The Go-To Girl

by Louise Bagshawe

  ‘Leave those alone!’ Janet says in horror.

  ‘Lily, be reasonable,’ I plead. ‘We’re friends. Be supportive…’

  ‘Supportive?’ Lily shrieks. ‘What are these?’ she demands, holding up the most exquisite, delicate pair of pale green high heels decorated with dark green ivy-leaf straps. ‘These are bloody Patrick Cox, that’s what. And she’s got eight pairs of Manolos! Why should my debts go begging?’

  ‘They won’t fit you,’ I say hastily. ‘Janet’s a different size to you.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ agrees Lily spitefully. ‘What size feet?’

  ‘Five and a half,’ Janet says.

  Lily tosses her hair. ‘I can’t wear those big clod-hoppers, I’m a four. Narrow,’ she adds.

  Janet breathes a sigh of relief.

  ‘But that’s not the only thing you’ve got,’ Lily says. ‘What about accessories? Let’s look at your handbags. Louis Vuitton. I quite like that one. Fendi baguette. So yesterday. Chanel … Chanel … you don’t have any, I’ll take this Coach one and the Louis Vuitton and I’ll have this Gucci one and the Doone and Bourke … and these Kate Spades,’ she adds triumphantly, loading her arms with all Janet’s handbags.

  Janet starts to cry again.

  ‘Don’t be so wet,’ says Lily. ‘I’ve left you the Fendi baguette, though personally I wouldn’t be seen dead with it. And I’ll have that DKNY you’re using right now,’ she says, reaching for it.

  I smack her hand.

  ‘Ow!’ Lily yelps.

  ‘Leave those alone,’ I say. ‘You can put them all back.’

  ‘These are in lieu of rent,’ Lily snaps. ‘She owes me a month’s notice.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ I say. ‘I’ll pay her rent for next month and you can consider this your month’s notice.’

  ‘Anna, you can’t,’ says Janet tremulously. ‘She can have the Kate Spades.’

  ‘I’ll expect it on the first,’ Lily says coolly.

  ‘No need to wait that long,’ I say, reaching for my coat. ‘I’m taking Janet out to dinner and then I’ll come back with both our rent money. And it’s one month’s notice from me too. I’m leaving as well.’

  ‘Fine, see if I care,’ Lily says, flinging Janet’s bags back in her wardrobe in a heap. ‘You’re both just a couple of losers and I can’t wait to get rid of you. Of course you’ve landed on your feet, Anna, but I wouldn’t count on it lasting with Charles,’ she hisses. ‘One of these days he’s going to wake up and see sense!’

  * * *

  I take Janet round to Bella Pasta.

  ‘I can’t possibly,’ she protests. ‘All the complex carbs! Pasta’s refined flour.’

  ‘You can eat now if you’re not going to be a model any more.’

  Janet looks hopeful. ‘You think? But won’t I just explode?’

  ‘Not from the odd spag bol, no,’ I promise her.

  ‘I do like pasta,’ she admits.

  ‘You’ll eat like an almost normal person,’ I say, ‘and perhaps you’ll go up to a size ten. You’ll still be skinny. However little you eat you’ll never look like Lily.’

  ‘Why was she so horrible?’ Janet asks.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. I order a couple of Diet Cokes and a grilled chicken salad for me. ‘But it’s a chance for you. A fresh start. And maybe you should think about your wardrobe, you know. You could sell a few things on Ebay and raise quite a bit. That Fendi baguette, I bet you’d get a couple of hundred for it.’

  ‘It is so yesterday,’ Janet says solemnly. ‘I could sell that one.’

  ‘And maybe a few of last season’s shoes? You wouldn’t wear them anyway.’

  ‘Yes,’ Janet says thoughtfully. ‘That is a good idea.’

  ‘And you’ll call your parents,’ I say. ‘And we’ll get you a job.’ Suddenly I have a brilliant thought. ‘Ooh. Janet. You were quite good at the history of pottery, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I just couldn’t make the pots.’

  ‘And the art history?’

  ‘I got an A in that one,’ she says rather proudly. ‘A grade A A-level. Me!’

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘Maybe you can’t do any art yourself, but I bet you could work in it. What about a museum guide or something?’

  ‘I think you need a degree,’ she says.

