Going Too Far

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘You’re not too sure?’ Sam’s mouth twitched. ‘Any clues? A colour, perhaps?’

  ‘Oh, yes, well it’s sort of … white. Whitish-cream. Or grey.’ Like my face probably, I thought, feeling rather sick and wondering if we might just pull over so I could puke out of the window. Why had I started this?

  He grinned. ‘Whitish-creamish-grey. Right.’

  We drove on. The silence was excruciating. Sam looked at me enquiringly from time to time. I bit my lip and frowned at the mass of parked cars, concentrating like mad and willing myself to pick one.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Polly,’ snapped Pippa, exasperated, ‘you haven’t a clue where we are, have you? You’ve gone and lost the bloody car. This is just typical of Polly, Sam, absolutely typical!’

  ‘It is not!’ I stormed. How dare she? I’d have a few words with her about loyalty later. ‘I know exactly where we are and I know precisely where the car is, it’s – it’s that one!’ I cried, pointing to an innocent little whitish, creamish-grey car sitting at the side of the road minding its own business.

  Sam pulled up. I jumped out thankfully.

  ‘Bye then!’ I cried, with what I hoped was a degree of finality. I slammed the door firmly.

  Sam buzzed down the window. He made no move to drive on and they all watched as, despite the torrential rain, I walked very slowly to the car. Go away, I muttered to myself, as I walked around it, just damn well go away. But they didn’t.

  I pulled my keys out of my bag and waved them in the air triumphantly. ‘It’s all right, I’ve got them!’ I yelled. ‘Bye now!’ Still they watched.

  I dumped my handbag proprietorially on the roof and made a great show of finding the right key and pretending to put it in the lock. A good thirty seconds later I looked up, aware that I was sweating. Three pairs of eyes met mine.

  ‘Always sticks a bit, nothing to worry about though! See you tomorrow!’ I waved again.

  Still they sat on the tarmac, staring, mesmerized, it seemed. I began to panic. Didn’t they have anything better to do? Surely this was about as exciting as watching paint dry, and far nosier. Go away. Just sod off, why don’t you, can’t a girl even get into her car on her own?

  ‘Everything all right?’ called Sam, in a I-could-be-over-to-help-you-in-a-jiffy sort of voice. Christ, was that his door opening even now?

  ‘Fine! Fine!’ I cried.

  In desperation, I straightened up and caught Pippa’s eye. I looked straight at her, tilted my head to one side, opened my eyes wide until they were enormous with meaning, pursed my lips, raised my eyebrows to heaven and shook my head very slowly. It was a momentous look. She stared at me for a moment in amazement, then the penny dropped. She blanched perceptively, quickly leaned forward, and whispered something in Sam’s ear. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, shunted into first gear, and they moved off.

  I keeled over and slumped on to the little car, joy and relief flooding within me. ‘Oh, thank you, God, thank you, thank you!’ I whispered to the car roof, shutting my eyes and kissing the dirty paintwork. ‘Thank you a million times!’

  Suddenly I jumped about a foot in the air as a large hand seized my shoulder from behind. I swung around. A huge, burly great thug of a man was towering over me. He was totally bald, with bulging pale-blue eyes and bulging forearms.

  ‘Just what the hell d’you think you’re doing!’ he thundered. ‘That’s my car you’re breaking into!’

  ‘Oh no, is it? I mean, I – I’m terribly sorry, I thought it was mine!’

  ‘Oh you did, did you?’ He lowered his moon-like face and positioned it inches from mine. The bulging eyes nearly popped out on to the pavement. ‘So where’s your car then, eh? Tell me that, darlin’, where’s yours?’

  ‘Well, it’s, it must be –’ I gesticulated wildly down the road. ‘It must be a bit further down! I obviously haven’t walked far enough – so silly of me, I do apologize, but it’s incredibly similar to this one, almost identical in fact! I’ve even got those lovely fluffy things hanging from the mirror and – and that adorable froggy air freshener on the dashboard! Extraordinary, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yeah? And I suppose you’ve got “Toot if you think I’m sexy” on the back window too, have you?’ He jerked his head towards the witty little sticker. I groaned inwardly. I did hope Sam hadn’t seen that.

