Her social life outside work revolves around being married. It wasn’t a conscious decision to drop her single friends, but it just seemed that activities involving either just herself and Johnny or other couples – dinner, theatre, movies, parties -seemed to consume all their time. She sometimes worries that it was a decision, albeit a subconscious one, to slide her single friends out of her life, but she pushes the thought away, and likes to think that maybe they slid her out.
She not only feels contradictions between her home life and her work life, but she feels guilty for being so happy sometimes, although she is not sure why.
‘Morning, Fiona.’ She smiles as she plonks herself down in the large leather chair, which swamps her small frame. ‘How are you?’ She sometimes wonders if she will ever be editor. Fiona works frighteningly hard, horribly long hours, but she does have a really cool office. It’s quite large, with a massive glass desk, two large leather chairs, a sofa in the corner (for naps), and framed Modern Woman covers all over the walls. There is also a television, which is the thing that Betty covets the most. Catching Neighbours at lunchtime, or the news, or even the Channel 5 afternoon movie would be fab. She is sure that Fiona does exactly that. The only problem is that Fiona is feared universally throughout the magazine. She and Betty put on a friendly facade, but Betty is aware that Fiona could eat her for breakfast and throw her up by midmorning.
‘Hi, Betts. How are things?’
‘As good as they were yesterday.’ Her boss is older than she is (Betty is thirty one), but decidedly single, or actually divorced, something that slightly scares Betty. She thinks that if she even hears the word she might be contaminated with it.
‘How’s the cat?’
By the same token that divorce scares Betty, the mention of marriage scares Fiona. So she never says Johnny’s name to Betty. In fact, Betty thinks she seems to deny his existence. Fiona is anti-marriage. When Betty told her that she was marrying Johnny, Fiona really lost it.
‘What the hell do you want to do that for?’ she screamed, and she didn’t speak to Betty until after she got back from her honeymoon. Betty tried to be understanding. Fiona had a terrible experience with her ex-husband, who was sleeping with her best friend and a number of other women before she discovered his multiple infidelities. A nasty divorce followed and Fiona nearly fell apart under the strain. However, now she copes with it by hating men and hating marriage. Betty doesn’t think it is exactly healthy but she feels more loyalty to Fiona than is necessary and she always humours her rants.
‘Cyril is fine.’
‘Right, then, down to business. I have a fantastic assignment for you.’
‘Oh, good.’ Betty is dying to get her hands on a good story, after spending the last month making up embarrassing sex stories. She wants to write a proper feature, one which demands research.
‘You’re going to spend some time with a woman.’
‘What woman?’
‘A honey trapper.’ Fiona sits back in her chair and folds her arms.
‘What on earth is that?’
‘Her job is a little unorthodox but not as rare as you might think. She tests men’s fidelity. Women hire her to go to a bar, for example, and be the sort of temptation to see if their men fall for her or remain faithful to them. They call it honey trapping. Putting temptation under a man’s nose and seeing how he reacts. Most of the time she is hired by women who have good reason to suspect their men are cheats, but other times she is hired by paranoid women.’
‘But she must be really twisted to make her living that way.’ Immediately Betty dislikes this woman, and is shocked by that fact. Normally being a professional, she doesn’t judge and she certainly doesn’t hold opinions on her subjects. She ignores the dislike and concentrates on Fiona.
‘Perhaps I jumped in a bit quickly.’ Fiona has a habit of doing that, leaving her staff flummoxed about what she is saying half the time. ‘I met this woman at a dinner party who, wonderfully, is a detective. Her firm specialises in the area of infidelity and one of the strongest parts of the business is the honey-trapping side, which I just explained to you.’
‘Right …’ Betty is slightly lost for words.
‘It’s fantastic. I love it. A woman who goes out and traps all those cheating bastards. Nailed. Banged to rights. Of course, they should all be castrated but this is the best legal thing.’
‘So, you want me to write a feature on her?’
‘No, one of her girls. I ran the idea by her and she said she was interested, in theory. It’ll be like free advertising for her firm. But she said she would have to ask one of the women who actually do the job and take it from there.’
‘So I would be following this woman around, whoever she is, documenting everything she gets up to.’
‘From the moment she wakes in the morning until the moment she goes to bed.’
‘But it isn’t confirmed?’
‘Not exactly, but Nicole, the woman from dinner, said she would call me with someone I can put you in touch with this week. It’s going to make a great story.’
‘It should be interesting at least.’ Betty knows better than to argue with Fiona.
‘I hope so. For the story’s sake.’ The meeting is over.
Betty spends the rest of the day researching, and discovers that honey trapping isn’t uncommon. She shudders at the women who test their husbands, but then she also shudders at the thought that men cheat. She knows that Johnny would never cheat on her and she knows that she would never test him. Her marriage is her certainty. Her rock-solid belief. Her religion. It’s not insecurity that makes her angry, it’s the fact that the honey trappers feed off insecurity. She doesn’t like deceit, and to these women deceit is an industry.
