Chapter 20
Faith was uncharacteristically nervous when we met at the Tube near her boss’s house. ‘Okay, there are just a couple of things to keep in mind,’ she said as we made our way to his address. ‘You know Ken. You met him at my birthday drinks, so you know he’s an arsehole. But please try to be nice to him. And if he makes a joke, just laugh this time. He’s used to sycophants. His wife’ll be there too. Wait till you see her. I don’t know most of their friends but I’m sure they’re called things like Felicity or Araminta, so you know the type. Do I look okay?’
‘You’re beautiful.’ She hardly ever had crises of confidence when it came to her appearance. While the rest of us fretted over too-blue eyeliner, flyaway hair, the wrong bra and pinchy waistbands, she never fidgeted, instead swiping on a bit of lip gloss and smiling through her perfection. I’d have hated her if I didn’t know her. ‘You don’t need to be nervous, it’ll go well. Do I look all right?’
‘Gorgeous. It’s just that it’s taken me over two years to get one of these invitations. Ken’s parties are legendary for making careers. If you’re invited, you could be on the way to great things. Unless you f*ck up. I know of two who did. They’re no longer with us.’
‘Were they murdered?’
‘Don’t joke. They were…’ She made ditto marks with her fingers. ‘… managed out.’
‘Wow, and you’re trusting me not to f*ck it up for you? Brave.’
‘Desperate. The invitation was plus one. I told Ken I’d come on my own and he told me to find someone to bring along. Maybe they don’t want to mess up the seating arrangements.’
‘Maybe he wants to judge you by the company you keep.’
It wasn’t exactly my cultural milieu. My flat with Mattias was surrounded by kebab shops and bars, not Kenzo and Balenciaga. Faith’s boss lived in a townhouse. As did we, except ours had three buzzers at the front door instead of just the one. ‘I didn’t realise being a newspaper editor paid so well.’
‘It doesn’t. It’s his wife’s money. They bought this a few years ago and had it completely renovated. There’s a lift in the drive. Like the bat cave. He drives over it and lowers the car into the underground garage.’
‘Why doesn’t he just use a normal garage like other people?’
‘He needed the room for the home cinema.’ She rolled her eyes.
I was immensely looking forward to the evening. Some people provided such a rich seam for parody. ‘What a shame Fred couldn’t come. He’d love this, but I’m happy to be his alternate. I’m really glad things seem to be going so well between you.’
She grinned. ‘Thanks, me too. It’s remarkable what can happen when you let go of all the silly criteria. I shudder to think of it. I mean it, B.,’ she said to my feigned denial. ‘Sometimes I marvel when I think of all the reasons I had for dumping men. If I’d known someone like me, I’d have thought she was insane. Why didn’t you tell me?’
A clear case of I-told-you-so amnesia. ‘The reasons were valid to you at the time, so you couldn’t ignore them. And we did tell you, if you remember. Many times. You ignored us. Should we have been more insistent?’
‘No, you’re right, I wouldn’t have listened. It’s okay, I recognise that now. I don’t know how it happened, how I became such a judgmental bitch.’
‘You were never a bitch. You just had… well, let’s call them high standards. Sort of the Felix Ungar of the dating world.’
She laughed. ‘That seems like another person now, and I keep wondering how it happened. I mean, I think I changed, but how? I can’t work out what’s cause and what’s effect. Maybe I fell in love with Frederick because I stopped paying attention to all the requirements I had. Or maybe I ignored the list because I’d met Frederick. Maybe if any of those other guys had really been “the one” I’d have overlooked their flaws. Or maybe I grew up and realised that I didn’t need a long list. I just wish Clare would realise that. I know you don’t like to see us argue but this is why. She’s carrying around a bunch of silly reasons that The Shag can’t be her boyfriend, and yet he’s doing all the important things. And we all know she loves him. She’s just being stubborn, and purposely blind. It’s the fundamentals that are important, not the other stuff. I wish she’d see that. She’s got a man who’s devoted, who wants to be involved with their baby, who puts her needs first. He puts up with her mood swings, which is more than we can say, and we’ve loved her for years.’
She was right about that. I usually tried to gauge Clare’s moods (plural) remotely before submitting to them in person.