  ‘No, no, I haven’t actually.’ I shook my head regretfully. ‘But it’s awfully good, very amusing. I must look out for one of those, I like a jokey little remark on the back of –’

  ‘Oh, just bugger off, you silly tart – go on, bugger off!’ he bellowed, giving me what for him was probably a little shove but which jolly nearly propelled me under the wheels of a passing taxi. What I wouldn’t have done to be propelled into it. He advanced as I groped for my footing.

  ‘If it wasn’t pissing with rain, I’d drag you down to the police station right now, and if I catch you anywhere near my car again I’ll set the dog on you – Sergeant!’

  On command, Sergeant, the biggest Dobermann I’d ever seen, came bounding out of the adjacent house, knocked a couple of gnomes over and threw himself against what was, happily for me, a very high wrought-iron fence. He barked furiously, baring razor-sharp teeth.

  ‘And he doesn’t take prisoners either!’ bellowed my new friend as I backed away hastily. ‘Just you remember that!’

  ‘Oh I will, I will! So sorry, just a silly misunderstanding!’ I turned, put my head down and galloped off down the road. I pounded along the pavements in the torrential rain and didn’t stop running until I reached the Tube station.

  An hour or so later I squelched miserably through Pippa’s hall, soaked to the skin, my suit clinging to me, shivering like a wet puppy. Despite popping into the office, Pippa had beaten me back. She was lying with her feet up on the sofa, reading Tatler and watching LA Law. She gazed in astonishment as I dripped slowly by.

  ‘Blimey! What happened to you?’

  ‘Don’t ask,’ I said wearily, kicking my shoes off and squelching on upstairs. ‘Be an angel and fetch me a large gin, would you?’

  I fell into the bathroom, peeled off my sodden clothes and turned on the taps. A few minutes later she appeared, a gin in each hand. She handed me one, and put the top of the loo seat down and sat on it.

  ‘That wasn’t your car, was it?’

  I sighed. ‘No, but I’m too tired and pissed off to explain. All I can say was it seemed like a good idea at the time.’

  I sank back into the warm, Radoxy waters with a sigh of relief. I looked up at her.

  ‘What did you say to Sam?’

  ‘I said you were an extremely nervous driver and you’d be scared shitless at the prospect of us all watching you emerge from a tight parking space. I said most of the surrounding cars, including his, were in imminent danger and would probably be written off. He moved off pretty sharpish, I can tell you.’

  I brought the gin to my grateful lips, took a slug and groaned. ‘Oh God, now he must think I’m completely mad.’

  ‘Probably,’ said Pippa, regarding me coolly, ‘but what does it matter?’

  I avoided her eye and buried my face in my gin.

  Chapter Eleven

  I spent about two hours getting ready for the party at Quaglino’s. Luckily I’d brought plenty of clothes, but for some reason nothing seemed quite right. Every so often I’d fling something on and run into Pippa’s bedroom, where she was lying on her bed reading and eating an apple.

  ‘What about this?’

  Pippa looked up laconically and appraised me in my neat little black skirt with red linen jacket. She bit into her apple and shook her head.

  ‘No. You look like a secretary.’

  ‘Really? It’s Joseph, you know, and the skirt’s quite short.’

  ‘You still look like a secretary.’

  She went back to her book and I ran out, wondering if Pippa recalled that not so long ago we’d both actually been gainfully employed as secretaries. A few minutes later
I was back.

  ‘What about this then?’

  She raised her eyes from her book, stuck her finger in her place and looked me up and down in my very best navy-blue suit complete with vivid red silk scarf tied jauntily at the neck.

  She shook her head. ‘Uh, uh.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Come fly with me.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Oh Christ!’

  I ran out again and ripped it off. When I returned I had on the shocking pink micro mini and a nipped-in black velvet jacket with nothing on underneath. I was grinning confidently, I looked terrific. Pippa took one look, sighed, and got off the bed.

  ‘Polly, where have you been?’

  ‘Sorry? What d’you mean?’

  ‘That sort of look went out with the ark, no one’s wearing that sort of tarty power thing any more.’

  ‘Aren’t they? Oh! Well it hasn’t got any shoulder pads – look.’ I squished the shoulders down to prove it.

  ‘Doesn’t matter, it still looks naff – here, try these on.’

  She delved in her wardrobe and threw me a bundle of clothes. I shook them out.

  ‘What’s this – a swimming costume? And … flares!’

