Unperfect

Max

“Mr Hardcastle, would you agree that your houses will revolutionise the postmodern era of environmental design, combined with affordable housing. Was that your intention?”

I pulled on my shirt collar. The damn thing was choking me.

“Folks need houses,” I said with a shrug. “I make sure they don’t cost an arm and a leg. Not exactly a revolution.”

“Er … yes but typically this kind of zero carbon design was costly to– ”

“The buggers that need zero carbon are the same ones need affordable housing. Helps to pay for food if your gas bill don’t cost owt.”

“Yes, but you’re the first to really take that and make it on a massive scale and at an affordable price. You’ve changed he face of modern architecture.’

I rolled my eyes and Verity gave me a kick in the shin.

“It were just common sense. Any bugger can see that-”

“Yes, we’re very proud of the project, thank you Dermot,” Verity put in, cutting me off. My tie was still choking me again. I huffed and pawed the bloody thing off so I could undo my top button. “Max,” Verity hissed.

“What? It was choking me, V. Listen Dermot, mate. Would me wearing a tie make you any more likely to hire me to design a chuffing building?”

Verity groaned next to me, but Dermot McWilliam laughed.

“No, Max. I don’t suppose it would.”

“Oh my God,” groaned Verity, her face going into her hands. “Can we restart this interview?”

Dermot laughed again.

“I am grateful you’re giving this interview,” Dermot told me. “I know that even though you’re the creative force, you leave most of this stuff to Verity. The award acceptances being a prime example.”

“V’s better at this stuff than me,” I mumbled. “She says I come across as a bit of a grumpy, northern bas –”

“Thank you, Max,” Verity said on a forced laugh, “your eloquence as always breaching the cultural divide.” She turned to Dermot. “Max isn’t exactly a people person I’m afraid. He’s more of a nurse-a-pint-in-the-back-of-the-Pig-and-Whistle than give-a-coherent-interview-on national-television type man. But he is frightfully talented and the new housing communities are all his design.”

“You must be relieved that everything was still going ahead after Nathanial Banks was arrested. I understand that was a tense time.”

I shrugged. “Water under t’bridge now.”

“Mr Banks is serving a ten year prison sentence for attempted murder, and has subsequently been stripped of his assets after it was discovered he’d been embezzling money from the company and committing tax fraud.”

A slow smile spread across my face at Dermot’s words and I looked straight at the camera. “Don’t reckon on them liking woman beaters in prison. Do you, Dermot?’

There was a pause for a moment. “Er … no I don’t suppose they do.” When I didn’t say anymore Dermot cleared his throat. “Well, you’re working with Adrian Luther who was a partner in Banks’s company, but has now taken full control. Is that business relationship less … er, fraught?”

“Adie’s a good lad,” I said.

“Always a bonus to work with someone who’s not a raving psychopath and who isn’t attempting to murder one of our employees,” Verity put in, in a cheerful voice. Dermot’s mouth fell open and his eyes went wide.

“Right, yes I suppose that is …” he cleared his throat again. “Amelia isn’t just an employee now though, is she? I understand you’re living together, Max?”

“Well, she’s the old ball and chain now. Would be bit daft if we weren’t living in the same house.”

“She’s … er, what?”

“Max and Mia are married,” Verity explained and I felt my chest puff up with pride.

“Oh, really?” Dermot’s eyebrows’ were raised. We’d shocked him again. The media attention after Nate’s arrest had been fierce. Mia had become the reluctant poster child for domestic violence. The fact that he’d assaulted her on national television, directly before kidnapping her right outside the event had dominated the headlines for weeks. The clip of Mia being thrown across the stage and Barclay Lucas catching her up had millions of views on YouTube. The fervour surrounding the story was not helped by the footage that emerged of Mia breaking Nate’s nose and then running to me. The Prime Minister and his wife plus their whole security team in the background of the video had only added to the drama.

