The girl at the cosmetics counter at Boots had made it all sound so simple, as she painted Alicia's hands with a bewitching array of powders and creams. Alicia had only wanted some pink lipstick and maybe a little pale blue eye shadow, but the girl had been so kind and had taken so much trouble, Alicia felt honour bound to buy all the products she recommended. The memory of the final bill made Alicia blush two shades deeper than the Savannah Rose blusher the girl had promised would provide the perfect definition for her face. Alicia sucked in her cheeks and peered in the mirror. Finding her cheekbones was not as easy as the girl in Boots had claimed.
'Alicia, please …' Jeremy scratched at the door.
Since she suggested he sleep in the other room, Jeremy had been behaving like a puppy who had been punished for making a nasty mess. He had taken to trailing her everywhere, his brown eyes full of reproach, eager to help but clumsily causing chaos.
She had tried so hard to talk to him, but every time she broached the subject of their relationship, he managed to find some urgent task that needed doing, so she had decided on unilateral action. Sleeping separately had been her first move. If they were going to share a bed, it would not be just for sleeping in.
'How do you know Vanessa won't turn up in person?' Jeremy called through the keyhole.
Alicia didn't reply for a few moments. She was concentrating on applying mascara to her bottom lashes. She had discovered that the best way to do this was to bury her chin in her neck and stretch her facial muscles downwards, which made meaningful conversation impossible.
She replaced the mascara wand in its tube then opened her eyes wide and studied her handiwork.
Her make-up wasn't quite in the same league as that worn by the exquisitely maquillaged girl in Boots, Alicia decided, but it was still quite a transformation. She had also bought some hair colourant which had promised subtle highlights and some hair gel. Not being conversant with substances like colourants and gels, Alicia had been a little heavy-handed, and the result was a startling honey-blonde, pre-Raphaelite mass of tendrils.
Alicia turned her head from side to side. It was definitely not her, she decided, but it certainly suited her alter ego for the evening.
'Because I didn't sign my own name on the letter, silly,' she called out. 'Anyway, Vanessa's much too grand to do her own research. There's some man coming. I couldn't quite catch his name.'
The door handle rattled impatiently.
'If a man is coming I really think I ought to stay around. You never know what he may be like.'
Jeremy had noticed a bottle of wine and two glasses, together with bowls of savoury nibbles on the coffee table.
Alicia tweaked one of the ringlets which curled rather fetchingly over her forehead.
'I'll be perfectly safe, Jeremy. He's hardly likely to jump on me. After all, he's just coming to conduct a perfectly normal interview.'
'Normal, my foot!' Jeremy snorted. 'I hardly call the subject matter normal.'
Alicia had shown him the letter she had written in reply to Vanessa's advertisement. It had been a mistake. He had gone very pale when he read the bit about the nun and muttered something about being C of E but that still didn’t make it right. He hadn’t spoken to her for some time afterwards.
'For heaven's sake, Jeremy, stop fussing! You're going to your club and that's that.'
There was a grunt from outside the door which seemed to suggest Jeremy had conceded defeat. Alicia gave her hair one more pat and then began to get dressed.
She had decided none of her clothes were suitable for the occasion. It wasn't just that she wanted to look like a woman who had exciting sexual fantasies, she wanted to feel like one too, and even when she put on her prettiest white evening blouse and Laura Ashley print skirt, she still felt like Dr Alicia Binns, overweight spinster and university lecturer.
After offering up a silent prayer for forgiveness to Zelda in faraway Budapest, Alicia had searched through her wardrobe. Zelda had a penchant for the theatrical in what she described as her off-duty clothes. Alicia had counted at least half a dozen flowing kaftans, two richly embroidered silk kimonos, and several pairs of wide-trousered, satin pyjama-style suits.
She had eagerly tried some of them on, but Zelda was a good four inches taller, and the sleeves had drooped over her hands and the hems trailed on the ground. She had looked like a child dressed in adult clothes.
