Ruby
‘OK, which room was it?’ I ask them, as we all make our way down the corridor like the kids from Scooby-Doo.
‘In here,’ Risky says, opening a door that leads into a library-type room. ‘They were over there,’ she adds, and I am pleased that the table they were leaning against is in front of a window. That will allow me to use the intensity of natural light to blur the minute details of the parts of the photo that I have to create. Like Mayra’s thighs, for example. I don’t have any photographs of her with her trousers down, obviously. I will have to improvise.
‘Right, who wants to be Gavin, and who wants to be Mayra?’ I ask the group.
‘I might sit this one out, if that’s OK?’ Lauren asks.
‘But I really need either Beth or Risky to stand by the door so that they can confirm what we’re creating is as realistic and close to what they saw as possible. OK? I’m sorry Lauren, but would you like to be your mother or Gavin?’
‘My mother then,’ she says, reluctantly.
‘Great. And Beth, Risky, which one of you would like to be Gavin, and which one of you would like to help me create the scene?’
‘Well, I saw it for longest,’ says Risky.
‘OK Beth, that means you’re Gavin,’ I say.
‘This feels weird,’ Beth says, her baby in a carrier on her chest. And she is right, it is so weird. But I am also excited to do it. This is like the ultimate assignment for what I do. Recreating the actual truth, rather than trying to create a truth that never existed in the first place, but to a standard where everyone thinks it’s real. Morally this sits much more comfortably than my usual work.
Beth gives the baby to Risky, who bobs up and down with him and seems quite happy.
‘OK, you bend over,’ says Beth to Lauren, as they assume the position of Gavin and Mayra. Beth presses her pelvis into Lauren’s bottom, and I start taking photos.
‘Lift your feet slightly off the ground, Lauren,’ Risky directs. ‘And Beth, a straighter back.’
‘Is this really necessary?’ Beth asks, obviously struggling with her role.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I need to capture where your bodies are in the room, so I can lay Gavin and Mayra over the top. Please, I realise this is excruciating, but bear with me. Risky, how’s it looking?’
‘Great, Lauren should tilt her head in this direction a bit. And Beth, put your hands on her bottom, like you’re guiding it forward and back. You know? Really shagging her?’
‘Simulating sex with my client in front of my baby. Winning at parenting?’ she says, getting into character as much as she can.
‘I won’t let him see, boss. Don’t worry,’ Risky says, making funny faces at the baby.
Beth does as she is told and pretends to have sex with Lauren.
‘How much longer?’ Lauren asks. ‘I haven’t had this much sex in years, I might need a nap.’
‘Hashtag Marriage,’ Beth says, breaking the camel’s back and causing us all to lose ourselves in fits of insuppressible laughter. I struggle to catch my breath, wondering if my tiny frame can even sustain this level of hilarity. It’s been forever since it had to try. I hold onto a chair for support. Beth is wiping tears from her cheeks as she tries to level her breath. Lauren is slumped onto a chair, her hands on her belly, guffawing like the exact opposite to how a jilted bride should be feeling. I sense relief from her. Maybe even some hope in the solidarity of her new friends. I have to say, I feel that too.
‘OK, come on. Just a few more pictures. I want to make sure I have what I need,’ I say, urging my models back into position. Soon enough, I’m ready.
Beth
There was something I envied about Lauren today. Reclaiming her power. Not accepting the position Gavin had put her in. Doing what she could to put herself on top. I know there is a large question mark as to whether what we did today was OK or not. But Ruby was right, we haven’t lied, we only created a visual of the truth that all we know is real.
The truth is what I have to deal with in my own life. The truth about what I did, and why I did it. A lot has become clear to me over the past week. Understanding things about myself, and the way that people behave when they are not happy. To say the words may be hard but living with them trapped inside of you is worse. I don’t want to be trapped. I don’t want Tommy to be raised by a domestically frustrated woman. I don’t love my husband anymore. That isn’t my fault. That is my truth. It’s time I dealt with it.
