Babyville (10 page)

She has barely thought about it.

Until now. Now she sits thinking about her struggle to get pregnant. About the countless nights she lay with her legs in the air, or filled Mark's pockets with juniper berries, or—and she starts to laugh at the memory of this—performed some ridiculous fertility ritual.

What would happen, she wonders, if she thought of a baby now, because she hasn't thought of babies, or pregnancy, since she's been here. She conjures up a picture in her mind of a gurgling baby, the picture that used to reduce her to furious tears, and she finds that she doesn't feel much at all.

No anger. No pain. No fear. Somehow she knows that having to film babies and baby parties for a week is a final sign from God. He's proving to her that she's okay now. That there are more important things in life than getting pregnant, and that in any case pregnancy wouldn't have been enough to cement her relationship with Mark. Even as she accepts this she knows that there are bigger questions she'll have to answer soon.

Questions about Mark. Her relationship. Her things. Questions about roots. London. Work. But she can't think about that right now.

After all, she has a date to attend to.

At
twenty past eight Julia and Bella make their approach to Orsay.

“So the plan is you go in first, then five minutes later I'll come in and go straight to the bar,” Bella gabbles as they wait round the corner. “After twenty minutes I'll meet you in the loo, and take my mobile so if he's horrible I can call you up and tell you it's an emergency and you have to leave.”

“Okay, okay. I'm going in.”

Bella turns Julia until they're face to face, grasps her shoulders and looks at her with the most serious expression she can muster. “You're going to be fine,” she says in a crappy American accent. “Just relax,” she adds somberly. “And good luck.”

Julia laughs. Leans over and kisses her cheek. “Thanks. See you in the loo.”

Bella gives her a thumbs-up and Julia goes in.

The
restaurant is packed. Every table full, all the women immaculately groomed and glamorous, the men wealthy and powerful. A crowd of people wait just inside the door for their tables, and the bar is already three deep in beautiful people.

Julia pushes her way through the people at the door and finds a maître d'.

“Excuse me? I'm meeting Jack Roth?”

He checks the book, then nods. “Certainly. If you'd like to follow me.” He leads the way through the restaurant as Julia tries not to feel self-conscious, even though every woman in there looks her up and down. Thank God for this dress, she thinks, so perfect for a restaurant such as this.

Her heart beats a little faster as she sees a lone man sitting at a table. He is facing away from the restaurant, the chair opposite him empty, and the maître d' leads her over, then leaves her to hover awkwardly.

The man turns to see her and his face breaks into a big smile. Julia smiles in return, partly out of relief, for he certainly doesn't look like the madman Bella suspected, and partly because she is astounded she could have forgotten someone like him.

“Julia.” He stands and takes her hand, leading her to her chair, and she is delighted he isn't so presumptuous as to kiss her on their first date.

“Jack.” She sits down, smiling. “How lovely to see you again.”

“You had absolutely no idea who I was, did you?” He smiles and shakes his head at her while talking, and for a second she is embarrassed. She thinks of protesting and then she laughs.

“You're right. I had absolutely no idea.”

“I knew you were drunk. I kept telling you that you wouldn't remember me when I called and you kept swearing that you were stone-cold sober and would never forget someone like me.”

“I always say I'm stone-cold sober when I'm rip-roaring drunk. But I have to concede I'm rather surprised I did forget someone like you after all. Are you really six-foot-three?”

“Do I look short sitting down?”

“Not short, just not too tall.”

Jack pushes back his chair and stands up slowly as their fellow diners turn to stare. Julia makes a point of looking him up and down with slow approval, and he sits down with a grin.

“I take it I have your approval?”

“Oh yes. I'd say your workouts are definitely doing you good.”

“So you do remember something of our chat that night?”

“Er, no. It was a lucky guess. Something about your washboard stomach tells me you take your gym seriously.”

“If that was a compliment, thank you. And seeing as we're exchanging compliments . . .”

“Are we?” Julia's trying very hard to wipe the grin off her face, but she can't quite manage it. She's not helped by the fact that she's just glimpsed Bella, who's walked all the way round the restaurant to see his face, and who is now, unbeknown to Jack, clutching her heart and mock-swooning to the amusement of the people at the table she's swooning next to.

“We were. I have to say that you look beautiful.”

Julia blushes. “Thank you. Different to how you remember me, then?”

“Fishing for compliments won't necessarily guarantee you more,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, all right, then. I remembered you as being pretty and fun and sparkly. I didn't remember you as being quite so beautiful or elegant as you look tonight.”

Julia frowns at him, then reaches over and taps him on the forehead.

“If this isn't too personal a question, what the hell are you doing?” he says it with a smile.

