by Tracy Bloom
“What are you talking about?” muttered Drew who was furiously scribbling in his notebook trying to get the statement down word for word.
“She’s just standing there. Standing by him. Which is exactly what she said she wouldn’t do. I said I’d get her the proof and then she would do the decent thing and most certainly not stand by her man and shut that bloody Dolly Parton up for good. Free up every woman on this planet to do the right thing and walk away. No man would stand there and be humiliated like that. No man. For Christ’s sake, the suffragettes will be turning in their graves. They didn’t fight for the vote just to have women allow members of parliament to get away with shagging who the hell they like.”
Drew looked up from his scribbling. “So you did a deal that you’d get proof if she then publicly humiliated Antony during his garden-gate, I’m-oh-so-sorry speech. Antony’s future in tatters. Revenge complete. Only now she’s doing a Dolly.”
“Looks like it. Bloody Dolly Parton. If she ever brings those plastic tits within a mile of me I am going to murder her.” Suzie stared down at the pavement wondering whether she should just leave rather than watch the tragic scene unfold any further.
Antony was now calmly answering all the journalists’ questions with a look of quiet relief on his face. Suzie couldn’t help but admit he’d handled it well, although she assumed that he’d been coached at length by Westminster’s finest spin doctors. He repeated over and over again in his answers the key words he had obviously been told to focus on. Mistake, honesty, public servant.
Suzie couldn’t bear it. Charlie was still staring at the ground. All questions flying in her direction fell on deaf ears as Antony took centre stage and seized his moment in the spotlight.
She couldn’t get Dolly out of her head. Stand By Your Man was whirring round and round in a maddening fashion. She had to do something. Desperate measures were called for. She stuck her elbows out and managed to squeeze herself to the gate so she was just a few yards from Charlie. She called her name but Charlie flatly refused to look up. In fact she appeared to be edging backwards as if she was trying to pull Antony away from his transfixed audience.
Suzie took a deep breath and decided there was only one option. She would have to turn to the only person whose words could possibly get through to Charlie at this time. The words of someone Charlie had been obsessed with back in the nineties when they’d still been friends. The words of the one and only … Gary Barlow.
So on that chilly winter’s day, surrounded by the journalistic great and the good, Suzie took a deep breath and started to sing the words to Promises written by the great man himself.
Charlie looked up at Suzie by the second line, so familiar and loved were the words of her beloved Take That. The blacked out discs of her shaded eyes bore into Suzie as she struggled on, trying to remember the words. One by one the journalists surrounding her turned to stare. A couple of moments later Antony spotted her as the entire crowd went silent wondering what on earth was going on. A look of absolute panic crossed his previously relieved face and he glanced towards Charlie nervously.
“Well thank you very much for coming,” interrupted Antony as Suzie drew breath at the end of the chorus. “That concludes the press conference. I would ask now that you allow both my wife and me some privacy in order to re-build our marriage.” Antony turned to go but Charlie remained rooted to the spot still staring at Suzie.
Keep going thought Suzie. Last chance. She launched into the chorus again, putting in her own words to make her point hit home.
“He’s telling lies it’s plain to see, he’s trying to make a fool of Charlie,” she sang looking Charlie straight in the eye willing her to respond.
“What is that song?” asked a man standing next to Suzie.
“Take That’s second single, Promises. Only got to 38 in the charts which might be why you don’t recognise it,” said Suzie out the corner of her mouth, still staring hopefully at Charlie.
Charlie stared back at Suzie before turning to survey the bewildered crowd of seasoned hacks who had clearly never encountered such a bizarre scene in their reporting careers.
“I have something to say,” she said quietly.
“Speak up love,” came a shout from the back.
“It’s okay Charlotte you don’t have to say anything. Let’s just go inside shall we?” interrupted a very bothered looking Antony, pulling at her hand.
“Will you be quiet for once and let me speak,” said Charlie, shaking her hand away from his and reaching into her coat pocket to pull out a piece of screwed up paper. She slowly unravelled it in front of the now silent crowd.
“I didn’t think I was going to be able to do this but someone has just reminded me why I should,” she looked up and smiled weakly at Suzie before removing her sunglasses and turning to face a hovering TV camera.
“This is what I have to say about my husband,” she said staring steadily ahead.
“He’s a shit.”
After a moment’s shocked silence the journalists went crazy, bombarding Charlie with requests to elaborate on her brief statement. After waiting patiently for the noise to die away she continued.
“I have nothing more to say about him and that’s all you need to write. I ask that you do not give him the satisfaction of writing pages and pages, scrutinizing his entire career and his every move. He’s not worth it. He is a second rate MP who couldn’t organise a pensioner’s tea party. So ignore him and hope he goes away, for everyone’s sake.”
The crowd hung silently off Charlie’s every word whilst Antony stood in shock not knowing what to do.