‘It doesn’t matter that he rides a skateboard to work, or that he doesn’t like champagne,’ she continued. ‘Which admittedly is a bit weird. My point is that she shouldn’t completely dismiss him because of these small things when the important things are all there. Take me and Frederick. It doesn’t matter that he leaves used dental floss on the side of the sink, or wears socks to bed. It doesn’t bother me that his jaw clicks when he chews.’
‘What about putting leftovers in their pans in the fridge instead of using plastic containers?’
‘That does drive me mad, but I cope. And I hate that he doesn’t flush the loo after he wees. If it’s yellow–’
‘Let it mellow. I know. I lived in fear of the up-splash when I had to go in the middle of the night. You’re right, I think Clare should give The Shag a chance. She obviously loves him, though she changes the subject every time I ask her. I guess she’s embarrassed after refusing to be seen in public with him for so many years. She’s always been pretty harsh about him. She’s got a lot of words to eat. And you know she’s had no appetite for months.’ I smiled at my own cleverness as we arrived at the door. ‘Ready to dazzle your boss?’
She took a deep breath. ‘As I’ll ever be.’
A small smiling woman dressed in black greeted us.
‘Hi, I’m B.,’ I said, sticking my hand out to the woman.
‘May I take your coats?’ She asked with a thick accent.
‘Er, thanks.’ Nice entrance, B., mistaking the maid for the host. ‘Faith! You make the introductions, okay?’
‘That was very smooth. Don’t worry, I’ll brief you.’
I may not have been the career asset that Faith hoped for. I wasn’t exactly au fait with playing the corporate wife. Wining and dining hadn’t been in Mattias’ job description when we were together. I hesitated to call urban planners geeks, but they were very nice, very smart geeks. Their get-togethers tended to be at the local pub after work. Their annual Christmas party was their only organised event and that was still at the local pub. We just dressed up a bit.
The living room was crowded, with a rather high waiter-to-guest ratio. Maybe they planned to feed us our canapés personally. Crab puff with a side of waiter’s fingerprints. ‘Faith, how many of these people do you know?’
‘Not many. There’s Fionnula. She had a thing with Ken last year. She’s got her own office.’
I didn’t know whether that was the cause or the consequence of the affair. ‘And he invited her?’
‘It looks like he’s invited them all. There’s Cressida. I think that’s still going on. And Valentina. She acts like it’s still going on, but it was just the one Christmas party.’
‘And everyone knows about these affairs?’
‘Of course. It’s a very incestuous industry. Everyone sleeps with everyone.’
‘What about you? Who’ve you slept with?’
‘B., my most glamorous assignment has involved hiding behind bins. Do you rate my sexual ability that low? Believe me, though, if I got the chance, I’d have considered it.’
‘Seriously? With him?’
Our host was slowly working his way around the enormous room. He was in his mid-fifties, with a head of limp greying locks that made him look like he’d recently been dragged from the sea. Added to the way in which his chinos stretched snugly across an almost square expanse of flat bottom and you had all the hallmarks of a man who got women into bed with big promises. ‘That’s not his wife!’ I said of the stunner who’d just joined him.
‘It is. Incredible, isn’t it?’
She was tall and slim, but not skinny. She looked sporty, maybe an equestrian. Her hair was just the right shade of honey blonde, swinging down her back in thick ringlets. Straight teeth flashed as she laughed. ‘You said she’s rich, right?’ Faith nodded. ‘And obviously beautiful. Is she stupid?’
‘Incredibly clever. And fun and nice.’
‘Then he must have something on her. Some terrible family secret that she’s married him to protect. Is it something sexual? Is she a hermaphrodite? A Thai ladyboy? What? What is it? How is this possible? Tell me!’
She held her index fingers a couple of feet apart.
‘No! Really? But that’s an exaggeration, right?’ I could only see his monstrous backside. Not that I expected it to be hanging from his zip, but like seeing the scene of a momentous event without seeing the event itself, the lay of the land sometimes gave you an inkling. ‘I don’t think it would be worth it.’
‘That’s not all,’ she sang with a wicked gleam. ‘He can make a woman come every time.’