  ‘Yeah, maybe. Well, something in art. And after you call your parents you should call Ed.’

  ‘But I don’t want to tell him,’ she says pathetically. ‘He won’t fancy me any more.’

  ‘Of course he will,’ I say.

  ‘Do you think Lily’s right?’ she asks, all worried. ‘I mean, it does look like he doesn’t have any money.’

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t care about that.’

  ‘I don’t, I still really like him,’ she says.

  ‘You don’t need a man to take care of you, you know,’ I say gently. ‘You can actually make some money of your own.’

  ‘Do you like working?’ Janet asks suspiciously.

  ‘I did,’ I sigh.

  * * *

  When we get home Lily has stormed off out for the evening, leaving a huge pile of bills on the coffee table with what we owe marked out in big red letters. I write out a cheque and leave it on her bed. I write ‘Janet and Anna’s last month’s rent’ on the memo section, just in case she tries anything funny.

  I really don’t understand that girl. Why is she so nasty? You would think Janet had slapped her round the face or something. Oh well. One more month and I’ll never have to see her again.

  ‘I think I’m going to bed early,’ Janet says weepily. ‘If that’s all right with you.’

  For a second I panic. I want to stop her; after all, if I’m looking after Janet I won’t have to think about myself.

  ‘That’s fine,’ I say. ‘You get some rest.’

  I sit by myself on the couch and try to take stock.

  OK, I’m fired. I’ve spent all the money I have in the world. After the clothes, that rent cheque wiped me out. I can’t get another job because Mark Swan’s shadow is looming over me everywhere I go. And I’m in love with a man who’s already got a girlfriend, a girlfriend who’s much younger and prettier than me.

  And I’m engaged to a multi-millionaire who’s devoted to me.

  I look down at my ring. It glitters beautifully in the twilight.

  Then I pick up the phone and call Chester House.

  ‘Miss Anna, how nice to hear from you,’ Mrs Milchen says. ‘But Mr Charles ain’t here. He went back to London this afternoon, miss. He’s in the flat, I reckon.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Milchen,’ I say.

  I pick up my bag and ride our coffin-lift down to the street, hail a taxi. I get inside and settle comfortably into the seat, wondering what the hell I’m doing. No job, no flat, and now no man? I must be certifiable.

  But I know I’m not. I know what I have to do. Yes, Swan doesn’t want me, I must have been kidding myself to ever have thought that was a possibility. And yes, Charles has almost everything a girl could wish for: he’s rich, he’s generous, he’s kind …

  But I don’t love him. And knowing now that I can love someone, really love them, I’d rather be alone than settle.

  But it’s still hard. I feel the tears rising, try and fail to choke them back. I’m about to pull the trigger on my whole way of life. A couple of weeks ago I was in the film business, marrying into luxury, living in a flat with two friends. Now I’m about to go home to my parents, man-less, job-less, and moneyless. And what have I got? New make-up, hair and a pile of clothes.

  But the thing is, as superficial as it sounds, I quite like myself in the new clothes, with the new look. I don’t feel unfeminine. I think maybe that that’s why I’ve got the strength to go and see Charles now, even without any other options. I owe it to him to pull the plug before it gets any worse, before he spends another penny on me.

  Ugh. I really hope he’s home.

  I pay the taxi, climb out onto the pavement.
It’s a cool autumn night and I press the bell. I shiver, but mostly, I think, not from the cold.

  ‘Hello?’ comes Charles’s disembodied voice.

  ‘Charles, it’s me,’ I say, teeth chattering. ‘Can I come up?’

  There’s a pause, and instantly I know he knows.

  ‘No problem,’ he says dully. ‘Come up.’

  * * *

  ‘And I suppose I can’t change your mind?’ Charles asks, stiffly, when I’ve finished. He’s sitting next to me on his beautiful nineteenth-century chaise-longue, and he hasn’t burst into tears or anything, but I can see the pain etched deep all over his face.

  I feel sick. People give me pain, I don’t give it to other people. Especially not nice ones who have never done me any harm, and only tried to help me.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You know, this other chap isn’t available.’

  I nod.

