The Boleyn Effect (The Boorman Ending) (3 page)

'This won't take long.
Meet me at The Hole. Get the drinks in and we'll chat some
more.'

'Ok, I will and George,
don't take any shit from him,' I whisper.

Giving him a quick peck on
the cheek, I catch the glower from Gaskill and as the door closes I
manage to just hear Gaskill telling his son that I'm more trouble
then I'm worth. That doesn't bother me. George will defend me to
the hilt, but what bothers me is the fact that Gaskill has never
bothered to even get to know me.

I know that the family is
loaded and I get that, but I don't give a flying fuck about the
money and the mere fact that I won't allow George to get me into
bed must be proof of that. But no! I am just trouble.

I wander down to the
student bar, affectionately known as The Hole. It's one place I
hate going, especially on my own. It's as though I have I don't
belong here written on my forehead. The bar is filled with the
usual student types from the regular moshers, dressed in leather
and black to the geeks who wear shirts and ties.

The walls are littered
with famous quotes and sayings reminding the punters where the bar
is housed. I get the usual stares from passerbys who are trying to
work out what class I'm in and why I'm sitting with two Jack D's in
front of me.

Deciding to deflect the
fact that I'm some saddo alone, I pull out my phone and start to
amuse myself with Angry Birds. I give it ten more minutes before
George comes slamming his way in with a face like thunder. He can't
cope with father dearest any longer than that.

'Hey! You called
Leigh?'

Sighing, I shift my glaze
from the phone to some Robert Pattinson wannabe who's staring down
at me. I hope to god this isn't some chat up line, because he looks
like he spends far too much time looking at himself in the mirror.
Plus the floppy hair thing does very little for my
libido.

'I've a message from
George. He says dad is being a dick. The dress will be at yours
tomorrow. He'll call you later.'

'Is that it?'

Floppy hair shrugs and I
catch him eying up the spare drink. Answering his question, I drink
them both and get up. That is not going to happen. The quicker I
leave this place the better I'll feel. As I step outside I consider
sending George a reassuring text, but decide against it. He'll call
when he's ready, plus I can never deal with him when he's in post
father mood.

CHAPTER
FOUR

I look myself over in the
full length mirror and can't help but be impressed. Four hours of
preening has resulted in this image of seductive perfection. It
should be a little disconcerting that George has picked the prefect
dress and even instructed what underwear I should put
on.

This is one of the many
reasons I won't become George's. A man who dictates what underwear
a woman wears is not a good thing. Sure for a bit of fun, but not
constantly. But, I hate to admit he just seems to know what looks
good and tonight it's a floor length, red Grecian number, plus,
thanks to George's instructions there is no sign of a panty line
anywhere. I could be naked under here.

I've also been given
strict orders on how to wear my hair. It hangs long and in loose
curls down my back with tiny clips holding it in place. I'm sure I
will meet with some approval from the big wigs that will be there.
Considering most of my outfits are either too short or too loud.
I'm more of a clubber then posh cocktails girl. Even my shoes have
been picked to be more elegant then my usual Shag Shoes.

'How much
longer?'

I smile at George's whine
from outside my bedroom. He's not the most patient man. A Gaskill
trait so I'm led to believe. But if he wants perfection then he's
going to have to wait that little bit longer. I've continued to
push him on whether what we are doing is wife approved and as usual
his answers are evasive.

'I told you to leave it to
me,' he snapped. 'Trust me, she wants out.'

But I would rather hear it
from her own mouth. I am not into husband stealing. It's just not
my thing. Meaningless flirting is one thing, but this is on another
level entirely. This is love. A much stronger emotion with
dangerous consequences. Deep down, I kind of hope that all this
effort will be a waste, then at least, it's not my fault when
nothing happens.

Finally, with a spritz of
my favourite perfume, I open the door and step out, and there it
is. The effect I was very much hoping for. The good ole fish out of
water look.

'Wow!' he says.

'Will I do?' I ask
coyly.

'As if you need me to
answer that,' he grins. 'Come on, we're already late.'

A short walk later, we
enter the university grounds outside some old chapel that has
obviously been converted. There are fairy lights everywhere lining
a walkway to the entrance. I'm holding him by the crook of his arm.
He's a real gentleman and we must look like a handsome couple,
especially as he looks very sexy in his tux. That I can appreciate
as can any passing female.

With his short clipped
brown hair and green eyes, he's beautiful to look at. I just wish I
could feel differently about him. I mean, what sort of girl would
not want to marry her best friend. He would give me everything. He
already has, many times.

'You okay?' he
asks.

I nod mutely at him,
because I don't want to ruin the illusion of confidence with a
shaky voice. Even if I wasn't parading myself for some guy's
benefit, these things make me nervous. Smiling, he gives me a small
squeeze and with a hand on my hip leads me inside where my victim
lies in wait.

As we wait in the foyer a
woman of my age dressed in black cocktail dress bounds up with too
much enthusiasm. Of course it's due to George, because she has
barely noticed me. George gives our names and she ticks something
on her clipboard.

'Help yourselves to the
free bar,' she chimes.

'Free bar?'

'Knew that would cheer you
up,' he smiles.

He pulls me into a small
corner just outside where people are mingling and draws me closer.
The girl who greeted us scowls our way and I realise we must look
very much like a couple with George's hand just about decently
placed. I don't bother to move it away, because he knows the
boundaries.

Don't worry girlfriend.
He'll come and find you if he's interested. He always
does.

