Despite the banter, Faith and I avoid eye contact.
I’m plating up Lucy’s requested chickpea and aubergine curry – Toby’s phallic vegetable, curried for Faith’s date with a chick – as Faith ogles Lucy from behind. Pugsy, capturing it all up close with his camera, verges on visible excitement at the prospect of some girl-on-girl action.
Wearing a figure-hugging, lace-up black dress and vegan leather boots, Lucy shimmies her tushy towards his lens. Laughing, Faith professes that if ever a bottom were to turn her, it would be her’s.
Guffawing in response, I speculate it’s more likely a good tongue cuts the mustard with ‘the turning’ Faith is referring to, prompting Lucy to lick her lips, juicily, at me.
Joanna beams like the Cheshire Cat at our sultry performances.
Poppy waves her hand over the small dishes of curry and rice in the manner of a seventies game show host.
From where he’s standing, behind the cameras, Harry smiles at me, gorgeously, for the second time today. Albeit we haven’t spoken since he was at my flat on Saturday, he’s kept me informed via text. So far, there’s been no word from Alex.
Harry’s unyielding support is keeping me together – I’m grateful he isn’t so petty to be holding anything against me, unlike my best friend. In my more cynical moments, I remind myself he is on commission. To some extent, I do pay Harry to be nice to me.
I’m in such deep deliberation that I don’t notice how close Lucy has sidled beside me, behind the kitchen bench on set.
‘I love a bit of spice,’ she says. Dipping her finger into a bowl of cumin, she licks it clean. Then taking my curry-stained-from-cooking index into her hand, Lucy manoeuvres it into her mouth, whereon – with Pugsy’s camera right in close on us –she sucks it as if it isn’t a finger at all!
My blue eyes peel back.
Removing my finger from her orifice, I grit my teeth and smile.
‘Cumin: a nutty flavour,’ Lucy laughs, ‘with somewhat bitter undertones,’ Faith, for the first time during the shoot, looks directly at me. ‘A penetrating aroma with hints of lemon, it does have an intensity to it. A most versatile spice. Great with vegetables – and meat – alike.’ With a wink to camera, I dip my finger in the little bowl and lick myself clean.
Then, with a reminder to our viewers to log on to our website for recipe details and to follow us on our new Twitter account – to my great relief, we now have a team managing social media on our behalf – I wrap the episode.
Robin calls cut and the crew erupt in applause.
Harry saunters over and gives me a hug. It’s so healing, I almost forget the trouble I’ve caused and the embarrassments he’s witnessed. I could stay safely in his arms forever. Instead, I pry myself free.
Without sticking around to talk to anyone about anything, I flee for the gym and then to home.
When I get in, I call my mother. I can’t tell her everything that’s going on. But I need to talk to someone.
I update her with a PG version of events. There’s much to share, even in the watered-down version.
When I tell her about Jordan having another girlfriend already and me ditching all his stuff to the rubbish, she says, ‘I’m sorry to hear that Grace. But you dodged a bullet. Let him be her problem now.’
When I spill some of the story about Alex and how I almost impaled him, my mother bursts into a fit of giggles. For the first time since the incident, I see the funny side and laugh, too. She’s in disbelief that Jordan was eating cat food. She reiterates I dodged a magazine spray of shrapnel that are Rhiannon’s problems now.
I tell her how wonderful Harry has been, as my agent. My mother remarks how attentive Harry is, for an agent. I recount the night at The Tricycle Club – again, the filtered version. She says it doesn’t sound like I romantically threw myself at him at all. ‘You asked him to dance, dear. I’m quite sure the poor chap has no idea you meant anything more by it. And with all this business, he must be wondering what’s really going on with you and Jordan. Talk to him, Grace. What have you got to lose?’
My dignity, for starters. What is it they say a woman should never do – oh yeah, chase a man. If Harry were to reject me when I make perfectly clear that I like him as more than my agent and friend, I’d be crushed. I’m not brave enough to try.
‘Mummy, it’ll be complicated even if it works, because we have to work together.’
‘I don’t know that I agree with that,’ my mother says. ‘But it sounds like you’ve got enough on your plate to deal with right now. So in any event, something to park for later.’
