by Shari Low
‘Sorry about this, ladies,’ he actually looks embarrassed. ‘I know it’s naff, but my agent insists on it. It’s all part of the image thing.’
Naff? Doesn’t he realise that Carol and I do naff in a big way? I think we invented it.
Flashbulbs pop like fireworks as we walk along the red carpet and into the cinema. Fame at last. I just wish I’d lost ten pounds and had my nails done.
There are so many stars here, I can hardly watch the movie. Sylvester’s in the front row with Jennifer. Arnie’s sitting just behind him with Maria. Jack and his harem are in the row in front of us. Sitting at the back are Tom and Nicole.
Carol nudges me. ‘Don’t suppose we can get popcorn and a hot dog, I’m starving.’
Someone who looks very like Richard Gere turns around and chides us for giggling.
The after-show party is at the Four Seasons, which makes the hotel in St Andrews look like a Travel Inn.
‘What do we do now?’ I whisper to Callum.
‘Mingle. Be a social butterfly,’ he jokes. ‘Smile and nod a lot.’
A woman who is clearly no stranger to a plastic surgeon corners him. ‘Callum, dahling, such a delight to see you.’ Her air kisses are laughably wide from each side of his face. ‘And who are your lovely companions?’
Callum introduces us.
‘This is Delphine Di Angelo, agent to New York’s finest.’
‘Divine dress, dahling,’ she tells me. ‘Is it Dior?’
‘Debenhams,’ I reply.
Callum and Carol choke on their drinks, but Delphine is undaunted. She obviously thinks it’s a fahbulous new designer that she hasn’t discovered yet. She whisks Callum away.
‘Don’t worry, dahlings, I’ll bring him back to you undamaged,’ she reassures us, slipping her arm around Callum’s shoulders.
He looks back at us and rolls his eyes. I’m so proud of him. I still can’t believe that’s my little brother over there. And he was so ugly as a child.
I turn to speak to Carol, but her eyes are following Callum. Oh, no. I’ve seen that look before, usually in the presence of a chequebook and an American Express card.
‘Carol, I know what you’re thinking. Stop it right now before I send you home to bed without any dinner.’
‘It’s your fault. You set the criteria for my next man.’
‘But I didn’t mean my brother. Carol, he’s not equipped to deal with women like us.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. He looks pretty well equipped from where I’m standing.’
Her voice has gone all that husky, sexy way, so I slap her with a celery stick, but she continues.
‘Look, Carly, he is under forty.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘And he’s not really rich, not in the same league as my usual type.’
‘Granted.’
‘And he’s so gorgeous that he doesn’t need a trophy girlfriend.’
‘True.’
‘And I’ve known him all my life and I’ve always loved him to bits.’
‘Okay.’
‘And now I’m getting a stirring in my loins every time he looks at me. I first noticed it a couple of months ago in Kate’s kitchen.’
‘ENOUGH. Don’t you dare give me a mental image of my gorgeous little brother having sex. You’ll put me off my Bloody Mary.’
The more I think about it, though, the more it makes sense. They’d be great together. They are both in the same line of work, so they’d understand each other’s schedules and pressures. They do know each other better than anyone, excluding family, and they’re from identical backgrounds.
But then there are the potential down sides. If they lived together, they’d have to have separate bathrooms with huge mirrors, otherwise they’d never get out of the house in the mornings. They’d end up in the bankruptcy courts, having spent all their money in Harvey Nicks. And if they split up, I wouldn’t know whose side to take.
How could I agree with, ‘He’s a complete bastard and he’s ruined my life’, when the subject was someone from the same womb? I can feel a crisis coming on. At least, for once, it doesn’t involve my sex life.
I’m still deliberating on the dilemma when it’s time to leave. We go to a late-night coffee house for decaf and toast. Within an hour, Carol and Callum are trying desperately not to gaze longingly into each other’s eyes. I put my head in my hands. Both their lives will be ruined and it’s all my fault.