Two years later, the press interest had still not died out completely. Luckily, Mia and I were boring. We stayed in, had mates over, went to the Pig and Whistle – not much there for even the keenest pap to take an interest in.

“Doubt you would have seen owt about it in the papers, Dermot,” I told him. “We had the reception at our local. Just a few sausage rolls and some beers. Champagne n’all for the posh bastads like V.”

“Posh bastards like the Prime Minster and his wife?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re on about, mate.” Truth was Kira and Barclay had been there. Barclay was an alright lad for a politician but that woman of his was a proper liability, and the two bloody mini Lucas hooligans combined with Mia’s niece had terrorized the Pig and Whistle, driving Fergus straight up the wall.

“I heard Mia’s speech at the Action Against Domestic Violence conference,” Dermot said. “It was impressive. She looks well.”

I nodded. Mia was well. She carried her past with her and sometimes something would trigger that look in her eyes again – she still couldn’t sit in the back seat of a car – but she was tapping less and less. Sometimes, if I was with her and she got that look back in her eyes, I’d found that if I held her hand in mine she didn’t even need to tap. Having the confidence to speak out at conferences was recent. She’d turned down many offers to be an advocate for women in her position over the first year. But in the end she felt like she had to do it – like it was a betrayal if she didn’t. It was the only time she dressed up.

“You’re a lucky man,” Dermot said, his face now serious.

“That I am, Dermot. That I am.”

Mia

I took a deep breath through my mouth and let it out slowly through my nose. Crowds still weren’t my favourite thing, not by a long way, but tonight was important. Max paused mid stride and turned to look at me. We were behind the others so they didn’t see us stop.

“Max, what do you–?”

“We can go home, love,” he said, reaching for my other hand so that both of mine were engulfed in his warm ones. I felt that warmth travel up my arms and into my chest. A feeling of calm settled over me and I smiled up at him.

“You just don’t want to be trussed up in that monkey suit for a whole evening.”

He searched my face and then leaned down to rest his forehead on mine.

“I know you don’t like these chuffing things,” he whispered. “We can go home, get a brew on and watch it on’t telly.” I squeezed his hands before removing mine so that I could wrap my arms around his middle. His arms came up to pull me into his chest, which I felt expand with a deep breath under my cheek.

“We are not going home to watch it on the telly, you daft article,” I said, my words a little muffled in his shirt so I pulled back a little to look up at his face. “This is a big deal, Max. You’re Young Architect of the Year. You’ve got to accept the award. I’m not going to let my neuroses get in the way of your success.” His arms gave me a squeeze as his brow furrowed.

“Without you and your Number Five stuff I wouldn’t even be here. I don’t need a bunch of twats telling me I’m a visionary and all that bloody nonsense for designing something any Tom, Dick or Harry could have thought up.”

“But nobody else did design it, Max. That’s the point. You did. You deserve this award and I’m going to see that you get in there and accept it.”

He rolled his eyes then focused back on my face.

“You’ll tell me if you want to do one though, okay?”

“I’ll be reight, lad,” I said, lowering my voice to a poor imitation of his and causing his chest to shake with a low chuckle.

“We’ll make a northern lass out of you yet,” he muttered, his gaze falling to my mouth as I smiled up at him and his pupils dilating. “Love you, Number Five,” he whispered as our lips brushed.

“Love you too, you grumpy bastad,” I said against his mouth before deepening the kiss. The world fell away and it was just Max and his smell and the feel of his muscles through his suit. He may not have been comfortable in this get up but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t objectively gorgeous wearing it.

“What are you two horny cockwombles doing out here?” Kira’s sharp voice cut through my Max daze and we broke apart to turn to her. Max kept one of his arms around my waist and pulled me into his side. “They’ll be time for the funky mamba later, people. You’re the star of the show, Maxy boy. Barclay will be presenting the award to thin air if you don’t get a move on.”