“Just checking to see if you're real.”

“The only part of me that's wooden is the pencil in my diary.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Thirty-four
minutes later Julia tears her gaze away from Jack's to see Bella gesticulating furiously.

“Oh shit,” she mutters.

“You don't like my amusing anecdotes?” Jack's tone is wry.

“I'm sorry. Will you excuse me?”

“As long as you come back.”

“I'm just going to the loo.”

“The what?”

“The ladies' room. Restroom. Bathroom. Whatever you call it.”

“Powder room,” he says as she stands up. “Happy powdering.”

“He's
gorgeous,” Bella erupts as soon as Julia walks in. “I've been waiting for you for bloody ages. How's it going?”

Julia's still smiling. She glances in the mirror and is pleasantly surprised to see how she's glowing, how she hasn't glowed in years. “He's lovely,” she says, smiling, turning back to Bella. “He's clever, funny, interesting, and interested in me.”

“What more could a girl ask for?”

“I know,” Julia sighs, reality starting to hit. “Can you believe I already have a boyfriend?”

“Julia, now's not the time to think about Mark. Mark's your past, and who knows,” Bella says, affecting a dreamy tone, “Jack could be your future.”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous,” Julia snorts, turning to Bella with hope in her eyes. “You think?”

 “I love
this weather,” Julia says, clutching her coat tightly around her as she and Jack walk up Third Avenue. “Cold and crisp.”

“Unlike rainy old London.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Tell me about it.”

Julia turns to face him. “About what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you like. Oh, I don't know. You could tell me where you see yourself in five years' time. You could tell me why you don't seem to be in any hurry to go back to London. You could tell me whether or not I could kiss you.”

Julia doesn't even notice his face moving closer and closer. She thinks she may have misheard him, but before she has a chance to ask him to repeat the question, because of course if she did hear him correctly then she'd have to say No because she does, after all, have a boyfriend, before she has a chance to say anything, his lips are on hers.

And when he finally lets her go the only thing she can do is sigh contentedly and smile.

10

“Would you just stop wailing
about it for a second?” Bella says and gets up to grab another wad of toilet paper from the bathroom. “If you hang on a minute I'll go and see if there's a hair shirt hanging in my wardrobe.”

“But I feel so guilty,” Julia wails a bit more. “I can't believe I did that to Mark. I can't believe I've been unfaithful.”

“Darling.” Bella sits down next to her, hands her the toilet paper, and when Julia has finished sniffling into it again, Bella takes her hands firmly. “First of all, you haven't been unfaithful, it was only a kiss, for heaven's sake, not full-blown sex. More to the point, I think now is the time for you to realize that Mark and you are not, how shall I put this . . . meant to be?”

Julia looks up at her and sniffs.

“The pair of you have been ridiculously unhappy for years, and that whole baby obsession was because you were so unfulfilled you needed another focus and you thought a baby would somehow make everything okay again, but the fact is you and Mark are completely incompatible.”

Julia gasps. “I can't believe you just said that.”

“I know.” Bella looks shocked. “Neither can I. But Julia, you are the only one who hasn't been able to see how different you both are and how unhappy you've both become.”

“But that's just a temporary phase.”

“A three-year temporary phase?”

“It hasn't been that long . . . has it?”

Bella nods. “Perhaps I shouldn't say this but since you've been here I've seen the old Julia again, and I've missed her so much. We all have. You were always the life and soul of the party, always happy, always smiling, but since you've been living with Mark you've been so unhappy.

“And I don't think Mark's a bad person. Really I don't. But you rattle around in that ridiculously huge house of his, and I know you're not at home there, and you don't seem to have anything in common. All those times I phone and you say you're staying in watching television, and you never used to stay in, God, your flat was just the base for your answering machine and a place to lay your head, and not even that very often in those days.”

Julia smiles fondly at the memories and then shrugs. “I was young then,” she says. “We all were. Life is very different now. We have responsibilities . . .”

“That's rubbish,” Bella says firmly. “Look at me. I'm out every night, I have my own apartment, great friends, a string of men to call on should I feel in the mood for sex. I'm thirty-three years old and I still party with the best of them, and you know what? I love my life. There is absolutely nothing in my life I would change.”

“So you'd be happy to be on your own for the rest of your life?” Julia's fascinated.

“Once upon a time I would have said the thought of spending the rest of my life on my own was terrifying, but you know what? Now I'm not so sure. I don't have to compromise for anyone, I don't have to stop doing what I want to do because my partner doesn't feel like it. And I know I've been accused of being selfish, but so what? I am absolutely happy with my life exactly as it is right now. Can you say the same thing?”

