Venus Envy (45 page)

Once an eager young journo from the Mail rang me at home: ‘We’re doing a feature on the future being

female. Would you say the future’s female?’

‘Yes,’ I said bleakly.

My future was female, wasn’t it? No nice men, only ever-increasing numbers of cats. I was going to get all eccentric and retire to a farm in Sussex with sixty cats, leaving my nieces and nephews to grind their teeth in fury when I left everything to the moggies. I could see it now.

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I didn’t actually have a cat yet, but it was inevitable.

‘Hur hur,’ she giggled, ‘and what’s the best thing about being rich?’

‘The money,’ I said.

I was joking. Of course I was joking. But the gossip columns loved it, and I got a bit of notoriety and a few more commissions. And my price kept going up.

Rich, though. I wasn’t rich. I should have told her to ask Tom Drummond. He might know.

Tom was everywhere in my life. His new deal with Richard Branson had him all over the papers, the ‘young tycoon’, in the business sections, the gossip

columns, inside Hello!, everywhere.

Except actually in .my life.

He didn’t call. He didn’t write. He didn’t even respond when I sent him my change of address card.

Once, on a pretext, I rang his office, and when he came on the line he was perfectly polite, but he bought ten books of the charity raffle tickets I was selling and then said goodbye. No tremors in the voice, I mean nothing.

Well, I wasn’t going to take it lying down. Because I had taken it lying down, if you get my drift, and it had been so utterly wonderful. I couldn’t let him go just like that.

My new book on How to Hook a Rich Man: Thirty six Steps to Total Commitment said I should never call him, and on pain of death, never call a man twice in one week, he might work out you have feelings for him. But then I thought - hey - Gir.l Power, we don’t hide around waiting for men to ask us out, I’ll talk to Tom, he’ll see reason, he’ll quietly agree to see me, and everything will be OK.

I mean, I couldn’t give him what he wanted. How could I? Gail was taking it hard enough as it was.

‘You bitch, you ruined my life,’ was about as friendly as it got. Before I moved out of the Belsize

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Park flat I was always finding acid notes in the bathroom. ‘See if you can manage to keep your thieving hands off this.’ ‘Don’t you touch this video, Alex, you’ll break it like you broke my heart.’ I wallowed in agonies of guilt. Gall used to lock herself in her room and cry for hours, and she wouldn’t let me in. I used to pass the bathroom and see her shoulders shaking. I felt so bad, I couldn’t deal with it, I had to get out of there.

‘Gail’s off her food,’ my dad told me when Gall packed a small hempen suitcase and stormed home to recuperate. Off her food - what did that mean, one button mushroom instead of two for dinner? But it

was enough to get my skin all dry and flaky from , stress.

I had had so much misery in love. When Hannah stole Justin, I remember just wanting to die. But at least Hannah hadn’t been my own sister.

‘Don’t you think it’s sick?’ Gall squealed at me down the phone. ‘Going out with two sisters? Urgh, he’s probably writing about it for Playboy, he’s such an utter bastard!’

And don’t let’s even talk about my success.

‘Oh, I always knew it,’ Gall wailed, ‘I always knew you would do this, you’re such an ambitious bitch,

you’ve just been waiting for a chance to show me up.’ ‘But I didn’t mean to,’ I said humbly.

‘Well, I’m writing about it in the nature novel,’ Gall said, terribly triumphant. ‘You won’t like it when it comes out.’

‘Ooh, please tell us what’s in the nature novel,’ Keisha wheedled, ‘please, Gall.’

‘No. It’s a—’ Then she caught sight of Keisha’s mocking grin and ran off crying again.

I felt lower than a piece of worm dirt. ‘How can you be so mean?’

‘Oh please, AI,’ Keisha said briskly, ‘nQthing’s

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wrong with that girl except her pride. You should marry Tom if you want to, she’ll get over it.’

But I couldn’t do it. Even when I moved out. The thought of Gail’s tear-streaked face at the wedding, as she sat there in some little pink twinset knitted in organic wool.

So I ignored my Commitment manual and rang Tom.

‘You’re being silly, I think you should go out with me,’ I said confidently.

‘You mean sneak around behind your sister’s back?’ Tom said, after a nasty moment during which I thought he might ask who was this?

‘Until she finds someone else,’ I replied, a bit less self-confidently.

‘Alex.’ Tom sighed. Even his sighs turned me on, my God, my.nipples were as hard as Keisha’s ruby. ‘I’ve waited too long to sneak around. If you really want to

be with me, you’ll stop making excuses.’

‘Excuses?’ I said, indignantly.

‘Yes, excuses. You know Gail didn’t really love me. You’re just hiding again; hiding from commitment like you always do.’

I started to laugh. The hide from commitment? it’s men that hide–’

‘Why don’t you have a good look at the men you chose?’ Tom said softly., ‘You, Alex, nobody else, and

then tell me you’re not truly hiding from love.’ ‘So you won’t go out with me,’ I snarled.

‘I’ll marry you,’ Tom said simply: ‘or I’ll start dating someone else and try to forget you. The trouble with

you, Alex, is you want everything your own way.’ He hung up on me.

The selfish, arrogant little fucker! He actually hung up on me.

So you’ll forgive me if I wasn’t too thrilled at the wedding announcement. Love hurts, as John Wayne

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Bobbit is no doubt fond of telling the world. Weddings should be banned from inviting single people, hateful torture sessions that they are. Standing around with all the old. parents and parents’ mates comparing who’s been paired off to whom: score one for boyfriend, four for engaged and a clear six for married. Even worse are the actual young couples, sneaking their arms through each other’s in such a way that you look, and then they blush and pretend to have been -caught out. And say patronising things about how great it must be to have a career. Uuurgh, they make me sick.