When I get home, Michael is watching TV. Since he went back to work he has given up with the cooking. It’s down to me again to make sure the fridge is full, and the meals are prepared. That Tommy is taken care of. That the household runs smoothly.
‘I’m going to bath Tommy and get him down,’ I tell him. He gets up and takes Tommy from me, cuddling him and kissing him.
‘Hey little man,’ he says. I know he misses him now he’s back at work. Maybe now he will understand how hard it was for me for the past few months. I take Tommy upstairs. I bathe him. I feed him. I kiss him and I tell him, no matter what happens, he will always be loved by both of us. I put him into his bed, and I prepare myself for the things I have to say.
‘Michael, can we talk?’ I sit next to him on the sofa. He turns the TV off, making the fair assumption that it’s about something serious.
‘Before I say what I’m going to say it’s really important to me that you understand that I’m not crazy.’
‘What? Who said you were crazy?’
‘You, Michael. You’ve been trying to make me feel like I’m crazy for years.’
He shuffles and looks ready to jump onto the defence. I don’t let it stop me, not this time.
‘Over the course of our relationship, you’ve become less and less interested in sex,’ I say, looking him in the eye.
‘Fucking hell, Beth. This again? Really? I’ve been working all day …’ he says, standing up. Ready to make me out to be crazy, or desperate, or obsessed with some filth I should be ashamed of.
‘So have I,’ I remind him. ‘I’ve been working all day, taking care of Tommy, and thinking about us. All day. Sit down.’ I wait for him to oblige. ‘You’ve become less and less interested in sex. That’s OK, I somehow think that we could work that out. We could find out why it was happening and find a solution together. I’d have done whatever it took. But rather than do that, you chose to accuse me of being demented, fat, perverted. You’ve done what you can to make out like I’m the one with the problem, not you. You were content to masturbate to hardcore porn but made me out to be a lunatic for wanting sex with my husband. Your double standard is unbearable. Your treatment of me has been so damaging that you gave me a problem, a big one. Not about my weight, like you hoped. I am very comfortable with the way that I look. But you did make me obsessed with sex.’
He rolls his eyes. I don’t care. I’m saying this.
‘I became so obsessed with sex that I went looking for it. I hid behind trees in parks and watched strangers do it, I scanned the Internet looking at porn, the filthier the better.’
He stands up again. ‘OK Beth, I do not need to hear this,’ he says, using anger to try to silence me. A tactic I am very familiar with.
‘Oh yes you do. Sit down!’
He does as he is told.
‘I slept with someone else, Michael. Last week. I felt so lonely, so rejected, so unattractive and so desperate, that I slept with someone else.’
‘You cheated on me?’
‘Yes, I did. I cheated on you. And I’m not proud of that, but I also know exactly why I did it. And if you don’t take some responsibility for it, then that’s not fair.’
‘Fucking hell Beth, if you were a man telling me this you’d be a dirty cheat. Simple. You think I’m going to go easy on you because you’re a woman?’
‘No, I don’t. I don’t expect you to go easy on me at all. And so we’re clear, I am not going easy on myself either. I had sex with someone else and I know I will suffer the consequences of t
hat. I just want you to understand that you’re also to blame. You know that’s true.’
‘You cheated on me,’ he shouts, his face getting redder. I know this hurts him; he was a good husband in many ways.
‘I did. But it’s not about sex, it’s about how you made me feel,’ I say, standing firm.
‘How I made you feel?’
‘Yes Michael. When you slowly chip away at someone they will break. I broke, and now we are broken.’
‘My mother was right, you’re a slut.’
‘A slut?’ I say, calmly.
‘Yes,’ he says.
And that is that. The moment our marriage ends. I mean, it ended a long time before this, but this is the moment I fall into it. Like leaving Michael is a warm hug, and staying with him would be like sharp fingernails scratching constantly on my soul. All the names, the digs, they just fade away. I don’t need to please my husband anymore. I don’t need to beg him to see me. I just want to enjoy being a woman.
‘Michael, I’m leaving you.’
‘Oh, you are? Actually no, I’m leaving you.’