As the pile of clothes on the bed grew, Alicia's inhibitions diminished. She had rummaged through all of Zelda's drawers and even picked the lock on a trunk which had revealed a collection of underwear that made a burning-cheeked Alicia wonder whether she could ever look Zelda in the face again.
The top of the wardrobe disclosed even more delights. It was piled high with shoe boxes containing a collection of stiletto-heeled shoes in every imaginable hue, except black or brown. With intricate straps, delicate lacing, bejewelled, beribboned and with paper-thin soles, none could be described as sensible - the hallmark of all Alicia's shoe purchases.
Alicia had sat on the floor entranced. The revelation that shoes could be a thing of beauty and desirability made her feel quite giddy.
She eventually chose a pair of perspex heeled, gold leather sandals, embellished with a large mock ruby. She painted her toenails to match the ruby. From Zelda's wardrobe she selected a pair of black velvet leggings which had the advantage of stretching to fit almost any size, and a sheer black organza blouse.
The blouse had posed an embarrassing problem.
Alicia could not possibly wear one of her white cotton bras underneath it. So quelling her blushes, she picked the lock on Zelda's trunk once again and borrowed a black satin bustier. Although Zelda was much taller, they seemed to have the same ample breast measurement, although, because of the many tiny hooks and eyes, doing the bustier up proved more awkward than Alicia had anticipated. She considered asking Jeremy to help but decided against it. She had a feeling he was not going approve of her outfit.
Red-faced with exertion, she finally fastened the last hook and slipped the blouse over the top, then stepped into Zelda's gold sandals. With a last look in the mirror, which she found much easier now as she was nearly three inches taller, she opened the bedroom door.
Jeremy took a step back, his mouth open.
Alicia tried to walk casually past him, but unused to heels, she found this a little difficult. Keeping her balance demanded throwing the weight of her body backwards to counter the height of the heels, while at the same time taking short little steps to hold the sandals on her feet as the thin straps served no practical purpose. Her slow, swaying progression down the hall and into the centre of the main room gave Jeremy time to collect his senses before he followed her.
Alicia was pouring herself a glass of wine as he came in the door.
'What on earth have you done to yourself?' he demanded.
'Don't you like it?' Alicia held out her arms and very carefully executed a full circle.
Jeremy stood as though transfixed.
He did like it. He liked it very much. That was the problem.
His jaw began to work before his vocal chords. 'You can't let anyone see you looking like that,' he said at last.
'Why not?' Alicia asked. She lifted up an arm as though to admire the floaty material of her blouse, but her heart was thumping. She hoped she hadn't gone too far.
'Because… well… because … It's not proper. You can see all your…' he gestured at her breasts. 'You could give a man the wrong idea dressed like that.'
Alicia smiled. 'Perhaps that's just what I want to do.'
Jeremy stared angrily at her, his jaw working then he turned on his heel and left the room. Alicia heard the front door slamming behind him and then the sound of his feet stomping on the stairs.
Half-way down, Jeremy almost knocked over a young Asian man who was coming up the stairs. He carried on without an apology.
'Well, pardon me for breathing,' Vijay yelled after Jeremy's disappearing back as he rubbed his b
ruised shoulder. He felt thoroughly dejected, and being knocked aside as though he didn't exist was just about the perfect end to the perfect day.
It had begun with Vanessa spending nearly an hour telling him loudly, and with the use of many Anglo-Saxon expletives, just how incompetent she considered him to be. Then he had spent the rest of the morning listening to callers describing their fantasies in graphic and unnecessary detail, including one man who had wanted unpleasant sounding instruments inserted into the various orifices of his body.
The afternoon had not proved much better. He had gone all the way to Gerrards Cross to interview a woman who met him at the front door brandishing a cat-of-nine tails, and wearing nothing but a pair of knee-length, black leather biker boots. Without waiting to make his excuses, he turned and fled.
When he had eventually arrived back at the office, Vanessa was waiting for him. The woman with the cat-of-nine-tails had rung up to complain. With Vanessa's voice echoing in his ears, he had made for the nearest pub and downed four pints of beer in quick succession, and even though he was a bit unsteady on his feet, there was no need for anyone to barge into him like that.