'We need to go over first
rules.'

'First rules?'

George sighs as he rolls
his eyes at me.

'You've got to catch his
attention first, before we get to the other rules. Now it's all
about playing the game. He's going to expect you to fall at his
feet. Don't! Make him aware of you, but play it cool. He's not used
to not getting what he wants. Are you getting this?'

'What exactly is your
thesis again?' I ask.

Looking down at me
exasperated, he sighs. I like to play stupid and difficult
sometimes, just to get on his nerves. It’s my only
amusement.

'You know you don't have
to do this. I can get someone else. It's just a case
study.'

'You need to chill out
more. You'll turn into your father,' I smirk.

George shakes his head as
he leads me inside to the function room.

'And you are nothing but
trouble,' he murmurs.

I wish I'd brought my
camera the architecture inside is beautiful. Even with the white
drapes that hang from the ceiling and the pillars, the old features
still stand out. It always fascinates me that something so old can
still dominate and outshine what’s modern. There are linen covered
circular tables where some people are sitting and talking. Each
table holds an elaborate flowered centrepiece that would cost us
mere mortals a small fortune. But my eye is soon caught. In one
corner is the bar where I can't wait to head to. I need something
to calm my insides.

The place is full of money
and status and I've already spied the Gaskills talking, which makes
me feel worse. Of course there are posters and campaign banners for
the charity of choice and I see that it's for Macmillan Nurses. I'm
impressed. I expected some rainforest or polar bear thing.
Something for the rich people to preach about and throw money at,
while draining the natural resources that threaten those very same
things.

'Fancy saying hello?'
George smirks.

'I'd rather you got me a
drink,' I answer.

My insides are twisting
and turning with nerves. This is definitely out my comfort zone.
These charity events are where all those with cash make themselves
feel good by donating something while making those ever important
contacts. It's a fake world in my opinion, but it's also the world
where George has grown up and to him this is normal. That I have to
remember and he's not like them. He's not the bad guy. Plus, it's
not all about me. He mixes in my circles and I must do the same.
Soon, he returns with two flutes of champagne.

'Right, where is that
womanizing bastard...what?!' he asks looking down at my shocked
face. 'I'm just saying,' he mutters.

The night continues to
draw on and there seems to be no sign of this Harry Cobain much to
both George and mines annoyance. I've already downed plenty of
champagne, which is never a good thing in my case. We've taken part
in the overpriced raffle where I won some expensive pamper goodies
and of course we've been unable to avoid the Gaskills.

'That dress looks
expensive,' Gaskill sneers.

'It was,' I answer
smartly.

'Well I think the colour
suits you,' Mary offers.

Mary Gaskill is George's
stepmother, but she is the only mother he's ever known. When it
comes to his real mother it's an off limits topic. Even with me.
Compared to her husband, she’s always kind to me. Well to my face
anyway. She's never looked down her nose at me, but I wonder
sometimes whether the reason is purely so she doesn't lose George.
She's by no means stupid and knows how to get what she wants in a
less aggressive way. But still my blood pressure rises being around
them. I hate the way I'm looked down upon. Excusing myself, I move
away.

'Hey, where are you
going?' George asks.

'I need some air and it's
very clear that he's not here,' I snap.

George raises his hands in
defeat and lets me go. He knows better than to argue or follow. We
are both as hot-headed as the other and know the limits well
enough. Plus, my ego is taking one hell of a battering. I am all
trussed up for no-one's benefit.

I stomp outside and
leaning against the wall I allow my temper to cool. The night air
causes me to shiver and curse the fact I didn't bring a Shrug or
anything.

Now in the night air, I
realise that this might be a blessing. After all, if there's no
meeting with Harry Cobain then there will be no challenge to win
and I won’t have to fight not to become the next Mrs. Gaskill,
gold-digger extraordinaire. So what, I won't get the slate cleaned.
I'll just have to work harder to pay George back.

'You look like someone
who's had enough of the party.'

Sighing, I turn around.
I’m in no mood to be chatted up by some smart arse in a
tux.

'Well it's full of men who
all need dick extensions with their equally plastic wives,' I
snap.

His mouth drops open for a
minute as does mine. It's not like me to be so vulgar, but
champagne always goes straight to my head. Then amusement plays on
his face at my obvious trip-up.

'That is very observant of
you, and you're right it is full of men needing dick extensions as
you so eloquently put it. But may I assure that I have no need for
such things.'

'I'm so sorry, I'm just
having trouble keeping my tongue under control and I'm sure you
don't,' I bluster, while blushing.

I'm not sure whether he's
flirting with me or just defending himself and it puts me on the
back foot for a moment. This is an unusual feeling. I am too used
to being one step ahead. With a raised eyebrow, he opens his mouth
to speak, but someone catches his attention. He looks back at me
and a large smile warms his face.

'Well I sincerely hope
that you can put up with us a little longer and come back to the
party,' he says.

'Maybe I will.'

I watch while he walks
away and then I hear Great Peter from the Minster ring from over
the Walls. Screw it! If he's not there now then this Harry isn't
going to turn up. I may as well as go home and making up my mind I
run across the road and make my way home.

CHAPTER
FIVE

'Why the fuck did you
leave me?'

I move aside to let a very
pissed off and dishevelled George into my flat. I’m as equally
pissed off, because I'd just managed to get warm and snug in bed
when he banged on my door. I'm actually surprised it took him so
long, but I bet his father wouldn't let him chase me home and this
would have fuelled George's anger more.