Calendar Girl (13 page)

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep back there honey, hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”

“Oh no, Simon,” Saz purred. “That’s fine, it gave me a chance to come down here and get comfortable. Nice bed! It’s very … spacious. And this photo, is it your mother?”

Saz pointed to the photo on his bedside table – it was unmistakably the same woman as the one framed on his desk, only in this photo the woman was years younger and smiling directly at the camera, the ocean behind her and small waves around her ankles.

“Yeah. We were on vacation. Maine. My father wasn’t with us – it was a great holiday. Hot. Sunny. And completely irrelevant. Come over here, September.”

Simon was slurring his words slightly, but not enough for Saz to assume he was still very drunk, unfortunately his little nap seemed to have re-energised him. She quickly weighed up her options and decided that playing along for the moment was her best chance. So, letting the sheet drop away from her, she slid out of the bed and walked across to James. He studied her body as she crossed the room.

“You’ve got a fine physique babe. Do you work out?”

“Not much Simon. I run. Swim a little. I don’t like the idea of a gym. I don’t like to get all hot and sweaty in front of too many people. I prefer to get sweaty with just one other person around, if you know what I mean.”

Simon James did. He grabbed her left arm and pulled her to him. The swiftness of his movement and the cold silk of his shirt against her skin surprised her and Saz let out a gasp of breath. Simon James took this for a gasp of pleasure. He started to kiss her. Now Saz knew she was definitely in trouble. Either she could go along with it, have sex with a man for the first time in almost eight years, though at least on the last occasion she’d actually wanted to do so, or – and this was the much more appealing choice – find a way to get out of it. However, given that she’d decided to climb in James’ bed because it seemed safer than having him find her up to her armpits in the filing cabinet, it would look a bit strange for her to back out now. She supposed it was unlikely that James would have enough of an idea of modern feminism to grasp the politically correct concept of “I changed my mind and I have every right to do so”. In fact she had more than a sneaking suspicion that he’d be turned on by bullying her into having sex with him. Or worse. Her escape route would have to be much more careful than that. And as he ran his finely manicured nails down her back and held her against his smooth, stubble-free cheek, she realised she’d need a better excuse than any of the
ones that were running through her head. James pulled her closer, his fine wool suit rubbing against her skin. She started to kiss him back, all the time her brain racing for an excuse, any reason to back out. James pushed her down on to the bed. Saz rolled around and began to massage his back.

“Let me help you relax, Simon.”

James turned and tried to kiss her again.

“I don’t want to relax, sweetheart. Calming down is the last thing on my mind.”

He wasn’t lying. Saz slipped out from under him, and preparing to accept the inevitable began to excuse herself.

“I’m going to have to go to the bathroom, Simon.”

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing at all, you’re a great guy Simon – but I don’t want to have your baby.”

James smiled and lay back.

“Right. I think you’ll find everything you need in the cabinet on the left. Don’t be long though, I don’t want to cool down.”

Saz smiled and ran her hand down his long, taut thigh as she left the room.

“No, I won’t be long.”

Saz sauntered into the bathroom, sashaying across the room in her best imitation of a naked Mae West.

About half an hour later she dressed as quickly as she could, picked up her bag and coat from the chair and walked to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Simon. Goodnight.”

“Yeah.”

“And that was it. I ran most of the way home, leaving him there to sulk like a little boy!”

Caroline and Saz lay laughing on the bed as the thin morning sunlight filtered through the blinds.

“I can’t believe you got away with it!”

“Well, he was pretty pissed, maybe he was just looking for an excuse to go to sleep!”

“But you actually cut yourself?”

“Yeah. Extreme I know, but I’d rather have a small nick on my toe than … well, than fuck him.”

