Out of the Blue (25 page)

“Not quite a happy ending, then,” I said to Jos as we walked to the car.

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t. I guess real life was allowed to intrude.” He seemed subdued as we drove back to town.

“Are you still thinking about that girl?” I asked him softly. I tried to read his expression, but his face was strobing amber and grey in the lights. “I hope you’re not worried,” I said.

“A bit,” he said as he changed gear. “I’m wondering whether she’ll try and cause trouble for me.”

“Of course she won’t,” I said. “Anyway, how could she? Your reputation is secure. You’re a brilliant designer, Jos, everyone knows that.” He turned to me in the semi-darkness and gave me a grateful smile. “People who are as talented as you are often the target of resentment and jealousy. You’re a tall lily, Jos, so people will want to cut you down.”

“Thanks. I wonder how
your
tall Lily is?” he added as we turned into Elliot Road. We found her slumped asleep in front of a
Friends
video, Jennifer Aniston clasped, snoring, to her breast.

“Beauty and the beast,” said Jos with a smile. “It was nice of her to babysit.”

“Yes,” I whispered, “it was. I’m sorry you can’t stay,” I added. I glanced at Graham, lying on the bottom step.

“I know I can’t,” said Jos. “Because a) there’s no way Graham is going to let me upstairs, and b) you’ve got to get up in three hours and go to work.” He kissed me. “Poor darling,” he said and he gave me an enveloping hug. “You’re going to be very tired tomorrow.”

“But very happy, too!”

“I’ll watch you,” he added, then he kissed me and then stepped out into the inky night.

By now Lily was awake and yawning, and gathering her things, and I thanked her before climbing the stairs. The children had long since gone to bed, but to my surprise I saw a whiteish glow coming from under Matt’s door.

“Matt!” I exclaimed softly. He was sitting at his desk in his pyjamas. “You’ll go blind if you don’t stop that.”

“What?” He squinted at me wearily, then returned his gaze to the screen.

“What are you doing?” I said. “It’s a quarter to one. You’re only twelve, young man.” I peered over his shoulder as his fingers tapped away.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “It’s just my chat room.”

“Chat room?” I repeated. “I don’t want you going into chat rooms; you could meet all sorts of creeps.”

“No, this is a special chat room,” he explained.

“What do you chat about?”

“Well, current affairs mostly. You know, China and Taiwan, Opec, the future direction of British industry. That kind of thing.”

“Oh,” I said, “I see. Well, that all sounds very commendable, but I want you to stop chatting right now.” As I straightened up I glanced at his walls. To my surprise the shelves were bare. “Where are all your computer games?” I asked.

“Oh, I, er, got rid of them,” he replied as he switched off the machine.

“What, all of them? But you had nearly a hundred.”

“I know. I just got…bored of them,” he shrugged as he climbed into bed.

“What, even
Zombie Revenge,
and
Chu-Chu Rocket?
”

“Oh yeah, Mum, absolutely. I’d played them all millions of times.”

“I see. So you gave them away, did you?”

“Yes. Yes. I did.”

“What, to a charity shop?”

“Yup. That’s right.”

“Oh. Well, they were very expensive, darling. We spent a lot of money getting you those. And you just gave them away?” I added.

“Yes,” he said. “I did.”

“Well, I’m a bit annoyed about that. Because you could have taken them to a second hand shop and got quite a bit of money for them.” He shrugged. “Yes, I’m a bit cross about that, darling,” I said. Then I realized that I couldn’t be cross any more. I’d had a lovely evening. All was well with my world, and in any case Matt’s motives were pure.

“That was
very
generous of you,” I said as I kissed him goodnight, “because they’d be worth quite a lot.”

“Yes,” he said meaningfully, “I know.” I switched off his bedside light and turned to leave.

“Mum?” he suddenly called out from the darkness as I gently pulled the door shut.

“Yes?”

“Was the opera nice?”

“Oh yes, thanks darling. The opera was lovely, though I thought the story was a bit strange.”

“And do you like Jos, Mum?” he added quietly.

“Do I like Jos? Well, yes. I do. And did
you
like him, Matt?” I enquired. There was a moment’s silence.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I suppose so. Um…he seems very charming,” he said.

