**I Want to Marry Someone Decent**
“He bought a new sound system,” Emily said quietly, not shifting from her slumped position. “A ridiculously expensive one. Meanwhile, Im scraping together my wages for a new washing machine because ours howls like a banshee. And he says, ‘You dont appreciate investing in art.’ *Art*, Claire… Can you believe it?”
The tea in the pot had gone cold, turning into bitter sludge. The baguette slices on the plate had dried out, the cheese had developed a waxy crust, and Claire couldnt seem to console her friend. Emily had turned up after yet another row with her husband and, having cried herself dry, now sat hugging her knees, staring blankly at the wall.
They hadnt seen much of each other in the last three yearsEmilys husband never let her go anywhere alone and generally disapproved of her friends. But this time, the *beloved* had raised his hand to her, and the usual restrictions no longer applied.
To distract her from the gloom, Claire offered, “Em, want to hear an old love story? A proper oneabout loyalty.”
Emily gave a disinterested nod. “Go on. Just no soppy fairy tales about princes. Ive had enough of those.”
Claire stood, walked to the stove, and flicked on the kettle. The quiet hiss of gas filled the pause.
“No princes, love. This really happened,” Claire smiled. “And it wasnt even about people. Years ago, I worked at a warehouse in an industrial estate. You know the sortguard dogs everywhere, a pack of strays always hanging about. One day, someone dumped two puppies on us: a chubby little black bear called Smudge and a ginger girl, Rusty. They grew up inseparable. Smudge was a rowdy little scrapper, Rustyquiet, clever, with these wise old-soul eyes. Everyone doted on them.”
Claire paused. Seeing Emilys eyesstill distant, but now fixed on hershe continued.
“Then disaster struck. Rusty got hit by a cardriver didnt see her. We thought she wouldnt make it, but strays are tough. Only, she never walked right again, her back legs dragging behind her. Broke your heart to watch, clever as she was.”
“Poor thing,” Emily exhaled.
“But heres the thing,” Claire grinned. “She didnt give up. She became our top alarm dog! Stranger on-site? Shed bark the place down before anyone else noticed. And Smudge? Hed charge in with the others, following her lead. They made a proper team.”
Claires face turned serious.
“Then Rusty grew up. First heat came, and every stray from miles around turned up. A pack of scruffy, bold-as-brass mutts. They hounded her, poor thingshe couldnt run, couldnt fight, just whimpered and crawled to hide by our legs. We shooed them off, but they kept coming back.”
Emily had gone still.
“Smudge? Where was *Smudge*?”
Claire sighed. “At first, he panicked. Ran in circles, barking, but wouldnt take on the whole pack. Instincts, the scentit all scrambled his head. Then… they vanished. Came back three days later. And Smudge was *different*. He walked ahead of her, hackles up, growling low in his throat. And if any dog so much as sniffed in Rustys direction? Hed turn into a whirlwind. Tore into them like hed rip the world apart. He *got it*. Knew she needed protecting.”
Emily clenched her fists, fresh tears wellingdifferent ones this time.
“We thought that was the end of it. But a month later, Rusty started showing. And Smudge? He wouldnt leave her side. Brought her the best scraps, licked her clean, slept curled against her. So tender, so careful… We all fed her up, worried over her. The women especially.”
Claire turned away, her voice wavering.
“The pups came on a sweltering day. We didnt notice at first. Smudge raised the alarmnot howling, but this awful, panicked shrieking. He nipped at our trousers, dragged us to where Rusty had hidden under the old porch. But it was too late… She was already going… couldnt deliver them.”
The ticking of the kitchen clock was suddenly deafening.
“We wrapped her in an old jacket… buried her behind the garage. Had to lock Smudge in the storeroom. He lost itscratching at the door, howling… That sound still haunts me. When we let him out, he tore around the place, sniffing every corner… Searching. By nightfall… he was gone. Never came back.”
Claire wiped her eyes. Emily sat frozen, hands clenched.
“God…” she whispered. “*Thats*… love. And me and Mark? Two strangers sharing a flat. Barely notice each other unless were arguing. Just… existing in parallel.”
“Maybe its just a rough patch? You were mad about him at first.”
“There *was* no ‘at first,’ Claire. We bickered from day one. I just *really* wanted a weddingdragged him to the registry office without thinking it through. Now Im paying for it. Right, Id better go. Thanks.”
***
After that night, they barely spoke for months. Work, lifeyou know how it is. The occasional text surfaced: *”Hey, how are you?”* *”Fine. You?”* *”Same.”*
Then, on a grim autumn evening, Emily messaged: *”Fancy tea? Ill bring cake.”* Two hours later, she was on the doorstep, a tall, calm-faced man hovering behind her.
“Claire, this is Stephen,” she said, eyes brighter than Claire had ever seen. “Were getting married.”
Stunned, Claire let them in. Over tea, Stephen won her over with his quiet, steady ease. He wasnt showy, but the way he passed Emily her cup, the way he *looked* at herit said everything.
When he stepped onto the balcony, Claire gaped at her friend.
“*Well?* Whered you find him? What about Mark?”
Emily smileda new, happy smile.
“After I left yours, I cried all the way home. Not over Mark. Over Smudge and Rusty. Because I finally saw the truthmy so-called marriage was a sham. No one ever loved me. And I realised I *deserved* better. Loyalty. Care. If dogs can manage it… Anyway, next morning, I packed my stuff and left.”
“And Mark?”
“Probably didnt notice till dinner. Bet he was relievedhe knew it was dead too. Wasnt looking for anyone, planned to be single a while. Met Stephen outside the courthouse. Literally bumped into him. I was a mess, nearly crying, and he just asked, *’You alright?’* Turned out hed just got his freedom too. We talked… went for coffee. And… well.” She rested a hand on her stomach. “Babys due soon.”
“*Fast* work, mum,” Claire smirked.
“Tell me about it. But Claire… its *good* with him. For once, I *belong*. Im protected. Loved. You see it, right?”
Claire looked at her, nodded, and smiled through her own tears.
