Venus Envy (44 page)

Gail. Tom said she took it pretty bad. So bad, in

fact, that he’d thought my running away had been in sympathy. I’d been jealous as hell, and I had never actually dated Tom. Dumped for your sister?

, And that wasn’t all. What about me breaking the Pollock? I was probably being sued for millions right now. I was a laughing stock in London. I had no job I think we could safely say that my tenure at the Christian Library was over.

Sure, Tom was a millionaire a few times over. But

e’cen without the Gail thing, I couldn’t just ask him to look after me. I know some women do that, and good luck to them, but I’ve known since I was a tiny girl that that wasn’t for me. I was destined for love and motherhood, at least I hoped so, but also for - what? For glory, I used to think. Now I would settle for self respect. Anything.

I had to be able to look after myself, before I could

let Tom look after me. As much as I loved him, and I knew I really did. If I said, ‘OK, baby, you work and I’ll look after the kids, that’ll be my job,’ I would wind up resenting him, even resenting our kids.

Oh, listen to me, one session of lovemaking and I

had us married with three babies.

Except it wasn’t going to happen that way.

I got dressed, I put on a slick of cover-up, and went

38z

downstairs. The house was suddenly gloriously warm, and there was a delicious sizzly bacon smell coming from the kitchen.

‘I fixed the heater,’ Tom said. ‘Bacon and tomatoes do you? There’s some Lapsang in the pot.’

I felt a wash of sadness. ‘Tom, I’m so glad this happened—’

‘But,’ he said wearily. ‘I know that tone, Alex. What’s the but, it’s not going to work? Why not? I thought it worked pretty well last night.’

‘First of all, I broke a Jackson Pollock,’ I said, ‘so I think I owe Gordon like millions of pounds.’

Tom’s face was inscrutable. He just laid the table and started pouring out the tea. Oh funk, this was so perfect, so domestic, don’t cry again, Alex, for heaven’s sake.

‘OK, o that’s one problem.’

‘Not to mention I burned down the gallery.’

‘Go on. Tea?’

Tea? Tea? Is that What he said? I’m trying to tell him there’s no future for us and all he does is offer me tea? ‘Black no sugar,’ I said, a bit crossly, ‘and then there’s the fact of me being naked which gave everybody a good laughm’

‘I know what it gave me, but I wouldn’t call it a good laugh,’ Tom said,

I blushed, but ploughed on. Once he got on to sex I’d be back upstairs and devil take the consequences. ‘I don’t have a job any more, Fm a total failure and I can’t get involved with anybody While I’m like that.’

Tom paused for a second, then he smiled. I knew he liked to look on the bright side, but this was ridiculous.

‘What are you smirking at?’

‘Only you,’ he said. ‘Alex, you never spoke to Gordon, did you?’

383

‘Didn’t need to, I said sullenly. ‘I knew what he had

to say.’

‘Did you really?’ Tom said. ‘How about the fact that

the Pollock was a fake, and he collected a packet from

the insurance?’

I stared at him. ‘OK, so maybe I’m not a million

quid in debt—’

‘And the stock was also insured. In fact, the story of the crush ran in lots of gossip columns, and people

wandered into the gallery to see what all the fuss was

about. Gordon’s snowed under, he’s desperate to have

you back. I rang him when Keisha told me you’d

vanished.’

‘Oh,’ I said.

,

‘But you can’t go back there.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’ve had a better offer. You remember

Jack Herman?’

‘The Evening Standard art critic? Yes, he was

looking at my crappy sculptures,’ I said gloomily.

.’Well, he didn’t think they were so crappy. He ran a

piece on them, with pictures, two nights ago. Gordon

Is preening himself that he has “exclusive Alex

Wildes”,’ Tom laughed. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but it is a

bit of a facer to find you’re the new Rachel Whitread,

or something. Somebody offered six grand for the one

I have of Gail.’

My head was spinning, I couldn’t think straight.

‘Well - you bought thaf one of Gail. Why, if you

weren’t in love with her?’

‘I had to have it.’

‘Why?’ I demanded again, feeling my Adam’s apple

thick in my throat.

‘Because you made it, silly, because I could see you

doing it. I could hardly take another of your works,

when that one was there and your mother was right behind me.’

