Wishful Thinking (51 page)

Alistair admitted later that Jerry had tried to block distribution of the book at the last minute with a view to selling it elsewhere – he wasn't the sort to worry about breach of contract, and told Alistair that after Georgie's behaviour we were in no position to sue. But thanks to the persistence of the official photographer, Alistair was able to change his mind without having to shell out for legal fees. The book was selling well, though the
omertà
seemed to have spread to the reviewers: even the one who'd spoken to me never actually gave it a write-up. A sort of collective media embarrassment settled over Jerry, blotting him out of the public eye. Even his girlfriend was reputed to have dumped him.

‘Oscar Wilde got it right,' Georgie remarked the following week, as we looked in vain through the book pages. ‘The only thing worse than being talked about . . . There's got to be a moral here.'

‘Don't get found out,' I said. ‘The wages of spin is professional death.'

‘Particularly if you hide them under the bath,' Georgie added.

‘I've just realised,' I said, my editorial instincts clicking in, ‘that's all wrong. It should be “the wages
are
death”. Am I misquoting, or does the bad grammar come from the Bible?'

‘The moral should be for us,' Lin said thoughtfully. ‘After all, everything was our fault.'

‘Phew!' said Georgie. ‘
Everything
? That gives me a
real
sense of achievement.'

With all the excitement, I'd forgotten to tell Lin about Andy's telephone call. Now that the press had cooled off a bit, she started plugging her landline in again, and eventually he got through. ‘I don't want to push you,' he said. ‘I know you've been through hell. Sean's a selfish, thick-headed—'

‘He just didn't think,' Lin said, annoyed to find herself automatically apologising for the men in her life. ‘He's desperately sorry now.'

‘He'd better be. He's a lousy father and you're a wonderful mum, and he landed you right in it. But that isn't what I wanted to say. When the case comes to court it could all blow up again. I'll do what I can – I've got influence with some of the papers – but it would be easier if I was there. I hoped . . . you would let me help, support you . . .'

‘
Let
you?' Lin said. ‘Of course . . . I mean . . . that would be . . .'

‘The thing is,' Andy persisted, ‘we've been friends a long time, but I've never really been able to . . . When we first met I gave you a bed for the night, and I've bought you dinner fairly often, and you've talked to me – confided in me – but it's always been . . . Look, I've never been able to
do
anything. Sometimes, I feel a bit like Buttons in
Cinderella
. I never get to punch the villain or escort you to the ball in a pumpkin. I want it to be different now. I don't just want to be your friend and confidant: I want to
help
. You're going to need someone to lean on in the next few months. I'll be your – your rock . . . Lin? Are you still there?'

‘Yes.'

‘You've gone very quiet. I'm not trying to take over your life or anything – just get you through a bad patch. Tell me it's okay. I know how independent you are at heart.'

Lin, who wasn't in the least independent, murmured: ‘Yes, of course,' and ‘It's okay – it's more than okay.'

‘Good. You should have the best legal help. I'll fix you up with a friend of mine.'

‘Aren't posh lawyers very expensive?'

‘Don't worry about that. The important thing is to have someone who knows every trick of the trade. This Ivor sounds like a smooth operator. People like that know how to work the system. Sorry – I'm being tactless.'

‘No. No, you're right. He was – smooth.' Her expression went awry. ‘He fooled me easily enough.'

‘Don't say that. You're very trusting – optimistic – you always believe the best about people. I don't want you to change. I don't want you to be hard and bitter and disillusioned. Somehow, you're going to come through this with your faith in humanity intact.'

‘I'll try,' Lin said. ‘People like you – do a lot to restore it.'

Emboldened, Andy went on: ‘Actually, that wasn't quite everything. I was wondering . . . what you're doing for Christmas? Perhaps you'd like to come up here? With the kids, of course. The castle's a bit bleak, but we've had central heating installed and most of the plumbing works now. It usually snows, but I expect the boys'll like that.'