“I would, however, like to say something about me. I have supported Antony in his career for nearly ten years. I sacrificed all my ambitions in order to stand by his side and act the perfect political wife. I did this because I loved him. But I am sad to admit that I also did this because he was a man with ambition. A man with a goal in life and a desire for power and I found that hugely attractive. But it is a sad fact of life that men with power can be dangerous because for some reason that sense of power goes straight to their penis.” Charlie paused and looked Antony in the eye as he took a sharp, shocked intake of breath. A titter went around the crowd as the journalists scribbled furiously and photographers flashed mercilessly at the beetroot face of Antony Harwood.
“Sadly this leads to a desire to prove their power status by manipulating as many women into bed as they possibly can. And even more sadly, women succumb, often feeling honoured that such a man has bestowed his attention.” Charlie paused for a moment, looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand and appeared to falter before she screwed it up and put it back in her pocket.
“To those women I would like to say this,” she said looking almost calm. “Particularly to the girl who has been sleeping with my husband.” All heads rose and the journalists held their breath to listen to what the wronged MP’s wife had to say to her husband’s mistress. “Don’t bother. The power may go to their penis but sadly this does not lead to a performance improvement.”
There was a moment of silence before the place erupted in laughter and excited chatter. Suzie looked on amazed as jaded hacks turned to nod at each other in an approving manner. Charlie had unwittingly delivered a piece of great news that the entire universe wanted to hear. Powerful, seemingly successful men were crap in bed. Even if it was a gross generalization, the assembled largely middle-aged men who no doubt had all suffered at the hands of power-crazed male bosses, approved whole heartedly. As Charlie paused a clatter of questions filled the air once again but she raised her hands for silence, her confidence having returned in response to the reaction she was getting.
“That is all I have to say for now,” she said. “Other than to pay special thanks to someone without whom I would not be standing here today. I would like to thank Suzie Miller who writes the absolutely fantastic Dear Suzie column in the Manchester Herald. Come over here Suzie.”
Suzie wanted to run away and hid
e. She didn’t want to stand in front of a legion of professional journalists and be congratulated on her advice column. She shook her head at Charlie hoping she would leave her be.
“Come on Suzie, come over here,” Charlie urged. Suzie caught sight of Antony who was looking daggers at her and her confidence returned. She opened the side gate and strode up to Charlie throwing her arms around her as if she had just won an Olympic medal.
“Dear Suzie is the first advice column I have ever read that gives the brutal truth on how to handle relationships and how to fight back when they go wrong. Everyone who is having relationship issues should read her column because, as she said to me, you should not roll over and die you should roll over and crush him to death.” Charlie turned and engulfed Suzie in a bear hug and whispered in her ear.
“Thank you so much. You were right. I feel amazing.”
Suzie hugged back speechless. This was not what she’d expected at all.
Holding Suzie’s hand tightly, Charlie concluded the press conference.
“I will not answer any further questions now. I will however be giving an exclusive interview to the Manchester Herald so make sure you buy a copy tomorrow.” She turned and gave Suzie one last kiss and strode back up the gravel drive without looking back, leaving Antony still gaping in her wake. He locked Suzie in a vicious stare which she refused to draw away from before pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket and no doubt placing a call to his advisors. He stormed angrily up the drive after Charlie. Suzie wondered for a moment if she should follow before deciding that Charlie was now more than capable of dealing with anything Antony, the disgraced and sexually-challenged MP, had to throw at her.
Chapter 18
“‘Secrets and lies are the poison that kills a marriage,’ said Charlotte, the wife of disgraced MP Antony Harwood yesterday as she reflected on the demise of their ten-year marriage after he admitted having an affair. ‘Once you lie to your spouse you show them the deepest form of disrespect and without respect how can a marriage survive?’ she went onto explain. It is clear that her refusal to stand by her man yesterday has given her renewed self-respect and the confidence to pick up the pieces of her life and start again.” Suzie stopped reading from the front page of the newspaper and turned to look at Drew who was leaning back in his office chair sipping on a triple espresso having stayed up all night to complete the article.
“Very nice,” she said. “You’re really good at the girly stuff. You should do these in-depth pieces more often.”
“I still think you should have done the interview,” he said.
“No-way,” replied Suzie. “I owed you one and I knew you would do it so much better than me. Just look what you have written here,” she said stabbing at the paper with her finger. “Charlotte Harwood is clearly already showing signs of bursting out of her chrysalis. Shrouded for too long by the heavy cloak of a self-obsessed man, a megawatt grin breaks through, if somewhat shyly, whenever she recounts her brave statement at the previous day’s press conference.”
She looked up and sighed. “That is so right. So beautifully put. You didn’t fancy her did you?”
“What? No, you idiot. I felt sorry for her that’s all,” said Drew going bright red. He was dog tired and the last thing he needed was for Suzie to make stupid statements like that. Listening for three hours to Charlie and her account of their flawed marriage had mixed his head up enough as it was. One particular statement was playing a loop in his mind over and over again. She’d broken down in tears and told him that she knew he didn’t love her the day they got married. She knew in her heart of hearts that they were great friends but he was not in love with her. He had merely recognised a good political wife with the right connections. How can anyone marry someone they are not in love with she’d sobbed. Indeed, he’d wondered. How anyone could do that? And he’d tried to shelve the question in the back of his mind.
