Almost Perfect

EMMA WEBSTER IS ON A DATE

She just met him in a bar. He honestly walked up to her, all shy. This had never happened to Emma before, and she just stared at him, like a fish without anything interesting to say. Luckily, he didn’t care.

‘Hi, my name is Joe.’ He grinned bashfully and paused. He was wearing a crumpled suit jacket, under which a striped Dennis the Menace jumper sagged. He was young and looked in need of ironing. He held out his hand, and Emma, slightly charmed, shook it. ‘Look, I don’t really know what to say. Hello!’ he continued, looking genuinely ill-at-ease and drumming the bar.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Emma, genuinely, thinking he was quite a few steps up from the tossers at speed-dating last night. A genuine husband. She smiled. ‘So, not that I’m judging you, but what do you do?’

‘Oh. I edit a magazine for the National Assembly. It’s OK – it’s a real laugh, and my Welsh has got pretty good. Do you know any?’

‘No, not really.’ Emma hadn’t actually sat down to learn any yet, although they had classes at lunchtime. Naturally, Vile Kate went every week.

‘Actually,’ continued Joe, ‘I’d always been rubbish at Welsh, and felt guilty about it. I blame too much vodka at school. There was an afternoon where we all sneaked out, bought a bottle of the cheapest vodka imaginable from the only corner shop that’d sell it to us. I think it was called Perestroyka, or something. And the four of us just sat drinking at Mandy Pollard’s house until Mandy threw up, and then they went back to school, and I decided that this was far more fun than learning Welsh. So I skipped all the rest of my lessons. Hadn’t really needed it until now.’

Emma thought about young Joe, bunking off. He looked the kind of guy who would. Oh dear, she thought, am I starting to fancy dangerous men? She smiled at him.

‘It’s really handy, you know. We have to publish two versions of the magazine, but it’s been really useful for the Cardiff Business Community.’

‘You just pronounced that in capital letters.’

‘Yes. Yes I did. Oh god. I take myself so seriously these days.’ Again, his fingers drummed on the table.

‘You do take yourself terribly seriously, don’t you?’ Emma had a sudden urge to mother him. ‘What did you want to be?’

‘When I grew up? A poet? Or even a writer of horror books. Ever read The Fog?’

‘It is my favourite book!’ Emma grinned, really liking him.

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely. I read it until the spine fell apart. No book’s lived up to it apart from… Oh, I can’t say.’

‘I know what you’re going to say.’

‘You do?’

‘The Da Vinci Code.’

‘Yes! No! How did you know? I’ve never dared admit that to anyone.’

‘I can tell. It’s like KFC, Jeremy Clarkson… you know.’

‘Oh, I so do.’ He is perfect.

I can tell you like him, said the voice in her head. The voice she had grown used to. The voice that had said ‘chat to him, let him buy you a drink’. The voice that oozed confidence, calmness and something else. Something Emma didn’t quite… like. Relax, Emma. I’m trying to stop you from blushing. It’s taking a bit of effort to calm down your body language.

What do you mean?

Well, I’m toning down the amount of shadowing you’re doing. Keeping you a bit more neutral. It gets him more interested.

Oh, ta. I dunno, though. There’s something about him I like.

‘Anyway, Emma – look, do you mind if I nip outside for a smoke?’

Oh damn.

Hey, Em, you smoke.

I know. But I don’t want him to as well. Then I’ll never give up.

But Emma, love, you don’t need to – I can cure any little thing that pops up.

And him?

Yeah, I can.

But can you just stop him from smoking?

Sure.

Emma paused, wondering. What about a little bit taller?

OK. Anything else?

Oh, I could do with a cigarette, decided Emma. She was aware that Joe was looking at her. Had she zoned out? It was hard concentrating with Cheryl around sometimes. She smiled. ‘Let’s,’ she said, reached for her packet, and slipped outside into the freezing Cardiff air.

She and Joe huddled next to each other. He grinned and handed her a light.

‘Does anyone still smoke?’ he asked her, cupping his hands round the cigarette.

‘Just us left,’ she said.

They looked at each other for a bit, and smoked quietly.

‘Er, you ever thought of giving up?’ asked Emma.

Joe laughed. ‘Who hasn’t, these days?’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve tried a couple of times. I’m getting pretty good at it. It makes me happy.’

Joe nodded. ‘Nah, I’d never give up. Unless I wanted to.’

Emma smiled. ‘What if I made you?’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, what if I had a machine that made you want to stop smoking, could repair all the damage, could make you… well, perfect, I guess.’

Joe laughed. ‘Well, if it can repair the damage, why give up?’

‘Good point,’ said Emma, feeling suddenly sad. She watched Joe go back inside and sighed. ‘Sorry, Joe,’ she said, stubbed out her cigarette and followed him back inside.

For the second night in a row, the people of Cardiff slept badly.