She is already forming the profile in her mind: a devious witch of a woman who wants to wreck marriages. Betty knows if a honey trapper came anywhere near hers she would kill her.
She keeps a photo of Johnny on her desk, her one concession to bringing her married status into work. As she looks at him, with his white blond hair, his pale blue eyes, his sexy smile, she knows that she is going to struggle being impartial with the new assignment. She curses her boss, who would herself be perfect to do the actual feature. After all, hating men would give her and the honey trapper something in common.
When she arrives home, she fusses over ginger Cyril and feeds him, which is all he really wants from her. Then she goes to the bedroom and changes out of her work clothes. Everyone at the magazine dresses as fashionably as possible (they all feel obliged, as at least half the magazine’s pages consist of fashion), but as soon as Betty gets home she opts for comfort. She wrote an article a few months ago about women getting complacent when they have bagged their man, and she sees herself falling into some of the traps that she pointed out. Wearing baggy trousers and big sweatshirts was one, but Johnny never complains. And Betty does make an effort for him; she hasn’t turned into a total slob. She hasn’t put on weight (another thing on her list), or started burping in front of him, and she always keeps her bikini line, her underarms and her legs waxed. And she never, ever, greets him at their front door with spot cream plastered all over her face.
Cyril is cleaning himself when she re-enters the kitchen. She goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. Pouring herself a glass, she hears a key in the door so she pours another glass and goes to greet him with it.
‘Wow, you really know how to make a man happy.’
‘Oh, yes, I do,’ Betty replies, handing him the wine and planting a huge smacker of a kiss on his lips.
Betty likes making Johnny happy. She is hardly a domestic goddess but she tries to take care of him. They have a fairly equal marriage, she would say, because they take care of each other.
They eat dinner together at the small dining table and she tells him about her latest assignment.
‘Apparently, women pay to test their husbands’ fidelity. Don’t you think that’s bizarre?’
‘What
, that women test men, or that men cheat?’
‘Both. I mean, could you imagine how you’d feel if I set you up like that? You’d be mad. But then I guess if you were cheating on me …’ She shudders again at the thought.
‘I would never do that. But you need to hear what they have to say before judging them.’
‘Yes, but you know I just can’t help thinking that the job is marriage wrecking.’
‘But you said they work for other people; they only do what they’re paid to do.’
‘Imagine being paid to do that.’
‘I know.’
‘Rest assured, my darling, that I would never pay anyone to test you.’ Betty smiles at him. It often astounds her, takes her by surprise, just how much she loves him.
‘And I promise never to cheat on you.’ They kiss, then they go to do the washing-up. Together.
Later, as she lies in bed awaiting sleep, Betty wonders again how she can be so lucky. How she is allowed to be so lucky. Her thoughts drift to the honey-trap woman she is going to have to meet, interview and write about, and fear rips through her. Whoever she is stands for everything Betty doesn’t. They are at odds; they have to be. Betty knows that whatever happens, it is going to be a tough assignment.
She looks at Johnny, feeling the physical jolt of love. How could a wife do that to her husband? How could she test him? She shudders again, as she knows that she never, ever will.
The next day, when she arrives at the office, she finds that there is a stack of papers, articles and pamphlets about honey trapping. She knows that Hannah has probably been there half the night collecting research. Betty remembers when that was her. Sleep wasn’t something she had much of in those days. She sits at her desk with a cup of black coffee and reads. She wonders when she will actually be introduced to the honey trapper, or the fidelity tester or whatever she calls herself. She wonders if Fiona’s friend has got it wrong and these women will all refuse to be interviewed. That is just a dream.
She decides to spend the day researching so when she is given someone to interview she will be prepared. She wants time to try to understand, or maybe she just wants to delay the inevitable. For some reason she believes that this feature could challenge her work facade, especially if she doesn’t get over her phobia of it. She emails Johnny to tell him she loves him. Just that action makes her feel better. Then she emails her friend Alison to ask if she and her husband, Matt, would like to go for a drink that evening.
Alison and Matt replicate Betty and Johnny to a spooky degree. Although maybe that is not such a surprise as Alison was Betty’s best friend at college, and Matt was Johnny’s university friend, so they were introduced two months after Betty and Johnny got together. They married just under a year later, and live nearby. The two couples’ social lives cross over to a large degree. When Alison mails Betty back saying that a drink would be great, she tells Johnny and feels her equilibrium return. So she will spend the day reading about women who wreck marriages and about men who cheat, but that evening, she will be married Betty with her oldest friend, and the man she loves by her side. Her sanity and certainty are unquestionable when she is in that situation.
Fiona sends her an email asking her how she is getting on. She mails back saying fabulous, and asking if she has her case study yet. Fiona says not yet. Then Betty goes back to reading the research and she just about manages to stop herself from shuddering at every sentence.
