Acquired Tastes

by Simone Mondesir

  Alicia had not given much thought to Heartlands and her cottage, but seeing Vanessa and Fergus last night had reminded her of the home she had fled so unhappily almost two months ago.

  She turned away from the window and looked at the video tape lying on Zelda's coffee table. It would have been much easier to let Vijay hide it somewhere at the studios in readiness for today, but she had not wanted to let it out of her sight, at least not until absolutely necessary. Now she had the instrument of Vanessa and Fergus's downfall, she did not intend to let anything go wrong.

  She had expected to feel upset watching them having sex in the studio last night, but she had felt quite calm. Jeremy and Vijay, on the other hand, had very peculiar expressions on their faces until she produced a bag of popcorn. They relaxed after that, putting their feet up on the desk and munching handfuls of the stuff like children at a Saturday morning cinema show, laughing at Vanessa and Fergus's ridiculous antics. They waited until Vanessa and Fergus left the studios, and then, emboldened by what they had seen, walked out of the front entrance past an open-mouthed security guard. Outside in the street they linked arms and walked laughing to the nearest pub.

  She had originally intended to send the tape to Vanessa's boss, but a remark by Vijay in the pub had given her another idea. For once Jeremy promptly agreed to her new plan, as the sight of Vanessa and Fergus together had made him forget all caution. However Vijay had taken a lot of persuading as, to be fair, it meant him taking more risks. He had eventually agreed, but she just hoped that, when he woke up sober this morning, he would not change his mind.

  Alicia finished her tea. The agreed rendezvous back at the studios with Vijay was not for several hours, so she and Jeremy had plenty of time for a large fried breakfast. She intended to enjoy today and she wouldn't do that if she was feeling hungry.

  Gabriella swallowed the last of the handful of vitamin pills which she took in lieu of breakfast, tied a large silk Hermes over her hair and placed her satellite dish-sized sunglasses firmly on her nose before heading for the lobby of her hotel. Mornings were not her best time.

  'Darling! You look absolutely wonderful, fresh as a daisy,' Philip cooed, as she stepped from her taxi outside the Silver Screen Studios.

  Gabriella avoided his embrace and proffered a single smooth cheek, which Philip meekly kissed.

  'You look wonderful too, darling,' she countered although she had never seen Philip looking so tired. There were bruise-like purple shadows under his eyes and his skin looked puffy and grey. Her skin, on the other hand, looked as near to a twenty-year-old's as two hours at the hands of the skilled make-up artist she had visited on her way to the studio could render it. Philip had told her there would be a make-up artist provided for her, but she did not trust the kind of hearty 'we'll just give you a little dust of powder' girl who normally worked in the make-up departments of TV studios. For some reason they thought the same awful shade of pale pink lipstick suited everybody, when in fact it suited no-one.

  The taxi driver, who had been holding the door for her, reached into his cab and picked up her black crocodile case.

  'Can I carry this in for you, Miss Wolfe?' he asked eagerly.

  'Philip will take it, won't you darling, and make sure you give him a nice large tip, I like to keep my fans happy.'

  Gabriella swept her voluminous serape over her shoulder and left Philip to pay the disappointed taxi driver. By the time he had counted out the correct notes, Gabriella was already in reception. He scurried after her.

  'I thought we'd have a read through of the script over coffee first. It will give you and Dr Archibald a chance to get acquainted, and then I thought we'd …' he began.

  'Philip darling, please,' Gabriella interrupted him. 'My biological time clock says I should still be asleep, so don't rush me. First, I want to go to my dressing-room, then I'd like a few moments alone to compose myself and then - and only then - will I discuss the changes I want in the script.'

  'Changes? But I thought we'd agreed…'

  'Philip, my dressing-room please.' It was a command that brooked no disagreement.

  Philip led the way down the corridor and opened a door. 'I'm afraid this is the best we can offer,' he said.

  Inside was a small room dominated by a large, brightly lit mirror and a dressing table, on which stood a vase containing a dozen red roses and an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. A single bed, a chair, and a clothes rail with a few wire hangers dangling from it, completed the furnishing. Another door led to a bathroom.

  Philip anxiously watched Gabriella's face as she looked around.

