‘I think she’s slipping up on purpose,’ Clare said. ‘You know, if she’s caught then it forces the issue and she can get the whole thing out in the open without having to bring it up herself.’
‘When did you get a degree in psychology?’ Faith asked.
‘It’s common sense. That’s what I’d do. I’m not always a scatterbrain, you know. Present tummy excluded.’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘I don’t think she’s got any ulterior motives. Kat’s incapable of lying. I think she’s just doing what comes naturally.’
Faith laughed. ‘You’re a true friend, B., defending her when she’s doing the exact same thing she gave you such a hard time about.’
In the what-comes-around-goes-around stakes, it was quite ironic. I should have been resentful, considering how she lambasted me for leaving Mattias. I tried mustering some anger, but couldn’t. I was more worried that it wouldn’t end well for her and the boys. ‘We all want our friends to be happy, right? Besides, James isn’t exactly blameless. Maybe this’ll all be for the best. Everyone will end up with the man who’s right for her.’ I glanced at Clare. The Shag had figured into conversation a lot lately, most recently when he took her to some performance art thing involving chocolate and oboes. He really got her.
‘Stop it,’ she said, catching my eye. ‘I’m not looking for happily ever after. Life doesn’t just hand you great things on a plate.’
‘Wow, where’d our little optimist go?’ Faith said. ‘You accidentally fertilize one egg and suddenly you’re glum.’
Clare rolled her eyes.
‘And you’re wrong,’ she continued. ‘Look at B., she’s got a fabalicious new gig to play. She needed gigs for that manager to hear and hey presto, she’s got one.’
‘Well, it wasn’t exactly hey presto! I trudged all over town handing out my demos, and had to call every one of the bookers because they’d ignored me. It was quite a lot of work to get that gig.’ As soon as the booker hung up I’d called Sunglasses to invite him. ‘You’ll both come, right?’ I said to them.
‘Wouldn’t miss it, my little Star Bar,’ Clare said. ‘Assuming I’m not incontinent or vomiting or whatever other surprises this baby has in store for me. They don’t tell you all this beforehand. It’s a conspiracy. Faith, you’re a reporter. You could blow the lid off this whole pregnancy charade, tell women how awful it really is. I’ll be your informant.’
‘Sorry, your gestation exclusive won’t get any traction at the paper. We can’t have women refusing to breed. They’re making our future customers. In this we are complicit, for our own good and the good of the human race. Besides, they’d never let me do anything as interesting as that. My articles are confined to subjects that make grown men cry with boredom.’
‘I take it you got your next assignment, then?’
‘Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse than, yawn, council cuts. Ladies, you’re looking at the future expert on no-climb paint. There’s a chance the council used the wrong paint on a few walls in the park.’
‘What is no-climb paint? Does it have glass in it or something?’
Faith laughed. ‘It’s not even that interesting. No, it stays oily so it’s too slippery to climb.’
‘See?’ Clare said. ‘Your article not only provides the community with important health and safety information, you’ve gained knowledge that’s valuable in the wider world. You should be proud, Faith.’
‘Shut up, Clare.’
My phone began trilling in my handbag. Unlikely as it was that a booker would call at this time of night, I dove for it anyway. I didn’t recognize the number as I pressed Answer. ‘It’s the ack-tor!’ I mouthed to the girls when he said hello. Clare threw herself into Faith’s arms with her hand draped dramatically across her brow. ‘Hold on just a sec, will you please? It’s gone a bit weird in here. I’m just stepping outside. Still there?’
‘Still here. Listen, I know I’m breaking protocol by ringing. I’m supposed to wait three days or something, right? But “there is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune”. I enjoyed meeting you tonight and would like to see you again, if you’re free.’
‘I’m free,’ I said before I could stop myself. The Actor wasn’t the only one breaking protocol. ‘I mean, when would you like to meet? I’ll see if I’m free.’
‘Wednesday? Or Thursday?’
I didn’t have any plans for the week. ‘Thursday works for me.’
‘Wonderful. Shall I text you with some options? You’ve got my number now too, in case inspiration strikes on your end.’