But now he’d finished the article, and having been awake for nearly twenty hours, his mind was mush and he had no barrier against random thoughts. He had to get out of here, get some sleep and get his head straight.
Suzie was still devouring the article as he started to tidy his desk. Her phone rang and she idly picked it up without looking away from the paper.
“Hello,” she said. “Yes it is,” she continued a moment later. “From where sorry?” she asked. “I see.” She dropped the paper and sat up. “Well I’ve been doing the column this way for a while now and my letters have actually quadrupled since I changed it.” A pause. “Yeah that’s right.” Another pause. “Well, err, yeah. I think I’m free, let me just check my diary.” Suzie cupped the mouth-piece of her phone and held it away from her head before emitting a small scream. She took her hand away and returned to speak to the caller. “Yes, actually I am free.” Final pause. “Right, I’ll see you there then. Thanks very much. Bye.”
Suzie carefully replaced the receiver before looking up at Drew with wide, manic eyes. She stood up slowly then ran around the office waving her arms around and shouting “Oh my God,” at the top of her voice over and over again. After three laps she finally came to a screeching halt next to Drew’s chair where she grasped hold of the top of his head and firmly kissed him on his forehead. She then took a step back and bounced on the spot chanting, “Guess what, guess what, guess what?”
“What?” he finally shouted. She was giving him a headache and his nostrils were still chasing the faint perfume she had left lingering over his head.
“I’m going to be on the telly,” she shrieked, giving a huge jump in the air. “Like real telly, not pretend YouTube stuff, real telly.”
“Why?” he asked bewildered, wishing she would stop jumping up and down.
“Granada Reports want to interview me tomorrow morning about my column. Me, me, me,” she said right in his face.
“Wow,” he said pulling back, her sudden proximity really unsettling.
“Isn’t it great,” she said. “Who would have thought that the minute I decide to give up the relentless pursuit of men my entire life would get better. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner,” she said. “Maybe I could have been a celebrity years ago if I had.”
“You’re not quite a celebrity yet,” pointed out Drew.
“But who knows where this could lead,” she said. “Everyone has to start somewhere. Who knows who might pick up the story once it’s been on the local news?” She paused and suddenly looked sad. “Oh bugger,” she said her enthusiasm suddenly evaporating.
“What’s wrong?” Drew asked.”
“Bloody Richard and Judy,” she cursed.
“What have they done?”
“Why did they have to go all crap and get taken off the air? I dreamed of being a guest on This Morning. Dreamed about it and now the minute I get the chance they screw it up for me. It’s like Wogan all over again.”
“Wogan?”
“Yeah, Wogan. In my graduation yearbook I stated that my ultimate ambition was to be on Wogan. Then the fool gets taken off the TV. Why can’t these celebs stay on air long enough to interview me?”
Drew realised he really had to leave and inhabit a more sane world.
“Well,” he said. “Gotta go and get some sleep. Text me to tell me when you’re on okay?”
“Of course.”
Just as Drew was picking up his bag the Editor came rushing over.
“So here’s my dynamic duo,” he said grinning from ear to ear and placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
“I’ve just come to tell you that between your exclusive and the interest in Dear Suzie we have doubled sales today already. Hits on the website have trebled and Alex tells me he now needs an assistant, so many advertisers are calling him.”
“Seriously?” said Drew sitting down again.
“Seriously.” said Gareth. “Plus I have some fantastic news for you son,” continued Gareth. Drew couldn’t help but wince. As good as the news might be being called son by a man younger than him, really wasn’t
right.
“You are going to get syndicated. The desk is getting calls from websites and newspapers from all over the world wanting to print your article. That little lady made quite a splash yesterday. I guess she struck a nerve and did what everyone has dreamed for years would happen to a stray politician. This is big, really big,” said Gareth.
“Wow, syndicated,” was all Drew could say. Now his dreams were coming true never mind Suzie’s.
“Drew that’s brilliant. You’re going to be famous too,” said Suzie jumping up and down again.
“I don’t want you getting ideas above your station,” said Gareth, suddenly stern. You’re not to start getting starry eyed and leaving the Herald. Now well done and … back to work.” Gareth strode off leaving the two of them in stunned silence at his sudden change in mood.
“Wow,” whispered Suzie. “He thinks you’re going to get poached. About time matey. Just think, you and Emily can head off and live in London and become one of those mega-couples. You the hot-shot journalist and she the successful lawyer. You’ll have nannies and maids and … and clean cars and everything. Ring Emily. Ring her now and tell her you might be moving to London.”
Drew thought his eyes were about to sink back into his head. The tiredness and the strain of too much information was too much for his body to take.
I’m so happy for you, you so deserve it,” he heard Suzie saying to him.
He looked at her for a moment before his mouth started to move without him being able to stop it.
“Wouldn’t you miss me?” he asked.