She is dismayed to learn Faith and I have fallen out.
‘Is there a chance, dear, you feel Faith is stepping on your toes? From what you’ve told me, your nose could be a bit out of joint?’
The tinge of jealousy I’d felt. My mother is, of course, spot on.
‘Mummy, it’s Faith who says her nose is big.’ My incredibly juvenile response, prompting my mother to sigh down the line. ‘But, of course, she’s perfectly beautiful.’ She is. Faith is perfect and beautiful, in every sense. She’s amazing. ‘I don’t want to take anything away from Faith, Mummy. I just… don’t always want to be me. And now I don’t know how to unwind how awful I’ve been. She’s my best friend. I can’t believe we’re not even talking.’
‘Oh, Grace. Dear. I’m going to tell you something I’ve not mentioned before. I almost left your father once, when you were a baby,’ my mother says. ‘I was an older mother, as you know, and you came as a complete surprise. I loved you to bits, but I wasn’t coping. These days, they call it postnatal depression, but back then, it wasn’t talked about. Everyone just got on with things. Beryl was the only person who even noticed.’
‘Beryl?’ I’m unable to hide my shock.
‘Beryl being Beryl, she’d made me so mad over something I can’t even remember, and before I could control myself, I’d blurted everything out to her, my torment and my guilt. She just stood there and took it all. Then she told me that life was tough but I was tougher. That this little baby that I didn’t know what to do with would make me happy, but first, you’d make me strong. Beryl came to the house every day after your father left for work and cleaned the place and changed your nappies and bathed you. Most days, she also forced me into the tub to wash. She’d leave before your father got home. She did this for a few months until, one day, I told her she could stop coming. As if by magic, I felt okay again. Beryl never breathed a word to anyone. Not even, after all these years, with me.’
‘Mummy, I never knew,’ I say, overcome with emotion.
‘Oh, dear, there was nothing for you to know. You’re a blessing and a joy to me and your father. My point is, over all our years of friendship, Beryl has mostly been a crotchety old thorn in everyone’s backside. But when I needed someone, she was there. That’s what friendship is, dear. It’s about who shows up. Since Beryl became a widow, I’ve tried to return the favour.’
‘Mummy, that’s lovely.’
‘It’s love.’
‘With Beryl, tough love, nonetheless?’ I laugh.
‘Yes.’ She laughs too.
‘What if it’s Faith who makes it hard, sometimes, to be me?’
‘Jealousy is only poisoning yourself, Grace. The Faith I know has always been your biggest cheerleader. I’m sure there’s no good reason to compare.’
I ruminate on this the rest of the evening.
Something I know I need to fix inside myself.
The next morning, I’m regaling Liz with the story of Lucy fellating my finger during the show. Liz is absolutely tickled.
‘From the simple days of Gracie Porter’s Gourmet Get-Together,’ she muses, finishing her tea. ‘Goodness, it’s got my juices flowing again. Such tales you tell me these days, Gracie. I look forward to writing this week’s column.’ As Liz chuckles, her face wrinkles most attractively. ‘Shall we order wine?’ she asks, apropos of nothing.
‘Oh? I’ve, um, been trying to abstain.’
‘I said trying, Liz.’ I smile. ‘To be honest, I could do with a wine.’
‘If I’m not poorly influencing you?’
I order us two glasses of Pinot Grigio without delay. When the waitress delivers them to our table up the back, Liz enquires, ‘Any particular reason you’re in need of a drink?’
‘We’re off the record?’
‘Completely,’ Liz assures me. ‘Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.’
I sip slowly. Liz has always been good to me. I trust her and I value her opinion.
‘Where to start? Do you happen to know a journalist by the name of Alex Sutcliffe?’
‘I know he was fired off a paper years ago.’ Liz sips her wine. ‘Barely a journalist.’
‘Right. So, I’ll jump straight to the bit where the little snot is blackmailing me. Or threatening it. I’m not sure what he wants, but he has some compromising photographs of me.’
‘Naked photographs?’ Liz, who has twice interviewed a prime minister, is pink-cheeked.
‘Worse.’
