Prime Time

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  ‘Well – I was pretty horrified at actually turning 40. You don’t really think it will happen to you. I didn’t put any of my cards up – I felt really weird all day – and it took me six months to actually say the F word. But I sort of got over that –’

  Cal was leaning across the table. He’d taken my hand again. ‘Go on,’ he said softly. ‘Can you tell us about your marriage break-up?’ His thumb moved gently across my palm. It sent shivers right up my arm.

  ‘But what really set me back was my husband, Daniel, leaving me for a 28-year-old. Then I really did feel old and unattractive with that sense that life had passed me by. I started to look around me and everyone else was young. And young people seem to do so much more with their lives than we ever did. Though I suppose one still could … I mean, even Daniel, with his younger woman, is getting new trainers and eating tofu –’

  I clapped a hand to my mouth. ‘Actually, I don’t want to say that – not about Daniel – I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Not on TV.’ I looked at Cal, agitated. He squeezed my fingers.

  ‘No problem. We won’t use more than a few seconds of this. Probably just the stuff about you feeling good.’

  ‘I need to stop for a minute, anyway,’ said Matt from behind his camera. ‘Bloody desperate for a pee. Be right back.’

  ‘I’m going to get a beer,’ said Russ. ‘You want anything?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I’ll have one too,’ said Cal. ‘Where’s Tan?’

  Russ shrugged. ‘Dunno, mate.’

  ‘Are you feeling better now?’ asked Cal, when they’d all moved away. ‘You said you’d had a difficult week?’

  He listened sympathetically while I explained about my father and relived the hoo-hah with my mother that had ended with me in floods of tears.

  His own father, he told me, squeezing my hand, had left his mother when he, Cal, was seven and his mother had been very bitter for the rest of his childhood. ‘She can still be quite difficult,’ he said with feeling. ‘Needy, clinging. I’m sure you know what I mean.’

  He pushed the floppy bit of hair away from his forehead, looking like a young Hugh Grant. ‘And what’s happened with Charlotte?’

  I gave him a brief recap, not going into any of the personal details as far as Roger was concerned, but explaining the misunderstanding.

  ‘Wow,’ said Cal. ‘Tangled webs. But if you’re good friends then she’ll get over it, surely?’

  ‘We’d got a bit strained before that to be honest,’ I said sadly. ‘I don’t think she really liked the new me. She’s not into all that losing weight and exercise stuff.’

  ‘I told you before,’ said Cal. ‘She’s envious because you’re looking so fabulous. And maybe she’s let herself go a bit?’

  I shook my head. ‘Oh no, I wouldn’t say that – Charlotte’s really attractive. I mean, she is bigger than me but she’s beautiful and she’s very comfortable with herself and she’s happily married – well, usually – and that’s worth a lot.’

  I took a mouthful from the new glass of champagne that had appeared by my side. ‘Charlotte says she quite likes getting older ’cos she doesn’t have to try so hard any more –’ I giggled. ‘She says she’s looking forward to elastic-waisted trousers and no longer having to hold her stomach in.’

  ‘Yuck,’ said Tanya, who seemed to have reappeared behind me.

  Cal kept his eyes on mine. ‘But you don’t feel like that?’

  I shuddered. ‘Oh no, I hate it when I feel fat. I don’t like it at all when I catch sight of myself in the mirror and my bum looks big.’ I grinned at him. ‘I don’t want to look like an elephant.’ I put a hand to my mouth again. I was still managing not to slur, but even to myself, I sounded as though I’d been drinking.

  ‘Is my voice all right?’ I said to Cal, who was nodding to Matt who was back behind the camera. ‘Can we stop now?’

  ‘Your voice is fine,’ Cal said smiling at me. ‘And we can stop. We’ll go and get something to eat. But just to finish on an uplifting note – what would your advice be to any woman who’s in her 40s and feels as though she’s getting on and is past being sexy and wearing great clothes and having fun?’ He moved back to let Russ bring the big mike closer to me. ‘Maybe you could say something encouraging about being in your prime – remember the programme is going to be called Prime Time – and we could perhaps end with you saying that?’

  The more I said it, the less convincing I sounded.

