be a better person generally. To give my time to others. Soup kitchen, maybe?
7. To make life easy for him, not run to him every time I have a problem and expect him to sort things out.”
Helen raised an eyebrow.
“Like if something’s broken,” I explained. “Or if my car tax is up for renewal.” The truth was that before I’d met Max, I’d done everything myself, had been so independent I didn’t know how a boyfriend, let alone a husband, would offer me anything I didn’t have already. But bit by bit, Max had started to do little things—take the rubbish out, change lightbulbs, take my clothes to the dry cleaner with his stuff—and I discovered how lovely it was being looked after, having someone else there to turn to every so often. He knew more about cars, so he’d started to check my oil on a regular basis; he liked shopping, so he regularly went to the supermarket on Saturday mornings to stock up the kitchen. The trouble was, I’d gotten used to it. He did loads of things, all the time, and I’d begun to let him. “I don’t want to take him for granted. Don’t want him to feel as if he does everything.”
“If you say so,” Helen said, looking back at the list.
“8. To pay him little compliments every day, so he knows how loved he is.
9. To be supportive. Always. Unwaveringly. To be on his side no matter what.
10. ???”
Then Helen cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m beginning to see why your marriage needs help.”
“You think my marriage needs help?” I asked worriedly.
“Of course. There’s nothing in there about sex.”
“Sex isn’t the problem,” I said immediately. “I mean, everything’s great on that front. It’s the … other fronts that I think I need to improve on.”
“Sex good, no nid improve anything else,” Ivana cut in.
“Exactly,” Helen agreed. “And look at what you’ve got in there instead! Ironing! Cooking! What are you trying to be, a Stepford Wife?” She shook her head wearily.
“You think is bed thing to iron? To cook?” Ivana said suddenly.
Helen looked up in alarm, met Ivana’s steely glare, and immediately shook her head. “No. God, no. I just meant that Jess has to, you know, consider her priorities.…”
“Ironing and cooking still important,” Ivana said authoritatively. “For bebe. And most men are like bebe. Yes?”
Giles giggled. “You’re absolutely right, as always, Ivana.”
“Yes,” Ivana said, looking pleased. “Yes. Em always right.”
“Fine.” Helen frowned. “But aren’t we forgetting something here? Jess has a few million quid in her bank account. She can employ a cook and a housekeeper to do all this stuff.”
“I don’t want a cook and a housekeeper,” I said uncomfortably. “I want to be able to cook a meal without burning it or giving him food poisoning. Or … or …”
Helen smirked. “Or making custard that’s completely solid?”
I met her eyes and giggled. “Exactly.”
“Solid custard? What do you mean?” Giles asked curiously.
Helen looked at me and grinned. “Shall I tell the story?”
I nodded, and she started to giggle, too. “I made an apple pie,” she explained. “And I asked Jess to make the custard.”
“I didn’t even make it properly—I used the instant stuff,” I admitted ruefully, “and I still screwed it up. It seemed to be too watery, so I added more powder and …”
“Five minutes later, custard cake,” Helen spluttered.
“So you admit I need help?” I pleaded.
“Oh God, you really do,” Helen laughed.
“I’m so pleased you agree!” I said happily. “Because I’ve found a one-day cookery course and I want you to come with me.”
Helen stared at me. “Come with you? Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I said, shooting her an imploring smile. “I can’t go on my own. I’ll be too embarrassed.”
“But I don’t want to learn how to cook,” Helen complained. “I like eating out.”
“Just because you can cook doesn’t mean you have to
7. To make life easy for him, not run to him every time I have a problem and expect him to sort things out.”
Helen raised an eyebrow.
“Like if something’s broken,” I explained. “Or if my car tax is up for renewal.” The truth was that before I’d met Max, I’d done everything myself, had been so independent I didn’t know how a boyfriend, let alone a husband, would offer me anything I didn’t have already. But bit by bit, Max had started to do little things—take the rubbish out, change lightbulbs, take my clothes to the dry cleaner with his stuff—and I discovered how lovely it was being looked after, having someone else there to turn to every so often. He knew more about cars, so he’d started to check my oil on a regular basis; he liked shopping, so he regularly went to the supermarket on Saturday mornings to stock up the kitchen. The trouble was, I’d gotten used to it. He did loads of things, all the time, and I’d begun to let him. “I don’t want to take him for granted. Don’t want him to feel as if he does everything.”
“If you say so,” Helen said, looking back at the list.
“8. To pay him little compliments every day, so he knows how loved he is.
9. To be supportive. Always. Unwaveringly. To be on his side no matter what.
10. ???”
Then Helen cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m beginning to see why your marriage needs help.”
“You think my marriage needs help?” I asked worriedly.
“Of course. There’s nothing in there about sex.”
“Sex isn’t the problem,” I said immediately. “I mean, everything’s great on that front. It’s the … other fronts that I think I need to improve on.”
“Sex good, no nid improve anything else,” Ivana cut in.
“Exactly,” Helen agreed. “And look at what you’ve got in there instead! Ironing! Cooking! What are you trying to be, a Stepford Wife?” She shook her head wearily.
“You think is bed thing to iron? To cook?” Ivana said suddenly.
Helen looked up in alarm, met Ivana’s steely glare, and immediately shook her head. “No. God, no. I just meant that Jess has to, you know, consider her priorities.…”
“Ironing and cooking still important,” Ivana said authoritatively. “For bebe. And most men are like bebe. Yes?”
Giles giggled. “You’re absolutely right, as always, Ivana.”
“Yes,” Ivana said, looking pleased. “Yes. Em always right.”
“Fine.” Helen frowned. “But aren’t we forgetting something here? Jess has a few million quid in her bank account. She can employ a cook and a housekeeper to do all this stuff.”
“I don’t want a cook and a housekeeper,” I said uncomfortably. “I want to be able to cook a meal without burning it or giving him food poisoning. Or … or …”
Helen smirked. “Or making custard that’s completely solid?”
I met her eyes and giggled. “Exactly.”
“Solid custard? What do you mean?” Giles asked curiously.
Helen looked at me and grinned. “Shall I tell the story?”
I nodded, and she started to giggle, too. “I made an apple pie,” she explained. “And I asked Jess to make the custard.”
“I didn’t even make it properly—I used the instant stuff,” I admitted ruefully, “and I still screwed it up. It seemed to be too watery, so I added more powder and …”
“Five minutes later, custard cake,” Helen spluttered.
“So you admit I need help?” I pleaded.
“Oh God, you really do,” Helen laughed.
“I’m so pleased you agree!” I said happily. “Because I’ve found a one-day cookery course and I want you to come with me.”
Helen stared at me. “Come with you? Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I said, shooting her an imploring smile. “I can’t go on my own. I’ll be too embarrassed.”
“But I don’t want to learn how to cook,” Helen complained. “I like eating out.”
“Just because you can cook doesn’t mean you have to
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