‘That sounds good. Thanks for calling.’
‘A thousand times good night, B.’
I had a date with The Actor! How was I going to hide that from Mattias?
He was up when I got home, watching TV. ‘Still up?’ I asked as I kicked off my uncomfortable shoes, sighing with relief.
‘Graham Norton,’ he said. Ah yes, Monday night. Mattias always watched Graham on Mondays. He moved his feet, making room for me on the sofa. ‘How are the girls?’
‘Fine,’ I said, rubbing my feet. ‘Clare’s starting to show, just a bit. And she says she’s got terrible gas.’
‘She may not thank you for sharing that with me.’
‘Nah, it’s only you.’
He smiled. ‘“Only me.” Here, give me.’ He gestured to my foot.
‘Oh, that feels good, thank you. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that she knows you, so she wouldn’t mind.’
‘I’m not offended. It’s nice. We’ve got a history. After ten years together, that’s bound to be the case. It’s very comforting.’
‘I like this side of you, Mattias. You’ve always been so reasonable. I was afraid that when we broke up we wouldn’t be able to be friends. I’m so glad we are.’
‘Definitely. And as long as you take a vow of chastity and never look at another man, you won’t break my heart and we’ll be friends forever.’
I stared at him.
‘I’m kidding. I’m making a cup of tea. Would you like one?’ He padded in his old slippers to the kitchen, whistling.
Chapter 15
‘I’m going now, Mattias, I’ll see you later,’ I called through his bedroom door. ‘Have fun with James.’
‘Hold on, I’m coming,’ he emerged in his dressing gown. ‘I was just about to shower.’ A smile crept into his face. ‘You look great! Is that new?’
‘No, no,’ I said. ‘I’ve had it for a while. So… goodnight, then.’
‘I won’t be home late,’ he said, seeming to expect an answer.
‘All right, then.’
He must have felt the awkwardness between us too.
‘Night,’ he said, lunging to peck me on the cheek. ‘Have a nice time. Say hello to Clare for me. I hope her flatulence has stopped.’
Ah yes, I nearly forgot Clare. I texted her on the way to the Tube to let her know I was using her as my alibi. Not that she ever called the landline.
Despite the guilt-inducing subterfuge, I was excited. It had been a long time since I’d felt like there were possibilities, pronounced with emphasis as in a 1950s melodrama. The Actor was at the bar getting more drinks (chivalrous) and I was looking at his arse (nice arse). I was at risk of gibbering, which wasn’t an attractive trait unless one’s date was a monkey. I needed to calm down. If only I were the kind of person who could meditate instead of obsessively wondering why I wasn’t meditating while everyone else ohm-ed away.
‘“Come, thou monarch of the vine, Plumpy Bacchus with pink eye.”’ He clinked my glass. ‘They didn’t have Chablis so I got you a Chardonnay. You’ll like it, I daresay.’
‘Thanks.’ I liked a man who took charge. It encouraged fantasies of being hoisted over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry en route to the bedroom.
‘God, I’m exhausted after rehearsals today,’ he said, wiping his brow of imaginary sweat as if he’d just chopped down trees. ‘The director and I don’t alwa
ys see eye to eye, and it’s wearying to battle all day long. Sometimes I wonder why I still do it when it always seems to be an uphill struggle. Between the artistic differences and the other actors’ cattiness, it’s hard work sometimes. Well, but of course you know what I mean.’
‘Er, uh-huh. Do you always work for the same director?’
‘Mostly. She likes me for some reason.’
‘That’s probably because you’re good. Why are the other actors catty?’
‘It’s the green-eyed monster. You’d be amazed to see how insecure most actors are. They can’t stand to be upstaged, hence that saying. I’d like to work with another company and get wider experience. Shakespeare’s all right but I want to do some more meaty plays. Maybe comedy.’
Shakespeare was all right in the thespian pecking order? He had high standards if he could read William and go ‘meh’. It was like saying that Maria Callas sometimes hit the high notes. ‘Where did you study?’ I asked.
‘Do you know much about drama schools?’