  ‘You’re in your prime. This is your prime time …’

  ‘Just once more,’ said Cal.

  ‘It’s prime time – you’re in your prime …’

  ‘And again? What’s the best thing about being 40?’

  ‘This is the time when you’re in your prime.’

  ‘Can you look as though you’re thinking about it first?’

  A little knot of people had gathered to watch and, once again, I suddenly felt all film star-ish. I rolled my eyes heavenwards as if considering life’s mysteries and then faced the camera. ‘You are in your prime. This is prime time.’

  Cal clapped his hands. ‘Terrific! I can’t believe how you’ve taken to this.’

  For the first time in my life I actually knew what it was like to go past the point of wanting to eat. By the time, we sat down in the restaurant I could quite easily have curled up and gone to sleep, but Cal seemed as energised as ever and was happily scanning the menu, making suggestions for me.

  Russ and Matt had disappeared somewhere, Tanya was at the table with us, with a massive face on.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said coldly, when Cal asked her what she wanted.

  She sat drinking Coke and texting while I picked at rocket leaves with parmesan and pine nuts and watched Cal devour a chicken Caesar. I wished she’d go and leave us on our own together. I wanted him gazing into my eyes again. I wanted him all to myself …

  And when I came back from the loo a bit later, it seemed I might have got my wish. Tanya was standing in the foyer, her coat over her arm, obviously arguing with Cal. He waved to me as I went back into the restaurant.

  ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he called.

  ‘You need to let me do it my way,’ I heard him say to her.

  I didn’t catch her reply but it sounded suspiciously as if it included the word “bastard”.

  By craning my neck and shifting my chair along a bit I could just about still see them, through the open doors. Tanya’s arms were waving about and Cal was standing with his hands stretched out, as if trying to appease her.

  Then she disappeared from view and a few minutes later he came back in and sat down beside me, sighing.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I asked, throwing wheat-free caution to the winds and eating a bit of bread roll.

  Cal shook his head wearily. ‘We’re disagreeing on a few technical issues,’ he said. ‘Tanya’s gone home.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said, gravely, thinking it might not be tactful to toss my napkin in the air and begin whooping.

  ‘Well, we’ve more or less finished,’ said Cal. ‘She doesn’t need to be here.’

  ‘Are you still going to stay?’ I asked casually.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, suddenly looking more cheerful. ‘I’m all booked in – why not? It’s great here, isn’t it?’ He poured some more wine into my glass.

  I buttered the rest of the roll.

  ‘I’m very excited about this project,’ he told me, as we drank the coffee I’d thought it prudent to order. ‘It’s a big thing for me. OK, so it’s not on a major channel but it’s on a Saturday night. So it will get noticed. Who knows one of the big boys might pick it up. Someone might pick you up!’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ I said, hopefully.

  ‘Yes, I do.’ His face was serious. ‘You’re a natural.’

  ‘Will I be able to see it before it goes on TV?’

  Cal shook his head. ‘I doubt it. We’re going to be cutting it pretty fine with the edit – we’ve only got a f
ew days. And I’m not really allowed to give out DVDs before it goes on air.’ He took my hand again. ‘But I shall really look forward to hearing what you think of it.’

  We sat for a moment, gazing at each other. Then he gently let go of my hand, slowly unwrapped one of the chocolate mints, and pushed it against my mouth, watching intently as my lips parted.

  ‘Mmm,’ I said, unable to take my eyes away from his. Was this really happening? Was I sitting in a posh London hotel being fed chocolate by a gorgeous young hunk, who’d just put his hand back in mine and was looking at me as if I were beautiful?

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Want to go swimming?’

  What?

  ‘The pool closes at ten,’ Cal was saying, ‘but if I tell the management we need to film in there, they’ll let us use it as late as we want. They’ve been absolutely fantastic – given us all the rooms and everything, for a credit.’

  ‘I haven’t got any swimming stuff.’

  He smiled slowly. ‘Doesn’t bother me … No, I’m only joking. They’ve some gear for sale up there – we’ll get you a bikini.’

  I looked at him suspiciously. ‘I don’t want to be filmed in it!’

