Page 48 of Love or Your Money Back

CHAPTER

I met Ahmet’s mother for the first time this weekend. Viola was stern and outspoken, so we got on like a house on fire. By the end of our lunch, we were both crying with laughter at photos of eight-year-old Ahmet playing a little grand piano in a tweedy suit.

Viola has invited me back to see more photos of Ahmet as a teenager. Apparently, he and his best friend David both had absurdly long hair and were in a band together. She was ‘so worried Ahmet would become a homosexual’ and made Ahmet cut his hair short ‘like a real man’.

I did try to avail Viola of her prejudices. ‘Heterosexual men can have long hair,’ I told her. ‘And anyway, the current wisdom is that people are born gay. It’s not something that can be changed. It’s something to be accepted.’

Viola told me that if Ahmet had been born gay, she would have disowned him. Which was pretty shocking. Ahmet said it was best not to talk about culture with his mother. Or religion or politics.

‘Let’s talk about the future instead, then,’ Viola said. ‘Katerina, would you like to see the family engagement ring?’

Without waiting for an answer, she moved a giant oil painting of herself from the wall, revealing an old-fashioned dial safe.

Inside the safe were bars of gold, strings of pearls and the biggest, gaudiest engagement ring I’ve ever seen.

A rainbow of red, green, amber and blue jewels on one enormous, ornate gold band.

Viola slid the ring on my finger ‘just to try’ and declared it ‘a perfect fit’, even though it rolled around like a boat on the water.

When we left, I asked Ahmet if he minded his mother’s casual racism, sexism and homophobia.

‘You can’t choose your family,’ said Ahmet. ‘She’s not going to change. Any more than someone who is gay can change.’ Then he kissed me on the cheek and said, ‘Thank you for running that gauntlet. She likes you. This is good news.’

I felt so accepted. So loved. Chris took me to see his family once, after two years of dating.

His mother hated me. She was horrified when I told her about my MS and wondered, out loud, that this might be a terrible stressful burden on her little boy.

His father was a little better. He barely said a word and ignored me completely.

This weekend, I had a mother waving an engagement ring in my face. What a turnaround!

Do you know something, Freddy? Being with Chris skewed my opinion of myself. When packaged, placed and promoted correctly, I can

be the sort of girl people want to marry. Even with MS. The Cinderella fireworks over Disney Castle happy ending isn’t for me. I’m not marrying my first love. But I can have a better husband than I ever dreamed possible. And that’s a fairy-tale ending of sorts.

Monday 8th August

After meeting Ahmet’s mother, it seemed only right that Ahmet met my closest relatives, Aunt Caro and Aunty Sylvia. So we visited Aunt Caro’s minimalist, metal box home this weekend, which has now been de-minimalised by Aunty Sylvia’s porcelain dolls, brass bells and ornamental plates.

Aunt Caro was kind and welcoming as always, giving me a squashy hug and Ahmet a long, formal handshake. Aunty Sylvia grilled Ahmet about his career, aspirations, health and ability to have children.

Amazingly, Ahmet didn’t run screaming, so I now feel very secure in our relationship. Ahmet didn’t flinch at the mention of marriage, either. Although he did say his mother would take charge of any wedding buffet and had a liberal hand with culinary rose water.

‘Be careful there,’ said Aunty Sylvia. ‘Katerina hates rose

fragrance.’

I corrected her. It’s only when Aunty Sylvia covers herself

in rose fragrance that I object. I don’t mind it in food. Turkish delight is one of my favourite sweets.

Monday 15th August

Bit of an odd conversation with Ahmet at the weekend. We went out for a locally sourced meal together, and Ahmet asked what living arrangements would look like if we got married.

At first, I was quietly delighted. A few weeks ago, Ahmet’s mother stuffed an engagement ring on my finger. And now Ahmet starts talking about living together after we’re married. Things are looking serious!

But then Ahmet said, ‘I mean, would we move in together? Or would we live apart in our separate houses and have a very modern marriage?

That last comment threw me a little.

‘Well, we’d live together, wouldn’t we?’ I said. ‘Surely that’s a major benefit of marriage? To live together with someone?’

Ahmet nodded and said, ‘Yes, of course.’

But still. The comment unnerved me.

‘Is this because of my illness?’ I asked. ‘You don’t want to live somewhere full of old lady devices, like the special clip-on handle that holds my toothbrush when my hands shake?’

Ahmet looked horrified and said not at all

. ‘I’ve never objected to your condition.

If anything, it’s one of the most impressive things about you.

The fact you get on with it and never complain.

It shows you’re able to handle adversity.

But there are just all sorts of ways of being together with someone.

We have a practical meeting of the minds, don’t we?

A true partnership. We don’t have to get silly and romantic and do everything society tells us.

We can make it work the way we want. With good old-fashioned logic. ’

‘But if we live apart, I won’t have a heroic husband to carry me upstairs when my MS is bad,’ I said. Then I immediately felt guilty and pathetic, like I was asking Ahmet to be my carer. So I added, ‘Never mind. I’ll just get a stairlift.’ And smiled, whilst feeling sad and empty inside.

I’m guessing Ahmet is a little scared of sharing his life with someone, after being a bachelor for so long. I’m scared too.

