The Boleyn Effect (The Boorman Ending) (5 page)

'I just wish you'd hurry
up and get a girlfriend so you can take her,' I moan.

'Tell you what, we'll stay
for an hour and then hit the pub. Deal?'

'Fine, but don't expect me
to be singing your praises all afternoon.'

Laughing, he gets out the
car and opens my door for me to get out. Grabbing my hand, he pulls
me from the car and locks it behind us. Great, we are going into
this hand holding. The Oldies are going to love this.

The smell of cooking meat
is pungent in the air as we make our way up the pathway towards the
16th Century cottage that is George's childhood home. It's a long
way off my own childhood terraced, but it is very beautiful. But
then Stamford Bridge is steeped in so much history that I'm hardly
surprised that he lived here.

I feel my anxiety levels
rise as we approach the back garden. I have opted for casual, with
jeans, a flimsy blouse and knee high boots. This is because I know
damn well all the women will be in their feminine best. All Maxi
dresses and glittery sandals.

This is my two fingered
salute to Gaskill. He will take one look at what I am wearing and
seethe and that will make this whole thing bearable. But no matter
what it doesn't stop me feeling nervous. These apparent getogethers
are also a platform to show off what each person has earned or
achieved and I don't fit in with that.

'George,' Mary shouts as
we approach and pulls us into a hug. 'Leigh, I am so glad you made
it. Help yourselves to some Pimms,' she instructs.

Gaskill catches my eye and
gives me an abrupt nod, which I return. It's only an hour, I tell
myself. I can do this for an hour. Mary still holding onto my arm
starts to drag me away from her son and steer me towards a group of
women.

'I hope you don't mind,
Leigh, but there's someone I'd like you to meet. Kat, this is the
girl I was talking about.'

My breath catches as the
most stunning woman turns her head. With a fuchsia coloured Maxi
dress and long dark hair she is naturally beautiful, unlike the
others in her circle. She's taller than me, maybe model tall. She's
also curvaceous, with a damn good figure. A large smile warms her
face and I find my bad mood melting away. This woman is nothing
like others in Mary's circle who all bitch and snipe behind each
other's backs.

'Leigh, this is Katherine
Cobain.'

My heart jumps as she
turns fully towards me. This is the wife of Harry Cobain? The
woman, according to George is desperately unhappy that she wants
someone like me to help her leave her marriage? This woman in front
of me is practically glowing. Which leaves the question why would
any man cheat on a woman like her? But then why does any man cheat
full stop.

'Please call me Kat,' she
says holding out a hand. 'Everyone does. Katherine is my Sunday
name. Mary tells me you're a very talented photographer. I may have
need for your services.'

She moves me a little away
from the group as I get the feeling she it's something she doesn't
want her circle to hear.

'Mary can be very kind,' I
say. 'What is it you're after?'

'Well, it's my husband and
I’s twentieth wedding anniversary in a few months and I would like
to do something to...you know...spice things up. When you get to my
age things are not where they should and...well I am sure you get
my drift.'

I can see her cheeks
redden as she blushes, embarrassed at her request and I can't help
but find that endearing. Plus I have no idea why she has body hang
ups. From where I'm standing, she is near on perfect. Don't get me
wrong, I am not that way inclined, but if I were then she'd be on
my list of Woulds.

'It's not something I
usually do,' I say. 'But here's my card, call me and we can have a
chat about what exactly you want. Is that okay?'

'That is perfect. God!
Harry is not going to know what's hit him,' she giggles.

Taking my card, I watch as
she bounces away. Making her look even younger, leaving me even
more confused. What is George up to? This woman doesn't want to
leave her husband. She still loves him enough to put herself on
display for him. I swear if he's playing games with me I'll... but
then I'm not doing this stupid bet thing. Mary touches my arm,
disturbing my thought train and starts to lead me to the buffet
table.

'Thanks for doing that?' I
say.

'It is not a problem. I am
so glad that you decided to come along today. George always says
that Thomas doesn't make things easy for you. I know you and Thomas
don't get on, but you must understand that George is his only child
and any fool can see how George feels about you.'

'You do know that George
and I...'

She stops me with a
hand.

'Just don't hurt him.
That's all I ask and leave Thomas to me. I have a lot of time and
respect for you, and I know one day you're going to make someone a
wonderful wife.'

I still at her comment. If
only she knew what her son had proposed, she'd know that if I'd
played this game and lost then I'd be that wonderful wife for him.
But even if I did lose and ended up Mrs Gaskill, I'd never be
wonderful. I'd be unhappy and trapped and wives that are unhappy
and trapped do foolish things. That's the reality that George has
never considered.

'I'll never hurt him,' I
say. 'I want him to be happy, but contrary to his own belief that
happiness doesn't lie with me. Plus I'm not ready for marriage just
yet.'

She gives me another big
hug and the leaves me alone. I look around for George and see that
he's disappeared. He's no doubt found some pretty neighbour to play
with and I know just the girl. Megan is just a little younger than
me and she has always had the most intense crush on George
since—well—forever. But George being George uses her. She happily
opens her legs for him in the hope that one day he will fall in
love with her, and he doesn't care as long as he's getting
something.

I feel sorry for the poor
girl, but also a little pissed at her for being so gullible. She
should show some self-respect, but I am most certainly not the
person to talk to her. In her eyes I am the bitch from hell,
because she knows that I have the George that she's desperate
for.

Grabbing a beer, I decide
the best thing I can do is hide somewhere out of the way until he's
finished. I find a seat a little away from the party and enjoy
people watching. Because of what I do it's a natural
habit.