‘Worse than naked?’
‘I think so, yes.’
I spare Liz no details. It takes a while, but I tell her all about Jordan, about Harry, Alex, Faith, Bip and Ban, about the drugs, the photographs – everything. In greater detail than I’ve shared with anyone, I unload on Liz.
When I’m done, she offers me a solemn, ‘That is quite the tale – and I’ve heard some in my time.’
‘I’m sure.’ I swallow the last of my wine. ‘As I say, every bit of it, regrettably, true.’
Liz frowns and pushes her smart black-rimmed glasses up her nose, thinking.
‘I might have an idea that takes care of those photographs.’ The corners of her flint-grey eyes crinkle. ‘And, perhaps, some of your other conundrums to boot.’
I dare say Liz has heard it all in her time. If she says she has a plan, I want to hear it.
‘Shall I get us more wine, Liz?’
‘I think, given the circumstances, one more is still in moderation.’
I motion for the waitress to bring us another glass each.
‘Right, here goes my thoughts on all of this…’ Liz begins.
My turn to listen.
28
I leave Liz with a bold plan in mind regarding Alex and his terrible photographs. Strolling through to St James’s park, I take the time to walk off the wine. The flower beds are in early bloom. The tulips, primroses, hyacinths and daffodils usher in their annual show. Though it’s getting onto dusk, people wander, enjoying the surroundings. Couples. Parents with infants in pushchairs or toddlers feeding the ducks. Some, like me, are alone. I amble past the elegant little lakes, the thatched hut and the graceful pelicans perching on their rocks. My hand clasps around the pink quartz crystal Zelda gave me. I’ve been carrying it with me often lately, for luck. Love isn’t ever perfect; I remember Zelda telling me.
Squeezing the stone inside my palm, I know what I have to do.
Cutting back through Mayfair to Covent Garden, I arrive at Faith’s door.
I buzz her intercom.
‘Hello?’ She’s in.
‘Hello, it’s me, Gracie. Can I come up?’
Across the street, a couple walking by stop and huddle. I’ve been spotted. It’s happening more and more lately. I wave. They wave back and move on.
I buzz again. ‘Faith?’
‘I heard you the first time.’
I’m considering leaving when the door clicks ajar.
I take the stairs to the first floor. Faith is waiting for me on the landing outside her entrance.
‘Hello.’
‘Hey.’ Faith doesn’t smile. And she doesn’t invite me in.
‘Faith, I’m here to apologise, unreservedly, for everything.’
This evening, Faith’s eyes gleam with flecks of golden amber. She looks at me for some time before she lunges forward. Holding me so close to her, she says, ‘Oh Gracie, I’m so sorry.’ Tears stream down her face.
Soon, mine too.
We break our embrace.
‘I’ve been a nightmare,’ I say, wiping my eyes.
‘Crashing Jordan’s work party, not your finest hour…’ Faith laughs, wiping her own.
I laugh. ‘No.’
‘Attacking Alex with your umbrella.’
‘He deserved worse.’
Faith cackles. ‘Agreed.’ Her expression sobers. ‘Darling, you scared the life out of me. I wanted to snap you out of it. I never meant for you to think I didn’t care.’
‘I know.’
She was perfectly supportive, but I didn’t want to hear it. ‘I was jealous of you,’ I confess hurriedly, lest I lose my courage. ‘I haven’t always been. But I have been lately.’
‘I was sometimes full of sanctimonious bullshit and acting like a style gestapo and always thinking I know best… and whatever else you accused me of.’ Faith grins sheepishly. ‘That was on me.’
‘Love isn’t ever perfect, Faith,’ I say. ‘But you’re perfect for me. You’re my best friend and I love you.’
‘Well, you’re still completely bonkers and you’re perfect for me, too. You still make me laugh.’ Faith bursts out cackling. ‘Bloody hell, these past few months… we have to laugh, Gracie. Don’t we?’
On the landing outside her flat, we giggle through our tears and hug each other until Faith says, ‘Come inside. Darling, I’ve missed you.’