June

Matt’s absolutely right. Jos
is
charming. He’s an incredibly charming man, in an age when real charm is rare. He’s attractive and friendly and a great talker, always ready with some witty quip. He’s just one of these people you want to be with, because he makes you feel so
good
. That’s why he seems to draw people to him like moths to a flame. And I can’t believe my luck in having met him, because before I was in a mess. I only have to read this month’s edition of
Moi!
to realize that. In it is the
Rogue
supplement on infidelity, with Lily’s interview with me. Lily’s disguised us as “Fiona” and “Rick” so no one will know that it’s us. It was as though I was reading about someone else, because it’s almost hard to remember, now I’ve met Jos, just how anguished I was.
I began to suspect my husband…felt sick…started to go through his things…my relief when the detective found nothing…then the dreadful shock when Rick confessed…where on earth do I go from here?…I feel my whole world has caved in
.

That was only three months ago, but now my life has been transformed, because Jos has been my Faith healer—that’s what he is. As his name suggests. And with just a few deft strokes of his magical paintbrush, the pewtery skies have turned blue.

The children seem to like him, which is an enormous relief. I mean, it’s a big thing, a
really
big thing, introducing your new man to the kids. But they’ve been fine about Jos, it’s only Graham who’s less than keen. But then that’s understandable because he’s only a dog, so he can’t rationalize what’s going on. And of course he doesn’t like the fact that I have to close the bedroom door on him sometimes. Jos doesn’t stay over at weekends, because that’s when the children are here. But during the week now, once or twice, he does. And he doesn’t mind when the alarm goes off at three thirty, he just drops straight back to sleep. Then he quietly lets himself out of the house at about half past eight and goes to work. So our relationship is progressing quite nicely, except that Graham is giving him grief. But the really sweet thing is that Jos seems quite upset about it. We were discussing it in bed last night.

“It’s not easy,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “I mean, when you’re around, Faith, he’s perfectly civil. But the
second
you’re out of sight, then it’s Snapsville Tennessee.”

“He hasn’t bitten you again, has he?” I asked, horrified.

“No,” Jos replied. “Not exactly. But he likes to give me a little nip from time to time, just to keep me on my toes. It’s like being followed around by a piranha.”

“That’ll be the sheepdog in him,” I explained. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just rounding you up. He wants to keep his eye on you,” I added, giving him a kiss, “and so, may I say, do I!”

“Well, I
do
take it personally, Faith,” Jos replied with a wounded air. “I resent the fact that he continues to be so hostile when
I’m
making such an effort!” This is true, Jos makes an enormous effort with Graham. He brings him Scooby Snacks and bits of meat, and he chucks balls for him in the garden. He got him the new Delia Smith video, and a lovely new collar, too. It’s really rather touching and I just hope that Graham will come round. I was discussing it with Katie as we watched
Frasier
on Friday night.

“I suppose,” I began as we sat on the sofa with Graham sprawled across both our laps, “that Graham sees Jos as an interloper, challenging his place as Top Dog.”

Hello, Seattle, this is Dr Frasier Crane.

“I mean, he’s definitely exhibiting neurotic behavior,” I added. “The constant snapping at flies, for example, is classic obsessive-compulsive.”

Yes, I’m listening, Russell.

“No, Mum, that’s what dogs do.”

“Graham has a lot of anger,” I continued as he heaved a contented sigh. “He probably has a lot of unresolved issues from his past as well. Now, if you add to that his natural fear, as a stray, of rejection and abandonment, then it’s clear that Jos’s presence will be a challenge to his fragile self-esteem.”

Thank you Russell, and who’s our next caller?

“Also,” I went on as I stroked his ears, “I think he may have an unresolved oedipal complex in which he wants to replace the ‘father’ figure, in this case Jos, and marry me.”

Katie gave me a sceptical look. “He never wanted to replace Dad.”

“Mmm. True,” I agreed. “You know, I used to find all this psychoanalytic stuff rather tedious, but now I’m quite fascinated. And it’s clear to me that Graham’s displaying signs of incipient paranoia.”

“Nice try, Mum,” said Katie. “But there’s a much simpler explanation.”

“Is there?” I said.

“Yes. Graham just doesn’t
like
Jos.”

“Oh,” I said, crestfallen, “I see.”

“It happens,” she said with a shrug. She waved her hand at the TV. “I mean, Eddie can’t stand Lilith—he always knows when she’s within two blocks. It’s a personality clash, that’s all. I don’t think it helps to over-analyze too much. Because the simple fact is,” she concluded cheerfully, “that Graham just hates Jos’s guts.” Oh. “Now, what I find much more interesting,” she added, “is why Jos should
mind
.” Hmmmmmm.

“Well, he minds because Graham snaps at him.”

“No, Mum,” said Katie firmly. “He minds not being
liked
.”