  ‘You don’t have to be – though I don’t know why not. You’ve got a fabulous body.’ He stood up and gave me a boyish grin. ‘Come on. I love swimming – it’s such a great way to unwind.’

  I vaguely wondered if leaping into water was a good idea when we’d both had so much alcohol, but I obediently got in the lift with him to the top floor and 15 minutes later, the sight of Cal in a pair of swimming shorts banished all thoughts of health and safety. His body was smooth and muscular, lightly tanned even in December. I looked at his long limbs and strong chest and my heart gave a little skip.

  He walked to the far end of the pool, did a perfect dive and swam a length under water, coming up in front of me – still perched on the side in a red and white polka dot bikini – and putting his hands on my knees.

  ‘Come in, it’s wonderful. So warm!’ His hair was plastered against his head – his blonde streak standing out against the darkness of the rest, his muscles glistening. I slid into the water. His hands went around my waist. Suddenly I really wanted him. Wanted to put my arms around him, put my hands up and pull his face down onto mine …

  He kissed me briefly and slid back under the water again, emerging at the far end of the pool. ‘Swim,’ he called. ‘It’s fabulous!’

  I swam slowly down after him, stretching out my fingers and toes in the balmy water, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness. ‘It’s ages since I did this,’ I said, when I reached the other end. ‘It’s lovely.’

  He nodded. ‘Shame it’s not the Caribbean, but still …’ He suddenly submerged himself again, coming up behind me, kissing the top of my neck and sending ripples all the way down my back. I turned over and floated, feeling relaxed and sensual. Cal cupped the water, sending a stream across my stomach, and I flipped back again, watching him glide along with long, languid strokes till he too spun over and drifted, lazily supine, hands trailing beside him.

  I forgot all sense of time as we circled each other, turning and revolving in the oily warmth, my body light and free beside his, mind empty except for the lapping of the water against us, the soft splashes as we broke the surface. I felt as though we were suspended there for ever, until movement at the side of the pool caught my eye.

  I came abruptly out of my dreamlike state to see Matt and Russ in the far corner, the camera trained on the water.

  ‘Cal – you said you wouldn’t!’ I cried, but I couldn’t be cross. My body was heavy and warm. I smiled at him.

  He held out his hands in contrition. ‘Just a bit of you swimming – that’s all, babe. They’re packing up now.’

  He swam right up to me and put his arms around me. ‘Unless you’ll just walk along the side for me? Just from here to the steam room?’

  I shook my head, embarrassed. ‘No thank you. I’m too old for that sort of thing. I don’t want the whole world seeing my bottom.’

  ‘But what a very lovely bottom it is.’ He ran his hands lightly down the sides of my waist, resting his fingers on my hips. Sending shoots of desire right through me. ‘Please, Lala?’

  I looked at him helplessly.

  ‘Just for me,’ he was saying. ‘Just a few metres. It will be so empowering – other women will see you being bold and unashamed and will feel inspired. Look at how Helen Mirren went down a storm. She’s much older than you.’

  ‘She’s also got a much better body than me.’

  ‘She hasn’t!’ said Cal vehemently. ‘I’ve been looking at you under water and you have an amazing body and I’m not even going to add that insulting tag – for your age. You look great, babe. I think you’re fantastic.’

  His hands were still on my hips. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath steamy on my face. I was melting inside.

  ‘Go for it,’ he murmured. ‘Show them all how beautiful you are …’

  I wanted to please him – I wanted to feel wild and high. I wanted him to touch me all over …

  ‘OK.’

  Cal threw up a jubilant hand and put a thumb up toward Matt. ‘Just one take of Laura and then pack up, OK? You can go and get some beers.’

  ‘It will only take seconds,’ he said to me. ‘Go up the steps, look across at Matt and then walk down to the steam room and go in.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And then I’ll join you …’

  I swam up to the steps and got out of the pool, telling myself I was that beautiful, confident woman Cal had described. I could still feel his hands. As I stood up straight, I felt suddenly lighter and slimmer than usual. I glanced back at Cal who was smiling from the middle of the water.

