming and planning and hoping and that’s as much due to people like you as anything. Then when I come to you for some reassurance what do I get? Nothing. I mean how can you do it? How can you go on writing your books that you obviously don’t believe in?
J’accuse
, Rebecca Finch, that’s what I do.’
    I tried to think of something to say, tried to untangle my thoughts and retrieve one at least that was straight and true and useful.
    Angel-face went on, ‘So what are you saying to people like me and Zac, young people about to embark on marriage?’
    I opened my eyes wide. I shut them tight. I opened them wide again.
    â€˜Better luck next time?’
    I walked fast down the Fulham Road towards home.