‘Not really, no.’ I was just making conversation while trying not to imagine him in the shower. Curse my hormones. Lately I’d become a randy beast in the middle of the month. They did say a woman peaked sexually in her thirties. If so, I was ascending Everest. What I needed were a few climbing partners. It would be such a shame if The Actor was afraid of heights. Or worse, what if he didn’t have the right equipment?
‘I went to a small school so you probably wouldn’t know it. I owe a lot to it, though. Talent only goes so far, really. It’s the training that separates the wheat from the chaff. Well, you know all about that with your singing. Some day I’d like to give something back to the school. After all, I’ve got it to thank for my career. And who knows, they might name a building after me some day.’
‘I didn’t realise they did that at drama schools. I’ve seen it at business schools.’
‘It was also a business school. I’m an accountant, remember? Naturally I’d have loved to go into theatre full-time but there was rent to pay. You probably faced a similar dilemma. But not now, eh, from the sound of things.’
‘Well, I’m still a woman of extremely limited means.’
‘That doesn’t matter. I have the utmost admiration for what you’re doing. It takes strength to live your dream and damn the consequences. I sometimes wish I’d done the same. There’s nothing like hunger to sharpen the resolve to succeed. That’s not to say I think you’re going to go hungry. You’ll be a great success. And I’ll be able to say “I knew her when”. You’re embarking on an amazing process. It’ll be wonderful, frustrating sometimes, but wonderful, because you’ll be fulfilling your dream. And when you do get your break, it’s the most satisfying feeling in the world. I remember when I had a little taste of my first success in the theatre.’ He sighed wistfully, as if remembering way back. ‘It was in my first major production as lead. The Misanthrope, playing Alceste. I knew by the way the audience sat so silent, so attentive, that we’d nailed it.’
His compliments made me want to launch over the table at him, lips first. ‘That must have been an incredible feeling.’
He nodded. ‘The audience were so moved that at the curtain call some even forgot to clap. It was a complete sell-out show after that first night, almost certainly through word of mouth alone. It may only have been uni theatre, but I knew from then that it was my destiny to tread the boards. No doubt it was a formative experience. It keeps me motivated whenever I wonder why I’m continuing in such a difficult, often thankless, art.’
‘Did your parents approve of your acting?’
‘They’re very supportive. Sometimes too supportive, but I suppose it’s natural for parents to want to see their child succeed. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.’
‘It sounds like you’re practising for the…’ I wracked my brain to think of the Oscars’ equivalents for the theatre. Clearly I wasn’t anyone’s first choice for Trivial Pursuit. ‘The Oscars.’
‘Olivier Awards.’ He smirked. ‘But yes, I’d certainly thank them. Parents are incredible, really. They sacrifice for years, decades, sometimes many, and it’s got to be a pretty thankless job.’
‘If we were birds, they’d push us out of the nest,’ I said.
‘If we were fish, they’d eat us.’
‘Then I’m glad we’re not fish.’
‘As it is our lives are nasty, brutish and short.’ He looked forlorn, positively bereft.
‘Oh, I don’t think so. Do you really believe that?’
‘Have a word with Hobbes, he’s the one who said it. It’s true, though, don’t you think? Maybe not for us, sitting here drinking wine in London. But think about a child in Bangladesh who has to feed himself from rubbish heaps. We are the lucky few.’
I enjoyed the serious turn. In my short experience, early dating conversations too often revolved around what we did and where we went out. It was nice to discuss a topic instead of simply conveying information. ‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘We’re very lucky. It’s not like we had anything to do with being born here, at this time, to our parents. It was an accident of birth. It’s like taking credit for being tall. It makes no sense.’
‘You’re a smart woman, B. I’m glad you came to the singles party.’
‘Me too, though it was a funny experience. Unreal in a way. I have a friend, Marjorie, she’s really old, and she can’t even imagine speed dating or dating online.’
‘She probably can’t imagine being online.’
‘Oh no, she’s Internet-savvy. She wants to start a blog called One Foot in the Grave. I bet she does it, too. But she thinks online dating is weird. It must have been easier to meet people when she was young. It doesn’t sound like she had any problems anyway. She was telling me how she met her third husband–’
‘Third?’ He interrupted. ‘How many did she have?’