‘Girls like snow too,' Lin said. Her eyes were misting over. ‘We were going to get together with Sean and Vee, but she's still barely speaking to me, so . . .'

‘Great!' Andy seemed almost unnerved by his own enthusiasm. ‘Great. You don't need to do a thing. I'll fix up the flights – meet you at the airport . . . What date d'you want to come? How about Tuesday the 23rd? Better still, Monday. Tuesday's bound to be booked out. Or the weekend . . .'

In the office the next day, Lin wasn't as happy as I would have expected. A vague apprehension still hovered over her.

‘What's the matter?' I said. ‘You can't think he's acting out of pity now.'

‘No, but . . . I'm afraid.'

‘Afraid of what?'

‘I'm not sure. I've known him so long. Afraid of – hoping. I've been hopeful so many times, and it's always gone wrong for me. Afraid of being happy, of thinking we could – things could – really work out for me . . .'

‘That's because it's real,' Georgie said. ‘All that love-at-first-sight stuff, that's just fantasy and fairydust. When you really know someone, then it's scary, because it has to go all the way. You can rush into love with a stranger, but not with a friend, because then it's too deep – too dangerous – and you'll never get out.'

‘I didn't say anything about
love
,' Lin said. ‘I just
like
him, care for him – too much to—'

‘Too much to get it wrong?' Georgie finished for her.

‘I don't know . . .'

‘Have a great Christmas,' I said.

Later, Georgie took me on one side. ‘We ought to do something about this. Lin's got a jinx. It's
got
to come right for her this time. Andy's not some flash-in-the-pan, flash-in-the-
pants
, this-is-it-forever-until-next-month deal. He's the guy who's loved her faithfully for over a decade. The Captain Dobbin type. That's the kind of security she needs.'

‘Faithfully?' I queried, remembering Andy's numerous engagements.

‘You know what I mean. He's been faithful
underneath
.'

‘“I have been faithful to thee, Cynara, in my fashion”,' I quoted.

‘Exactly. Well, no, not exactly. I expect he's always loved her but without knowing it, or without letting himself know it, and now we need to make damn sure he knows it.'

‘We do?'

‘You've got his number, haven't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Give it me.'

I complied, but reluctantly. ‘I don't think we should interfere. Despite evidence to the contrary, Andy's no fool. He'll sort her out . . .'

Georgie was already dialling. ‘Hello? Andy Pearmain? It's Georgie Cavari – Yes, Lin told me. I think that's terrific. She's had such a rotten time, she needs lots of pampering and tlc – I'm sure you will. I hope you don't mind my phoning – it's just that we've been so worried about her, and we wanted to be sure – That's just it. She's been let down so often. She's very fragile right now – No, not
that
fragile. What she really needs is a strong man who'll adore her and look after her and shield her from – from – '

The wind off the loch? I hazarded.

‘– shield her from the wind off the – from the storms of life. You've been such a great friend to her – Yes, I know. You must be very bruised from what happened with Cat – Oh. Oh, good.' Not bruised, she mouthed. Merely
punctured
. ‘Of course Lin's been damaged too, but - No, I don't think it's gone deep. I really don't. They were only together a little while, remember – I think it was more infatuation than love – It doesn't take any time to get over that – I want you to know – Don't be afraid to say what you – Yes, that's it. Honesty is the key – Great – Oh, and – Andy? Why don't you shave off the beard? Give yourself a new look? – No, of course I'm not trying to revamp your image, it's just – Most girls don't like beards. Trust me on this – They were probably lying. You'd look years younger – No, I don't mean you look old, but – Okay.'Bye.'

I stared at her in horrified fascination. ‘Georgie! Did you really have to go on about his beard? It's not that important, is it?'

‘Of course it is. Once he gets rid of the beard Lin will be all set to see him in a new light. Probably a halo, knowing her. They've known each other for years and nothing's happened. There has to be a reason for that. Anyway,
no
women like beards. It's one of those gender secrets that men never twig. When did you ever see a Mills & Boon with a beard on the cover?'