We finally crash into bed at 2 a.m. – Carol and I in one bed and Callum in the other. I’m still wide awake, so I read the guest services manual cover to cover.
Carol is on the side nearest Callum and as I reach up to switch the light off, I see that they’re holding hands across the space in the middle. I’m about to demand a change of positions, when I realise that they’re both smiling in their sleep. They look so happy. I feel a lump in my throat. And it isn’t the Toblerone from the minibar.
Callum leaves early for a shoot the next morning and Carol and I decide to treat ourselves to breakfast in bed. As we hoover up our scrambled egg, we discuss tactics and come up with a plan. We’re going to call all the Lowerys in the phone book and then all film and video production companies listed in the Yellow Pages, not forgetting to try directory enquiries too.
Carol takes the room phone and I use her mobile after promising to pay the bill for it. Before I even start, I have a feeling that it’s a lost cause. What are the chances of Phil even living in this city, never mind having a phone registered to his name?
Six hours later, I realise my premonition was correct.
I’ve had eight porno film companies, twenty-six offers to video my next wedding, christening or funeral and forty-seven bemused receptionists claiming that there are no employees of that name in their companies.
Carol has had eight potential leads, which, after relentless pursuit, turned out to be dead ends, one elderly man who pretended to be Phil just to have someone talk to and three accusations of being a stalker.
Directory enquiries were no use either – they didn’t have any listings that weren’t already in the book.
I try desperately to stay positive – I didn’t come all this way to give up. But by the time Callum gets back, I’m considering hiring a plane with one of those banners flying behind it, saying PHIL LOWERY, CALL THE PLAZA, ROOM 202.
‘Come on, ladies, I’m starving. We’ve got a table booked downstairs at seven.’
I look from Carol’s face to Callum’s and decide to pass, pleading nervous exhaustion. Let Romeo and Juliet have a night out on their own. Neither of them look too disappointed that I’m crying off.
Carol goes into the bathroom and emerges an hour later, looking like she just walked off the front cover of Vogue. As they leave together, I can’t help hoping that they get it together. I’m over the shock of last night now and I know they would make each other happy.
I started this looking for a happy ever after, but I’ve realised it might not be mine.
I spend the night with a fruit basket and a remote control. I love American TV, but I’m going to give myself a migraine if I don’t stop flicking from channel to channel. How does anyone ever decide what to watch?
Just after eleven, I hear footsteps in the corridor outside and quickly switch off the TV and lights.
Barbie and Ken burst in, giggling like kids.
Carol switches the light back on.
‘Stop pretending to be asleep, Cooper. We went for a walk after dinner and got you pizza.’
Rumbled. I sit up as she fires the pizza box over to me like a frisbee.
Callum follows behind it and gives me a huge kiss.
‘What’s that for?’ I ask him.
‘Just for being you.’
‘You mean pathetic, lonely and doomed to a life of misery?’
He laughs as he flicks the TV back on. David Letterman is warming up the crowd.
‘So what’s on the schedule for Cagney and Lacey tomorrow then?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know
, Callum. I’ve run out of ideas.’
Carol starts to make suggestions, but my attention is drawn back to the television.
‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, straight from a record breaking national tour,’ his voice raises in anticipation, ‘Emmy award winning comedian,’ the tension mounts, ‘Mister PHIL LOWERY.’
Callum and Carol stop talking and turn slowly to face the screen. Pepperoni slides out of my open mouth and down my chin.
Callum finally speaks. ‘That’s him? I recognise that guy. I spoke to him at a party last week, but I didn’t catch his name. Hold on a minute.’
He reaches for the phone.
I’m still staring, transfixed. This can’t be happening. This is all a dream. It’s like when Pamela Ewing died in Dallas and then came back in the next series. I’m going to wake up tomorrow in my flat in Richmond and think of another excuse to phone in sick to work.
Callum replaces the receiver. ‘Get up, quick and get dressed. Hurry up.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Carly, this show is broadcast two hours before it goes out and afterwards they all head to the Rainbow Room for drinks. Now, move your bum.’