Chapter Three
Grace sits in her office until seven. Her organiser is full; business is booming. Nicole had given her two new cases that day: one, a woman who suspects her husband of cheating, and the other a woman who thinks her boyfriend is too flirtatious and Wants to know if that flirtatiousness is really as harmless as he claims. The wife is desperate, but also resigned to the fact that her marriage is over. She had asked for someone to test her husband (blatantly tempt him), in order to have more ammunition for the divorce settlement. The woman with the flirt for a boyfriend is in love with him, but needs to know she isn’t being taken for a fool. Both women are the type Grace likes to work for. They aren’t victims; they are taking control. She has spent the day reading files and preparing for the jobs.
Finally, she leaves the office and takes a bath. As she lies in her bath, soaking in expensive aromatherapy bubbles, she thinks about the day behind her and the evening ahead. She is glad that it is Oliver she is seeing, because he is, perhaps, her most relaxing lover. She believes that if she had met him before the honey trapping, she would have married him by now. They would be a normal couple, with a normal life. Of course, at some point in that normal life he would cheat on her. That is the thought that stops her from loving. That knowledge is the thing that ensures she can’t fall in love.
She dries herself and covers her body with Aveda moisturiser, liberally spreading it to ensure that her skin is invitingly soft. Then she pulls on her lacy black underwear and a pair of stockings. She wears a short, black dress and high heels. As she stares at her reflection, she knows she looks stunning; as if she were going put for an expensive dinner, which she is not. She is staying in, because that is what she does when she isn’t working. But that doesn’t mean that she shouldn’t make an effort, and it doesn’t mean that Oliver won’t be grateful for that effort.
It is complicated. Grace always meets her lovers at her flat. As her job is spent in bars, restaurants and sometimes clubs, she can only separate what she does at work from what she does in her spare time by confining her social life to home. She has turned normality on its head.
At first she wanted to keep her flat private, so she visited them. But she found their homes depressingly masculine, which made her uncomfortable. She visited Eddie’s flat only once, but that upset her because it was all big televisions and sounds systems. Oliver has a large house in Holland Park, which is unlived in. Grace couldn’t help thinking that a family of six would be comfortable there; it seems unfair for one man, who is barely ever there, to have -all that.
When she thinks back to life before fidelity testing, she assumes that men’s flats were the same then. But she didn’t recognise it, or it didn’t affect her. It is only now that she has a problem with such maleness.
The intercom buzzes at her on the dot of eight. This annoys her. She imagines him standing on the doorstep looking at his watch, counting the minutes until he is no longer early. The thought of him doing this scares her, so she stands in her doorway, looking at her own watch until she has kept him waiting. Teaching him a lesson. Grace is looking forward to seeing him – has been all day – but she gets easily annoyed and punctuality is one thing guaranteed to annoy her. If he was early and buzzed straight away, then she would have been fine. Ditto if he was late. But being exactly on time (and Grace’s watch is set with a precision that could not be questioned) was calculated, and therefore a little bit spooky. Of course, if Grace decided to be generous she could tell herself that his watch was not as exact as hers and therefore to him he could have been either early or late, but she doesn’t wish to be generous. She wishes to be in control.
The buzzer continues insistently, like a child having a tantrum, refusing to be silenced. Despite this, Grace stands with her hands on her hips, watching, listening and feeling in control. After five minutes she succumbs to him and answers the intercom.
‘Where were you?’ he snaps angrily.
‘In the bathroom.’ She buzzes him in, with a faint smile on her lips.
She stands holding the door open while she waits for him to climb the stairs. Her flat is on the second floor of a mansion block. It takes him a matter of seconds before he appears. Grace feels excitement fluttering like a butterfly in her stomach. She chooses to ignore it.
‘Wow, you look gorgeous.’ He lunges forward clumsily, and kisses her cheek. His lack of sophistication turns her on. After the well-groomed, expensively dressed charmers she encounters in her work, his clumsiness is not only appreciated, it is necessary. She gives him a light hug and stands aside for
him to enter. She takes in his attire and again feels relief wash over her. He is wearing faded jeans and a check shirt. On his feet are a pair of expensive trainers. His light brown hair is slightly too long for his thin face; normally he wears it shorter and it makes his thin nose and his blue eyes stand out more. His slightly scruffy appearance isn’t deliberate; Grace learnt early on that he has no idea that he is scruffy. She likes that about him.
He walks straight into the sitting room and says hello to the fish. Grace stands back slightly, observing him as she would a painting. Her arms are folded, her head slightly tilted; she is trying to see into him, trying to understand.
‘So, what are we doing?’ His question brings her back to reality.
‘Takeaway, I thought,’ she replies.
He smiles at her. ‘You look really sexy tonight.’
‘Don’t I normally?’ She raises one eyebrow and the reticence she felt at his presence has now dissipated.
She knows that she takes a while to warm up. Like a comedian, she starts off trying too hard, not with him, but with herself. She is trying to melt the ice before it is ready to melt. But she wishes that it wasn’t there! Whenever she sees one of her lovers she acts at first as if she doesn’t know him very well. She acts as if she should beware; she acts as if she is addressing a stranger. That is another side effect of her job; one she understands but does not like.
Agent Provocateur Page 3
