Venus Envy (36 page)

OK, OK, I get the message.

‘When we go out, all the other men seem distracted

by her.’

‘That must happen a lot,’ I speculated.

‘She doesn’t seem that interested in her work. I believe she wants to be a novelist?’

‘So she says,’ I replied. Oh hell, this conversation

was getting worse by the minute. I certainly didn’t want to talk about me, but did I really want to talk about Gail?

‘Were you close, growing up?’

‘About as close as Margaret Thatcher and Arthur Scargill,’

Tom laughed and my stomach gave a lurch. I’d always loved his laugh and now it reminded me of the

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lion in the MGM logo. Huge and male. Ridiculously good natured.

‘Now you say that,’ he told me, ‘I must admit, you two have nothing in common. You have such a different outlook on life. Totally different senses of humour. And you look nothing whatever alike.’

God, he was worse than my aunt Mary, who used to say ‘two peas in a pod’ with less and less conviction every year, faced with the fairy and the gnome, until she finally gave up and started saying I was clever instead.

‘So things are pretty serious between you two living together?’

‘Not that serious,’ Tom said hastily, ‘I’m nowhere near ready to settle down.’

That’s what you think, I thought gloomily, but with

Gail on tlae case you haven’t a chance.

‘What about you?’

‘The Pope has a better lovelife than me,’ I said glumly.

Tom looked surprised as he offered me a chocolate square. ‘I thought you were madly in love with Gordon?’

‘Apart from Gordon,’ I said furiously. Then I had to look away as Tom bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

‘You’ve .always had loads of men after you, Alex,’ Tom told me when I’d calmed down.

‘No, they all dumped me, or ran off with scoutmasters,’ I said, and suddenly felt a big surge of relief. I just couldn’t be arsed to keep up the pretence any more. Tom was gone, so why bother? This was almost like the nice, honest chats we used to have when he was a ballast balloon. Except, of course, that now I was in love with him and he was practically married to my sister. But what the hell, you can’t have everything. “

‘I think you’ve got a bit of a selective memory, kiddo,’ said Tom. ‘What about Jack?’

The teacup paused on its way to my mouth. Jack

Sullivan, the lovelorn dentist from Witney? ‘Forgot about him,’ I admitted. ‘And Quentin?’ he pressed.

Oh yeah, Quentin Dean, the young Fellow of Medieval Icelandic, he’d been a bit keen. And he’d even had his own car and flat.

‘Quentin was too mushy,’ I said sulkily.

‘But what about Robert? And Edward?’ Tom went

on.

‘They were all at college,’ I protested. ‘You can’t count them.’

‘Well, you certainly didn’t. But not all of them were

at college,’ Tom Drummond, Counsel for the prosecution, went on. ‘When you moved into that frightful squat of Marxistsn’

‘It was all right,’ I lied.

‘And you had a crush on that oaf with the matted hir—’

‘Dreadlocks.’

‘And a dog on a string.’

‘You mean Crispin,’ I admitted, sounding surly. Crispin was a middle-class dropout like me. He was mad on me, too. I had dumped him because I couldn’t face the embarrassment of going out with someone named Crispin, I mean, it’s worse than Dwayne. And after a while, personal liygien had assumed a new importance in my life, although I didn’t want to admit that, since it didn’t seem very bohemian.

‘And let’s not forget Malcolm,’ Tom went on, ‘nor Philip, who took you to Paris for walks on the Champs-Elyses, and when you dumped him didn’t you see Petern’

‘Fine fine, don’t remind me,’ I snarled.

‘But it looks like you need reminding,” Tom said

gently. ‘You’re only thinking about the men you wanted who ran out on you. What about all the other ones you didn’t want?’

I didn’t say anything. Those boys hadn’t made my heart stop, so I’d ignored them. Maybe - if you twist my arm - there had been quite a few.

‘Loads of men are keen on you, Alex, you need to

stop feeling sorry for yourself.’

‘You said that before.’

‘And it’s still true now,’ Tom said.

I wanted to throw myself into his arms and pour out the truth. Who cares about those other men? I want you, you, you!

But I’d had my chance and I’d blown it.

‘I’d better get back to Gail,’ said Tom, a bit regretfully, ‘but I’m glad we’re friends again.’

The to,’ I agreed, over the knot in my throat.

‘I’ll be at that showcase Sunday. And I’ll bring “Gail along, how’s that?’

‘Fine,’ I muttered.

‘Good.’ He lifted his head and a waiter materialised at once. Nobody ever ignores Tom Drummond. ‘We should spend more time together, don’t you think?’