He climbed the last few stairs to Flat D and stood outside, trying not to think of what might be waiting on the other side.
He swallowed hard and knocked gently hoping against hope that nobody would be in. He stepped back, just in case he had to make another swift getaway.
As he waited for the door to open, Vijay checked the name in his notepad. It had a faintly familiar ring but he could not place it. He heard the door opening.
'Elizabeth Gaskell?' he enquired, before looking up.
Alicia stood framed in the doorway, her hair softly lit by the hall light. 'Yes?'
'I'm, um, Vijay, Vijay Seth,' he stuttered taken aback by the figure that stood before him, 'from Right Pryce productions.'
'Do come in,' Alicia said in the gracious manner she had been practising. She led the way through to the main room.
Vijay followed, mesmerised by Alicia's voluptuously swaying gait. His heart thudded against his chest. This was the woman he had been looking for, he could feel it. She was like an oasis of loveliness in his desert of despair. She was a vision of soft womanliness. He licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry. She was very, very sexy.
He perched awkwardly on the end of the chaise-longue, gripping his knees tightly together determined to concentrate on the programme and not allow himself to be diverted. He could not face another session with Vanessa like the one earlier. He pushed his glasses firmly back into place and attempted to formulate his first question. He looked at Alicia and opened his mouth to speak, but just at that moment she leaned over the low table to pour him a glass of wine, and Vijay glimpsed a creamy expanse of breast. The question died in his throat.
But it was when Alicia sat down on the other end of the chaise-longue and carefully crossed her legs that Vijay's heart really began to race, for he suddenly caught sight of her tiny, plump feet encased in gold sandals, each dainty little toe crowned by a perfect half moon of lacquered nail. They were the most exquisite feet he had ever seen.
Unaware of the effect she was having on him, Alicia sipped her wine and studied Vijay from under her lashes. He was not what she had been expecting. He was rather good-looking, in a serious sort of way, with lovely caramel coloured skin and soulful, bitter chocolate eyes, but Alicia found it quite disconcerting that they were fixated on her feet. Perhaps the sandals were a little vulgar, after all. Alicia tucked her feet under the chaise-longue.
With her glass poised, she waited for Vijay to speak, but he continued staring at the spot where her feet had been.
'You must have an awfully exciting job,' she began.
Vijay reluctantly raised his gaze to Alicia's face. 'Not really,' he said, trying not to think about her feet, which had so tantalisingly disappeared from view.
'But don't you get to meet some awfully interesting people?' Alicia tried again.
Vijay seemed to be having a problem holding his wine glass and his notebook at the same time. After some deliberation, he gulped down the wine, stood his glass on the table, and then opened his notebook. Alicia gave him an encouraging smile and leant forward to refill his glass. Vijay averted his eyes.
'That's what everyone thinks,' Vijay replied bitterly. 'But it's not like that at all'
He looked back at Alicia, and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the desire to make this woman, above all people, understand him.
'Once upon a time I had dreams, ambitions, ideas even,' he waved his arms about with the expansiveness of someone unused to downing large amounts of beer followed by wine. 'I wanted to be a foreign correspondent, or to produce documentaries which would change the world, but instead I end up working for a tin-pot outfit run by a woman with the soul of Margaret Thatcher, who would put Genghis Khan to shame.'
He stopped. Perhaps he had gone too far. The woman sitting beside him must want to appear on the programme, or why else would she have answered the advertisement?
Alicia picked up Vijay's wine glass and pressed it into his hand. 'Tell me about this woman,' she said sympathetically, 'she sounds absolutely frightful.'
Vijay needed no further bidding. Emboldened by a mixture of alcohol and Alicia's seemingly understanding soft gaze and occasional 'gosh, how awfuls', he related the whole story of his difficult childhood, misunderstood adolescence, unsuccessful university career, even more unsuccessful journalistic career, and now his problems with Right Price Productions, Forbidden Fruit and most of all, with Vanessa.