‘Even–’
‘Even those who don’t. Yep. They say he has,’ she lowered her voice. ‘Techniques. That he’s incredible. That’s probably why she married him. And why she sticks around.’
‘Maybe he’s a nice guy.’
‘No, he’s a dick.’
‘That does seem to be his defining feature.’
Noise levels rose along with the champagne bubbles in our bloodstreams. It was clear which guests were Ken’s friends and which were his work contacts. The former were collagened and botoxed to the eyeballs in order to pass for the latter, who really were in their twenties and thirties. I didn’t condemn the fight against ageing. It was easy to be judgmental, until gravity lowered our principles along with our bustline.
‘Hello, I’m Faith,’ she said to one of the older ladies we sidled up to. ‘And this is B.’
‘Howdoyoudo. Lady Farfegnugen, and this is my daughter Sage.’
I wondered whether her sisters, Paprika and Onion, were coming later. ‘Are you friends of Ken’s?’ I enquired instead.
‘Oh yes,’ said the older woman. ‘A friends of Pippa’s, actually. Our families are old chums. We grew up nearly next-door neighbours in Sussex. And you?’
‘I’m Faith’s date. She works with Ken.’ Faith was busy talking to a man who I presumed was Lord Farfegnugen.
‘Oh. Oh, well, that’s wonderful. You know, I’ll tell you something.’ She looked like a woman who often liked to tell you something. ‘I was really most pleased when those laws were passed. You people should have all the same rights.’
Who, Canadian-Americans?
‘Ah, no,’ Faith intervened, catching the end of the conversation. ‘B. is my friend. She’s not my friend.’
‘Well, it would be fine if she were,’ said Parsley. ‘Mummy’s very liberal like that. Aren’t you Mummy? Tell them about the decorator.’ She had the widest set eyes I’d seen outside a Manga comic, making her look like she normally travelled by spacecraft.
‘Thank you, but we’re not.’
‘Who’s not what?’ Ken asked as he approached. If only I could keep my eyes from darting to his crotch.
‘B.’s not my, er, husband. Or wife. Partner. Civil partner. She’s not. She’s just my friend.’
He grinned. ‘I didn’t have you down as a lesbian. Not that it’d make any difference to me. I’m an equal opportunity employer. The courts have said so.’
Faith laughed heartily. I threw him a chuckle in support. As any good wife would.
‘Ken,’ I said. ‘Your house is lovely. These are really interesting statues.’ The room was filled with stone carvings of exotic large-breasted women.
‘Thanks. They’re from Angkor Wat. Took us bloody ages to get them but Pippa was determined not to give up. We visited a few years ago. Do you know there’s nothing inside? Completely empty. Waste of a day if you ask me but Pippa had her heart set on it.’
‘Did you have problems with the permits?’ Asked Parsley. ‘Mummy had a deuce of a time getting our marbles. Those little governments can be very unhelpful. I don’t understand it. It’s not as though they’re doing anything with them. Half the time they just moulder in a corner somewhere. Do you know, I was in the Cairo museum once and saw ancient artefacts literally piled in the corners? It’s much better that we have them. At least we take care of them.’
‘Those people don’t understand,’ Lady Farfegnugen observed without a whiff of embarrassment. ‘It’s for their own good that we have these things. At least they’re preserved this way. Just look at the Elgin Marbles. The Egyptians don’t even have air conditioning. Imagine how long they’d last there.’
‘Greeks,’ I said.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Greece, not Egypt. The Elgin Marbles come from the Parthenon. In Greece.’ I knew this because I went to the British Museum a few weeks earlier with Frederick in an attempt to do something more cultural with him than watch sitcoms and give each other facials.
‘The Greeks don’t have air conditioning either,’ she declared.
I was willing to bet they did, but didn’t see how arguing the point further would have any effect on the Lady.
Faith was seated at the far end of the long table, between Lord Farfegnugen and a youngish man that she seemed to know. I knew neither of my dinner companions, but the one to my left was gorgeous. He had wavy dark brown hair and deep blue eyes fringed with black lashes. When he smiled he got dimples.
‘Who are you here with?’ He asked.
‘My friend Faith, over there at the other end of the table.’
‘Ah yes, they never put couples together.’