I said this to Keisha on our way to the registry office. Bronwen came dressed in peach leather trousers and a matching silk jersey with thigh-high boots. Keisha wore her normal black trousers. I put on a long floaty dress, which they all laughed at, so maybe it was better that I did forget the hat.

‘Oh yeah, weddings, they suck,’ Keisha snarled, then grinned at Bronwen. ‘OK, but this isn’t a wedding, I’m just getting married.’

.’I want to marry Clan like this,’ Bronwen said, ‘it’s so romantic, just walk off the street in your jeans and just do it.’

‘What about you, AI?’ Keisha demanded.

I sighed. ‘Tom says I’ve got fear of commitment.’ ‘You have,’ Bronwen said serenely.

‘Well, of course she has,’ says Keisha, as if that was an obvious truism, ‘but I bet she still thinks about getting married.’

I tried to banish the vision of me, in the full monty, long, white dress, floating down the aisle, trumpets sounding, orange blossoms wreathed in my hair. I just wasn’t postmodern like these two. I wanted the whole thing, the real deal.

What. scared me was that the guy in this fantasy usually faceless - was now possessed of features. Tom’s features.

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‘You should talk to Tom,’ Keisha said, when we got out of the car.

I shook my head. ‘That’s over.’

Keisha shrugged. ‘OK. But I tell you, honey, stop going on about Gail. You know perfectly well it’s got nothing to do with her.’

‘It has,’ I protested, ‘it’s all about Gail.’

‘Alex,’ Bronwen said, dragging me aside before it was our turn to go in, ‘can I give you some advice?’

‘If you must,’ I said, sneering haughtily and keeping my eyes fixed on the bottom of my champagne glass.

‘You do refuse to face reality a bit. You are running from love. It’s always about some unsuitable bloke, or some man you can’t have, because of his wife or whatever - you always look at other women, not yourself. You refuse to see how great life is. Maybe it’s a British.disease - postmodern cynicism,’ Bronwen said, in irony-free tones. ‘No, I’m serious. You’ve got Venus Envy. You’re just afraid to let yourself be happy.’

‘What nonsense,’ I said weakly, but I felt like I was going to cry.

Keisha allowed herself a bit of a smile when she actually got married, I’m sorry to report. Even Keisha lets her standards slip sometimes.

They held the party at the Lancaster Gate Hotel. Just a small, intimate affair for five hundred of Keisha’s closest friends and family.

Gail arrived, carrying an organic yoghurt maker for the happy couple.

‘Cheers,’ Keisha said. ‘It’ll do for a garden ornament.’

‘How are you?’ I asked nervously.

‘No better for seeing you,’ Gail replied, stomping away with a toss of her lovely blonde head.

I slunk off miserably, but Bronwen wasn’t having

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any of it. ‘Look at that,’ she said, pointing out Jeremy and Keisha kissing in a corner. ‘Look at how happy they are. That could be you, you know.’

‘For the last time, Tom’s not interested in going out,’

I said. ‘And even if he was, I wouldn’t talk to him. He’s

such an arrogant git.’

‘That’s a pity,’ Bronwen said with a sly grin, ‘because he’s coming this way.’

I looked up with a start, but it was too late. Unless I

was seeing a very handsome, very determined mirage, Tom Drummond was indeed coming towards me, threading his way through the crowd and looking like it would take a charging rhino to stop him.

I felt total panic. Fluttery stomach, wanting to puke,

,the works. ‘Who invited him?’

‘It’s Keisha’s guest list. Anyway, gotta go, Dan’s waiting for me,’ Bronwen said cheekily, and legged it, leaving me on my own.

‘Alex,’ Tom said when he arrived on the spot a second later.

I looked up at him. I felt a thrill of desire between

my legs. I looked away, I couldn’t hold his gaze.

‘Gail’s here,’ he said, putting his hand out and tipping up my face so that I had to look into his eyes. It was pretty sexy, I have to tell you. He looked like he was in no mood to argue. Tm going over there to talk to her. I’m going to explain that she can’t come between us any more.’

‘You can’t - er - you’llreally upset her,’ I muttered.

Oh, I want to fuck you. Oh, get me out of here. Oh,

help.

No man had ever made me feel this way in my

whole life.

‘I doubt that,’ Tom said dryly, ‘look over there.’

I looked. Gail was doing some energetic tongue wrestling with a stocky frame I’d seen somewhere before.

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‘That’s Tony Meadows!’ I gasped. ‘Her old boyfriend!’

‘Her new boyfriend, if you ask me,’ Tom pointed

out. ‘So tell me. What’s your excuse now?’

‘Er …’ I gasped.

‘Why are you looking around the room?’ Tom asked softly. ‘Need time to think? To get another reason why

you can’t be happy?’

‘Well …’

‘I’m not going to wait around for ever,’ Tom said firmly. ‘You know me inside and out, Alex. You’re going to have to make up your mind.’

I wanted him. I loved him. But I was still panicking. What if I said yes? What if it was a mistake? How would I know? Tom might not be the one after all.

Gail walked past us, saw what Tom was doing and gave me.the death stare from hell. But I finally realised I couldn’t care less.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she screeched. ‘Piss off, Gail,’ I replied wittily. ‘Tony will be missing you,’ said Tom.

He winked at me. And then, before I could protest, or struggle, or play for time, he kissed me.

And then I knew.

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