“But we all want to be liked,” I pointed out. “It’s natural.”

“True, but most of us don’t really care whether or not we’re liked by a
dog
.”

Now, as you know I always humor Katie, however crazy her ideas. But it’s
obvious
why Jos minds. He minds because he sees Graham, quite rightly, as a member of my family, so he wants to get on with us
all
. And he does, by and large. I mean I’m mad about him, and the children clearly like him, and Lily absolutely adores him and thinks I’ve really landed on my feet.

“He’s completely gorgeous!” she declared, yet again, at the Cobden club a few days later as Jos went to get us both a drink. She’d got us invitations to the launch of a new cook book,
Nosh Kosh,
by society chef Nutella Prince.

“I mean, he’s an absolute wow,” Lily reiterated above the animated babble. “He’s divinely handsome, he’s terribly sociable, he’s fashionable, and he’s fun.” I looked at Jos as he retreated into the throng in search of more champagne. Lily was right. He really stood out, even in this glamorous crowd. I felt my heart swell with pride that this delicious-looking man was with me.

“He’s the one for you, Faith,” she said. “Jennifer and I are just thrilled.”

“Where is Jennifer?”

“At home. I thought it would be too exciting for her this evening, she’s had a very busy week.”

“What? Sitting around? Eating foie gras?”

“No, Faith!” said Lily with an indulgent snort. “Coming up with
ideas
. Oh look, there’s the famous fertility specialist, Godfrey Barnes. That reminds me,” she added, “you know, Jennifer was thinking of having puppies—because of course her pedigree’s
superb
. Well, sadly the vet’s decided she’s just not strong enough.”

“Oh dear.”

“So I’m going to have her cloned instead.”

“What?”

“Well, we’ve had Dolly the sheep and Dolly the cow, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t have Dolly the dog. There’s a firm in the States researching it; it’s called ‘Puplicity’—I’ve just put her name down. Don’t you think that would be lovely, Faith,
lots
of little Jennifer Anistons?”

“Mmm,” I nodded enthusiastically. “Amazing bash,” I added by way of changing the subject. And it was. Two hundred members of London’s most fashiony party faithful were busily scoffing crustacean canapés and knocking back champagne. In the center of the room was a revolving ice-sculpture, shaped like a giant leaping salmon. Two towering floral arrangements stood sentinel by the door.

“Yes, I think Jos is wonderful,” Lily enthused again. “You just hang on to him Faith, otherwise some other woman will try and nab him, and we can’t have that!”

“Oh no,” I agreed. “We can’t. And how’s your love life?” I enquired as we dipped tiny meringues into a three-foot-high chocolate “volcano” bubbling with molten menier.

“Oh, it’s hell—as usual,” Lily sighed. “I finished with Frank,” she informed me confidentially as she wiped sugary crumbs from her lips.

“Who?” I can never keep up.

“The conductor,” she explained. “You know.”

“Sorry, I don’t remember. Which orchestra’s he with?”

“The number 11!” she guffawed. “He was absolutely
gorgeous,
” she added ruefully, “but he was hopeless between the—you know…”

“Ears?”

“No, darling, sheets. It was the way he’d shout ‘hold tight!’ at the critical moment which began to get me down.”

“What about that pop singer, er, Ricky?”

“Oh, Ricky was tricky,” she replied. “I adored him, Faith. But he was three-timing me, with his backing trio.”

“Oh dear. Well, maybe you ought to go out with someone more, you know, normal and down to earth; like a doctor,” I suggested, “or a dot.com millionaire. Or what about that wine merchant?”

“He was a plonker.”

“How about that bloke from the BBC?”

“Too middle-waged.”

“And that nice stockbroker?” I enquired. “The tall one with glasses?”

“Oh,
him,
” she said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed a cocktail sausage from a passing tray, then brandished it in front of my face. “It was like
that!
” she announced contemptuously.

“Oh Lord.”

“How’s Jos in that department?” she went on knowingly, as we spotted him weaving his way back through the throng.

“Oh, he’s…fine,” I said. I giggled self-consciously. “In fact he’s brilliant. It’s nice to be, you know, active again,” I went on. “Peter and I hadn’t bonked for yonks.”

“Oh well,” she said indolently. “No doubt he’s
more
than making up for it now.” And when she said that I felt a stab of pain, like a knife to the heart; and I found myself wishing, as I often do, that Lily would sometimes think before she speaks. Because however much I’m moving on, and however happy I might be with Jos, the fact is I still
hate
the idea of Peter and Andie in bed. And now I found myself thinking about Peter, as I often do, and wondering how he was getting on. As I did so I suddenly looked across the room and saw Oiliver—my heart sank; worse, he was coming my way.