  ‘It’s a body, you goon, and flares are back. I’ll lend you some platforms to go with them.’

  I collapsed on her bed in a heap. ‘Platforms? You must be joking!’

  ‘No, I’m not, now get it all on quickly then we can share a bottle of wine before we go.’

  I ran into my bedroom, giggling, and dutifully obeyed, wriggling into the clinging Lycra.

  ‘D’you wear pants with this body thing?’ I yelled as I shimmied into it.

  ‘Oh, Polly, for goodness’ sake!’

  I stared down doubtfully at the garment as it hung, unclasped, between my legs. For goodness’ sake yes, or for goodness’ sake no? I didn’t like to ask her to be more specific for fear of incurring more incredulity about my spell in a sartorial time warp, so in the end I left the pants off, feeling more than a little outré.

  Twenty minutes later, with a bottle of hastily guzzled Sancerre inside us, we piled into a taxi, looking, I thought, like a couple of born-again hippies. Pippa even had a long sleeveless cardigan on – I drew the line at that, but had added a string of beads just to show willing.

  Quaglino’s was already throbbing mightily when we arrived and I felt a surge of excitement as we clumped precariously down the steps in our platforms and then waded through the packed tables, turning heads as we went. Sam stood up as soon as he saw us and kissed us both roundly on the cheeks.

  ‘Wow! You both look terrific! I like the kit, although it makes me feel incredibly old – I was wearing all that the first time around. Take a pew. You know everyone here, don’t you, Polly?’

  I had a quick glance around the table. I certainly knew most, Josh, Tony, Tim, Amanda – oh God, don’t let me be next to her, I couldn’t take the strain of dropping my aitches and crucifying my vowels all evening – Amanda’s copywriter Chris, a few other crew members, Susan, but thank goodness, no Serena.

  ‘Here, sit next to me.’ Sam had obviously got one or two warmers into the bank already; he was looking decidedly pink about the cheeks and his eyes were shining. He pulled out a chair and patted it. ‘I’ve been saving it for you,’ he murmured with a wicked wink.

  ‘Thanks.’ I sat down, delighted. Pippa slipped in next to Josh.

  ‘No Serena?’ I asked as I shook out my napkin.

  ‘No, isn’t it a blessed relief? She had a more important party to go to, more star-studded, no doubt, but she’s no loss.’

  I grinned. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  ‘Now – a drink? I ordered you a gin and tonic because I seemed to recall it was your tipple, but I can change it if you like.’

  ‘No, that’s fine!’ He remembered my drink? I smiled up at him. He smiled back and held my eyes for an inordinately long time. Suddenly I looked away. Steady, Polly, have a good time but take it easy; you’re a married woman, remember? And for goodness’ sake don’t get drunk. My gin and tonic arrived, I took a huge gulp out of nerves and excitement and nearly collapsed on the floor. It was practically neat gin.

  ‘Christ!’ I spluttered.

  Sam patted my back as I coughed and snorted attractively into the crudités. ‘All right?’ he enquired.

  ‘Yes thanks,’ I croaked, ‘bit strong, that’s all.’

  ‘They do make a rather mean cocktail here. D’you want some more tonic?’

  ‘No! No, it’s fine.’ I took another hefty gulp just to prove it. I smiled nonchalantly. ‘I’ve been drinking mean cocktails since I was a babe in arms.’

  He grinned back. ‘I rather imagined you had … your health, Polly.’

  Our glasses gently collided, and so again did our eyes, and this time I had the nerve to return his gaze. I mean, what the hell, we were only looking, weren’t we? Just window-shopping, and in a crowded restaurant what’s more, with me to be deposited on a train at midnight like Cinderella – what could be safer? I looked a bit more. God, he was attractive, in a kind of Mel Gibson playing an Argentinian polo player sort of way. I licked my lips wantonly.

  ‘I’m so glad you decided to come this evening,’ he murmured into my ear. ‘It really wouldn’t have been the same without you.’ His lips brushed briefly against my hair.

  I felt a frisson of excitement and leaned forward to come back with something equally suave yet titillating, but for some reason my tongue seemed to be well and truly tied. I wrestled with it, but we were talking bondage here.

  ‘Th-thanks, it was nice of you to ask me,’ I squeaked at last, a deep blush accompanying this incredibly sexy riposte.

