Venus Envy (30 page)

“Til Dolores do us part,’ Gail sniggered. ‘No, no wine for me, Bronwen. I want to lose a few pounds in case Tom gets in touch.’

‘Are you sure Snowy was on the game? Why didn’t you say anything?’

z57

‘None of my business, honey,’ Keisha said, striking up another fag and offering them around. ‘Cancer, anyone?’

‘Cheers,’ said Bronwen, grabbing one.

‘She may not be. Now, I mean. But she still has a lot

of “friends” round, doesn’t she? And all blokes.’ ‘Maybe she’s a man’s woman,’ I suggested.

‘Oh, get real, A1. She’s any man’s woman for five hundred quid. You told me her folks had no cash, so what’s she doing with a better flat than us, a wardrobe full of Prada, a flash car and no job? She knows every rich Arab in London - the sleazy ones, that is. Remember those charmers who took us to the party? Please.’

‘ I was silent. I felt like a total mug.

‘Tom probably knew someone who had had her. Or something. But if she gave up the life, perhaps he didn’t want to wreck it for her by telling everybody. At least, that’s my guess.’

‘He’s so honourable,’ Gail breathed. ‘Wow. How …. gallant.’

I thought so too. ‘How could she have got Charlie, then?’

‘Charlie didn’t know what Tom knew. Face it, Ellen was no oil painting. Some of those upper-class boys have never had a decent sniff of pussy in their lives,’ Keisha said, leaning back on the couch and taking a long draw on her white-tipped fag. ‘She gave him the luck of for ever and managed to talk like a lady. Probably the education she got at your convent school, girls. Before she started selling her booty for a living,’ she cracked up.

I drank four big glasses of red and crawled into bed. I didn’t even cry. There was no point.

When the alarm fired it was a big shock to the system. You wake up to the sound of birdsong and lowing

z58

cows, and suddenly it’s back to London and the pollution and dirt. And the workweek.

My mouth felt like Swampy had been squatting in it, and my head was crunching and I was as dry as the Gobi. God! I staggered into the loo, gulped some water and realised I’d fallen asleep in my make-up. Sticky foundation gobbets were plastered to my cheeks. There wasn’t much time for a repair job so I simply scrubbed myself clean and nicked some of Gail’s Wash and Go. I Washed and Went. There wasn’t even any time for a hairdryer, let alone breakfast, but who cared about that. I was so sick with grief I might never eat again.

On my way into work I caught sight of my naked face with its dark-circled eyes. Nice. I was pallid and about as grey as I felt. Not a single man whistled or even gave me a second look.

I wondered desperately if there was anything I could do to make amends. Call Snowy? And say what? She wanted to get Charlie in the bag, make him marry her while he was still panting for her like a dog. Then announce it in The Times, and Tom would have to spend the rest of his days in silence. Charlie Drummond wouldn’t want to admit he’d married a prostitute. Oh hell, what if Snowy were pregnant? Ten p gets you a pound she hadn’t been using anything. The Drummond boys are old fashioned. Charlie would marry Snowy if he knocked her up - at least he would if he were anything like Tom.

The thought of Tom made me want to crawl away and die. I buried my head in my hands all the way to Bank. Nobody asked me, was I all right, love? like they did when I looked decent. Nobody gives a monkey’s about ugly girls.

As Ellen Jones was now finding out.

I twisted my hands in agony. Tom’s words rang in my head with the horrible sound of truth. ‘I’ve never seen anybody more sorry for themselves.’ It was true,

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Seamus and my other boyfriends, I’d deliberately tried to screw things up for Ellen - I hated her for getting married before me. I winced when I thought of my fuss about the dress. It was Ellen’s day, and I’d acted like a spoilt brat. And I’d cheered when Snowy started her seduction routine, even if I didn’t think it would go as far as it had.

Would Tom believe that? I doubted it. Oh Christ, I thought as I was squeezed into the sardine pack coming out of the Tube, why even ask? He told you: he loathes you. And he fancies your little sister.

I was tormented by a horrid fantasy of being a bridesmaid at Gail’s wedding, as she floated down the aisle like a wisp of thistledown on Tom’s arm, gazing soulfully up at him, and me clumping wretchedly behind her in the frilly magenta thing. Gail was delicate and feminine like I never could be - she knew better than to swear like a navvy when a man is around. She would agree with Tom, not argue with him. She would say little and be a woman of mystery and let him do the talking. She would not discuss the relationship. She would let him order for her and pick the movie. She would not return his calls, and would accept his bouquets with diamond earrings in them with a casual insouciance.