“Hello, Faith,” he said with impudent familiarity before I could escape.

“Hello Oliver,” I replied crisply. “This is Lily Jago.” They gave each other a disinterested smile. I looked at his large, marshmallowy face which was beaded, as usual, with sweat. Clammy—that’s what he was. Sticky. He seemed to leak and ooze.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your divorce,” he began. I said nothing. “And of course,” he went on unctuously, “we were all very sad to see Peter go.” I bet you were, you hypocritical wanker, I thought to myself.

“But Peter’s doing
so
well at Bishopsgate,” I said.

“Really?” said Oliver with, it seemed to me, a slightly surprised smile.

“Yes. Really. He loves it there. And they love him.”

“Do they?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” he said oleaginously. Then he seeped away.

“He seemed a bit of a creep,” said Lily.

“You said it.”

“Oh look, here’s Jos with our fizz.”

“Here you are, girls,” he said, handing us two glasses. “Sorry I took so long, but I kept bumping into people I know. In fact—ooh there’s Melvyn Bragg—Faith darling, do you mind if I go and schmooze?”

“Of course not,” I replied.

“Sure?”

“Yes, sure,” I smiled. “Go on.” Jos kissed my hand, then shot away and was soon deep in conversation with Lord Bragg. And I noticed that Lord Bragg was smiling and laughing, in fact he looked totally charmed. But then I’ve noticed that everyone—women and men—seem equally captivated by Jos. By now Lily and I were both feeling slightly tipsy as we circulated amongst the chic crowd.

“—didn’t see you at Cannes.”

“—he manages Ali G.”

“—big friends with Zadie Smith.”

“—nah! It went to Faber.”

“—over there, look, with Graham Norton.”

“—we’re calling it bonk.dot.com.”

I found the atmosphere oppressively trendy, but Lily was revelling in it all. I often think she must get bored of so many parties. But she doesn’t. She’s the Queen of the Night.

“Oh look, there’s the novelist Amber Dane,” she said with a smirk. “Her books are widely unread. And there’s Zuleika Jones, the actress. Completely unspoiled by failure. Now, that tall bloke over there—see him?” I nodded. “He’s a brilliant politician.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely. One of the
best
that money can buy. Oh God,” she grimaced. “There’s that frightful fashion editor, whatshername, who writes that drivel in the you-know. I mean, how can someone who looks like a shopgirl possibly be an arbiter of beauty and style?” Sometimes I find Lily’s constant need to be bitchy a complete and total bore, but now, gently anaesthetised by Laurent Perrier, I found myself laughing at her barbed
bons mots
.

“Ooh, isn’t that the It Girl—Tarara Dipstick?” I asked as I spotted a long-haired blonde in a leopard-print sheath leaning against the bar.

“Past-It Girl,” Lily snickered. “She must be thirty-five at least. She thinks she’s a siren,” she added dryly. “But she only sounds like one. And you see that girl with her? That’s Saskia Smith. Now,
she’s
one for the money.”

By now I was vaguely looking round for Jos, but I couldn’t see him. Melvyn Bragg had moved on and was talking to someone else. Where had Jos gone, I wondered, as Lily’s caustic commentary rattled on.

“Oh God!” she exclaimed, digging me in the ribs. “There’s that cow Citronella Pratt—over there, that fat woman with the red hair. Isn’t she gross! No wonder she’s known as
‘La Vag Qui Rit’
!” Where
was
Jos? I wished he’d come back and talk to me. Not least because I was really beginning to tire now of Lily’s toxic observations. But suddenly her voice seemed to fade, as though someone had turned down the sound, because now, at last, I’d spotted Jos.
There
he was, standing by an illuminated green sign saying “Exit”. And I was just about to go up to him when I saw someone else approach him, someone I vaguely knew. Who was it? Oh yes. That’s right. It was Iqbal’s boyfriend, Will. I’ve met Will once or twice, at our Christmas parties, although I can’t say I liked him much. But that’s partly because I know that he leads Iqqy a merry dance. He’s not faithful—far from it—and I think it breaks Iqqy’s heart. But Iqqy just won’t give Will up because he thinks the world of him. Will’s in opera, too; I think he’s an assistant director. And there he was, heading straight for Jos. I instinctively wanted to rush up to Jos and drag him away, but it was awkward because I suddenly realized that they seemed to know each other quite well.