Venus Envy (34 page)

going out with Gordon.’

‘Mmm, yeah, I am.’

Keisha blinked suspiciously. ‘is that a lie?’

‘I suppose you could call it a lie,’ I admitted, ‘on technical grounds.’ She gave me The Look, so I had to add, ‘The.technical grounds of its not being true.’

‘Now why did you do that, cariad,’ asked Bronwen, ‘when you’ll have to go to all the bother of faking calls and flowers and stuff?’

‘I couldn’t bear Gail getting all smug,’ I said, deciding not to mention my declaration of passion for Mr Brines just yet.

‘She’ll check up on you,’ Keisha warned, ‘you’re going to have to tell him.’

This was sadly true. Oh, what a tangled web, and all that.

‘Better yet, get yourself a man,’ Bronwen suggested. ‘A real one this time.’

I hate it when my girlfriends say this. ‘Get yourself a man.’ How? Where? You can’t walk into the Man Supermarket and just pick one up, despite all those stupid articles about fresh produce counters being the new singles bars. There’s the threat of Aids. And the threat of Assholes. Trying to find a decent man in a nightclub is like trying to find a decent batsman on the English cricket team. And the hallowed environs of

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Younger’s were not exactly full of thrusting specimens of manhood, unless you counted the pretty young things who swung by for Gordon.

Gay men have got to be doing something right, I tell you. Gordon wasn’t even that attractive, and he saw more action than Patsy Kensit at a rock festival.

And you have to remember the environmental factors.

Such as I looked like shit (did .I mention this one before?).

‘No, really, we’ll help,’ Keisha said eagerly. So eagerly, I realised how badly I must seem to need it. ‘We’ll throw a dinner party. I know loads ofm’

‘Stop right there,’ I said, ‘haven’t you read Bridget ]ones’s Diary? Don’t you know the Karmic Law of Dinner Parties? Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong, only this time in public. I don’t need to spill the redcurrant fool all over my white dress. Or put salt in the crme brfile by mistake.’

‘What crme brfile?’ said Keisha.

‘.What white dress?’ said Bronwen.

But they were being deliberately obtuse. Ha! What did everyone take me for? I wasn’t going to be tricked into that old one.

I went to bed quickly, so I could try and get to sleep before Gail got back. No chance. I sat in my bedroom, I lay on the bed, I counted sheep, I counted Seamus Mahon’s ex-girlfriends. I was still awake at quarter to one, and there was no mistaking Gail’s sweet, girlish giggle, or the low tones of Tom trying not to wake everyone up. They talked for a little while at the door, but he didn’t come in.

It didn’t make itany better. I bit my pillow, it would never do for Gail to hear me snuffling.

I told Gordon of my little deception first thing the next morning.

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‘My,’ he said unflatteringly, ‘we are scraping the barrel, aren’t we?’

‘Will you go along with it? If you need to, I mean?’ I begged.

He looked at me witheringly. ‘It better not get back to Heaven, you’ll ruin my reputation.’

The phone trilled its lazy trill. Gordon .had bought one with a specially melodious tone, he thought it was the gadget of the universe. I thought it was one up from those doorbells that play the Close Encounters theme when you press them.

‘Hello, Younger’s, oh, hello, Mr Drummond,’ he went on, as I made frantic ‘not in’ gestures at the receiver. ‘Oh yes, my darling sugar pumpkin is right here. It’s Tom for you, sweet cakes.’

‘Er, hi Tom,’ I grunted, my face and neck purple with shame. Thank Christ they’re not using videophones yet, can you imagine, no woman would survive a week. Plus, you’d have to have neat hair and makeup twenty-four seven.

‘Don’t be long, angel eyes,’ yelled Gordon, ‘you know how I hate you talking to other men.’

‘Gordon sounds the iealous type,’ said Tom’s neutral voice.

‘Oh, mad jealous, I don’t know what to do with him,’ I replied, making enough shooing motions for Gordon finally to bugger off.

‘I was just wondering if you’d thought some more about selling me a piece for our lobby. Or several pieces, in fact. We look very drab at the moment.’

I bit my lip. There were plenty of bland, corporate paintings in here, and I knew Tom had money. But he was doing this for charity; to ingratiate himself with Gail.

‘I told. you, there’s nothing here for you,’ I said shortly. ‘But it won’t hurt for me to have a look. Come on,

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Alex, you don’t want to deprive your boyfriend of a

sale,’ Tom insisted.

‘Can’t you look somewhere else?’