‘No Michael, I am absolutely leaving you. I’m leaving you because you checked out of this relationship and married me with false promises. You have no right to deny me intimacy for my entire life, just because it’s not important to you. It’s important to me, and I deserve it.’
‘I’ll take Tommy,’ he says, his chest puffing up.
‘No, you won’t,’ I tell him. I haven’t felt this calm, this right in my own skin, in my own thoughts for so many years. ‘You know that isn’t best for Tommy. And you know I won’t let that happen.’
He paces more, silent now. Other than the air that he pushes through his nostrils.
‘I think you should go and stay with your mum, while we work this out. You can see Tommy anytime. I’ll never take him away from you. But this marriage is over.’
As if lightning strikes him, he falls to his knees. His head pressing into my lap.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’ he says, hurting my thighs in his hands as he squeezes them. I open his fingers with mine.
‘Come on, get off. OFF.’ I hold his face in my hands. ‘You are a good man, a good dad and a good husband in many ways. And I did love you. But you know this can’t carry on, don’t you?’
Weeping, he nods.
‘Go and get some things and go to your mum’s. Don’t get there too late. She’ll want to bitch about me for hours and if you don’t go now, she’ll have you up all night. OK?’
‘OK.’
He goes upstairs and appears a few minutes later with a bag.
‘I’ll come back tomorrow to get more things.’
‘OK. And we can work out a plan with Tommy.’
I open the front door and he leaves. When he’s gone, I fall against it. Relief overpowering any other emotion. I did it. I got myself back.
I run upstairs and gently lift Tommy out of his cot. I lay him next to me on my bed. Me and my baby. I fall asleep next to him.
This is how it should be.
14
Ruby
It took me six hours and thirty-six minutes to get the picture just right. I couldn’t be happier with it. Ten grand works out at much more than my usual hourly rate, I can’t believe she agreed to it. I feel a bit weird taking the money from Lauren, but this is my job, and it means I can stop doing what I’ve been doing for so long. No more ruining women’s lives by telling them they should look a certain way. I don’t know what is next for me, but I’m done with doing that. The money gives me some breathing space.
I look at the image of Gavin and Mayra. It’s truly brilliant. I broke up the pictures Rebecca took of Mayra on the wedding day and cut them together with Gavin in his suit. Luckily, apart from the top of Mayra’s thighs, they were both fully clothed, so I didn’t need to try to recreate their naked bodies. I used Lauren’s thighs from the shots I worked on of her previously and let the light from the window blur them so no details showed. You’d never know they weren’t Mayra’s. But my favourite bit is the mole that Lauren told me Mayra has on her left thigh. I lifted the one from Rebecca’s face, using the photos I took of her in the room at the wedding. I cut and pasted it onto Lauren’s leg, making it fit the exact description of Mayra’s. It’s a little touch I am very proud of. No one needs to know.
I’ve done a brilliant job.
I send it to the WhatsApp group we created for approval.
Risky: You’re a genius. It’s exactly what I saw.
Beth: Wow! WOW! Perfect. WOW.
Lauren: I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much!
Ruby: You’re welcome Lauren. I hope it makes things better for you. Night ladies x
Just as I am getting into bed, a text comes through from my mother.
I’m going to hang myself with your old scarf.
I can’t be sure which scarf she is referring to, but my mother’s texts have recently become much more specific. Usually there is a generic threat of death, now she is naming objects. Yesterday she insisted she was in the process of taking pills. The day before she was going to jump off a cliff holding her cats. This is unusual, and the frequency of the messages is increasing, giving me more cause for concern than ever before. Her suicide threats were always sporadic and bland, they are now regular and detailed. Does that mean she is getting closer to it?
I’ve often wished she would hurry up. Turns out I am not that relaxed about it.
I text Liam rather than call, as I know there would be a lot of questions.
Can I have Bonnie this weekend? I want to go and visit my mother.
Wow, I mean, yes obviously. Are you sure?
I’m sure. Thank you.
Call me if you need me. Or you want me to come?