“I'm happy right now,” Julia says firmly, reluctant to face the truth, but Bella pushes.

“Right now you are. You're in New York and living the life of a single woman. But are you happy living with Mark in London? Are you happy in that house? Is a baby really what you want? Is Mark really what you want?”

Julia doesn't say anything.

“Okay. Put it like this. If you weren't able to have a baby at all, would you still want to stay with Mark for the rest of your life?”

Julia still doesn't say anything, but after a few seconds she shakes her head sadly, still too frightened to say it out loud, to admit it to Bella, to make it real.

“Julia, I know you thought you wanted marriage and babies, but have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're not ready for that? Maybe you made a decision and felt that you had to stick with it, even though your life had moved in a completely different direction.”

Julia looks at Bella, pain in her eyes, and her voice emerges in a whisper. “But I'm so scared of being on my own.”

“Oh, Julia.” Bella puts an arm around her and squeezes her. “I know it must be scary when you've been with someone for years, but look at how alive you've felt since being here, look at how happy you've been. That's what your life could be like again. It's not so bad, is it? Is it?” She nudges Julia until she gets a smile. “See? You could be my new partner in crime. You've already committed your first offense with Jack.”

“Jack,” Julia moans. “What am I going to do about Jack?”

“What do you want to do about Jack?”

Julia shrugs.

“Tell me again how you left it?”

“He asked if he could see me again and I said he should call me.”

“Well, then. No point worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet. Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, but one question . . . Do you want to see him again?”

Julia hesitates, then nods with a faint grin as she reluctantly admits, “That kiss did send a shiver down to my toes.”

“That's as good a reason as any. So when he calls you'll say yes.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple,” Bella is exasperated. “It's what being single is all about. In the meantime it's now one o'clock in the morning and you're supposed to be coming to the office with me tomorrow, so both of us need to get some beauty sleep.” She leans over and kisses Julia on the cheek. “I'm glad you had such a special evening. Sleep well and see you in the morning.”

“Do we have to go to the gym?” Julia moans, just as Bella's shutting her bedroom door.

“Of course we have to go to the gym,” Bella shouts back from behind the closed door. “It's our new religion, for heaven's sake.”

 “Congratulations,
my darling!” Bella lifts her champagne flute in a toast. “Welcome to BCA!”

“This just feels so ridiculous,” Julia says. “I can't believe I came out here for a spot of rest, relaxation, and shopping, and now I'm working.”

“This, remember, is the land of opportunity,” Bella laughs. “Not to mention the land of reinvention. You can be anyone you want to be, why do you think I love it so much?”

“But you haven't reinvented yourself.”

“Julia, everyone at work thinks I'm Lady Bella Redford.”

Julia starts to giggle. “Tell me you're joking.”

“Of course I'm not joking. If I'd known how helpful a title was in opening doors I'd have invented one years ago.”

“I can't believe you.”

“Why not? You could be one too.”

“I think I'll just stick to being your lady-in-waiting.”

“I didn't really think anyone would take it seriously,” Bella lowers her voice and leans forward confidentially. “I was having a row with one of the other producers and she said ‘Bella!' in this really nasally condescending way, and without even thinking I shot back, ‘That's Lady Bella to you,' and the next thing I knew the whole bloody office was calling me ‘Lady Bella.' I had to spend the next two weeks graciously telling everyone that it wasn't quite the done thing to address me as ‘Lady Bella,' and that I only used it for formal functions, and calling me ‘Bella' would be fine.”

“You really are outrageous,” Julia laughs.

“I know. Just pray no one lands their grubby paws on a copy of
Debrett's
. So how did you find today? What did you think of the office, and, more importantly, what did you think of everyone in the office? I've been dying to do the postmortem with you all day.”

“God, where do I start?” Julia smiles and wearily lays her head back against the sofa. It's been a long day, and she's tired, and she never thought it would feel this good to be back in an office again.

They
had arrived at BCA that morning when the live show had just started. Outside the building were streams of black limousines with tinted windows and uniformed drivers. Clusters of young interns stood around with walkie-talkies, barking instructions to unseen colleagues, managing to switch on the charm when a new limo drew up and out stepped an important guest for the show.

Bella seemed to know everyone they passed along the corridors. They walked through large open-plan offices as people stopped to smile, wave, or shout a quick hello. Every now and then Bella would actually stop and introduce Julia, who was welcomed warmly, before they moved on.

And on to the other side of the building, where they stepped into a lift and took it to the twentieth floor.