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were giving me

the cold shoulder. What’s the matter, you don’t think

I’m right for your sister?’ asked Tom blandly.

‘I think you and Gail are perfect for each other,’ I

said stiffly. ‘Come by any time.’

Then he hung up, and I bit my carefully cultivated

nails raw.

I repaired my make-up a million times, pushed my sleeves above my elbows, and ran round the corner to buy two dozen red roses, which I stuffed into a milk

‘ jug and put on my desk. They were a bit manky, but they were the best I could come up with. Lunchtime came and went, and no sign. I was just beginning to feel off the hook when the doorbell jangled, and my heart did a slow flopover in my chest.

I breathed in and poked my head out from behind

the roses.

‘Hello, darling,’ said my mother.

I did a double take, but unless Gordon had slipped a

tab of acid into my peppermint infusion, it was Mum, resplendent in a hot-pink woollen coat and dress with matching tights, black pumps, and a black hat with a vomiting spray of feathers.

Gordon had heard the jangle and re-emerged, like a piranha scenting blood.

‘Mum, this is Gordon Farrell. My boss. Gordon, this

is Emma Wilde.’

‘Mrs Wilde,’ said Mum instantly in case he tried to

call her Emma. ‘Alex’s mother. I had to .come up to “the Smoke” today, so I thought I would check in on my little girl. I don’t know what you think you’re wearing, Alex, you look like a workman.’

‘Whereas you look devastating,’ said Gordon .with a

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courtly bow, ‘and may I say that the crow did not die in vain.’

Mum simpered flirtatiously. ‘It’s rather dashing, isn’t it? If only we could persuade Alex into something a little feminine.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Gordon, the leeching traitor, but Mum was not to be fobbed off with such obsequious grovelling.

‘Although how she can afford it on her pathetic

salary, I’ll never know.’

‘Mum…’

‘You don’t have a head for business, Alexandra, it’s about time you realised it. Youshould be home with us, meeting some nice young men.’

‘It’s the harsh nature of capitalism, Mrs Wilde,’ Gordon said, beaming. ‘We give Alex job satisfaction, that’s ver’ important.’ ‘Real satisfaction comes from the family,’ my mother said. ‘What is this?’ She picked up my latest effort, a slinking panther. ‘A snake? Snakes don’t have legs.’

‘It’s the idea of a panther,’ Gordon said defensively. ‘It’s my idea of a mess.’

‘Mum, I really must ask you to’ I began, braving the thunderclap that would inevitably emerge, but was saved by the bell, or the doorbell, to be precise.

Or maybe not. Because Tom stepped through the door. He was wearing a charcoal-grey business suit, and a blue pinstriped shirt, and he was all that and a bag of chips.

‘Oh my God!’ hissed Gordon under his breath. ‘Are you sure he’s not gay?’

‘Shut up!’ I hissed back. ‘You’re my sodding boyfriend!’

‘Ahh,’ said mother loudly, a radiant smile threatening to split her jaw in two. The feathers wobbled

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wildly. ‘Tommy Drummond, isn’t it? You are courting

my little Gail.’

‘Mrs Drummond, how nice to see you again,’ said Tom, with perfect poise. I don’t know how he does it, not one flicker of embarrassment showed up on his face. I was dying a million deaths, it was worse than the time we went to buy school uniform in John Lewis. Mum bought two of everything, and then when the total was read out to her she screamed, actually screamed. ‘Four hundred and [ifty-eigbt pounds?’ she shrieked. Then the assistant made the mistake (red alert! red alert!) of telling her it was actually pretty reasonable. She screamed again and then she started taking a poll of all the other mothers. ‘Do you think

‘it’s reasonable? Do you think so?’ Gail and I both scarpered and pretended to be trying on hats. It was one of the few times we’ve ever agreed on anything. Oh man, that memory has made me come over all shaky now.

‘I always knew you were sweet on Gail,’ said my mbther dreadfully. ‘I thought you were necking the time I walked in on Alex in the Oxford Union.’

‘Mum,’ I gasped, weak with shame, ‘Tom doesn’t need to hear all about that.’

‘Well, so long as your intentions are honourable, young man. You’ll have to work fast, you know, all

the boys have crushes on her. She’s a catch.’

‘She certainly is,’ Tom agreed.

‘Now Alex here, I despair of. With that dreadful short haircut and these frumpy clothes. Don’t you think young women should dress femininely, Tom? You’d never find a girl like Alex attractive, would you?’

‘Ah …’ Tom said.

