Page 26 of Seven Rules for a Perfect Marriage

‘It’s like Prince William. And Kate Middleton,’ Jessica points out. They both look very confused.

‘We’re not them,’ says Cait eventually.

Jess and I exchange glances. ‘No,’ she agrees. ‘You’re not.’

‘They’re an absolute crack team,’ Suze say, skating over my embarrassing joke. ‘They’ll keep the weekend running but you’ll barely know they’re here.’

Will and Cait carry on, clearly on a mission, but Suze hangs back conspiratorially. ‘Listen. Saw your email. Are you absolutely sure you want to join in?’ Suze asks, looking confused by our suggestion.

‘Yes,’ Jess tells her. ‘We were talking about it in the car and we want to do it properly. Like we’re one of the couples in the group.’

‘Yep, sure, totally, and that’s brilliant, but obviously the more private information you share with these guests, the less we can control what they post after the event ...’

‘Sure, I hear that.’ Jess smiles brightly. ‘But we think it’s for the best. Instead of us just hovering around, we can actually get involved. Way more authentic. Don’t you think?’

Suze looks deeply sceptical.

‘It’ll be fine,’ I say emphatically. ‘We know what we’re doing.’

Suze shrugs. ‘Okay. If you’re really sure.’

Jess catches my eye and gives me a nod so small it’s almost invisible. ‘We are,’ we say in unison.

‘I thought the Will and Kate thing was funny,’ she says to me, as we tramp up the stairs to our room.

Jessica

Jack and I have very different attitudes to both packing and unpacking. He’ll bring about three garments on holiday and then leave them in the suitcase for the entire time, even if we’re away for a fortnight. I’ll bring forty-five outfits and unpack every single item I’ve brought as if I’m moving house, even if we’re just away for the weekend. Which is why I’m only halfway through folding pairs of tights while he’s already found a shelf of books left by previous guests and ploughed into a biography of some dead American politician. He seems completely calm about what we’re about to do, which is an enviable position because I feel like I’m about to throw up.

I spent a lot of time with Suze and our publishers planning this thing, finding the perfect balance of activities to really showcase how the rules can help a relationship. But I planned it for other people, I didn’t think I would be joining in too. I didn’t think my marriage needed help. But now I’m worried that I’m going to be exposed as a complete fraud for giving relationship advice when Jack and I are so far from perfect. I don’t know how we’d survive if rumours found their way on to the forums.

I only found out about the websites a couple of years ago. Forums where people can post anonymously about any social media account as long as it has more than 10,000 followers. There was some article in the Sunday supplements. It talked about the women who have seemingly normal, happy lives, but who log on at night after the kids are in bed to discuss a stranger’s weight gain, alleged surgery or any one of a variety of perceived failings. Obviously, the first thing I did was type our names in, my gut twisting as I waited to see what people had said.

So far we’ve got off shockingly lightly. Occasionally I’ve found the website useful. When they started talking about my Botox, claiming I was pretending I’d had nothing done, I waited a week or two and then threw in a mention of it, talking about how important it is to be candid about any ‘help’ you have, so that you don’t perpetuate unrealistic standards. People seemed to like that. There are plenty of people who don’t like us, obviously. A handful who say that I seem cold or that we don’t deserve our big house, neither of which worry me especially. There were a couple of comments recently about me looking too thin, which I secretly quite liked. But most importantly, no one on thereseems to have clocked that for the better part of a year, Jack and I can’t go forty-eight hours without one of us winding the other one up.

Suze pushes the bedroom door open without knocking. ‘You know you didn’t need to take the smallest bedroom, right?’ she says as I stand in front of the mirror debating between a white jumper and a striped one, agonising over which one will make the best first impression. ‘We had you down as being in the main suite.’

‘We thought Ken and Sue should have it. They’re the eldest couple.’

‘Sweet.’ I cannot tell from the look on her face if she thinks I’m lovely or a moron. ‘Can I steal you and Jack for pictures?’

Clay told us right at the start of all this that the people who do well are the people who behave well. ‘Being an influencer is like being a royal,’ he told us, over an expensive lunch. ‘Put up and shut up if you want to survive.’ So rather than saying that we’re desperately trying to get on an even keel, I smile. ‘Of course.’

‘Where is he?’

I look around, unsure. The bed is rumpled from where I threw my very heavy suitcase on it. She follows my gaze and sees where I’m looking.

‘You two!’ she laughs. ‘God, I wish Chris and I were still at it like rabbits.’

I could correct her. But I don’t and we eventually find Jack in the kitchen, wrestling with a very complicated coffee machine. Suze manipulates our limbs while we stand in front of a huge window, Jack looking into the camera, my chin tilted upwards, looking adoringly at him. Suze hasjust got the shot when we hear the crunch of gravel on the drive and all three of us freeze for a moment.

‘Show time!’ says Suze brightly. She takes out a phone the size of a paperback and bolts for the door, presumably to capture everyone arriving.

‘Ready?’ Jack asks me.

‘Yep.’

‘I don’t want to be a dick,’ he says, which means he’s going to say something dickish. ‘But I don’t think this is going to be easy. Airing our dirty laundry in public, admitting that we’re not perfect. But if we’re doing it, we’ve got to really do it.’

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