‘Only three. It’s not that many, you know, for someone as old as she is. Her first husband died in the war.’ I tried not to sound defensive on Marjorie’s behalf. ‘Her third was a professor. They met when she went back to school. At age forty-five…’
Marjorie was his Lolita, I told The Actor, give or take a few decades. Signing up for his course was a fluke set in motion by a jumble sale purchase. ‘You could see right through it!’ She’d claimed of the tiny porcelain bowl she’d found. Curious about its provenance, she took it to the V&A and discovered that it was rare, Chinese, and ancient. Fired up by her beautiful discovery she applied to the university’s Asian ceramics course. ‘Anyway,’ I said to The Actor. ‘This was in 1966, and she met Tony in her first class. They fell in love, got married and eventually moved to Hong Kong.’
‘Ah, serendipity. Who knows what happy coincidences will bring people together? I didn’t imagine I would meet you at the party.’
He was staring at me. Base camp was in sight. He reached out, took my cheeks in his fingers, guided me to him. His kisses were urgent, almost forceful. Wow, passionate. He sort of writhed, letting out little groans. It was like movie kissing… Then I realised. That’s what it was – staged foreplay. We’d been in a clench for about thirty seconds. I was good at it, but come on. We were in a pub. The overhead lights were so bright that a doctor could have taken out my appendix. It was hardly the atmosphere to drive him to the heights of ecstasy. Still, his act was sexy, if a little over the top. Maybe it helped him build up to real passion, taking an ‘If we build it, they will come’ approach. Who didn’t psyche themselves up for something fun by imagining it first? When I was a child and my parents promised a trip to Ebenezer Floppen Slopper's Wonderful Water Slides, I spent entire days anticipating the fun ahead. Perhaps I was The Actor’s floppen slopper.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he kept murmuring. ‘What you do to me!’
Admit it, line or not, what woman didn’t like to hear that from the man she was snogging?
‘Shall we go somewhere more private?’
That was a bit presumptuous. ‘I’m really so
rry but I’ve got to go, actually.’ I was due to meet the girls in… fifteen minutes ago.
‘Are you sure? Why don’t we go somewhere else? Come on.’ He kissed me again.
‘I’d love to but really, I do have to go. I told you I’m meeting my friends for that London Fashion Week after-party. We’ve got a lot to talk about.’ Clare still hadn’t made any decisions, but she’d contacted an adoption agency. ‘I’ll be late as it is,’ I told The Actor between kisses. ‘Not that I mind very much.’ I smiled. ‘But I’d love to see you soon, if you’d like that.’ Leaving The Actor in that position was a high-risk play. His erection could go either way.
‘You’re a spectacular woman, B., and I’d love to see you again. I’ve got an idea. Are you free a week from tomorrow? It’s preview night. Maybe you’d like to come? Feel free to bring your friends. And then we can go out after to celebrate.’
‘I’d love that!’ We kissed again, and again, till I wrenched myself free. ‘Goodnight!’ I smiled as I turned to the door, digging out my phone to text a grovelling apology for my tardiness.
Five missed calls from Kat. That wasn’t likely to be good news. Hurriedly, I played her voicemail.
She was sobbing. ‘I told him, B. I told him. It all came out, I was angry and I didn’t say it very well. Oh, B., he is furious. He wouldn’t listen to reason. He said he’d never let me divorce him. I’ve ruined everything–’
I didn’t listen to the rest of the message. ‘Kat? Where are you? Can you still meet us?’
‘I can’t, James has left. I’m with the children.’ She took a ragged breath. ‘I’ve made such a mess. He said if I thought I was going to have a happy life with Rupert and the children, I had another think coming. I’ve never seen him so angry. He isn’t going to let me divorce him. He said he won’t petition, and I can’t because he’s done nothing wrong. He wouldn’t even talk about it. He said I should leave, B., leave the children here with him. He says it’s best for the children until we sort everything out.’
Bella Summer Takes a Chance Page 15