“Right,” I said, determination lacing my tone. “Kira’s right.” I wriggled out from under his arm, grabbed his hand and gave him a sharp tug to get moving.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled as he let me pull him along with Kira on our heels as if she was worried we’d try to bolt again.

As soon as we got into the vast hall I stiffened. Crowds were still not my ideal environment. But I reminded myself that I knew how to do this, I’d had years of this. A group of people descended on us, some of whom I recognised as other architects Max had bid against in the past, some developers I didn’t know, and the chair of the architecture commission. I pasted on the low-key interested smile I had perfected when I was with Nate. I could small talk the hell out of this party. I might not like it, but I would do anything for Max, and tonight was important to him. These were people he needed to network with. Nate was always saying how important connections were in business – Max would be crazy not to take advantage of opportunities like this.

He muttered a few greetings, shook a few hands and we both took an offered glass of champagne, which looked ridiculous in Max’s huge paw. I almost laughed at the filthy look he gave it – Max hated champagne. He squeezed my hand as the chatter around us increased and I felt him turn and look at my profile. I was still using my polite smile as one of the other architects was asking me about my role in Max’s company. When my eyes flicked to Max’s face I was surprised to see him frowning and I felt an arrow of worry that I might be disappointing him. Old insecurities surfaced – was I saying the right thing? Did I have the right dress on? Was I embarrassing Max? He squeezed my hand and turned back to the crowd around us.

“Scuse us,” he muttered. “I’m bleeding starving. Come on, Mia. Let’s see if this gaffe has any decent sausage rolls.” I barely had time to blink before he’d pulled me through the ring of people and across to other side of the room.

“There you are,” said Yaz, linking her arm with mine and claiming me from Max as we approached. “I’ve already taken those bloody shoes off – and I don’t care what V has to say about it. They are the devil’s work.” Yaz never seemed to really want any other footwear than flip flops.

“As long as your breasts remain contained in that dress I’m happy,” Verity said, eyeing Yaz’s dress which was split from her neck down to her waist.

“Exactly,” Heath put in after he’d leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “Let’s pray the dress from hell holds up. You’ve garnered enough attention already, Midge.” Hostilities between Heath and Yaz had been ramping up in recent weeks for some reason. It was completely beyond me why the otherwise kind, reasonable Heath would be so careless cruel to Yaz but I was losing patience with him.

“Now hold on just a minute,” Kira said, joining our group with her husband. I noticed her security lurking in the background. “That’s my dress she’s borrowing.”

“Well yes,” Verity said after everyone had greeted Barclay and Kira. “You could hardly wear it, could you? Nobody can risk the Prime Minster’s wife flashing a bit of nip in public. I’m sorry if it makes be a frightful prude but I’d prefer Yaz didn’t either. And there is a slight difference in dimensions between the two of you.”

“She means I’ve got massive wazzers,” said Yaz and I snorted out a laugh, relaxing into Max and feeling the tension drain from my body. Heath choked on the champagne he was drinking in an uncharacteristic loss of his usual cool.

“I think your wazzers are fabulous,” I told Yaz and she gave me a big grin before launching herself at me and hugging me until I couldn’t breathe.

“Thanks gorgeous,” she said, rocking me from side to side, her “wazzers” restricting my oxygen supply. “You okay,” she then whispered in my ear.

Max pulled me back into his side and pushed Yaz away. “She will be if you don’t crush her to death, you nutter.”

“She needs the positive tactile reinforcement, Max,” Yaz huffed out, her hands going to her hips. “Hugs centre people in stressful situations.”

Heath snorted and Yaz whipped around to narrow her gaze at him. “What’s the problem Heathy baby? Do you need some centering?”

Heath took a step back and two flags of colour bloomed across his cheekbones. “My oxytocin levels are more than fine thanks, Midge.” He was trying to fake a bored expression now, but the choked element to his voice gave him away. What on earth was going on with them?

