Acquired Tastes (38 page)

'I sent your little treasure, Heather, to collect him from his hotel. I'm sure she'll get him here on time.'

As Vanessa spoke, the door opened and Fergus, followed by a flustered Heather, came in.

'Top of the morning to ye all,' Fergus announced in a false Irish accent.

'Ah, Dr Archibald,' Philip said, getting up. 'I think it's about time you met our star, Miss Gabriella Wolfe. I'm sure you and she will work well together.'

Fergus made a sweeping bow before Gabriella and pressed the hand she held out, to his lips. 'How could I not work well with such a ravishingly beautiful woman? No, forgive me, a Venus. No mere mortal woman could be possessed of such incandescent beauty.' Fergus straightened up but held on to Gabriella's hand.

Moments before, Gabriella had looked coldly disdainful, but Fergus’s flattering words seemed to have had their desired affect. 'My dear Dr Archibald, although I hope I may call you Fergus,' her deep husky voice lingered over his name. 'I'm sure our coupling will be one to remember.'

'Shall we get on with the read-through, the mutual fan club can wait until later,' interjected Vanessa savagely.

Fergus had not even glanced at her. After what had happened between them last night, she had been expecting some kind of acknowledgement from him, but it was as though she did not exist. She glared at Gabriella, who ignored her and pulled Fergus down to sit on the chair beside hers.

She kept her hand on his arm and she purred like a Persian cat when she spoke. 'We really ought to know each other better if we are going to be working together.'

Rosie placed a glass of mineral water beside Gabriella, and a cup of coffee and two doughnuts beside Fergus. She dimpled at him. 'The coffee's got three sugars and lots of cream in it, just as you like it.'

Fergus gave her a friendly pat on her behind as she walked away. Rosie giggled and Gabriella looked approvingly.

Vanessa slammed her script down on the table. 'Shall we begin?'

'I think we had better wait for a moment, Vanessa,' Philip said, looking round. 'We're still missing two of our number.'

'Hugo and Vijay are in the building,' said Rosie, looking up from her computer. 'Hugo's down in the studio and I think Vijay's checking something in VT.'

'I think we should begin. They are both aware of our tight schedule today,' said Vanessa, impatiently opening her script. She looked at Gabriella. 'Would you like to begin?'

Gabriella carefully pushed an imaginary stray hair back into place and with another conspiratorial smile at Fergus, looked down at her script.

'Good evening,' she began, 'and welcome to
Forbidden Fruit.
A new show that is going to lift the lid off Britain's sexual fantasies.'

She stopped and looked up. 'Lift the lid off,' she repeated, 'hardly Shakespeare, is it?'

'And this is not the Globe theatre,' Vanessa retorted. 'So could we please forego the literary criticism until we reach the end of the script?'

Gabriella looked indignantly at Philip for support. He looked from one to the other, caught between them. 'Vanessa, I think perhaps you are being a little too abrasive,' he said reprovingly. 'Gabriella is, after all, a very experienced presenter, and I'm sure we welcome her criticism.'

Gabriella smiled triumphantly at Vanessa.

'However, Vanessa does have a point, Gabriella,' he continued, 'so perhaps we should press on without interruption for the time being. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for adjustments later on.'

Gabriella sniffed loudly and began again, 'Good evening …'

'Good morning,' announced Hugo walking into the room.

'Aren't we just a little late?' asked Vanessa.

'Actually,
we
have been here since eight o'clock this morning, if we're counting,' Hugo replied tartly. 'There were a few problems with the set. Some idiots have been mucking around with the props, but I've sorted it out.'

Vanessa shuffled the pages of her script.

Hugo sat down and put one leg up on the table. 'It was a devil of a problem to get the crew to abandon their tea and tabloids this morning. I presume you've all seen this?' He casually tossed a newspaper across the table.

Philip reached over and picked it up. It was the
World on Sunday.

The front page headline read: TV STAR IN SEX CHANGE!

SHOCKER! WOLFE IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING!

Underneath was a huge picture of Gabriella.

'Oh my God,' groaned Philip. The colour drained from his face and he slumped back in his chair.

Vanessa grabbed the paper. She burst into laughter as she read it. 'Is there perhaps some little thing you forgot to tell us about, Gabriella?'