‘Of course not. You see, Alex, if you won’t listen to

my generation, perhaps you’ll listen to your own.’ She

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looked at her watch. ‘Oh my, I must be off, I shall miss my train.’

‘Lovely to meet you,’ said Gordon, sniggering, the bastard.

‘Allow me to get you a taxi,’ Tom offered, holding open the door and blessedly escorting her out. I watched as he flagged one down and most courteously handed my mother into it. Then he gave the man twenty quid, Christ, he was a gentleman.

I shuddered. The only way it could have been worse was if she’d arrived with bags full of Country Casuals shopping and made me try them on, one ghastly outfit

at a time. I almost felt for Gail. Surely Tom wouldn’t ‘want to be connected with that.

Tom walked back in before I could remind Gordon he was meant to be my boyfriend, and should therefore stop looking at Tom like a starving Labrador faced will a rump steak.

‘Your mother seems on good form,’ he said politely.

‘Ummm,’ I said in a fury of shame. ‘Shall I show you some nice brasses?’

‘Certainly.’ Tom eyed Gordon with distaste, so I defiantly kissed Gordon on the cheek.

‘Alex has been such a blessing,’ Gordon said faintly, ‘to the gallery, Mr Drummond.’

‘I’m glad you’re doing something to make you happy,’ Tom replied. ‘Look, you have masses of stuff here we’d be interested in, but I need a while for Alex to show me round properly.’

‘Come to the private viewing,’ Gordon burst in

eagerly. ‘Alex is hosting the next orie. On Sunday!’ This was news to me.

‘Terrific, love to,’ Tom said neutrally.

‘Andbring your girlfriend,’ Gordon added, ‘it’ll be a double date.’

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‘I can’t do it,’ I said glumly.

Gordon was firm. ‘You can, darling, and you will.

Let him see you shine. Think how much better everything will seem.’

I gathered up my panther and slunk off home. Why,

when your heart is breaking, does everybody insist you

,put a brave face on it?

I didn’t want to shine. I didn’t want to buck up. But

I went home anyway.

Gail got home late, clutching an exquisite Hermes silk

scarf.

‘J surprised Tom at work and took him shopping,’

she squealed triumphantly, ‘and then I admired this so much, he bought it for me.’

‘Lucky you.’ Bronwen admired it.

Gail tossed her blonde hair. ‘It’s not luck, it’s destiny. He needs someone like me, you know. Just wait ‘til I get into Carrefour, I’m going to completely redecorate. All those fusty old tapestries and lead windows, I’m going to “knock a few of the walls together and create some really interesting spaces. Very white walls, chrome furniture …’

‘I think it’s a listed building,’ Keisha pointed out

dryly.

Gail pouted. ‘I bet Tommy could get that overturned.’

‘He wouldn’t want to, he loves Carrefour,’ I said.

Gail marched up to me. ‘How would you know?’

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I shrugged. ‘We were friends for years.’

‘Yes, well,’ she said shrilly, ‘you were a friend, but I’m his girlfriend. Tom likes feminine women, you know.’

‘So Mum was telling me,’ I agreed.

Gail wasn’t listening, her narrow face had flushed pink. ‘I know Tom came round to your office today,’ she went on. Bronwen and Keisha had pricked up their ears, anticipating a sisterly row. ‘It was only professional, you needn’t think it was anything else. He wants some art—’

‘For his lobby.’

‘And if he is being nice to you, it’s only because he wants to impress me.’ She sloved the scarf rather fiercely under my nose. ‘This was six hundred quid,

Alex, I mean, he’s mad on me.’

‘I can see that,’ I said.

‘Well, “I’m just saying,’ Gail concluded.

I looked back at her. ‘What are you just saying?’ She frowned. ‘Stay away from my man. We all know you don’t care about nicking other people’s husbands,

I’ve discussed the Seamus thing with Tom.’

I flushed. ‘What?’

‘Well, it’s only the truth. Anyway, you stay away from my man.’

Gail stalked off into the bathroom before I could say another word.

‘She’s iealous, she must be insecure,’ Keisha said. ‘Anyway, you’d hardly make a play for your own sister’s bloke, Alex, would you?’

I said nothing. Chrome and white paint? It killed me, Gail was so wrong for Tom, even if she did look like a delicate buttercup. Was that what Tom wanted? Clearly it was, so there was nothing I could do, except what I did, which was to pick up Gail’s new scarf and blow my nose on it, with Bronwen bursting into shocked laughter.