by Adam Carter
“Well, I could do with losing a bit.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Anyway,” Louise piped up, “you’re a fine one to talk about Liz’s job being degrading. You’re a music agent. Isn’t it your job to find young people and make them cavort themselves on stage?”
Sam laughed. “Teeny pop tarts, Dad calls ‘em.”
“And he’s right.”
“Right about a lot of things.”
They ordered their dessert, both having strawberry ice cream with some form of sauce neither of them could pronounce, and when it came Louise didn’t seem to have any thought about her apparent weight problem. Sam could never understand why Louise was constantly going on about her weight. She wasn’t fat, neither of them had ever been fat. They didn’t have the fat gene, Dad would always say. Louise’s self-esteem wasn’t anywhere near as high as Sam’s, which had held her back in life; with men, with her career and everything in between. Sam would see what she wanted and she would take it. Louise would surreptitiously glance at what she wanted and pine for it. She would sometimes get it and when she did it would be glorious, whereas Sam would always get it and every time it was mediocre.
Again, there was no right or wrong in their approach to life. It didn’t mean either was necessarily happier.
“So,” Sam said as they got halfway through their ice cream, “what did you want to talk about? Dad?”
“Dad? I thought you said he was fine.”
“Well he is. So far as I’m aware. You know something I don’t?”
“I didn’t come to talk about Dad, no.”
“OK. I’m listening.”
“It’s Steve.”
“Steve. Ah.”
“Never did much like him, did you?”
“No offence, but no.”
“Nor did Dad.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Good. It means you don’t talk to Dad about my love life.”
“I’m getting a lot of past tense here,” Sam noted. “I take it you broke up.”
“We ... yeah.”
“Again no offence, but I really hated that guy. Really creeped me out. Ugh!” She shuddered.
“Thanks.”
“Who broke it up? You or him?”
“He did,” Louise said, averting her gaze momentarily as though there was some secret shame to that admission.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Sam said. “You’re not thinking of going back to him are you?”
“No,” Louise said emphatically.
“For the third time, no offence, but that’s what you said the last time.”
“I know. But this time I mean it.”
Sam could sense something was really wrong and she set down her spoon to lay a hand over Louise’s. “Hey, Lou, what happened?”
“He ... he complained.”
Sam blinked. “Complained?” She paused. “You mean, complained complained?”
“I mean complained.”
“About, uh, you know?”
Louise stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing, which was an odd sight considering she was crying at the same time. “I’ve never seen you lost for words, Sam. Not ever.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, just trying to get to the bottom of things.”
“No, he didn’t complain about the sex.”
“Oh.”
“He said I was fat.”
“Well, so do you.”
“This isn’t funny, Sam.”
Sam smiled. She had not intentionally orchestrated this, but the fact that Louise was laughing as she related this sad tale of woe was great for the both of them. “Sorry,” Sam said. “Trying not to laugh. What did you say?”
“When?”
“When he said you were fat.”
“Wasn’t so much what he said. More what he implied. You know, kept making hints that I could do with losing weight.”
“So what did you say?”
“Told him I am the way I am and if he doesn’t like it he can clear off.”
“So he cleared off.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“You’re too good for him, Lou. Always told you that. And, it seems, so has Dad.”
“Yeah, I know. Haven’t told him yet.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t want an ‘I told you so’ I suppose.”
“You honestly think Dad’s like that? With his little girl?”
“Don’t start that up again.”
Sam let it drop. “Anyway, this is why you think you’re fat? Again? Because Steve told you so? Even after you told him where to shove it, you’re still listening to what he says.”
“No,” Louise said. “I just ...”
Sam felt more than heard the tone to that. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Kinda.”
“That’s a yes.”
“He worked late a couple of times. Said it was nothing, I didn’t think much of it. But he started treating me differently. You know, wasn’t anything specific. Wasn’t cold or anything, was just a bit vacant. He started to seem really happy a lot, just not whenever I was talking to him.”
“You reckon he was having an affair?”
“He was having an affair. I asked him about it and he admitted it.”
“Wow. Just like that?”
“Don’t suppose he had much to lose after I guessed. He had to choose and he chose her. Not that I would have kept him anyway.”
“You wouldn’t have?”
“Sam, allow me some standards, please!”
“Sorry. You know who the other woman was?”
“Why? Do you?”
Sam scrunched up one eye. “I met Steve, like, three times? Not enough to get acquainted with his friends, more than enough to tell he was a loser.”
“Yet he’s not the one who’s ended up alone.”
“And how long do you reckon they’re gonna last? A guy who cheats on his girlfriend and a woman who doesn’t seem to care that he cheats on his girlfriend? And now you’re single?” Sam leaned back in her chair. “So what? Get out, go clubbing. Enjoy yourself a bit. Have some downtime before you meet someone else.”
“As if I’m gonna meet anyone else.”
“Lou,” Sam said in her stern voice, “you’re twenty-five years old, you’re gorgeous and you’re my little sister. Three points which stands in your favour.”