Gabriella glared at her. 'Give me that,' she demanded.

Vanessa held it away from her and began to read out loud:

“Glamorous TV chat show host, Gabriella Wolfe, who filled the gossip columns with her string of famous and infamous lovers in the 1980s, started off life as plain George Fox. When her British TV career took a nosedive, she headed for the Continent where she became one of the first of the Euro satellite TV stars. Although she has recently returned to these shores to host a new late-night porn show, her home is now in Italy, where she keeps a whole stable of young Italian stallions, some of them as young as sixteen, to keep her regularly serviced.

“Turn to pages two and three for Gabriella's guide to the juiciest Italian meat-balls and to our middle pages for an exclusive interview with her ex-lover rock star, Wayne Warlock, who spills the beans on their steamy nights of passion. Wayne claims: she really foxed me! We also list twenty ways to spot a sex-change.”

Vanessa was jubilant. This was even better than she had hoped for.

'Shall I go on?' she asked.

Gabriella had turned white. 'The bastard,' she spat the words out, 'the dirty no-good, rotten little bastard.'

'I assume you're referring to the TV star's best friend Eddie Spittle,' Vanessa said. 'I thought you said you had him under control, Philip?'

Gabriella turned on Philip. 'Have you been speaking to him?' she demanded.

'No, of course not,' Philip protested indignantly. I merely agreed to give him the occasional little titbit about contestants on the show. I thought the publicity might help.'

'Then who's been talking to him?' Gabriella screeched.

'Well, it says here that
you
revealed all about your Italian toy boys in an exclusive interview with the said Eddie Spittle,' Vanessa said.

Gabriella nearly threw herself across the table and tore the newspaper from Vanessa's hands. She frantically scanned the pages. 'But I never said anything about… '

'You mean you agreed to an interview without consulting me?' Philip gasped.

'It was my agent's idea, he thinks I need a higher profile,' Gabriella said as she read. She dropped the newspaper on the table. 'As I thought, I didn't say anything to him about my operation. I'll sue him and his newspaper until they beg for mercy.'

'But you can't,' wailed Philip. 'It will all come out about you and me and …' his voice tailed off.

'You
and Gabriella…' exclaimed Vanessa. It was getting better by the minute.

'Philip was very kind to me when I was a young boy. He helped me to pay for the operation,' Gabriella said defiantly.

'So you knew Gabriella when she was a man?' Hugo asked incredulously.

'I was a mere boy at the time,' Gabriella interjected, 'and a very beautiful one at that.'

'Not nearly as beautiful as you are a woman,' said Fergus, patting her arm. Gabriella was beginning to interest him even more.

Vanessa looked across at Philip. He had suddenly aged. His hands trembled as he put some pills into his mouth.

'What about the show?' Rosie asked in a quavering voice, 'Surely we can't go ahead now?'

'Nonsense,' Vanessa said briskly. 'The publicity will make everyone in the country switch on. People love watching freaks.'

Gabriella stood up, her eyes glittering. 'I am
not
a freak. I am a woman and more of a woman than you'll ever be,' her voice cracked as she spoke. She swept out of the room.

'Rosie, get after her and make sure she doesn't leave the building,' snapped Vanessa.

Philip made a strangled noise and clutched his chest. Rosie and Heather rushed over to help him.

'It's nothing, it'll pass,' he gasped feebly waving a hand. 'Do as Vanessa says, Rosie, get after Gabriella and don't leave her alone.'

The telephone shrilled. Vanessa grabbed it. 'Yes?'

It was the receptionist. 'I have about thirty journalists and photographers down here. They want to see Miss Wolfe.'

Vanessa thought quickly. 'Tell them no interviews before the show, but if they'd like to come to the recording, they're welcome. I'll send someone down with some tickets.' She put down the receiver. 'The vultures are gathering. They smell freshly killed meat, so let's give them something to gorge on. Heather, take about thirty tickets down to reception and then show them to the hospitality room.'

Heather was holding a glass of water to Philip's bloodless lips.

She looked indignantly at Vanessa. 'I think Philip needs a doctor.'

Philip motioned her away.

'I'll make sure he's all right, just get down to reception,' ordered Vanessa.