‘We’re not a couple,’ I said. What was it about me? Surely one skipped shaving day doth not a lesbian make.
‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ He looked aghast, then smiled. ‘I was really rather pleased to be able to exhibit my open-mindedness. These parties are usually so dull.’
‘Then I’m sorry to disappoint you. I have been with women, of course.’ I had no idea why I said this. I was bragging to a complete stranger. ‘If that makes the party any more interesting.’
‘Well, yes, it certainly does. Now at least I have something to tell my friends when they ask. What else do you like to do? Besides women?’
‘Ah, let’s see. I was a consultant until recently, and now I’m trying to make my singing career.’
‘You sing? I like to carry the occasional tune myself. Not professionally, but I’ve been known to bring an audience to tears with my rendition of “Hotel California”.’
‘Ooh, that’s not an easy one to do.’
‘That’s exactly what my audience usually says. They may not be tears of joy. Oh, excuse me,’ he said, nodding over my shoulder. ‘I think I’m meant to talk to the woman on my left. First course and all. But I enjoyed meeting you. We’ll talk again.’
‘Me too,’ I said as I glanced at the unsmiling elderly man to my right. ‘I’m sorry, hello, I’m B.’
‘How do you do, B. My name is Francis Willoughby.’
He still wasn’t smiling. I was a bit stuck for topics given that he seemed to want to challenge me to a staring contest. ‘Er, is your wife here?’
‘Why do you ask? Do you know my wife?’
‘Um, no. I was just guessing that you have one. Most of the guests seem to be paired up.’ Exhibit 1, why I didn’t generally like old people: Francis Willoughby.
‘Are you? Paired up?’
‘No, I’m here with my friend Faith. She works for Ken. Are you in the newspaper business too?’
‘I am not. Bloody carbuncles on the arse of civilisation.’
‘Then you’re a friend of Ken and Pippa’s?’
‘Yes. No. My wife is. I’m told I have to tolerate them.’
What a grumpy old codger. ‘Oh. Which one is your wife?’
‘The one at the end sat beside the man who looks ready to expire from boredom.’
I knew exactly which man he meant. ‘Well, splitting couples up at dinner gives everyone a chance to meet someone new.’ How was that for seeing the bright side?
‘That isn’t why they do it. It gives us a break from the nagging.’ Mr Willoughby clearly approved of the hostess’s seating arrangements.
I smiled sweetly. ‘Given the men I’ve met here, I’m sure the women can use the break too.’
He stared at me. Then laughed. ‘Probably so.’ He turned to his soup. Conversation over.
I hated hearing married people talk about each other like that, probably because my parents were such a nuptial anomaly. They seemed to love each other like people in the movies did. Even after forty-five years they giggled with their heads together when they shared jokes and held hands while grocery shopping. Could it be that easy? For normal humans, not my parents.
Courses changed and the handsome man was back. ‘Was it awful?’ He whispered from behind his napkin. ‘Mister Willoughby, I mean. He’s infamous. Did he try to seduce you?’
‘Good lord, no! There was hardly time with such a little bowl of soup. Why, does he usually try to seduce women?’
‘Oh yes. He’s an old pervert, a known corrupter of innocents.’
‘That explains it, then. I’m no innocent.’
‘So you’ve said. I’m glad he wasn’t too unbearable. Women have been known to slap him.’
‘If he had, I certainly would have slapped him.’ I probably wouldn’t have, really.
‘I would expect nothing less.’
‘Must protect my virtue.’
‘I thought we established that your virtue can take care of itself?’
‘Yes, well, hmm.’ He was really very good-looking, and he knew his way around the catwalks if his clothes were anything to go by. On a less handsome man a green striped jacket and purple checked shirt would have screamed stamp collector living with his mother, but he managed to look quirky without being weird. Obviously there was something wrong with him. The perfect man didn’t just sit next to you at a dinner party. ‘Is your wife here?’ I asked, as waiters descended to clear away the remnants of our main course.
‘No, I expect she’s at home with our children.’
I knew it. ‘Oh, you have kids?’
‘Yes, two girls. The eldest has just morphed into a terrible teen. I give my wife a lot of credit for not throttling her. I should say my ex-wife. We’re divorced. So I suppose I’m here to make up the numbers. Of course, that isn’t what Pippa said. They never do.’