She would be eating organic live yoghurt in the Carrefour pantry in no time, and I would be the in-law outlaw, crazy Alex, a fucking dinner party anecdote!

A sob caught in my throat as I ran up the steps to Hamilton Kane.

‘Morning, Alex,’ said Tina on Reception. ‘Dragged through-a-hedge look in vogue, is it?’

‘Don’t be so superficial,’ I snapped. Attack was the best form of defence, since I could see my hair in the lift doors, and it had dried into rasta rats’ tails, plastering itself to my scalp.

z6o

‘Well, don’t go outside, you might frighten some children,’ Tina said smugly. ‘Mrs Huntington wants you to go directly up to her office. What have you done? Glorious is truly on the warpath.’

What indeed? I got into a mercifully empty lift and opened my .handbag, grabbing for my hairbrush. I scuffed it through my hair as fast as I could. Riiiiiiip, went my hair, the sound of a thousand ends splitting like all my boyfriends. But what could I do? I had no time. Damn, Tina was right, you could probably use me as an exhibit in the London Dungeon.

‘Get in here,’ barked Glorious crossly as soon as I knocked on her door. I trembled as I sat in her big pink chair, tilted backwards to make you feel like you’re in an inferior position (a special Personnel tactic for people they’re telling off). She obviously didn’t realise I needed no help in that direction. If I were any smaller, you’d need a microscope to see me.

Glorious let off a terrific angry fart. Then she let off a volley of small ones, for emphasis. It sounded like pistol shots, but I was too scared to snigger.

‘I have received a very telling memo,’ she began. ‘Yes, a very telling memo. From Mr Mahon downstairs.’

My heart stopped.

‘He says he needs to see you about unfinished business,’ she went on.. ‘I must say, I expect my new team to give one hundred and ten per cent to this departmentI’

‘You can’t give one hundred and ten, it’s impossible.’

‘Don’t be facetious,’ she snapped. ‘If you’re going to be flitting between his office and mine, there is no place for you in Human Resources. I hope I make myself clear. Now get down to see him, and I want you back here by nine forty-five with an assurance that this will not happen again.’

‘Mmm, yeah, sure.’

‘You know, Alexandra, dear,’ she said, leaning her huge boobs forward on the desk and getting all motherly, heavens preserve us, ‘when you leave one place for another, you should really have all your loose ends tied up. I’m sure you agree.’

‘I really do,’ I muttered, getting the hell out of there.

I slunk down to Seamus’s office..

‘Ah, Alex, it’s yourself.’ He was all smiles. Like the crocodile in Alice. ‘Come into the office, there’s a girl.’

As soon as the door shut he was on me. Smiling broadly for the benefit of Jenny, watching him outside, he said, ‘Thought some more about my little idea? I

,hope you have. Because you can’t decide to drop me like some hot potato, you know. Are you going to play nice?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I stammered.

‘Ah, sure you do. You were all over me from the first moment you saw me,’ he said obnoxiously. ‘I want yoaa to be at the flat tonight. Eight thirty sharp.’

I looked in amazement at the flat keys, which he was pressing back into my hand. He loves this, I thought as I saw the flash of pleasure in his eyes. The mean little bully, he loves it. He knows I can’t talk.

‘It’s a cruel world out there without a job,’ Seamus told me. ‘Your mother doesn’t play golf with that many people. Everything you’ve got I can take away like that.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Of course, it’s your choice, darlin’ -‘ like hell, I thought - ‘but I’ll tell you this. If you don’t turn up tonight, don’t bother turning

tomorrow. Because you’re fired. History.’

u’IP don’t believe you,’ I blurted out tearfully.

Seamus grinned. ‘That’s your problem,’ he said.

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‘But why are you resigning?’ Glorious demanded. She glowered at me like some ‘fifties headmistress who had caught a prefect with a gardening boy. ‘It’s not easy to find a job, you know. You have a total lack of

experience. And sticking at something for a couple of ‘months isn’t much of a commitment.’

‘I know, but I can’t help it,’ I said, my eyes

brimming over. ‘I’ve just got to go.’

‘With no explanation?’

I shook my head mutely.

‘Then you’d better get out. No, don’t bother getting your things,’ she added darkly as she saw me heading to my office, ‘someone will send them to you. We’re not having you stealing confidential employee data.’