384

I felt like French dressing - impossibilities mixing

together, happiness and sadness like oil and vinegar. Tom took my hand, and yes, my heart was leaping,

but how much of a difference could that really make? ‘Alex, you got it all mixed up. Your job’s safe and people want to see your work. You’re not going to be Damien Hirst overnight, but isn’t this good, isn’t this something?’

Something? It was glorious, it was totally wonderful, it was just what I’d always dreamed of, but …

‘It still won’t work, Tom,’ I said, softly pulling my hand from his. ‘I still can’t do this to Gail.’

I put the key back under the mat and followed him back to York, where Tom returned the Metro to

wreaths of smiles from the old bag on the desk. ‘I’ll get.a train,’ I said.

‘Nonsense.’ Tom grabbed me and bundled me into the front seat of his Rolls. ‘You’re coming back with me, like it or not.’

It was purgatory. On the way back I tried to explain. Tom was, by turns, angry, sorrowful, garrulous, persuasive. And I wanted to be talked into it, I so did. But I was a woman. I knew what it would do to Gail if I ran off with her true love, I’d never be able to forget I’d done that to my own sister.

‘If she finds someone else …’ I ventured.

‘Damn it, Alex, do you know how many years I’ve waited for this? Why do I have to put it on hold for what Gail wants?’ he shouted

‘You just do, I’m not going to break my own sister’s heart,’ I said stubbornly.

‘Shit!’ Tom yelled. He never swears in front of a lady. He slammed his fist down on the wheel, causing the horn to blare. ‘Shift Do you think I’m going to hang around for ever, waiting? I love you, you love me, that’s all there is to it!’

385

‘No it isn’t,’ I said, and started crying again.

Tom looked mutinously angry. He set his mouth in

a hard line, and we drove the rest of the way home in

silence.

‘You’d better take me to the flat,’ I said bleakly. Tom dropped me off and got out to open the door. I hoped he would relent, say something sweet, but he merely helped carry in my suitcase, then nodded curtly and drove off with a screech of tyres.

I took a shuddering breath and tried to calm down,

then I went back upstairs.

‘Alex!’ Keisha said as I walked through the door.

‘Where the hell were you?’

‘Long story,’ I said miserably.

‘Is it as long as your face, cariad?’ asked Bronwen.

‘Come on, spill the beans, enquiring minds want to know—’ Then she took another look at my expression and shut up.

The bedroom door opened and Gail walked out.

I-{er face was drawn and suspicious. ‘Alex, where have

you been?’

‘In Rosedale,’ I said, ‘and I need to speak to you—’

‘It’s Tom, isn’t it?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve been with

him, haven’t you?’

Then she burst into tears. ‘You bitch, Alex, how

could you do that to me.’ You knew I was going out

with him!’

‘He said you split up,’ I said weakly.

‘Because of you - only you. You were always

angling to get him,’ Gail said, ‘and now you have!

Well, I hope you’re happy.’

‘I’m not seeing him, Gail,’ I said, but she wasn’t listening.

‘Go home to Mum and Dad and explain it to them!’

Gail yelled. ‘I’m sick of your lies, Alex Wilde!’

Devastated, I slunk out of the flat and got in a cab

386

for Victoria. k was true, I might as well go home. I needed to think.

The house was prettier than I remembered it, great clouds of winter jasmine bright against the sharp holly bushes, and the dark green yew tree on the back lawn. There was a river that ran at thebottom of our garden, and when I was a kid I used to sit on its banks for hours, knotting little crosses out of the rushes. Once I’d said hello to Mum and Dad, and managed to wriggle out of their questions, I planned to go there. Just to sit and look. I felt too upset to cry any more.

Mum was surprisingly placatory. Apparently Gordon had rung to tell her of the interest in my work.

‘He says you’ve made almost eight thousand already, once you tot up the money for the eighteen pieces. And the non-abstract one of Gail, someone offered–’

‘I know, Mum, Tom told me,’ I said and cringed. Mum smiled. ‘How is Tom?’ ‘Er…’

‘Oh, I know about you seeing him,’ she said, ‘Gail’s been on the phone, but Alex, you two were always such good friends.’

I stared at her in disbelief. Mum wasn’t angry, providing I hooked up with Tom. She just wanted at least one daughter married off to a nice rich man.