  'Well, it isn't exactly Hollywood, is it darling, but the flowers are wonderful,' she said picking up the gold embossed card which had been placed beside the vase. She smiled. 'From you, how sweet.'

  She snapped a bloom off and tucked it into Philip's buttonhole then kissed him. 'For you, for luck. Now be a darling and wait outside just for a few minutes. There are times when a girl needs her privacy.'

  She ushered him out of the door and locked it behind him before sitting down at the dressing table and opening her case. She took out a silver brandy flask, unscrewed the top and took a long drink. Then she found a small silver pill box and placed two tiny pills on her tongue. Frankie, her hairdresser, had said they worked wonders for him, kept him bright-eyed and bushy-tailed all day long. She toasted herself in the mirror with the flask and drank some more brandy, before spraying her mouth with breath freshener. Then she checked her nose for shine and locked her case. After giving her hair one last pat, she opened the door.

  'There, all better. Now, where were those people you wanted me to meet?' She gave Philip a radiant smile.

  Philip straightened up. 'About those changes, I really do think…'

  'You mentioned refreshment?'

  Philip gave in and led the way to a large room on the next floor which was serving as the Right Pryce production office for the day of the recording. Rosie was sitting at a computer, playing with the keys, when they walked in. She jumped up and rushed forward.

  'Oh, Miss Wolfe, how nice to see you again, it's so nice to have you back. Is there anything I can get you? I've got tea or coffee and some Danish pastries or some jam doughnuts.'

  'Thank you… er, dear.' Gabriella could never remember the name of Philip's production assistant. 'I'd just like a glass of mineral water with a slice of lemon. I don't like stimulants at this time of the morning.'

  Rosie bustled out.

  Gabriella dropped her script on to the table. 'Now, about this script, Philip darling, I can't possibly work with it. It simply has to go.'

  Philip sank into a chair. He didn't trust himself standing up. 'Gabriella, darling. At this stage it would…'

  But he was interrupted as the door swung open and Vanessa walked in smiling. She waved a cheery hand in their direction and made for the coffee pot. Philip wondered whether he was hallucinating, Vanessa never smiled. At least, not the way she had smiled just then. She looked almost happy.

  Mug in hand, Vanessa turned. 'Have you read the script?' she asked.

  'Yes, I have,' Gabriella replied, 'and as I was just saying to Philip, rarely have I been presented with such an incompet…'

  'What Gabriella would like to say,' Philip hastily interrupted, 'is that she likes it, but thinks there should be a few small changes here and there. Purely stylistic, you understand.'

  Any semblance of contentment melted from Vanessa's face. Her eyes narrowed and her lips became a thin red line.

  Recognising the familiar danger signs, Philip intervened again. 'Perhaps we had better delay further discussion until Dr Archibald arrives. He will be here soon, won't he Vanessa? It's after nine.'

  'I sent your little treasure, Heather, to collect him from his hotel. I'm sure she'll get him here on time.'

  As Vanessa spoke, the door opened and Fergus, followed by a flustered Heather, came in.

  'Top of the morning to ye all,' Fergus announced in a false Irish accent.

>   'Ah, Dr Archibald,' Philip said, getting up. 'I think it's about time you met our star, Miss Gabriella Wolfe. I'm sure you and she will work well together.'

  Fergus made a sweeping bow before Gabriella and pressed the hand she held out, to his lips. 'How could I not work well with such a ravishingly beautiful woman? No, forgive me, a Venus. No mere mortal woman could be possessed of such incandescent beauty.' Fergus straightened up but held on to Gabriella's hand.

  Moments before, Gabriella had looked coldly disdainful, but Fergus’s flattering words seemed to have had their desired affect. 'My dear Dr Archibald, although I hope I may call you Fergus,' her deep husky voice lingered over his name. 'I'm sure our coupling will be one to remember.'

  'Shall we get on with the read-through, the mutual fan club can wait until later,' interjected Vanessa savagely.

  Fergus had not even glanced at her. After what had happened between them last night, she had been expecting some kind of acknowledgement from him, but it was as though she did not exist. She glared at Gabriella, who ignored her and pulled Fergus down to sit on the chair beside hers.