“This is where all the boring stuff gets done,” Bella confessed, stepping out of the lift as she chucked her coffee carton into a bin. “The studios are on the first floor, so I'll take you down there soon to get a feel for that.” She checked her watch. “There's a video tape slot at eleven, so we can go down then and you'll meet Carrie and Bill.”

Julia nods, following Bella mutely as she tries to take it all in. Bella has arranged an empty office in which Julia can watch all the videos of the previous party strands during the morning, but first she takes her in to meet Rob Friedman, the producer of the show.

He's charming, affable, and frighteningly young. He shakes Julia's hand warmly and welcomes her to the team, and tells her he's very impressed with her resume and that she should come see him if there's anything she needs. Anything at all.

“Is that it?” Julia whispers as she and Bella leave his office thirty seconds later. “Doesn't he want to talk to me anymore? Find out who I am, whether I'm good enough?”

“Darling, I wouldn't have recommended you if you weren't good enough. I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Bella settles Julia into the office, and by ten to eleven, when she returns to take her to the studios, Julia's watched what feels like a hundred videos. She yawns, stretches, and turns to Bella with a shake of her head. “If my career ever dies, I'd make a killing as a party organizer thanks to all this bloody stuff you've made me watch.”

“But you have an idea of what we're doing?”

Julia laughs. “Of course. It's easy as pie. I just need to see the schedule for next week and meet the team. But if I ever have to look at another piece of sushi I think I might have to scream.”

By the end of the afternoon she's met the team, read through the schedules, reconfirmed the time and the guest list with the woman who's holding the first baby shower at which they're filming, and spoken to all of the various experts who'll be giving opinions.

She's exhausted and exhilarated. She's fueled herself with strong black coffee all day and is delighted that she can work at this pace without feeling stressed.

At eight-thirty that evening she and Julia are sitting in the bar at the end of the block, drinking champagne.

And with a start Julia understands why working here feels so very different from the work she was doing at home. It's not the job. It's not even New York.

It's simply that the passion has come back.

The passion for work and the passion for life. She's rediscovered her zest for living, and it feels “fanfuckingtastic,” she tells Bella.

“And how about passion for Jack?” Bella teases.

Julia mimics Bella's voice perfectly. “Darling, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Monday,
Tuesday, and Wednesday fly by. Julia's so busy she barely has time to think. On Monday they filmed a baby shower in a pretty house in New Rochelle. Heavily pregnant Jodie could barely contain her excitement at being on BCA, even when Julia's team of experts moved in and rearranged every piece of furniture in her house.

“Jodie, honey,” said Sally, the interior designer, who was proving you could create a stylish and comfortable atmosphere in even the smallest of homes, “your walls just aren't working for me. You mind if we quickly paint them?” Jodie shrugged and nodded as Sally's two painters appeared and laid down dust sheets. Within an hour the entire room was painted, and Sally was right, it was transformed.

Julia had never known anything in television to happen so calmly and efficiently. At three in the afternoon all Jodie's friends arrived, bearing gifts, and the filming was a breeze.

On Tuesday they moved to Riverdale to discuss recipes with George the chef, who was full of clever ideas: pink and blue heart-shaped cookies; nutritious spring rolls folded over to look like a blanket in a crib; pacifiers made of two Life Savers—stuck together with a jelly bean in the middle and a ribbon attached.

Wednesday they filmed at a smart penthouse apartment on 68th and Park. The wife was married to a wealthy banker, and, despite her apparent joy at the impending arrival of their first baby, Julia had the distinct impression that she never saw her husband. All the money in the world—they clearly had a significant chunk of it—couldn't alleviate a deep unhappiness. This was only confirmed when her friends arrived, all of them stick-thin with tiny bellies, immaculately groomed and dressed in exquisite clothes, terrified of putting on any excess weight in case their husbands might find them unattractive and leave them for a younger, thinner model.

Thursday was Elle and Uma, both of whom were professional and charming, neither of whom were, Julia realized, destined to become her best friends, but nonetheless it was an enormous thrill to be leaning against the windowsill in Elle Macpherson's apartment, watching her play with her little boy as she talked about her own baby shower.

Friday was the final day of filming. Out in Great Neck, Long Island, it was a thirty-five-year-old woman who had published a book of her friends' tips, given to her at her own baby shower, and then collected at subsequent baby showers. Her baby, Alicia, was now eighteen months old. Julia fell in love at first sight.

Alicia followed Julia around during filming, toddling awkwardly over to her, holding out her arms and demanding cuddles. If Julia sat down, Alicia would put her little arms around Julia's legs and lean her head on her thigh, sucking her thumb as she watched all the mayhem in her mother's house.

She was divine. Julia picked her up and cuddled her and covered her with kisses as she squealed and giggled.