'…and you ought to see the bills for the lunches she has, yet if I so much as try to claim for a cheese sandwich, I'm accused of trying to fiddle my expenses,' he ended with an aggrieved air.
Alicia took a deep breath. She had found the ally she needed, or at least she thought she had.
'Actually, I have a bit of a confession to make to you,' she began. 'You see I never really wanted to take part in the programme, I just wanted to find out what was going on as …'
'I was right,' Vijay interrupted her triumphantly. 'I just knew you couldn't be that sort of woman.'
He leaned towards her. Another hastily gulped large glass of wine had tipped him over from the garrulous stage of tipsiness to boundless emotion. 'I sensed from the very first moment I saw you that you were a woman I could relate to. You looked like a goddess standing in the doorway, your hair like … and your…' he made undulating shapes with his hands.
'Oh, I know it's all wrong,' he rushed on, 'because it sounds as if I'm treating you like a sex object, which goes against everything I believe in. But it's a bit difficult not to when a woman looks like you although I wouldn't want you to think I was making a pass or anything …'
'Vijay,' Alicia said firmly, 'there is something I really must tell you …'
As she was speaking, Vijay tried to put his arm along the back of the chaise-longue. Unfortunately, he was sitting on the end where there was no back, and he fell drunkenly sideways. With some difficulty, he hauled himself back upright.
'Elizabeth…' he pleaded, launching an ill-aimed lunge along the chaise-longue.
'Actually, my name's Alicia, Alicia Binns,' said Alicia standing up out of Vijay's reach. 'I think it's about time for some coffee, don’t you?'
Vijay lay sideways, gazing drunkenly up at her. 'Aleesia?' he slurred. 'So it wasn't you who sent the letter about the nuns and things?'
Alicia went into the kitchen and put several spoonfuls of coffee in a mug then waited for the kettle to boil. When she returned to the living room she found Vijay upright again and sitting with his head in his hands. He looked thoroughly miserable. Alicia felt a pang of guilt as she gave him the coffee. Perhaps she shouldn’t have encouraged him to drink so much wine.
Vijay sat nursing the mug in silence for a little while. Then he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls. Alicia winced as the coffee must have been scalding.
'I'm sorry,' he mumbled at last, 'I've made a bit of a fool of myse
lf, haven't I?'
'You've probably been working too hard,' she said generously.
Vijay gave her a grateful smile and drank another mouthful of coffee.
'Look,' said Alicia, 'I think I'd better explain. I did write that letter but I'm not Elizabeth Gaskell. There's no such person. Well, actually there was, she's one of my favourite…' Alicia stopped. She had never been very good at explanations.
She took a deep breath. 'Anyway, I used her name as a sort of nom de plume because I didn't want Vanessa to know it was me.'
Vijay went a decidedly odd colour and coffee slopped over the rim of his mug on to his hands. He ignored it. 'You know Vanessa?' he asked hoarsely.
'I've know her since I was eleven. We went to school together. We were best friends,' Alicia explained.
'Best friends…' Vijay repeated almost soundlessly remembering all the things he had said about Vanessa.
Alicia suddenly noticed the effect her words were having on him. 'But we're not friends any more,' she said hastily. 'In fact, we're quite the opposite.'
'So why did you write the letter?' Vijay asked, the colour beginning to return to his face.
'Well, I thought I was in love with Fergus and I intro …'
'You mean, Dr Archibald?' Vijay interrupted. It was profane, the thought of that uncouth man with this fragrant goddess. If Archibald had so much as touched one of her beautiful little toes, he would … would …
Alicia misinterpreted Vijay's incredulous look. 'It's silly, I know. Why would Fergus want me when he could have Vanessa? But she was my friend, and…'
The words caught in her throat. She felt a sudden rush of pain, and humiliation.
'And now I hate her,' she said slowly, as though for the first time.
I know exactly how you feel,' Vijay said glumly.
'Oh no, you don't. You can't possibly,' Alicia said, leaning towards him.
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