  ‘You might end up with nobody.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you’d rather be with nobody than with me, I see,’ says Charles, and now his eyes do fill with tears, but he makes a manful effort to blink them back and I pretend I haven’t noticed.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I say desperately. ‘It’s just that I thought I could do without being in love, and I can’t.’

  ‘I see.’ Meaning he doesn’t.

  ‘Charles, women have always used you,’ I say passionately. ‘And you’re better than that. You don’t deserve to be used for your money. Or your good nature, which is what I’d have been doing if I’d stayed.’

  ‘You’ve every right to hold out for better,’ Charles says bravely.

  ‘It’s not better, it’s just different,’ I say. ‘Look, has it ever occurred to you that you deserve better too?’

  ‘I don’t want better, I want you,’ he says.

  ‘No you don’t,’ I tell him. ‘And that’s the problem. You don’t find me at all attractive. You didn’t notice when I bought all new clothes and had my hair cut.’

  ‘Was that the problem?’ he asks, stricken. ‘That I didn’t pay enough attention?’

  ‘No, it absolutely wasn’t. You’d have paid attention if you’d fancied me.’

  ‘But what does that matter, when I loved your personality?’

  ‘Charles, you didn’t,’ I cry. ‘You loved the idea of being married, having a wife who wasn’t after your money, having a family life. We’ve nothing in common! You know what your biggest compliment to me was? That I was a good listener. You were just lonely. But there’s someone out there for you, someone really nice, who you can also love. Not like me.’

  He takes this in but doesn’t respond for a moment.

  ‘So what will you do?’ he asks, eventually.

  I shrug. ‘No idea. Go back to Mum and Dad’s for a bit. I have to, I’ve no money.’

  ‘I can give you some money.’

  I squeeze his hand. ‘Thanks, Charles, but no. Although that’s really sweet of you.’

  ‘Sweet,’ he says bitterly. ‘I don’t want to be bloody sweet.’

  ‘I can find you someone,’ I promise.

  ‘But they’ll still be after my money,’ he says.

  ‘Not the right girl. You’ll … you’ll just know.’

  ‘And what about you, Anna?’ he asks. ‘What about you finding the right man?’

  I sigh. ‘I already did, but he’s taken.’

  Charles says, ‘I’m going to get us both a drink.’ He gets up, goes to fetch some of those glorious cut-glass tumblers, and hands me a giant whisky. I prefer mine with Coke, but any port in a storm, right?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, after I’ve knocked back a giant swallow. I think of Janet, and Lily’s viciousness, and Kitty, and my job interviews, and Charles’s folders full of wedding ideas, and my eyes brim over. ‘I’m just really sorry.’

  He says, ‘You have to tell him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This Swan chappie. You have to tell him.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, I’ll never say anything. He’s got Michelle. She’s much prettier than I am.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he says. ‘You look fine.’

  ‘You never fancied me,’ I point out.

  ‘Not as such,’ Charles admits. ‘But he did. I saw it in his eyes. Don’t you think I can tell when another chap’s after my woman?’

  That makes me feel awful again. ‘I’m so…’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he says briskly. I can see he’s still hurting, but he’s pulled himself together. ‘Not your fault. You never wanted to be with me and I talked you into it. I don’t regret that, you know,’ he says fiercely. ‘I still think we could have been happy. And I had to ask.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Which is exactly why you need to see him,’ he says. ‘Can I give you some advice? As a friend.’

  ‘You are my friend,’ I say. ‘My dear, good friend.’

  ‘I hope I am,’ he says. ‘You risk only a little…’ he pauses. ‘Perhaps a little embarrassment, shall we say, if you ask him. And at the very least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you tried. I had to ask you, Anna. I had to try.’

  I can’t help it, I start crying again.

  ‘Be brave,’ he says. ‘Tell him.’

  * * *

  I sleep late the next morning. Exhausted and drained, I finally stagger into the living room at about eleven, to find Janet, in much better shape than before. She’s got a copy of Loot open on the table, she’s washed her hair and put on her best white jeans and she looks absolutely sensational.

  Better than that, she looks happy.

  ‘I called my parents,’ she said. ‘They’re a bit tight right now, but they said they could lend me a thousand. That’s a start, isn’t it? And I called a few of those agencies.’

  ‘Which ones?’