Oh yeah, like the dental health plan for directors’ wives. Or maybe yhe expensive report on why exciting lime green was a good colour for walls in the equities department.

‘And don’t expect a reference, either. I can’t imagine why Mr Mahon recommended you for promotion,’ Glorious said archly; raising one eyebrow to suggest that she imagined why very Well. She farted loudly at my departing back.

‘You’d better be careful, Mrs Huntington. If someone lights a fag in here, the whole pla.ce could go up,’ I said, grabbing my bag.

Two of the secretaries burst into muffled giggles and Glorious went puce with rage.

‘Really!’ she said.

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I slunk out, ignoring the catty comments from Tina in the lobby. She would probably miss having someone to trade barbs with once she found out I was gone. Or maybe not. I hadn’t exactly been winning friends and influencing people.

I was so depressed on the Tube ride home. It was surreal, the empty Tube pulling out of Bank, with space to breathe and actual empty seats. My hollow eyed reflection with its ratty hair stared back at me from the windows. My shitty job hadn’t been much but it had been mine. I would rather sign on than face Seamus torturing me every day, but God, was that really my choice? Apparently it was. I had no experience - true enough. I’d quit after five minutes, also true ,enough, after an affair with my married boss who turned out to be one of the greatest scumbags of the ‘nineties.

You can say what you like about my choice of men, but at least I’m consistent.

‘Darling, I hope this is a joke,’ Mum said breathily when I called her later.

“Fraid not. My boss was coming on to me,’ I said, conveniently forgetting the rest of the story.

‘But men always do that. You should see Dr Richards with me. Such a goat. Anyway, sweetie, if you’d married that wonderful Justin, you wouldn’t

have to worry about the “work world”, as I call it.’ I sighed. ‘Mum …’

‘Well, you’re not getting any younger. At your age I was practically a grandmother. Why can’t you be more like Gail? You’re always clumping around in your wretched clumpy shoes, so tall you look like an

Amazon, darling, and men like a bit of femininity.’ ‘I can’t grow any smaller, Mum.’

‘If you’d wear florals it would cut your height, you know. And if you curled your hair, yours is so straight and lank.’

z64

father’s calls in an ankle-length smock from Country Casuals, with bright pink lipstick and blue eyeshadow, until my spirit is so thoroughly broken I wind up calling Ke,vin the postboy and begging him to marry

me.

I’d follow Snowy on to the game before I’d do that. Then I caught another glimpse of my reflection and concluded that the pimps’ union would probably send me home in disgust.

‘Gotta go, Mum,’ I said.

‘Remember, darling, florals. And always put a bit of perfume on the places you wanted to be kissed.’

I had a vision of myself at Harrods, spritzing Allure

firmly on to my ass.

“Bye.’

‘Toodle-pip,’ Mum chirped.

The Indian summer gave up the ghost. Overnight it turned into winter, freezing, bloody, slushy, filthy London winter. The pelting rain and icy drizzle matched my mood perfectly as I tramped round the city, fingers and nose freezing, trying to scrunch up even a dot of enthusiasm for job interviews. Nobody was hiring - or to be exact, nobody was hiring me.

I z65

‘You don’t even have a referee at Hamilton Kane?’ ‘Can you type? What’s your speed per minute?’

‘I’m afraid an Oxford degree is far too grand for this job, love. You’re overqualified.’

‘I’m not, I’ll do anything,’ I pleaded, ‘filing, coffee, anything, I’m a really hard worker.’

The bloke looked at me over the tops of his wire rimmed Lennon glasses. ‘Darling. It’s a job for an office junior. We want seventeen, not twenty-seven.’

I wondered if I should hire a schoolgirl uniform from some Soho sex house and wear my hair in plaits. But it wouldn’t work. My bloom had vanished along with the first five or six rungs on the job ladder. I ignored my sister Gail’s jeering and Keisha and Bronwen trying to be kind. Keisha told me to try and sell some of my new sculpting. What a joke, but I was so desperate I actually did. In between trying not to think about Tom Drummond, and going for jobs advertised in the back of the Evening Standard: ‘On Target Earnings, Ninety K Per Annum!’ You turn up, arad it’s some shitty tower block in Hackney, with a bunch of sad bastards in polystyrene non-iron shirts, desperately trying to flog double-glazing to old ladies before they get hung up on. Or advertising space in French technical journals to Arab arms dealers.