  She kept her hand on his arm and she purred like a Persian cat when she spoke. 'We really ought to know each other better if we are going to be working together.'

  Rosie placed a glass of mineral water beside Gabriella, and a cup of coffee and two doughnuts beside Fergus. She dimpled at him. 'The coffee's got three sugars and lots of cream in it, just as you like it.'

  Fergus gave her a friendly pat on her behind as she walked away. Rosie giggled and Gabriella looked approvingly.

  Vanessa slammed her script down on the table. 'Shall we begin?'

  'I think we had better wait for a moment, Vanessa,' Philip said, looking round. 'We're still missing two of our number.'

  'Hugo and Vijay are in the building,' said Rosie, looking up from her computer. 'Hugo's down in the studio and I think Vijay's checking something in VT.'

  'I think we should begin. They are both aware of our tight schedule today,' said Vanessa, impatiently opening her script. She looked at Gabriella. 'Would you like to begin?'

  Gabriella carefully pushed an imaginary stray hair back into place and with another conspiratorial smile at Fergus, looked down at her script.

  'Good evening,' she began, 'and welcome to Forbidden Fruit. A new show that is going to lift the lid off Britain's sexual fantasies.'

  She stopped and looked up. 'Lift the lid off,' she repeated, 'hardly Shakespeare, is it?'

  'And this is not the Globe theatre,' Vanessa retorted. 'So could we please forego the literary criticism until we reach the end of the script?'

  Gabriella looked indignantly at Philip for support. He looked from one to the other, caught between them. 'Vanessa, I think perhaps you are being a little too abrasive,' he said reprovingly. 'Gabriella is, after all, a very experienced presenter, and I'm sure we welcome her criticism.'

  Gabriella smiled triumphantly at Vanessa.

  'However, Vanessa does have a point, Gabriella,' he continued, 'so perhaps we should press on without interruption for the time being. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for adjustments later on.'

  Gabriella sniffed loudly and began again, 'Good evening …'

  'Good morning,' announced Hugo walking into the room.

  'Aren't we just a little late?' asked Vanessa.

  'Actually, we have been here since eight o'clock this morning, if we're counting,' Hugo replied tartly. 'There were a few problems with the set. Some idiots have been mucking around with the props, but I've sorted it out.'

  Vanessa shuffled the pages of her script.

  Hugo sat down and put one leg up on the table. 'It was a devil of a problem to get the crew to abandon their tea and tabloids this morning. I presume you've all seen this?' He casually tossed a newspaper across the table.

  Philip reached over and picked it up. It was the World on Sunday.

  The front page headline read: TV STAR IN SEX CHANGE!

  SHOCKER! WOLFE IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING!

  Underneath was a huge picture of Gabriella.

  'Oh my God,' groaned Philip. The colour drained from his face and he slumped back in his chair.

  Vanessa grabbed the paper. She burst into laughter as she read it. 'Is there perhaps some little thing you forgot to tell us about, Gabriella?'

  Gabriella glared at her. 'Give me that,' she demanded.

  Vanessa held it away from her and began to read out loud:

  “Glamorous TV chat show host, Gabriella Wolfe, who filled the gossip columns with her string of famous and infamous lovers in the 1980s, started off life as plain George Fox. When her British TV career took a nosedive, she headed for the Continent where she became one of the first of the Euro satellite TV stars. Although she has recently returned to these shores to host a new late-night porn show, her home is now in Italy, where she keeps a whole stable of young Italian stallions, some of them as young as sixteen, to keep her regularly serviced.

  “Turn to pages two and three for Gabriella's guide to the juiciest Italian meat-balls and to our middle pages for an exclusive interview with her ex-lover rock star, Wayne Warlock, who spills the beans on their steamy nights of passion. Wayne claims: she really foxed me! We also list twenty ways to spot a sex-change.”

  Vanessa was jubilant. This was even better than she had hoped for.

  'Shall I go on?' she asked.

  Gabriella had turned white. 'The bastard,' she spat the words out, 'the dirty no-good, rotten little bastard.'

  'I assume you're referring to the TV star's best friend Eddie Spittle,' Vanessa said. 'I thought you said you had him under control, Philip?'