Saz had taken a gamble on the fact that she knew American men to be usually more fastidious than their English counterparts, how they generally had a disgust of body hair on women and that disgust was likely to extend to the normal bodily functions of womankind as well. She also knew that James was particularly fussy about everything being spotlessly clean, he went crazy if any of the girls had so much as a speck of dirt on their clean white shirts, so she couldn’t imagine him allowing her to soil his smooth silk sheets. She’d gone to the bathroom, taken out his old-fashioned safety razor and made a tiny nick on the underside of her big toe. And then, with a few drops of blood on her upper thigh, she’d walked back into the room. She dived for her bag, pulling out a couple of tampons and chattered on a little more, looked up at where he lay on the bed. He was fully dressed and armed, she was naked and vulnerable, and yet she knew she’d won as the erection he’d been so forcefully pushing against her, quickly subsided.

“Shit!”

“I’m sorry Simon, really I am. I’ll make it up to you.”

Saz reached out to stroke his arm and when he flinched at her touch, she knew she could push it even further.

“I mean, if you’d like me to do anything else …?”

“No! It’s fine. Just go home and let me get some sleep. I’ve wasted most of the damn night on you, now piss off!”

“I’m sorry. Really I am Simon.”

Saz sunk her teeth into another doughnut and burst out laughing again.

“God Carrie, you should have seen his face!”

She’d picked up coffee and doughnuts on her way back to Caroline’s because she knew she had to wake her and tell the story of the great escape and she also knew that Caroline would only be happy to hear the tale if she came bearing gifts of food as well.

“Christ Saz, you’re lucky!”

“Luck had nothing to do with it kiddo, sheer brilliance in the face of almost impossible odds is how I like to look at it!”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s a bit politically suspect to plead ‘period’?”

“I didn’t ‘plead’ it. He assumed. You think I should have done it?”

“No. But you could have used the opportunity to educate him in the joys of the natural workings of the female body!”

“Right Carrie. Well, you’re welcome to take him a copy of
Our Bodies, Ourselves
if you want, I’d just as soon leave him ignorant if you don’t mind.”

“OK, so what now?”

“Now I get the first flight home and you print up these photos as soon as you can so that I can study the information while I’m on the plane.”

“What did you manage to take?”

“I got one of each of the September files.”

“Good move, but doesn’t he still have my phone number?”

“Yeah. I’ll call the phone company and get them to give you a new one. That’s the only thing of yours I gave him. I said I couldn’t remember the address – he was supposed to get it from me tomorrow, but I guess he’ll have to wait. I’ll
leave you the cash to pay for changing the number, I certainly earned enough in the past week! So, how soon can you get the photos developed?”

“This afternoon I suppose. I’ll go into college and do them first thing. Why don’t you call the airports and find out what time you’ll be able to get a plane?”

Saz went to call while Caroline got dressed. She was just finishing the last doughnut when Saz came back.

“I called the phone company and that’s OK, you’ll have a new number by the day after tomorrow – money’s on the hall table. And there’s a flight from JFK to Heathrow at six thirty this evening. So if you think you can get the photos done by then, I’ll book a seat.”

“Just. They won’t be ready by the time you have to leave here, you’ll need to go early to pay for the ticket. I’ll come out to the airport with them, I should make it by about four.”

“Good. Just one other thing and I’ll start packing.”

“What’s that?”

“To make double sure that you get no hassle from Simon James, I’m going to leave him a ‘Dear John’ letter. Tell him I’m off travelling again or something.”

“Thanks. I mean, I do want to get to know some New Yorkers but he’s not exactly top of my list of locals to get friendly with.”

Saz put the envelope in a postbox at the airport. It was carefully worded and just crass enough to sound believable.

Dear Simon,

First of all let me apologize for not seeing you

in person, but I honestly couldn’t bear to say

goodbye. I’m so sorry last night ended the way

it did. It was certainly something I’d been

hoping for and I hope you had too. But I guess

it just wasn’t meant to be. I haven’t been

entirely honest with you Simon. To tell the

truth I do have a boyfriend, but I let my

attraction to you blind me to my

responsibilities to him. Our relationship hasn’t

been good for some time now and I guess I was

just using you to see how I felt about him. Well,

the truth is, that I’ve discovered I love him.