  He blew me a kiss. For a moment I hesitated. Then I blew him one back. And, filled with reckless abandon, I tossed back my wet hair, beamed at the camera, and sauntered down the side of the pool, even giving a small, triumphant wiggle of my hips as I opened the door to the steam room.

  Moments later Cal sat down on the wooden bench beside me as the steam swirled around us, sending streams down my chest. Droplets ran down his face as he took me in his arms, murmuring as his mouth found mine, ‘La, I want you …I want you now.’

  The rest was a blur. I could only remember him unhooking my bikini top, stepping out of his shorts, his body hard and urgent against mine in the rising steam.

  And later, in my hotel room, my legs wrapped around his waist while he filled me up, holding me tightly to him, as we rocked together in the centre of the huge bed, lost in pleasure.

  And his mouth on my face, feathering it with tiny, fervent kisses while he groaned over and over. ‘You’re amazing, Lala. You’re fantastic. Oh God – La. Oh yes …’

  I woke in the early hours, head pounding. I saw Cal’s shape in the darkness – at the end of the bed, putting on clothes. As I sat up, he leant over me and kissed my mouth. ‘I’m sorry – I’ve got to go, babe.’

  I looked at the clock – it was only 5.30.

  ‘We’ve got to start the edit today to get the film put together in time,’ said Cal in apology. ‘They’re expecting me at the studio first thing. And I need to go home first.’ He began to button his shirt. ‘I’ll see you really soon though.’

  ‘How about the weekend?’ I said impulsively.

  He nodded. ‘We’ll work something out.’

  ‘My son is away with his father next Saturday night. If you came down to Broadstairs, I could cook you dinner.’

  I held my breath, waiting for him to make an excuse, telling myself not to feel crushed. But he put a hand out and touched my face. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘We can watch the programme together?’

  He nodded. ‘That’ll be great.’

  I hugged him, feeling suddenly bereft as he gently disengaged himself and picked up his jacket from the floor. I’m sorry, La – I really do have to go.’

  I hugged my knees instead. ‘I’ll see you next Saturday then.�
��

  He bent down again and softly kissed my cheek. ‘I can’t wait.’

  Chapter Thirty-five

  ‘I can’t wait!’

  Mike, in full heart-attack mode, was speaking in a voice several octaves higher than usual. ‘I’ve promised their MD that I’ll deliver by tomorrow lunchtime. You cannot let me down, Laura, the entire campaign depends on it. And I need to see it first. I can’t hold on till the morning.’

  ‘Well you’re just going to bloody well have to,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Why do you make these ridiculous promises? I’m doing my best but, quite honestly, with the dog’s breakfast you sent me, you’re lucky I can do it at all in this tight time scale.’

  A time scale, I thought, as Mike hyperventilated, that would be not quite so tight if I hadn’t spent the previous weekend in London with Cal but I wasn’t going to let Mike know that.

  My skin still leapt with delectable little shocks every time I thought about Cal’s hands on mine. The way he had looked at me before he left. I’d gone back to sleep until late morning and it had taken several ibuprofen tablets to get me in a fit state to hail a cab to the station, but I’d texted him when I’d got home, telling him how wonderful it had been and had got two kisses back.

  I hadn’t heard anything from him since, but he’d told me he’d be required in the editing suite almost 24/7 till they delivered later today, Thursday, so I assumed he was too busy for anything else.

  I was in much the same position myself. Some of this work had come through from Mike a couple of days before Stanley’s birthday but what with that, and Charlotte, and my bloody mother, and then the filming – pause for the luscious memory of Cal’s fingers moving up the inside of my thigh – I hadn’t even looked at it. Hadn’t even remembered, in fact, that the deadline was this Friday morning.

  Now, in addition to another dreadful script to rewrite and some brochure copy, Mike also wanted me to come up with a series of ad captions and was screaming for the whole lot to be ready by five tonight. No chance.

  ‘I will keep going until it’s done,’ I told Mike soothingly, thinking that if I didn’t have any wine and just sat here, doggedly ploughing my way through, I could probably get it done by late evening. ‘And I’ll email it tonight so it will be waiting for you by the time you get to the office tomorrow. Then you’ll have all morning to print it up and get copies made.’