I made it home, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Part of me was squirmy with excitement at the thought of seeing Tom again so soon. And part of me dreaded it, because he’d be with Gail. The thought of them together made me want to puke up all the cucumber sandwiches.

Keisha was thrilled. ‘Ooh, we must make it a big deal. I’ll bring Jordy. And Dean.’

‘Dean the pop star?’ I asked doubtfully. Jordy co presented Up and Running, he was one of those kids’ TV presenters who look so squeaky clean they poo toothpaste. Add Dean from Red Alert, another Keisha “

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old flame, and you’d have a Smash Hits convention in my gallery.

‘It’s all publicity,’ Keisha said firmly, ‘I’ll call the

Daily Mail, we’ll get your place in the papers.’

‘All right,’ I said uncertainly.

‘And I’ll bring Davina Darling!’ Bronwen enthused.

‘You know, the supermodelm’ ‘The junkie,’ Keisha sniffed. ‘The anorexic,’ I agreed.

‘The highly rich young woman who professes to like art,’ said Bronwen, ‘and I know Eric Fortune the

photographer …’

I looked blank.

‘He’s the hot guy at the moment, Alex, really, don’t you read the Face?’

‘Oooh yes,’ said Keisha, warming up, ‘and we’ll make it really fabulous, Alex, you’ll wow everybody, and Sotheby’s will poach you.’

‘You just make sure the party is fantastic,’ said Bronwen blithely.

‘You want to do what?’ Gordon asked in horror.

‘Special catering - pigs in blankets, little pizzas - er - crpes Suzette,’ I suggested. Gordon had gone pale and was clutching himself in the wallet area.

‘Do you realise,” he said heavily, ‘how much that sort of stuff costs?’

‘But we’re going to have all the stars there,’ I exaggerated madly. ‘And I’ve phoned all our best customers. And Bronwen is spreading the word.’

‘Who is Bronwen?’ Gordon demanded. ‘Look, if you want to do it you’ll have to do it yourself.’

‘Fine,’ I said crossly. ‘You’ll have to give me a budget.’

‘A hundred quid. Including wine,’ said Gordon, triumphantly.

I wasn’t going to be defeated. I ran out to Marks &

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Spencer’s. That all cost way too much, so I tried Safeway’s. And there I was triumphant - got strawberries on special offer, bananas too, smoked salmon, cheese and small sausages. The wine was tricky but there seemed some good-value stuff around, so I got Spanish, French, Italian and Australian just to be safe. And you can’t argue with that!

Tm not sure about this, AI,’ Keisha said dubiously when I got home.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ I felt flushed with triumph.

‘The Scotch eggs go off tomorrow. And the bananas are a bit brown.’

‘And the strawberries are a bit squashed,’ Bronwen added.

‘Look. We freeze the perishable stuff, stupids,’ I said eagerly, ‘and the fruit will be fine because I freeze that too.’

‘It’ll taste weird,’ Bronwen guessed.

‘No! I’m going to do Mum’s special tipsy fruit salad. Defrost the fruit -‘ well, I wasn’t sure about this bit but doubtless it would work OK - ‘and then soak overnight in brandy, so it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit bruised. Everybody will love it, just alcohol and sugar.’

They helped me cut up the cheese .and mini sausages, well, OK, we ate most of the cheese and mini sausages, but they looked so cute, what could you do? I was thrilled at how many people the girls had got to come along. Ma,be there would be so many people there that I wouldn’t have to see Gail at all.

‘We’d better .try on our outfits,’ Kisha said. ‘Oooh, what about my-white leather jeans and that Joseph silver silk shirt?’

I was just wondering what I could wear when Bronwen chimed in, ‘You can borrow some of my stuff, AI.’

‘Or mine,’ offered Keisha with a reluctant sigh.

But I shook my head. This was my night - I had to do it my way. I’d got it planned, anyway. Sadly anything I’d taken to Carrefour was out - bad vibes in the area - but Tom would still love my white Emporio Armani dress that took off five pounds round the ass area, which is why it cost five pounds per square inch, I suppose. Anyway, that, and the-neutral lipstick and blusher and a touch of moss green on my lids for drama—

The doorbell rang. Bronwen bounded to answer it,

but it wasn’t Clan the Man. It was Gail.

‘Oh, hi,’ said Bronwen sadly.

‘Come for your stuff?’ said Keisha. ‘You left an essential oil dropper in the bathroom.’

‘No, I haven’t come for my stuff,’ said Gail terrifyingly. She tossed her blonde hair and folded her

stick-insect arms. ‘I’ve come for Alex.’