“Well, I think Mia’s had a fair bit of tactile reinforcement already, Yaz, if what I caught her doing with your brother in the corridor is anything to go by,” Kira put in. Heat rose to my cheeks.

“That’s wonderful, Max,” Yaz gushed, reaching up to pat his face. “I love how sexually open you are now. Oh! Oh … you guys should go and bang in the bathroom. It’ll centre you both and make the night less stressful – release tension.”

Verity made a gagging sound. “Yaz! Please. Some of us don’t require that level of information.”

“Wow,” Barclay was grinning as he stared at Yaz. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as bizarrely inappropriate as my wife before. That’s quite an achievement.” As I started giggling I noticed Max watching me again.

“You okay now?” he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“Yes, of course,” I said, turning to frown up at him. “Listen, Max, why didn’t we stay and talk to those people before? I know that some of them are a big deal in the industry. Don’t you think you should be using an opportunity like this to your advantage? Make some connections?”

He shrugged. “Either the stuff I design is good or it’s bollocks. No amount of schmoozing changes that. Waste of bloody time.”

“You know that’s not true,” I whispered, tugging on his hand so that he looked down at me again. “You know that –”

“Look,” he cut me off, drawing me a little away from our small circle. “You got that weird smile on your face over there. And you had that thousand-yard-stare going on. But now, with our mates, you’re back in the room again.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can survive a bit of small talk, Max.”

His mouth set into a grim line and his eyes flashed with annoyance. “I know you can survive small talk. You’ve proved you can survive just about anything. But with me you’re not going to just survive. You’re going to live and that does not include making small talk with a bunch of bastads that make you uncomfortable.”

“But – ”

“Listen, no amount of chat counts if you build crap buildings. I’ve never been good with the arse-licking stuff and I’m still getting this award tonight – because I can design the shit out of building.”

I smiled up at him. “You’re so modest.”

He grinned back and his hands came up to cup my face again, both his thumbs sweeping the corners of my mouth. “That’s the smile I want to see,” he muttered. “I do love you, mind.”

“I love you too.”

“Ugh! Will you lot stop canoodling every two minutes,” Verity snapped, giving Max a sharp punch on the arm.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Yaz said on a sigh. “And it’s so good for their oxytocin levels to be –”

“I think their oxytocin is topped up for the moment, Yaz,” Heath said in a dry tone. “They’ve been all over each other for months.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty gross,” added Teddy as he joined the group. He’d taken some time off from his course in Cambridge to come down for the award ceremony.

“Why don’t you canoodle me like that anymore?” Kira snapped at Barclay, whose eyebrows went up into his hairline. “My oxytocin needs a boost as well.”

“Kira, I canoodled you pretty thoroughly this morning,” he said.

“Oh yeah,” Kira replied, a dreamy expression coming over her face as she leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“I think we canoodle fairly regularly for a married couple with two out-of-control kids.”

She huffed. “Well … maybe I want more public canoodling.”

“I publically canoodled you two weeks ago, Kira, and a picture of us snogging appeared on the front of pretty much all of the national newspapers just before the UN summit.”

Kira bit her lip. “Right, I forgot about that.” She patted his stomach and looked up at him with a smile. “Maybe I’ll let you off whilst you’re the Prime Minster.”

He rolled his eyes and then pulled her around to face him, giving her a brief kiss on the lips. A click and a flash went off just as their lips touched but the pap was gone by the time they’d separated. “Bloody brilliant,” Barclay muttered. “The British public will think I’m some sort of sex maniac at this rate.”

Max’s acceptance speech was brief. He thanked Verity, his family and me before saying, “Cheers then,” and strolling off the stage. Not long after that he declared he’d had enough of “this poncy nonsense” and we all went off the to the chippy round the corner. No small talk, no superficial conversations, no expectations of me to perform, no fear – just love and laughter and home and family.

And Max’s mum was right. This was how I won. Living this unperfect life surrounded by love was my victory.