Twenty minutes later, we’re outside the Rainbow Room. There’s a very serious looking bouncer at the door.
‘Sorry, folks we’re fu— Oh, it’s you, Mr Cooper, go right on in.’
I’m impressed. If only he wasn’t my brother.
As we rise in the elevator, my heart is thundering. I still can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s one of those freak, once in a lifetime coincidences that you read about in magazines or see at the end of a rom com. Back in Shanghai Phil had said he wanted to try stand up and I’d told him time and time again he should do it. Looks like he’d made it in a big way. Huge.
Carol holds my hand until the sweat on my palms threatens to glue us together for life. I jump as the doors ping open.
We enter the crowded room, eyes squinting to adjust to the light. I search every corner, but he’s not here.
Carol pulls at my sleeve. ‘Isn’t that him? The guy over at the bar, talking to the barman?’
My eyes follow hers, and in seconds I’m striding in his direction. I stand behind him.
‘Gin and tonic, please, and a maple walnut chocolate chip to go.’
There’s a pause, then he spins round. Before I know it, I’m in a bear hug and gasping for breath.
‘I can’t believe it’s you! I thought I’d never see you again!’ he blurts, causing the bemused barman to knock over a vodka bottle.
Over his shoulders, I can see Callum and Carol watching with huge, perfect, pearly white smiles.
‘I missed you too, Phil. I lost your number and I had no way of finding you.’
‘Never mind, babe, never mind. We’ve got all the time in the world to make up for it.’
Now this is a welcome. Maybe this time…
The tears are streaming down my face. I wipe them away and disentangle myself to introduce him to Callum and Carol.
I hear a scream from a nearby table, then a chair falling over. I turn to see an exquisite, dark-haired beauty running towards us.
‘Miss Carly, Miss Carly!’
‘LILY!’
I’m stunned, speechless and stuck to the floor. Beautiful, sweet Lily, my assistant manager at the club in Shanghai.
As she reaches us, Phil puts his arm around her and beams at me. ‘Cooper, I’d like you to meet my wife.’
‘You’re joking!’ Kate yells down the phone. ‘Carly, I swear to God, if this baby is premature, it’ll be your fault. There are only so many shocks I can take. So what happened next?’
‘We went back to their apartment in Soho and sat up till dawn catching up. Turns out that Phil went to Champagne after I left Shanghai to see if I’d been in touch, got speaking to Lily and they were married and back in the States three months later.’
‘And then?’
‘Then he was working as the cameraman on a late night comedy show, decided to try it for himself and hit the big time. Fabulous career, fabulous wife and fabulous family. They’ve got two gorgeous kids and a Rottweiler called Cooper. Do you think I should be offended?’
‘Definitely not. So what are you going to do now?’
‘Well, I’m going to stay here with Phil and Lily for a while. It really is great seeing them again and I want to spend some time with them. They’ve said that I can have their spare room and it’s just as well because if I don’t get out of the Plaza soon and let Callum and Carol have sex, they’re going to combust.’
There is a pregnant pause. Literally.
‘Hold on, I have to sit down. What did you say?’
‘Don’t worry, Carol’s going to call you later and give you a news update. Make sure that you’re in a comfortable position, your legs are well crossed and the maternity ward is primed for your arrival – this one really is going to induce labour.’
‘Mother of God, I can feel the contractions starting already. By the way, Jess hasn’t found Tom yet, but she’s still working on it.’
‘Tell her I said thanks. I intend to head back to Hong Kong in a few weeks, but I can change my plan if she finds anything. I have to go, Kate. Can you let Jess and Sarah know the latest, and tell them I’ll be in touch? Take care of yourself and give the kids a kiss for me.’
‘I will. And, Cooper, don’t be disheartened. There’s still Sam and Tom. It’s not over till the fat lady sings.’
I launch into a chorus of ‘You Are My Sunshine’. She’s still chuckling as she hangs up.
I hope she’s right.