‘Well, I’m staying here,’ I said.

Keisha sniggered but Gall was Not Amused. She was giving me Mum’s death stare, and believe me, you dbn’t want to be around that.

‘You’d better keep away from my man!’ she spat. ‘I’ve told you before!’

Keisha and Bronwen both hovered expectantly.

I felt a surge of bravery all of a sudden. ‘I was hi.s friend before you ever knew him,’ I said.

‘You saw him yesterdayl’ Gail spat. ‘And you had tea with himl’

‘You never said, AI,’ Keisha reproved. She hates it if I withdraw Gossip Privileges.

‘And we had a great time, and I’m going to see him again, on Sunday,’ I said.

‘You’re bloody not!’ Gail screeched. ‘I won’t let him!’

I folded my own arms. My hands were clammy, but so what? I wasn’t going to let her see that.

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‘Why don’t you tell him he’s not allowed to see me, and see what he says,’ I told her.

Gail looked wildly from Bronwen to Keisha and back to me. ‘He won’t listen!’ she wailed, and burst into angry tears. ‘I hate all of you, you horrible bitches.’

‘Don’t you mean darned cows?’ Keisha asked snidely.

‘Especially you, Alex!’ she raged. ‘My own sister! Keep your thieving hands off my boyfriend! He doesn’t want you anyway, you’re just making a fool of yourself!’

‘Come on, Gail,’ Bronwen reasoned with her, ‘she only wants to be friends.’

‘She doesn’t fancy Tom at all,’ Keisha laughed.

I didn’t say anything. I was feeling horribly lanced through with guilt. She was totally annoying but she was my little sister! And if she and Tom were happy…

‘I forbid you to see him any more!’ she squealed. ‘Well, he’s coming on Sunday,’ I said tearfully.

‘I know.’ Gail’s eyes were like chips of ice. ‘And I’m going to be with him, so you needn’t think you can try anything funny. And you’d better not embarrass me in

front of him, I want to marry him, you know.’ ‘It’ll be fine,’ I muttered.

‘Yes, well, it better be,’ Gail snarled, ‘because I’ve told Mum what you’re doing and she’s going to come along as well! Probably with Dad! So if you try and steal my boyfriend from under my nose she’s going to know all about it!’

‘We’re having tipsy fruit salad,’ Bronwen told her happily.

‘We’ve got stars coming,’ Keisha said loyally,

‘I don’t care who’s coming, just you keep away from my Tommy!’ Gail spat. ‘And now I’m going home to

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my lovely dinner with Tom and we’re going to have candles and flowers!’

‘Sounds disgusting. All that wax gets in your teeth,’ Keisha said.

Bronwen giggled and Gail stormed out of the flat, banging the door behind her.

‘How ridiculous,’ Keisha laughed. ‘You better watch your back, Alex, she thinks you’re really after her man.’

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I spent the rest of the week in a frenzy of preparation.

You’ve never seen anybody work so hard, I mean, it was obscene. I called every customer our little shop had ever had or nearly had, even the ones in Scotland. I sucked up to Mrs Ponsonby and Lady Paula and Miss Featherington and Tom Tucker and Dwight S. Limo, the insurance broker from the United States. I pulled off all the addresses I’d tapped into our new computer and went to it like one of those bond salesmen on Wall Street.

Obviously it got a bit annoying at times (Dwight wanting to spend ten minutes on the dress code) and embarrassing at others. I invited three people eagerly

whom Gordon had sold fakes to.

‘Is this some kind of a joke?’

‘Do you realise we have a lawsuit pending?’

Well, some people can be so fussy, I ask you. Anyway, that was nothing to me ringing Judge Wapter’s number.

‘Ooh, I’m sure he’d like to come,’ I said ardently.

‘We’ve got some pieces he’ll be especially interested in.’ ‘Really,’ said Mrs Wapter drly.

‘Oh yes, they’re - uh - just his tyle,’ I babbled, looking at the manky collection of rubbish filling our windows. ‘Um-really, there’s going to be lots of stars

and press and society, he’ll truly enjoy it.’

‘Will he?’

‘Yes,’ I said, warming to the theme. I was a born saleswoman, no doubt about it. ‘Gordon was just

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saying the other day how much this private view would interest the judge. We must talk to Mrs Wapter and make sure she brings him down, he said. It’ll be right up his alley. He’s one of our most valued customers.’

‘How kind,’ Mrs Wapter said.

.’So you’ll bring him?’

‘That would be fairly difficult,’ Mrs Wapter told me.