  Gabriella turned on Philip. 'Have you been speaking to him?' she demanded.

  'No, of course not,' Philip protested indignantly. I merely agreed to give him the occasional little titbit about contestants on the show. I thought the publicity might help.'

  'Then who's been talking to him?' Gabriella screeched.

  'Well, it says here that you revealed all about your Italian toy boys in an exclusive interview with the said Eddie Spittle,' Vanessa said.

  Gabriella nearly threw herself across the table and tore the newspaper from Vanessa's hands. She frantically scanned the pages. 'But I never said anything about… '

  'You mean you agreed to an interview without consulting me?' Philip gasped.

  'It was my agent's idea, he thinks I need a higher profile,' Gabriella said as she read. She dropped the newspaper on the table. 'As I thought, I didn't say anything to him about my operation. I'll sue him and his newspaper until they beg for mercy.'

  'But you can't,' wailed Philip. 'It will all come out about you and me and …' his voice tailed off.

  'You and Gabriella…' exclaimed Vanessa. It was getting better by the minute.

  'Philip was very kind to me when I was a young boy. He helped me to pay for the operation,' Gabriella said defiantly.

  'So you knew Gabriella when she was a man?' Hugo asked incredulously.

  'I was a mere boy at the time,' Gabriella interjected, 'and a very beautiful one at that.'

  'Not nearly as beautiful as you are a woman,' said Fergus, patting her arm. Gabriella was beginning to interest him even more.

  Vanessa looked across at Philip. He had suddenly aged. His hands trembled as he put some pills into his mouth.

  'What about the show?' Rosie asked in a quavering voice, 'Surely we can't go ahead now?'

  'Nonsense,' Vanessa said briskly. 'The publicity will make everyone in the country switch on. People love watching freaks.'

  Gabriella stood up, her eyes glittering. 'I am not a freak. I am a woman and more of a woman than you'll ever be,' her voice cracked as she spoke. She swept out of the room.

  'Rosie, get after her and make sure she doesn't leave the building,' snapped Vanessa.

  Philip made a strangled noise and clutched his chest. Rosie and Heather rushed over to help him.

  'It's nothing, it'll pass,' he gasped feebly waving a hand. 'Do as V
anessa says, Rosie, get after Gabriella and don't leave her alone.'

  The telephone shrilled. Vanessa grabbed it. 'Yes?'

  It was the receptionist. 'I have about thirty journalists and photographers down here. They want to see Miss Wolfe.'

  Vanessa thought quickly. 'Tell them no interviews before the show, but if they'd like to come to the recording, they're welcome. I'll send someone down with some tickets.' She put down the receiver. 'The vultures are gathering. They smell freshly killed meat, so let's give them something to gorge on. Heather, take about thirty tickets down to reception and then show them to the hospitality room.'

  Heather was holding a glass of water to Philip's bloodless lips.

  She looked indignantly at Vanessa. 'I think Philip needs a doctor.'

  Philip motioned her away.

  'I'll make sure he's all right, just get down to reception,' ordered Vanessa.

  'But if I give them thirty tickets, that'll mean one of the coach parties won't be able to get in,' Heather protested.

  'Refund their petrol or something. For heaven's sake woman, use your brain, but get rid of them,' yelled Vanessa shrilly.

  Heather scowled at Vanessa but hurried out of the room.

  'Well, what are we going to do about the show?' Hugo asked. 'We're rehearsing in fifteen minutes.'

  'I'll go and talk to Gabriella,' croaked Philip and with a superhuman effort, got to his feet. 'She knows what she has to do. She's an old trouper. She won't let me or the side down.'

  'I'll come with you,' Hugo said as Philip walked unsteadily out of the door.

  Vanessa looked at Fergus. He was reading the article about Gabriella and chuckling to himself.

  'What a remarkable woman, quite remarkable.'

  Thirty

  Philip knocked softly on Gabriella's dressing room. Rosie peered warily round the door, her eyes red-rimmed.

  'Will she see me?' Philip asked in a low voice.

  Rosie nodded and opened the door a fraction more to let him in, but she shook her head as Hugo tried to follow. Hugo shrugged and wandered off down the corridor, his electronic organiser in his hand.