  ‘The older ones. The catalogue ones. Don’t tell Lily,’ she adds, shyly. ‘She’ll only laugh. But I took my portfolio in to the Elegance agency and they said they could get me work starting tomorrow. They said I had a “perfect look” and I could make loads.’

  ‘That’s great,’ I say, with a sigh of relief. ‘That’s great, Janet.’

  ‘I mean, a job’s a job, right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And Ed was really nice to me. Even though I got sacked. I even told him about modelling for the catalogues and he didn’t laugh or anything. Actually, he said he was coming straight round. We’re going out to lunch.’

  ‘See? I knew he’d be like that,’ I tell her.

  ‘I was wondering,’ she says diffidently. ‘D’you think I could borrow just another fifty quid? To pay for lunch. I mean, he doesn’t have any money, does he? I’ll pay you back as soon as my mum’s cheque gets here.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, forking it over, although I shudder to think what I’m down to now. But as long as I’ve got enough to get me back to Mum and Dad’s, I’ll be OK, I tell myself.

  The door rattles and Lily walks in.

  ‘Oh, it’s you two,’ she says nastily. ‘What are you doing, Janet? Looking for a place in Bermondsey?’

  ‘You’ve got your rent cheque,’ I say.

  She tosses her hair. ‘I guess so. I hope you realize I can start showing your rooms.’

  The buzzer sounds and Janet leaps to answer it.

  ‘Come on up,’ she says. ‘It’s him,’ she says to us.

  ‘Oh yes,’ says Lily, ‘the boyfriend with no cash.’

  ‘Can’t you behave yourself even for ten minutes?’ I demand. ‘If you’re going to sit here and say sarcastic things, Janet will just leave.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lily pouts. ‘I don’t embarrass people, even if they are stabbing me in the back.’

  Janet looks dubious, but she doesn’t have time to do anything about it because there’s a quiet knock on the door and there he is.

  ‘Hi,’ Janet says, smiling hugely. ‘Come on in.’

  Ed enters, passing a hand nervously through his flo
ppy Hugh-Grant-type hair. He’s wearing cords and a dark blue shirt which is a bit frayed, old fashioned enough to have cufflinks, though. His wardrobe could use a bit of updating and so could his hair. But he has a nice smile. That ought to count for something, unless of course you’re Lily.

  ‘Wow, you look awesome, babes,’ he says to Janet, giving her a huge kiss on the cheek. ‘Brought you some flowers,’ he adds, producing some wilting chrysanthemums wrapped in bright orange paper and Sellotape. They probably cost him all of three quid at the local deli.

  ‘They’re adorable,’ says Janet, smiling and taking them. ‘Thanks so much.’

  ‘Hello. Anna,’ he says. ‘You look marvellous too. How nice to see you. And … Lily,’ he adds, staring at her. He goes pink in the face.

  Lily is wearing a string-mesh vest with a nude silk lining that makes her look like a slave girl in chains, coupled with a pair of the shortest, tightest crotch-hugging white mini shorts this side of an arrest for indecent exposure. Her long, flaxen hair is flowing loosely down her back, and her skin, with her endless legs, is perfectly golden like warm toast. She’s wearing a pair of stacked white slides with a sexy little chain anklet with a tiny bell on it.

  ‘Hi,’ she says, without interest.

  ‘So you’ll be seeing Henry soon?’ Ed asks her. ‘He’s a decent chap.’

  ‘Very,’ Lily agrees.

  Ed swallows drily and looks away at Janet. You can see he’s struggling manfully not to gape at Lily.

  ‘How do you know Henry?’ Janet asks.

  ‘Met him through Charles,’ Ed says. ‘Very brave man. Went into the Marines for a couple of years. Rumours of gallantry in Bosnia. Good egg.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lily says sweetly. ‘As good as gold,’ she adds, looking at me significantly. ‘Actually, he’s coming by this evening too.’

  ‘Great!’ says Ed. ‘Maybe we should stick around. We could all go out together.’

  ‘Do you know,’ Lily says coldly, ‘I’m not sure Henry and I would be quite your speed, Ed.’

  ‘No,’ says Janet hastily. ‘Let’s do that some other time. You and me can go out tonight, just us. OK?’

  ‘Oh. Yah. Sure,’ says Ed, rebuffed. ‘Whatever you say.’