By John Russell, Deputy Political Editor
‘Once you’ve chosen your one true love, we want to support you with the happy ever after.’
How many times did we hear this familiar slogan trotted out by Government ministers before the Sanctity of Marriage Act became law? Yet, three years later, many of us are still asking: how is our countryreallybenefitting from these Smart Marriages?
Before the Act’s legislation was passed, the United Kingdom was struggling as a global industrial player. Single living had caused a housing crisis and years of pandemics were a gigantic drain on the public purse.
We were told family was the answer, and without family society is nothing. They said: ‘people don’t have a purpose or direction; they are selfish as there is no one to work for but themselves. Single and divorced people are more likely to have physical and mental health problems and to be a drain on the NHS.’
And if you believed the Government’s messages plastered across billboards, buses and social media, a country with more committed couples has a positive impact on its GDP. A more productive workforce equals less poverty, less crime and, as a result, better mental well-being for couples, parents and children. In theory, things should keep getting better from one generation to the next. Smart Marriages should be a no-brainer. Right?
Not necessarily. Because we have gradually seen that, by signing up and allowing those who rule us to control our behaviours, we are losing the essence of what it is to be free-thinking individuals. Ever-increasing numbers are being discriminated against and are having their fundamental rights eroded. The Government believes a hedonistic society is harder to focus. What they really mean is we are harder to control.
England has currently never been more divided. We are now a country made up of them and us. Surely that can’t be a smart idea?
18
Anthony
‘You know, most wives would be suspicious of the amountof time their husbands spend behind closed doors,’ teased Jada as Anthony invited her into his home office. She carried a wooden tray containing small bowls of sushi dishes and two bottles of Japanese beer. ‘But if you aren’t coming out for a late lunch then a late lunch is coming to you,’ she continued.
Anthony offered his appreciation with a kiss on her forehead. He didn’t deserve a partner like her, especially when he kept her at arm’s-length so much of the time. There was too much about his working life that he couldn’t explain. And then there was his relationship with Jem Jones. She would never understand that. It was better and safer for her to live in ignorance than under a dark cloud of honesty.
She placed their food on the desk.
‘Don’t go thinking I’ll be making a habit of playing the dutiful wife,’ she added, ‘but I know you have a lot on right now so I’m making an exception.’
‘I’m sorry, I’ve totally lost track of time. Where’s Matthew?’
‘Ally and Marley took him to the virtual rowing centre.’
‘I thought we were all going on Saturday?’
‘ItisSaturday,’ Jada replied, to Anthony’s immediate guilt. He recalled its inclusion on the digital family calendar but events in Anthony’s life were now measured in terms of days before and after he had killed Jem. Even before that, most of his family time was spent on catch-up, living vicariously through Jada’s abridged anecdotes and airdropped photos of his son while Anthony put work before his family.
Jada sank into a sofa under the window where the blinds were always drawn. The spotlights briefly caught the silver St Christopher pendant she wore around her neck, which had once belonged to Anthony’s mother. It was all he had left of her. She reached over to pick up a tekkamaki with her chopsticks while Anthony scooped at the rice. As they ate in a comfortable silence, Anthony glanced around the room. It was so sparsely furnished, it could barely be considered decorated. It contained a large oak desk with a keyboard projected on to it, his Audite and a monitor. The sofa was as white as the walls. There were no shelves for books or ornaments and it was strictly a paper-free environment, negating the need for trays, filing cabinets, a shredder or even a dustbin.
Jada must have been reading his mind. ‘You know that this room goes against everything I stand for, don’t you?’ she said.
‘It kills you that I won’t let you in with a swatch, doesn’t it?’
‘Hell yes! It’s a blank canvas begging for colour and texture. I don’t know how you can work in such a sterile environment.’
‘The lack of distractions allows me to think.’
The only subject he had been thinking about lately was showing few signs of abating. The more he tried to push Jem Jones out of his head, the more she lingered. The creases around her eyes when he’d made her smile, the kindness of her heart, the way the bullet he’d fired had contained traces of her bone and brain matter as it had exited her skull. Had he done the right thing? Yes, yes, of course. At least he thought he had.
‘But there’s nothing to inspire you,’ Jada continued.
‘Therefore, all my ideas are my own.’
Jada shook her head, unscrewed a bottle top and took a swig from her beer. ‘You need to remember to come up for air though, babe. You’ve been holed up in here for most of the week now. I know I sound like a broken record but you need to find a balance.’
‘Once the next project is out of the way then I’m all yours.’
‘Until the one after that. I know how this goes, Anthony; I wasn’t born yesterday.’
He needed to redirect the conversation from his work, so he inched his head ever so slightly in the direction of the Audite.