‘I don't read Mills & Boon.'

‘Nor do I, but you
see
them. Anyway, I was just helping Andy out. Even if he's in a huff, it's in a good cause.'

‘Should I ever fall in love with someone,' I said, laying some stress on the subjunctive, ‘remind me not to tell you – in case you try to be helpful again.'

‘Don't be silly,' Georgie said. ‘I'm not blind. You've definitely got a thing for Todd Jarman.'

‘What – utter – nonsense!' I managed, hoping I looked taken aback for the right reasons. ‘Anyway, he's with that lawyer, Helen Aucham . . .'

‘He seemed pretty fed up with her at Jerry's party,' Georgie said. ‘And when we took him to lunch he was
really
disappointed you couldn't come. And I saw you doing the ministering angel after he got hit. Besides, you've been showing symptoms for some time.'

‘W-what symptoms?'

‘Bottling things up. Not mooning over Nigel any more. Blushing when anyone mentions Todd's name.'

‘You're imagining things.'

‘When are you seeing him?'

I gave in. ‘He said he'd phone, but he just wants to find out what was really going on at Jerry's party. You can't blame him for that: he got a blow in the face, after all. I don't think he has any
romantic
intentions.'

‘Then give him some,' Georgie said. And, inevitably: ‘You'd better have a new dress.'

I had of course been on tenterhooks ever since the party waiting for Todd's call, but when it came, he caught me off guard. It's always the way. If I hadn't been off guard, he probably wouldn't have called. It was a Wednesday afternoon at work, and I was between meetings, snatching a sandwich by way of lunch. Needless to say, I answered the phone with my mouth full.

‘'Lo?'

‘Can I speak to Emma Cook, please?'

I swallowed prawn and low-fat mayonnaise in haste, nearly choking on one of those seeds that litter granary bread like lead shot in game. ‘Sorry. It's me. Just . . . eating something.'

‘Didn't mean to interrupt your lunch. Isn't it a bit late though?' It was almost three.

‘Busy day.'

‘Let me make it up to you. How about dinner on Friday? You promised me the whole saga of the scrum at Jerry's, remember. Anyway, it's time we saw each other without having to pretend it's work.'

My stomach jolted, which didn't go well with the status of my late sandwich. ‘I'd love to,' I managed.

We fixed a rendezvous and I relaxed into conversation, arriving ten minutes late for my next meeting. Sales greeted me with disapproval, but I didn't care. I was on a high.

Whatever Georgie said, I decided I
didn't
need another dress. The problem with Georgie was, now she was happy again, her bad habits were reasserting themselves. She was struggling valiantly against temptation for herself, but tried to compensate by tempting other people. She had already decided Lin would require a whole new wardrobe for her trip to Scotland, and was only defeated in her attempt to purchase a large section of Harvey Nicks by Lin's obstinate lack of fashion sense. She'd destroyed her credit cards in a solemn ritual in the office one lunchtime, supervised by Cal and attended by Lin, me, and Laurence Buckle, who happened to be in the vicinity at the time. Georgie cut them up into small pieces and dumped them in the wastepaper bin, while swearing never to acquire another. In view of the ease of obtaining a credit card, I crossed my fingers and prayed she meant it.

‘Did we ever find out how much she actually owed?' Lin whispered.

‘I daren't imagine.'

‘Keep an eye on her, will you?' Cal said to me afterwards. ‘She really
mustn't
spend any more. We'll only be able to manage this lot because I've got this restaurant job. I don't do that much moonlighting.'

‘What's the damage?' I asked.

Cal made a face – in fact, it would more accurately be described as a Face, complete with capital letter. ‘Nearly forty thousand.'

‘
Shit
 . . .'

I'd always rather assumed, whenever she spoke of it, that Georgie was exaggerating. Exaggeration was part of her style. The truth appalled me: I determined that from now on, if she so much as hinted at further expenditure, I would be a walking deterrent. Perhaps that was what Cal intended.