By the way, you are wrong about cutting out sugar and chocolate to ‘benefit’ my MS. Being in a bad mood all day is terrible

for MS. But I have to say, the vitamins are having an amazing effect. I haven’t had a headache or face pains for weeks.

Monday August 22nd

A big thing happened last night.

Ahmet and I nearly slept together. We were having dinner at his house, and he asked me, in a very shy, awkward voice, if I wanted to stay overnight. It was very sweet, but I said no for practical reasons. No toothbrush, etc.

Ahmet quickly dropped the matter and offered me dessert (an excellent homemade Rum Baba with Chantilly cream). Still, it got me thinking. Should we sleep together before we’re engaged? I’m uncertain where exclusivity ends and intimacy begins.

I wish you would answer your phone, Freddy – I’ve been calling you all day. Surely you can’t be that

busy.

At this rate, I won’t see you until Frankfurt and I really would like advice before then. Do I wait until Ahmet drops the question before I drop my underwear? That seems incredibly old-fashioned, but I don’t want to mess up our promotional strategy.

HELP PLEASE!

Sunday August 28th

Freddy, ANSWER YOUR PHONE!

Last night, Chris came over. He had armloads of presents and a big envelope of cash. About two thousand pounds. He said the money was back-dated rent and only the beginning.

I asked Chris if he’d started taking drugs or dealing drugs (for the cash) or both, but he said no. He’d seen the error of his ways, sold the camper van and was reanalysing his financial priorities. Then he said he should have married me instead of Minola.

I shouted at him to go back to his wife and try harder.

‘I’ve tried,’ Chris insisted. ‘God knows I’ve tried. I’ve sat with Minola through every Disney movie known to man. And sung ‘A Whole New World’ on countless occasions. But I can only take so much. She’s a child.’

‘So are you,’ I said. ‘Your mother still books your haircuts and dental appointments.’

‘Not anymore,’ said Chris. ‘I’m growing up, Kitty Kat.

I’m changing. I’ve got a job. A real nine-to-five job.

Well, 4 pm to midnight. I’m an usher at Soho Theatre.

No more uncertainty. I’m bringing in real money every month.

Paying tax and everything. I want to be worthy of you. I want my first love back.’

Chris and I sat on my doorstep until quite late, talking. About good times and bad times and mistakes we’ve both made. It made me realise there is still a spark. That’s why we got together in the first place. Don’t worry – I told him we were just friends now and sent him home.

Onwards and upwards.

I just wish I had that same spark with Ahmet.

Saturday 10th September

Nothing to report this week. Ahmet is away on business. Chris hasn’t returned, so I have to assume things are working out with Minola and I’m happy about that. Genuinely.

Monday 19th September

Guess what, Freddy? You won’t guess, so I’ll tell you.

I AM ENGAGED!

Ahmet took me on a riverboat cruise of the Thames on Saturday, which included a lobster dinner and champagne. The lobster was VERY difficult to eat in a dignified way with a knife and fork, but I managed it. Only a few pieces of white fish flew across the table.

While we were dining, Ahmet asked the string quartet to play ‘Here Comes the Bride’. Then he pulled out the giant, gaudy engagement ring his mother made me try on and asked if I wanted to settle down with a nice man who couldn’t make ravioli but wanted to marry me very much indeed.

I couldn’t believe it and blurted out: ‘But we haven’t even slept together yet.’

Ahmet laughed and said we could work out all those details once we’d tied the knot. Then he said his love for me went beyond living arrangements and listed all the things he liked about me:

My lively and confident dialogue with his sexist, racist, homophobic mother.

My wit.

My maturity.

And most importantly, my open-minded outlook.

THEN he got down on one knee and …

HE PROPOSED!

I was gobsmacked. It was such a surprise. I just sat there, mouth open, hearing the boat engine churning and water sloshing.

I should have said yes there and then but … I didn’t. Maybe it was the utterly hideous engagement ring. Or the fact Ahmet and I haven’t been intimate yet. Or … I don’t know. Something to do with Chris coming over last night?

I told Ahmet that his proposal had made me very happy, but I needed time to think.

Ahmet understood (he’s SO understanding!). He said he didn’t like surprises either and I could take as long as I needed. So, I went home to think things over.

When I got through my front door, I stood and stared at my narrow staircase. I thought about how nice it would be to have a partner helping me up those stairs from time to time. Then I called Ahmet and said yes.

It felt a little unromantic saying yes over the phone. Like agreeing to a property purchase. But as we’ve discussed many times now, this is a practical transaction. A bungalow because you’ve outgrown the family home, rather than a dream house. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy.

I am

happy. At least I think I am. I don’t feel

happy, but that’s because it’s such a shock. I need time for the news to sink in.

Freddy, Frankfurt is just around the corner now. We should catch up before then, if only to work out shared taxi arrangements. WHERE have you disappeared to?

Monday 26th September

FREDDY! Did you read my last message? I feel like you’ve vanished off the face of the planet. Why aren’t you returning my calls?

Aside from anything else, we need to make arrangements for the Frankfurt Book Fair. It’s only a few weeks away now.

Am I meeting you at the airport? On the plane?

Your assistant has sent me details of the First-Class lounge, which sounds utterly ridiculous.

Who needs a free haircut, a three-course meal and a cocktail at that time in the morning?

It’s a two-hour flight, not a wedding. And FYI Freddy –’ cattle class’ is an elitist and unpleasant term and I told your assistant so.