19
Heartbreaker – Mariah Carey
I crane my neck to see the neon jungle below us as we pass over Kowloon, then descend to land at Chek Lap Kok, Hong Kong’s new state-of-the-art airport. Today is the twenty-eighth of October 1999 and I have renewed optimism that by the new millennium my life will be back on course. I feel totally relaxed after spending most of the month with Phil and Lily and good old positivity has kicked back in. This is it! I can feel it in my bones. Sam Morton is down there somewhere, waiting for me with open arms. The very thought of it makes my breath deepen and my face flush. I think I’m running a temperature.
When we land, I reach for my mobile phone to call Callum and let him know that I’ve arrived safely. I upgraded to an international calls package while I was in New York, thanks to my Visa card, in the hope I’d hear good news from Jess about Tom, but there’s been nothing. I rummage through my bag, then abandon the subtle approach and tip out all the contents in the arrivals hall. A passing gent stares incredulously as two packets of condoms go flying across the floor. That’ll be the optimism again.
Back to the phone. Where the hell is it? I’m sure I packed it last night. Bollocks. I must have left it at Phil’s.
I find a payphone that takes credit cards and call the New York Plaza.
‘Callum, it’s me. I’m here and I’m in one piece.’
He’s out of breath and sounds flustered. I don’t want to contemplate why.
‘Great. Listen, Phil stopped by with your…’
‘Phone,’ I finish the sentence for him. ‘Hang on to it for me and whatever you do, don’t let Carol near it, she’d bankrupt me.’
‘Carly, you’re already bankrupt,’ he laughs.
‘Thanks for the reality check. I’m still hoping the Y2K bug everyone is talking about will wipe out my credit card debt.’ I hang up. He may find it funny now, but just wait until I’m calling him from jail to borrow bail money.
I call the Hong Kong Windsor to reserve a room, then jump in one of the taxis that’s queued outside the terminal – no gold Rolls-Royces for me. I look around as I check in and decide not to even ask the room rate. I’m in Hong Kong, I’m surrounded by marble and chandeliers, there are several seriously wealthy looking people mingling around and I no longer get a staff discount here. This is another of those occasions where oblivion is bliss.
I consider asking if my old
boss, the swivel-eyed misery, still works here, but frankly, I’d rather chew my own shoe than ask him for a discount on the room rate, so I hand over my credit card and take the hit.
Upstairs, I unpack for what I hope will be the last time. I never thought I’d say this, but travelling the globe is starting to wear me down. I wake up every morning and have to look out of the window to check what city I’m in.
Hell, I’m grumpy. Undefeated though, I shower, throw on a red shift dress, and head down to ‘Asia’. It would be too good to be true if Sam was still standing on the door and I found him with no searching whatsoever.
Indeed. Too good to be true. ‘Asia’ was gone and in its place was an incredibly chic seafood restaurant that, according to the menu, charged the price of a Mini Metro for something that was swimming in the ocean just a few days before.
Dejected, I decide to have a long bath and an early night. The world will be a sunnier place in the morning.
I’m wide awake at 4 a.m.. Obviously, I left my body clock somewhere over the ocean. I’ve counted sheep, recited the alphabet backwards and counted to ten thousand, all to no avail. I consider calling the manager, but I don’t think talking to insomniac guests is in the Guest Services Directory.
I give up and call Jess from my bedside phone. She’s back in London and going to work again, opting for public denial and hoping the whole scandal will fade sometime soon.
‘How’s things with Basil?’
‘He’s in therapy and publicly blaming the stress of work for his episode of diminished responsibility. His wife kicked him out and she was last seen dancing in Stringfellows with a French rugby player. I’m still playing hard to get. Let him grovel.’
‘Why don’t you come over here and join me? I could do with some company.’
‘Thanks, Carly, but I’ve taken enough time off lately, what with fleeing the country. They’re docking my wages for that already.’
‘Docking your wages! They should have been paying you a bonus for shagging Basil. It wasn’t in your contract.’