  Sam smiled, but politely rather than lecherously, and turned to his other side to talk to Susan, who’d plucked at his sleeve and asked him something urgently. He replied at length, giving her the benefit of his hazel eyes, and me his back.

  I was furious with myself. For heaven’s sake, Polly, buck up! What’s happened to your sexy banter, your winning smile, your flirty little ways? Nice of you to ask me? Hell’s teeth, you’ll be saying thank you for having me next!

  Truth was, of course, I was chronically out of practice. Not much call for sexy banter in Helston, but all I needed was a little refresher course, and speaking of refreshment – I picked up my gin and hoovered it back in one. I put the glass down and shuddered. Wow, that was strong, but it should do the trick. I had a quick look around and, managing to avoid Pippa’s rather censorial eye, surreptitiously popped open a couple of buttons on my top, took a huge gulp of wine and – voilà! I grinned. Tongue and buttons well loosened, I was raring to go.

  I practised a smoulder and murmured ‘Well, hello’ to myself once or twice, just to make sure my voice was deep and sexy, then turned to muscle in on the conversation Sam was having with Susan. It was quite hard because Sam had his back to me now, so I had to sort of peer round and try to catch Susan’s eye. She wouldn’t look at me, so I listened closely, watched her teeth and laughed when they laughed.

  ‘Ah ha ha! Very good!’ I roared.

  No response. I leaned round again and smiled sweetly at Susan, who saw but didn’t smile back. Cow, I thought, a huge frozen smile on my face, how could I ever have thought she was wholesome? She was about as wholesome as a packet of pork scratchings.

  Determined not to be beaten I tried again and this time leaned forward until my head was practically resting on the table. Chariots of Fire cropped up.

  ‘Oh, that’s such a good film, isn’t it?’ I enthused loudly. ‘Oh, Nigel Havers, yes, he’s fabulous, isn’t he …? Oh, you know him, do you, Susan? … Yes, yes, marvellous soundtrack, simply marvellous, by that Greek guy – whatsisname, well anyway, very memorable …’

  I roared on thus but they chatted on regardless. I flushed, hot with embarrassment now. Damn it. Quite apart from anything else I was the only person at the table not talking to anyone. How incredibly gall
ing, had anyone noticed? I had a quick look around. Everyone but me was engrossed. Something had to be done. Quick as a flash and thinking on my feet as usual, I pulled off an earring, dropped it on the floor, then slid off my chair and disappeared under the table on a spurious errand to retrieve it. I salivated slightly at the sight of Sam’s glorious long Armani-clad legs, then emerged, smiling and waving the earring triumphantly.

  ‘Got it!’ I announced to anyone who was interested. I awaited attention. Nothing. Help.

  I blushed some more and nervously quaffed my wine. My spaghetti with some kind of clam and lobster sauce arrived. I frowned with intense concentration and made a great show of expertly winding it on to my fork as if I really couldn’t possibly have coped with talking to anyone anyway, seeing as how I had such a delicate operation to attend to. But there’s only so much attention one can give to a plateful of spaghetti and when I’d masticated every tiny morsel I put my fork down and turned to Tony next to me, eyes wide and desperate now. Not a chance, he was deep in conference with Josh. I tried to catch Pippa’s eye across the table, but she was too far away. Hell. There was nothing else for it, I’d have to turn to drink.

  I summoned a passing waiter, commandeered a bottle of red and treated it as my own private supply, steadily emptying and refilling my glass, as if finishing the bottle were some sort of gargantuan task I’d set myself. By the time Sam eventually turned back to me a good fifteen minutes later I was so plastered I was practically nose-diving into my crème brûlée.

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered in my ear, ‘I didn’t mean to abandon you but Susan’s having a bit of a confidence crisis at the moment. I had to reassure her – you know what actresses are like.’

  ‘S’quite all right, don’t mind me,’ I slurred, with more than a hint of pissed petulance in my voice.

  She was having a confidence crisis, what did he think I was having, sitting here like a lemon? But at least I had his attention, and just enough sobriety to realize that now was not the time to sulk, but rather to put my skills into action.

  I pulled my hair free from behind my ears and let it fall sexily into my eyes, then I nuzzled towards him, lowering my lashes and speaking softly so he had to lean in close to hear.