“Hold on, one of the best things about me is that I’m related to you?”
“Sure.”
Louise shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “God, I know why I asked you to come out with me now. Thanks, Sam.”
“No probs. It’s what big sisters are for. Besides, you’d do the same for me.”
“How is Derek anyway? I forgot to ask.”
“He’s good. Talking about kids again.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s not getting any though.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so sad about it, Lou. You’ll be an aunt one day, I promise. Just not for another ten years at least.”
“That means our kids won’t be able to play together because of the age gap.”
Sam laughed. “Suddenly single and already looking to start a family. It’s that kind of weirdness I love about you, you crazy sister a mine.” Sam tousled Louise’s hair, but only because she knew she hated it.
Louise smiled, tidying her hair. “Thanks, Sam. I mean it. Means a lot to me, you coming out here on short notice and all.”
“I said forget it. Well, thanks for lunch but I gotta rush. Have to get back to the studio. Have to tell a group of kids they’re nobodies now and they’re gonna stay that way forever. Love you!”
Louise waved her off before remembering they hadn’t yet asked for the bill. She groaned. She knew it was her problems they were sorting, but this was an expensive shoulder to cry on. On the upside, the best way to lose weight was to lose all your money
.
Remaining as optimistic as she could, Louise called the attention of the waiter and asked for the bill. Strangely, she was feeling better already.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The show was changing.
In preparation for the Christmas special, the studio had a real atmosphere and Jack Corsac knew this was going to be something to remember. When Liz and Sam had convinced him to stay with the show it was not a decision he much agreed with. However, Castle seemed to have taken on board his concerns and had tweaked the format of the show just slightly enough to allow Corsac more airtime for his jokes. It was a compromise, for it still limited the comedian’s ability to comede (as he put it), but what it did was give Corsac centre stage. Whereas before he had been brought in as the ageing comedian host for the new upcoming game show, now it was more like the new upcoming game show had been brought in for the ageing comedian host. It was a great difference so far as Corsac was concerned, and their viewing figures had actually risen since the new format had been introduced.
In all, Castle had said, it had been good for everyone that Corsac had almost quit. It had even made it to the newspapers (page seven) and that publicity was a bonus.
Corsac now saw a lot of his daughter Sam. At first he suspected she was just checking on him, making sure he wasn’t still wavering in his resolve to do the show; but the more time passed, the more he realised he was wrong. She wasn’t worried about herself, she was worried about him. She was ashamed to admit she had no idea he had been on the verge of walking out and was upset with herself that it had taken Liz to inform her, to warn her.
Liz.
Liz had been much of the reason he had stayed, and he wouldn’t refute it. At least not to himself. To others he would just say Liz and Sam had persuaded him to stay, but that wasn’t the half of it and he would keep the rest to himself. That night he had spent with Liz, three months back now, had been a mistake. It had been a terrible mistake and he blamed his state of mind, her state of anxiety, even the tea. He blamed everything for that night having happened the way it had: everything save himself.
It wouldn’t happen again, he promised himself at the time.
It had now been happening for almost three months.
They had presently rounded off a recording and Corsac headed for the staff canteen. It was already late in the day but shooting always left him hungry. He was used to working late hours in the clubs and had never really seemed to break the routine and return to something more on par with a normal set of working hours. As he entered the canteen, he caught sight of Liz. She was sitting there eating something, wearing her on-set costume, frills and all. About her table was arrayed a contingent of suitors and he watched as she teased and flirted with them all. He shouldn’t have cared, he knew he shouldn’t have cared, but he did. It bothered him.
Corsac got some food and sat at a table far removed from her.
A few minutes into his meal, a shadow fell across his table. Before he could look up, Liz had sidled into the chair opposite him. “This seat taken?”
“Is now,” Corsac said, still not looking up.
“My, you’re grumpy today.”
“Lot on my mind.”
Liz smiled. “Not jealous are we?”
“Of what?”
“Of the lighting crew.”
“That who they were?”
“Girl needs a bit of attention, Mr J. When she can’t get it from where she wants it, she goes somewhere else.”
Corsac did look up now, although his anger vanished instantly as she realised she was just teasing him. He turned back to his food. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Bait me like that. You can do your Penelope thing as much as you want, doesn’t bother me. Just don’t make me think you’re unravelling your embroidery on my behalf.”
“Ooh,” Liz shivered, “paraphrasing Homer really turns me on, Mr J.” She leaned across the table and whispered, “What say we get out of here and you can see about unravelling my embroidery, yeah?”
He leaned back suddenly. “Liz, I never meant for any of this to happen.”
She adopted a bemused expression. “Any of what?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh.” She digested that, or at least made a show of doing so. “That’s it, then? Seriously, it’s over? I don’t mind if it is, I’d just like to know.”
That wasn’t what he had expected. “You don’t mind if it is?”
“Sure. We had fun, Jack. A lot of fun. You want to walk away, that’s fine. I’m sure we could still work together afterwards. I’m sure we could still carry on as two professionals working so closely alongside one another. Me in my pink frilly bunny-girl suit and all.”