‘No? What do they say?’
‘They say they have a lovely woman they’re dying for me to meet.’
‘Who’s this woman?’
‘Well, according to the seating plan, I’d say it’s you, B.’
‘Interesting. Though, as I’ve never met Pippa, I don’t see how she’d know I’m fascinatingly lovely.’
He grinned, aware that I’d upgraded myself. ‘Lucky guess. Listen, since Pippa obviously went to all the trouble with the table placement, maybe we should think about meeting for a coffee or a drink sometime.’
Guilt surged through me as I thought about Mattias. Although there was nothing explicitly stopping me from dating, we were growing closer again, regaining some of the ground that had washed away from the slow drip of monotony.
Still, the fact was, we weren’t going out. There was nothing romantic between us, no matter how much I was beginning to hope there would be again.
‘Well–’
Ken suddenly bounced to his feet, banging his wine glass with his knife. ‘Everyone, I hope you’re enjoying dinner. You’ll find afters in the living room. This may seem a bit unorthodox, but Pippa’s arranged a surprise. I won’t spoil it. But it involves free-running chocolate. And strawberries.’ Pippa smiled tightly at her scene-stealing husband. There was an anticipatory murmur from the guests as chairs scraped back. We stood to retire to the living room to eat molten chocolate amongst the stolen colonial treasures.
It was hard to tell who was more disappointed, because his face was overshadowed by my chin. I was a virtual high-rise to his bungalow.
Where did I stand (slouch) on the height issue when the man seemed to otherwise have so much going for him? This was new territory, for I’d never met such a gorgeous man whose inseam was shorter than mine.
I suppose I liked the idea of the man being bigger, to make hugging more all-enveloping. There was a feeling of safety in a tall man. Realistically, though, bear attacks were rare in central London. And surely we spent more time looking at each other than we did vertically aligning our bits. So it shouldn’t have been a big deal. Besides, he wasn’t that much shorter than me, just a few inches. And I was wearing at least three-quarter-inch heels. ‘Er, I should catch up with Faith and see how she’s doing. She’s a bit nervous tonight. The boss’s dinner and all. Here’s my card, if you want to be in touch.’
‘I’d really like that, thanks B., but–’
But. But I was too tall, a monster to this compact man. And there I was judging him.
‘But I don’t want to pressure you at all,’ he continued. ‘I’d love to see you again, so here are my details. Please get in touch if you’d like to go out. It would be fantastic if you do.’ He smiled a beautiful smile, kissed me on the cheek and I went to join Faith.
We decided to make a decorous exit once the chocolate cooled, before barriers fell any further. The night wasn’t destined to end well for some. We spotted Faith’s colleague just as we reached the Tube station, looking shell-shocked as she tucked away her mobile. ‘G’night, Jane,’ said Faith with a sympathetic smile. ‘See you Monday.’
‘Probably not,’ wobbled the girl.
It’s possible that she didn’t notice the portrait of Ken’s son in the living room (it was a mere metre high), or the Special Olympics medals proudly displayed. The fact that she missed them didn’t inspire confidence in her investigative abilities. Even so, common sense and even the tiniest dollop of humanity should have cautioned against telling a joke like that. You could have heard a pin drop. Or maybe it was the sound of her career shattering. She was probably right. Faith wouldn’t see her in the office on Monday. Another case of career sabotage by Messrs Moët & Chandon.
When I checked my phone before we ducked into the Underground, the missed call number was unfamiliar. My heart skittered over the possibility that it was Mattias. I pressed voicemail.
‘Hi B? This is Gemma Dunlop. You sent me your demo last week. I loved it, thanks for sending it to me! I’d like to meet you if you’re free. You could either come to my office, or we could meet for a coffee? Let me know what suits and we’ll fix up a date. Thanks again. Bye!’
My hand shook as I pressed replay. ‘Faith, listen to this.’
She took the phone, her grin spreading to match mine as the message replayed.
‘That’s one of the managers,’ I said. ‘Not just a booker at a club. A proper manager. A real manager wants to meet me!’ I burst into tears, probably making Faith’s colleague wonder whether she hadn’t been the only one telling career-limiting jokes.