There. I’ve said it. And I guess I owe that

knowledge to you. I’m going back to him now to

try to get things right. Thank you.

With love,

September.

She’d wondered about the “with love” but decided he was probably arrogant enough to accept it at face value and it was certainly common for girls to leave without giving any notice at all.

The Tannoy was just announcing the last boarding call for her flight to London when Caroline ran in. Saz grabbed the file Carrie held out to her.

“Is this them? What took you so long?”

“I had to wait ages to get into the darkroom.”

“Thanks hon, you’ve been brilliant. Tell your dad that at least the photography course was worth his hard earned cash! Well sweetheart, it’s been great, but I’ve got to get

“Wait!”

“I can’t Carrie, I’m late already. Call me if you just have to tell me you now know you loved me all along.”

“No, Saz. Wait! One of the photos.”

“Didn’t it come out?”

“Yes but …”

“Well, what’s the problem then? Quick, I’m late.”

“I know her!”

“You know who?”

“The girl in the photo –I mean not personally.”

“Well what’s her name? Do you think she’s September?”

“Hold on.”

“I can’t. The bloody plane’s about to go. What’s her name for God’s sake?”

“I don’t know her name. I only ever met her once for about five minutes. She knows Annie.”

“Annie Cox?”

“Yeah. She goes out with Maggie. You know, Annie’s friend Maggie. Maggie what’s-her-name. The stand-up.”

“Stand-up? You mean Maggie Simpson?”

“That’s it. She’s Maggie’s girlfriend. Your Simon James has got a photo of Maggie’s girlfriend.”

Saz flew into Heathrow in the early morning and put the precious photos in her bag. She’d spent the past five hours staring at the one of September. Or at least the only September Caroline had recognised. She’d read the file notes – probably as fake as her own and then stared at the photo trying to get the answers from that. The photo was black and white so while she could see the short dark hair, the eye colour was less certain, that they were dark was obvious, but they could also have been hazel or even dark green. And anyway, just because Carrie recognised her didn’t mean that she was also John Clark’s September. She changed her money, damning “them” for charging so much commission and then made her way home by bus. Her flat, when she finally got home was freezing so, fully dressed and ignoring the insistent light of her answerphone, she climbed into bed and went to sleep, a last glance at all four Septembers arrayed against her dressing-table mirror.

In the late morning when she woke, her first thought went to them. “OK girls, today’s the day! We’re going to have lunch with Mr John Clark.”

She listened to her messages – three from her mother demanding to know where she was, one from Cassie
wanting her to babysit again and one from Helen telling her that John Clark was as clean as a whistle from her point of view.

“He’s exactly who he says he is Saz. One wife, two kids and no job.” Her faith in John Clark’s law abiding nature confirmed, she called him at his home number, hoping that Mrs Clark wouldn’t get to the phone first.

“John Clark speaking.”

“John, it’s Saz Martin.”

“Oh … er …ah …”

“Don’t worry, is your wife there? Just answer yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“OK, I’ll ask the questions. Any news from your end?”

“No. No news at all.”

“Right, well I’ve got a couple of photos I want you to have a look at. When can we meet?”

“Today? I could meet you for lunch.”

“Where we met before? How about two o’clock?”

“Yes, that would be fine. I’ll see you then.”

Saz put the phone down wondering just what lie he’d use for his wife and then with a heavy sigh called her mother.

John Clark walked into the cafe looking even more tired than when Saz had last seen him. At first he didn’t recognise her because of the hair. And when he did he was more than a little taken aback – Saz realised she should have warned him that she’d be sitting there with the same blonde locks as his very own September. After they’d ordered coffee he sat down beside her. He was obviously worried.

“It’s the money you see Ms Martin, I’m going to need it soon, I never expected the loan to be out this long. She said she’d only need the money for a couple of weeks – she expected to sort everything out.”

“Have you told your wife?”

“No, I don’t want to worry her.”

“I would have thought just looking at you would worry her enough. Anyway, you don’t have to think about paying me for the time being.”