'But if I give them thirty tickets, that'll mean one of the coach parties won't be able to get in,' Heather protested.

'Refund their petrol or something. For heaven's sake woman, use your brain, but get rid of them,' yelled Vanessa shrilly.

Heather scowled at Vanessa but hurried out of the room.

'Well, what
are
we going to do about the show?' Hugo asked. 'We're rehearsing in fifteen minutes.'

'I'll go and talk to Gabriella,' croaked Philip and with a superhuman effort, got to his feet. 'She knows what she has to do. She's an old trouper. She won't let me or the side down.'

'I'll come with you,' Hugo said as Philip walked unsteadily out of the door.

Vanessa looked at Fergus. He was reading the article about Gabriella and chuckling to himself.

'What a remarkable woman, quite remarkable.'

Philip knocked softly on Gabriella's dressing room. Rosie peered warily round the door, her eyes red-rimmed.

'Will she see me?' Philip asked in a low voice.

Rosie nodded and opened the door a fraction more to let him in, but she shook her head as Hugo tried to follow. Hugo shrugged and wandered off down the corridor, his electronic organiser in his hand.

'She's in the bathroom,' whispered Rosie, closing the door. 'I think it's just dreadful. What right have newspapers to pry into somebody's private life? Mother has always thought Gabriella - Miss Wolfe - was wonderful. This will break her heart.' She checked her watch. 'Do you want me to stay? I should be in the studio preparing for the rehearsal.'

Philip shook his head. With a last sorrowful sniff, Rosie hurried out.

Gabriella emerged from the bathroom. Seeing Philip, she held out her arms and enveloped him.

'Philip darling, I knew you'd come to me in my time of trouble. You've always been there for me,' she said dramatically.

Philip freed himself from her embrace. 'Gabriella, I'm so sorry about all this, but whatever happens, you know you have my full and unconditional support.'

Gabriella sat down in front of the mirror and began retouching her make-up.

Philip sat on the edge of the bed and watched her, seeing her as he had first seen her all those years ago: a slim, pretty boy nursing the dregs of a shandy at the bar, a mixture of fear and daring in his large, black eyes. His hair had been long before it was fashionable, curling over his shoulders. George Fox as he was then, was just nineteen years old, fresh down from Nottingham where he felt the only escape from the mines was to work in a shoe factory.

Philip had been with two friends from Cambridge. They had all just passed their finals and were out to celebrate. Philip wanted to go somewhere smart and drink champagne, but Gerald and Mark wanted to go slumming, as they put it, so they headed for the wrong end of Notting Hill. They had been in four pubs already and had more than enough to drink by the time they stumbled into the one where George was drinking. Gerald and Mark were very raucous, and seemed unconcerned about the angry looks that their Cambridge accents and loud comments about the working classes were causing. Philip matched them drink for drink, but he was not too drunk to sense that their presence in the pub was not welcome. When Mark insisted on yet another round, he had been glad to escape their company for a moment and go to the less-crowded end of the bar to order some more drinks. It was there he first saw George, sitting apart from the other drinkers.

They made eye contact, but both looked quickly away. Not daring to believe what he had seen, Philip looked back. This time they held each other's gaze for a long time.

When he returned to the table with the drinks, Gerald looked across at him. 'Fancy a bit of rough, do you?' he asked in a voice that could be heard all over the bar. 'Well, he's certainly pretty enough, but I'd keep my socks on if I was you. You never know what you could catch in a dump like this.'

Disgusted and embarrassed, Philip got up to leave but found his way barred by two men. He was no fighter and backed away, but Gerald and Mark had been too drunk or maybe too arrogant to back down, and had lashed out at the men now surrounding them.

As the fight spilled across the bar, Philip felt a hand on his arm guiding him to a back exit. He had not stopped to think what might be out there, but when he stepped into a narrow side street, he was face to face with George.

Without speaking, they raced down the street together. Behind them they could hear the sound of approaching police sirens. They kept running until there was enough distance between themselves and the pub. George darted down an alleyway and Philip followed him. They both bent over, hands on knees, chest heaving as they fought to catch their breath.

Eventually Philip looked up to see George lighting a cigarette. He offered Philip the packet but Philip shook his head then straightened up. 'Thank you for rescuing me. Sorry about my friends.'