On one table, I spy
George's grandparents from both sides, huddled together, probably
talking about the good old days when they held power.

His grandmother on the
Gaskill side is one of my biggest fans. She loves me to death,
which I find funny considering her son's aversion. She is the sort
of woman that takes no bullshit and she knows well what George is
like and respects the fact that I have never fallen victim to his
charms.

'He's a man whore,' she
once said to me causing me to nearly choke on my drink. 'You, young
lady must never end up as a notch.'

There is also the
friends/business contacts all crowded around the outdoor mini-bar
and Katherine is amongst them. Talking and laughing and I find
myself watching her closely. Moving with great self-confidence she
has so much grace. Even in the way she holds a wine
glass.

A small surge of jealousy
runs through me. I just wish I held natural grace. Instead of
rushing headlong into things. That's why she is where she is and
I'm struggling to make ends meet in the centre of York. The thought
of the pub is slowly becoming ever so appealing and I wonder if I
should just slip away and text George to meet me there.

'You're not contemplating
hanging off the rafters today?'

I look up and squint as
the sunlight hides the speakers face. Not that I don't know who it
is. The only person to know about my daredevil experience. Today,
he's in a cream linen shirt that hangs loose over jeans. With a
hand hooked in his pocket and the other holding a beer bottle, he
looks even more casual then he did in the library. All clean shaven
and a full head of blond curly hair he certainly is young looking,
with only a few lines around his eyes.

How can this man be in
charge of a university, he looks like he's never lived? And he's
taller than I remember. I'd probably touch his shoulder come to
think of it. But then I already have. My frightened face buried in
the warm crook of his neck.

The thought makes
goose-bumps rise on my skin and I mentally shake myself. I've just
met his wife. This can't happen. More importantly I don't want it
to happen. A decision already made after the library. This man will
not be seduced by me no matter what George offers.

'I don't think Gaskill
will appreciate it,' I answer with a smile.

'Gaskill eh? Not a family
friend?' Harry asks sitting down beside me.

'Not exactly I’m the gold
digging best friend of his son.'

'And how's that working
for you?'

'I'm still working for my
supper, so maybe not that good,' I laugh.

'Maybe you should take
some tips from some of my wife's friends,' he offers.

I note that he's not
really looking at me, but nervously peeling the label of his beer
bottle. I try to stop myself over analysing it, but there is
something small and subtle between us. Just a small flirtation, but
surely it can't be that easy. He's got to be much harder to get
than this. Jesus, I'm often harder to get than this.

'Thanks for the offer,' I
answer. 'But it's not the sort of life for me.'

'And what is?'

Now he looks at me
directly and I notice just how blue his eyes are in the summer sun
and how large his pupils are as they look into mine. I am the first
to look away as I offer a shrug.

'It may sound strange to
you, but I want to be known for my own talents and not what my
husband does or earns.'

'It doesn't sound strange.
My wife is her own woman who runs her own business. Some might say
that it's I that's the gold digger.'

I catch his smile and
respond. No-one has ever asked me about what I want before, not
even George and yet here with this man who I barely know, I feel I
can tell him anything. It must be why he does what he does. He
needs to have appeal and very good people skills. He seems to ooze
that sort of confidence and ease.

'Well we can both be gold
diggers together in our little corner,' I say.

'Maybe we can,
Leigh-Anne.'

I feel myself shudder at
the use of my full name. Normally the name would make me inwardly
cringe, but for some reason coming from his lips seems more
natural.

'Leigh, you
ready.'

My insides jump uneasily
at George's voice as I turn to see him looking down at us. His face
is stone still and I wish to god he wasn't wearing shades. Not that
I can't already tell he's pissed.

His T-shirt and cargo
shorts are crumpled. A tell-tale sign of where and what he's been
doing and I make a mental note to chastise him about using Megan
yet again. Both Harry and I get to our feet and the men size the
other up evenly, with me at its centre.

'George,' Harry says.
'How's the study going?'

'Fine, sir,' George
answers. 'We'd better go,' he says pointedly at me grabbing my
hand.

'It was nice to meet you
again, Leigh,' Harry says taking my other hand and instinctively I
take a step closer, but George is forcing me his way. I do not want
to be the possession that each one wants to take, but my body is
giving me away and George knows it.

'You too Harry,' I
answer.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

The pub is off the agenda.
Instead, it's a silent car journey home where you could slice the
atmosphere with a butcher knife. I've tried small talk and a few
jokes, but I've been shot down with a cold glare and the music
turned up loud.

I know what this is about.
George wanted to control this and it didn't happen his way. Well
tough. Life is unpredictable. Finally, we reach my flat and
following me up, he slams the door behind us and I prepare for
another argument.

'So first name terms with
the Dean? You fucking him already?' George snaps.

'Oh are we talking now? I
figured you didn't want to hear anything I have to say,' I throw
back. 'And for your information I'm fucking no-one not that it'd be
any of your business.'

'So how did he know you're
name?'

'He asked me. Jesus Christ
George. Look, I met him in the library that day I was with you. He
near on killed me and the reason I didn't say anything was because
he seems like a nice guy and meeting his wife today...well she is
nice too and most definitely doesn't look like an unhappy wife. I
just don't think it's fair to play games with their lives just for
you to get a distinction.'

'Nice guy, yeah right! But
you're right about Katherine, she is one hell of a woman and hot. I
doubt that you would even stand a chance. Plus rumour has it that
he prefers blondes. That sort of counts you out,' he
smarts.