Corsac said nothing. She had him and he knew it. If he wanted to walk away, he could; the only problem was that he had no intention of doing so. He had become successful again in his work, that was all he ever wanted, and he had met along with that success someone who made him feel that success. He wasn’t about to give up possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him. It had not helped matters that the costume which was once pure white had been replaced with an alternative pink number.
“I have to get home tonight,” he said simply. “I promised Marie I’d go through some of her paintings with her.”
“Don’t you make more than enough money to support all three of us?”
“She likes to paint.”
“Glad it gives her purpose. No, seriously,” she added at his sour expression. “I mean, I’ve never met Marie, but she sounds like a nice person.”
“She is.”
“And I like paintings. I like a talented painter. Maybe I should buy one of hers?”
“No,” Corsac said quickly. The last thing he wanted in Liz’s flat was a constant reminder of Marie. Knowing Liz, she’d even hang the painting in the bedroom.
Liz shrugged, indifferent. “No problem. You go home tonight, have fun. I got more than a few offers over there anyway.”
Corsac tried not to glance behind him. “The lighting crew?”
“They’re hitting a couple a bars tonight, asked whether I wanted to join them. Said I wasn’t sure, had to check my diary. Would much rather be with you, but if you’re going home I guess that leaves me free.”
“With the lighting crew?”
“Mr J, you’re starting to repeat yourself.”
“The lighting crew?”
Liz laughed, pinched his cheek and winked. “Gotta go, Mr J. Boys’re waiting for me.”
She slid from the chair like a ray through water and Corsac found himself telling her to wait before she was even fully standing. Liz turned back to him, eyes silently questioning, and he said, “Maybe I could call Marie. Tell her I’m gonna have to stay over for a reshoot tonight.”
“Gee, don’t put yourself out any.”
“Liz,” he said angrily. “Why do you always have to do this?”
“Do what?” she asked sweetly.
“I don’t know, it’s like you’re trying to drive a wedge between me and my wife.”
Liz was taken aback. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make it look as though I was doing that.” Neither of them mentioned that having an affair was driving in that wedge all by itself.
“You know what,” Corsac said. “Go out, have fun. Have as much fun as you want, but I’m going home tonight. I promised Marie I’d be there and that means I have to be there.”
“Glad to hear you like to keep promises,” Liz said. It was a crucial stage of the conversation, for Corsac was putting his foot down. His conscience was insisting one thing, while his desire was screaming the opposite. He knew she could see as much in his eyes: more specifically in the way he was avoiding looking at her. They both knew as soon as he laid eyes upon her, she would have won.
Corsac glanced at his watch, mainly so he could look somewhere other than her. “I have to get home.”
“Sure. Call me.”
“Will do.�
��
*
She watched him go and wished he would stay. Liz had bought him a mobile phone for his birthday. His main present had been when she’d dressed up for him, but her material gift had been the phone. Corsac had never before owned a mobile and needed intense instructions on how to use one, but she’d felt he needed one. She had no problem with calling him on his house phone – was very intrigued about his wife and wanted to meet her face to face sometime soon – but Corsac didn’t want her calling him there. The mobile was the perfect solution. In fact, mobile phones made affairs so much easier all round. So far as she knew, hers was the only number he had stored in his phone: she had no idea whether his wife was even aware he had one now. Even if she did know, he could easily have explained it away as a birthday present from work, since that was the truth. And if Marie noticed he only had the one number stored in the memory, perhaps he had even said it had been Liz who had bought him the thing. Still entirely plausible.
As far as the lighting crew went, it wouldn’t do him any harm to think she was out having a good time with someone else. It would strengthen her relationship with him because it would make him more protective of her, would make him refuse her less often. It may have been a dangerous game she was playing but it was certainly one she was good at.
For Liz, the thrill of the affair was in the secrecy. She didn’t care about Marie either way and was being entirely truthful when she had said she supposed the woman to be pleasant enough. Liz did not do things to harm other people, she did them for her own personal gain. She saw something she wanted and she went for it. And she usually succeeded. Liz was used to getting her own way. It was a quality she knew she shared with Corsac’s eldest daughter, Sam. It was why she had liked Sam the instant they had met. On the other hand, she did not like Louise. She saw Louise as a sallow, uncertain useless waste of space. Not that she would ever confess such an opinion to Corsac, of course. Louise was, after all, his special girl.
Or, at least, she used to be.
*
Corsac was left without any clear resolution in mind. He went home by train, annoyed with himself that he was worried over just what Liz could have been doing at that moment. He knew the lighting crew, or at least a couple of them. They were men of the world; and young, good-looking men with it. To say that he was insanely jealous would have been a grand understatement, yet he knew he had no right to be jealous at all. It was he who was conducting the affair to begin with. If Liz got off with any of the lighting crew, that was their business. She was single, some of them were single, there shouldn’t have been a problem. But there was. The problem was that Corsac did not like the thought of anyone else touching Liz the way he did.