‘Anyway, Gail’s coming down to stay at the end of the week, she satd, so you two can make it up then. Let’s face it, it won’t be hard fo.r Gail to pick up another man, will it?’

Oh, cheers, Mum. It would be hard for me, was that it? But then again who cared? I didn’t want another man, I wanted Tom, and he was still the only one who was forbidden to me.

387

The wedding took place six months later.

Not my wedding, of course. Sorry, didn’t mean to

tease you like that.

Keisha’s wedding. Jeremy finally popped the question and she came round to tell me, which is to say she casually dropped the information in the middle of Brookside.

‘Brookie’s dreadful these days,’ she sniffed, ‘it’s got

really crap compared to how it used to be.’

Her hand made a dismissive circle in the air. One of

the problems with Keisha doing so great at Up and Running was she now thought she was an expert on TV. I couldn’t drool over George Clooney without her saying, ‘God, that shot is really badly put together,’ or ‘God, don’t they have a continuity expert?’

This time, however, the only thing I noticed was a

big luck-off ruby sparkling in the lamplight.

‘That’s nice, is it Butler and Wilson?’ Bronwen sail innocently,

Keisha arched one eyebrow sneeringly. ‘As if. This is

bona ride, honey, the real thing.’

‘But it’s on the wrong finger,’ Bronwen went on

blithely, ‘unless—’

We put down our bowls of Kettle Chips, which is

the greatest cop-out ever, to let you eat crisps and not

feel twelve.

‘Yeah, well, we’re getting married next Saturday at Marylebone Registry Office,’ said Keisha, and then

388

pulled away when we tried to hug her. ‘Jesus, I’ve just had this dry-cleaned.’

I felt an overwhelming sense of melancholy. I wanted to jump up in the air, to be thrilled and squealy and girly, but what I actually felt was, oh, shit.

It’s like when you’re a third-year girl at school and your best mate gets a new boyfriend. I mean, you’ve had it, haven’t you? She’s mooning over his picture in the yearbook and wondering if he’s looking her way while he’s hanging out with his mates at the bus stop. Only that usually breaks up, and then you can get your Jackies and your Just Seventeens and write in letters together asking why all boys are stupid.

Marriage. It had this big, clanging sound of gates clashing shut behind Keisha, and me never seeing her again.

‘D’you’want to be a witness, Alex?’ Keisha was saying.

Or alternatively, the trumpets sounding at the Best Party In The World… Ever!, guest list, to which I was not going to be invited.

‘Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride,’ I said absently.

‘Only twice a bridesmaid, I don’t think you can count Charles Drummond’s wedding,’ Bronwen giggled.

‘Just witness. I’m not going for any of that roses and lilies crap,’ said Keisha romantically, ‘fifteen minutes straight in straight out, it was tough, enough to get the time off from work as it was.’

‘Sure,’ I said, trying to smile. I didn’t want her to see I was as enthusiastic as Mary Whitehouse at a brothel.

‘We might have a bit of a party after,’ Keisha said modestly. Oh blimey, now we were getting to it. I knew there would be some excuse for new TDOs somewhere in the equation. ‘We could pop down to

389

South Molton Street - anyway, come on, Alex, it’ll be great to have the famous sculptor.’

‘Famous my arse,’ Bronwen giggled. She can always be relied on to keep other people’s feet on the ground, although her own are still suffering from altitude sickness.

‘Well, Alex is a bit famous,’ Keisha said judiciou.sly. ‘And she can afford to get some new gear.’

That was true. It’s amazing, success comes along like buses in the clich& Now Gordon was proudly showing my stuff in his gallery, and wealthy, annoying New Labour Bollinger Bolsheviks from Tufnell Park would ” ring and commission me for ever-increasing sums of money. You’d like to tell them to fuck off, you know they know nothing about what you’re trying to do, but I was responsible these days. I had my own tiny flat in a smart building in Holloway. I had a mortgage. I had nice clothes and nice make-up, and Joel from John Frieda was doing my hair again. Sometimes Sunday supplements would do tiny features on me.

,For the first few months I was wary, of course. I hoarded every penny. I waited furiously for the bubble to burst.

But amazingly enough, it hadn’t. I was slowly, surely, picking up reviews, clients and profiles. Agents wanted to represent me. I was actually making a bit of money.