In her living room, Benny lounges under the big window watching the world go by below, outside. I plop on a stool at the kitchen bench. Faith produces a bottle of Riesling from her refrigerator. ‘It’s German. And very tasty.’ Faith opens the wine. ‘Oh Gracie, I kept replaying in my head how you accused me of being perfect, meanwhile we’re shooting an entire series about my failure to find just one man, so how does that work? You know, I’ll be thirty-four in two months.’
‘I’m not long after you.’
‘We’re getting on, darling. I can’t say I’d mind settling down with someone decent soonish.’ Something I’ve never heard Faith contemplate. ‘I’ve been reflecting on a lot of things.’ She pours two glasses of the dry white and passes one to me. ‘I know I can get a man to sleep with me, but I’ve never been brave enough to see if anyone wants to stick around. I’ve never stuck with anyone long enough to find out. Isn’t that a little sad?’
I know what she means. Not the knowing I can get a man to sleep with me, obviously. But her words resonate. A man who wants to be with me. That’s what I’ve been missing, too.
‘I get it, Faith.’
‘I envy how fearlessly you put yourself out there, Gracie.’
‘I wouldn’t say fearlessly,’ I correct her swiftly. ‘And I wouldn’t say to any great success. More like a glutton for punishment. A bit bonkers, I believe you said.’
‘I said completely bonkers. And you are brave. Like no one else I know.’
I’m set to fob Faith off with a self-loathing one-liner, but I stop myself. I stop myself from beating myself up. I haven’t always made the wisest choices. But it’s true: I’ve given things a go.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
Faith clinks her wine glass against mine.
‘I will try with Toby,’ she announces. ‘I will be brave, I will be honest with him, and I will try.’
‘I wish you well, Faith. He’s gorgeous and lovely. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know he won’t be ditched in under a month. I really am so confident for you. Go for it!’
‘Okay. I will. And you’ll hold me accountable if I waiver?’
‘Deal. By the way, I have some interesting news.’
‘Go on.’
‘I’ve just come from seeing Liz Martin and you won’t believe it, but I think she has a plan that finally finishes off my problems with that snake Alex Sutcliffe.’
‘Really? Tell me all.’ Riesling in hand, Faith settles on the stool beside me.
I don’t know how I missed it earlier, but
there’s a packaged Rabbit vibrator on her benchtop. The attached pink Post-it note reads, Enjoy! Love, Lucy xxx.
‘Lucy is sending you sex toys?’ I ask, side-tracking our conversation.
‘Um, I suppose.’
‘Are you guys…’
‘You mean girls.’
‘Faith, are you sleeping with Lucy?’
She raises her eyebrow and watches me squirm. ‘We kissed – but that’s it. But what a kiss! Kissing a woman… it’s a whole other experience. You should try it at least once.’
‘I had enough with her finger sucking, Faith. But good for you.’
‘I was tempted to go further,’ Faith carries on. ‘There was a bit of groping and fondling. My goodness, Gracie, you’re actually blushing!’
‘I do have one question,’ I say, glancing at the Rabbit – a big pink dildo with, according to the packaging, a gun-shaped clitoris-tickler on top.
‘Truly, the best vibrator for pleasuring one’s self. I’ve got one already,’ she says. ‘You can have this one.’
‘I’m, um, good, thanks. Where did you meet Lucy?’
‘You don’t remember? She was one of the women who entered the competition. It was her and “Mitch the Bitch”.’
I remember Mitch, Michelle Stevens, who’d christened herself with the bitch moniker, we didn’t put that on her. Her close-shaven head resembled a fuzzy bowling ball atop shoulders wider than Duncan’s.
‘Shall we go out and get a bite?’ Faith suggests. ‘Mexican? You can tell me all about Liz’s plan over a strawberry daiquiri.’
‘Yes.’
We’re preparing to leave when Faith’s mobile rings. Her mouth agape, she flashes the caller ID at me: King Neptune. Maximilian Modacious, blockbuster superstar, is calling Faith. I can’t believe she diverts the call to voicemail. Putting her phone on speaker, we listen to the message together.
‘Faith, babe, Maxi Modacious. Sorry I couldn’t make your shoot. I’ve just seen your picture – you and me, woulda been bodacious…’
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