I took a while to ponder that. I do want him to come, I think it would be really good for Bonnie. Especially if Mum is in a truly bad way.
No thanks, I reply, regardless. This is something I have to do on my own.
Beth
‘Cheers,’ I say, holding up my champagne. ‘Well done, Risky. You did a brilliant job on this wedding, even if it didn’t end in a marriage.’
‘Cheers,’ she says, raising her glass to mine. I have brought her to a fancy wine bar to celebrate the end of the job. ‘Yeah, we did well. It’s a shame no one got to try the cake, but hey-ho, we know it was good.’
‘Oh, I never told you? I took two tiers of the cake home with me and hid them in a drawer in my bedroom. I ate them while I breast fed Tommy, Michael had no idea,’ I say, feeling smug.
‘Ha-ha, good one, boss,’ she says, as if I am joking and that would be crazy. Maybe it was.
‘Anyway, the catering staff ate well that day,’ I say. ‘A few guests stuck around and partied like the wedding was going ahead. I suppose they may as well have, everything was paid for.’
‘God, what a massive waste of money,’ Risky says, shaking her head. ‘To think people are out there starving. Weddings are so stupid.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’
We don’t have another wedding for three months, so Risky will be manning the fort in the office while I spend most of my time at mummy-and-me baby groups, walking around the local park pushing Tommy in a buggy, enjoying living in my house without my husband tapping away at my self-esteem, and eating doughnuts while I am still breast feeding and pumping out the calories that would otherwise land on my arse. I can’t wait. I shouldn’t feel this happy about splitting up with Michael before our baby is even five months old, but I do. I feel like I finally get to enjoy myself.
‘So how’s Michael doing?’ Risky asks, taking a huge sip of champagne. We got a bottle and she knows I’ll only allow myself a glass, because breast milk still feels like liquid gold and I hate wasting it.
‘He’s OK. He’s living with his mother. He’s going to take Tommy for a few hours a day while I’m still breast feeding. We’ll negotiate a proper plan after that.’
‘What do you think he’ll
do?’
‘Honestly, I think he’ll live with his mother until she dies. He’s basically in a five-star hotel, getting every meal cooked, hot baths run every night, probably a lot of foot rubs.’
‘That’s weird, sounds like they are a couple.’
‘Yeah, well they kind of are. They can live together with their weird sex complexes. To the happy couple,’ I say, raising my glass again.
‘Are you OK, Beth? It can’t be easy,’ Risky says, her hand resting on my leg.
‘Yeah, I’m OK. He wasn’t who I hoped he was. I’d be way lonelier if I stayed with him than I ever could be on my own.’
‘How are you ever supposed to know if it will work? It’s such a gamble,’ Risky says, looking despondent. Just weeks ago heart emojis were flying out of her eyes at the very mention of love, now she’s witnessed truth beyond what her own heart can handle.
‘It is, but if you win, I reckon it would be the best prize in the world.’
Risky gets her phone out of her bag. She smiles as she reads a text message.
‘Adam?’ I ask her.
‘Yeah.’ She puts her phone down. ‘The last few weeks have changed a lot for me too, boss. I thought you and Michael were the dream. I thought Lauren and Gavin had everything. If you lot can’t work it out, what hope do I have?’
‘No Risky, you mustn’t think like that. Adam seems like a really nice guy.’
‘He does. But he’s Gavin Riley’s brother. I mean, he says they haven’t got on for years. That he’s always had a problem with Gav’s behaviour, and that he really isn’t anything like him, but …’
‘Risky, but nothing. He isn’t Gavin, and there’s no reason why he should act anything like he does.’
‘I know, but how am I supposed to trust him? Or anyone? Either not to cheat on me or give up on me?’
I never meant to shatter a young girl’s illusion of love. The idea that she will walk away, just because of the fear of it not working out is so sad. This is why parents don’t let their kids watch horror movies. Unnecessary fear of a world that is probably quite safe. It’s a shame Risky witnessed such disastrous examples of marriage.
So Lucky Page 26
