Going Too Far

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘Oh yes, they’ll toss you the occasional aspirin as you writhe around in agony.’

  ‘Aspirin!’ I gasped.

  ‘No, idiot, you can have an epidural; it paralyses you from the waist down.’

  My eyes grew wide with fear.

  ‘Oh, not permanently, at least not in most cases, although my sister knew someone who –’

  ‘Thank you, Pippa,’ I said quickly, ‘I’d rather not know.’

  ‘Oh, it’s perfectly safe as long as it’s put in by a competent anaesthetist, and as long as they can get it in in time, of course.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well, you might not make it to the hospital: you might drop the baby in the back of the car, or on the bus or –’

  ‘Oh thanks, really dignified.’

  ‘Well, don’t you remember Jane Hutchinson’s sister? Hers popped out in Sainsbury’s car park! Luckily the car-park attendant had done a St John Ambulance course so he had a vague idea and managed to sort of pull it out, but God’ – she rolled her eyes dramatically – ‘she’d have been snookered if it hadn’t been for him.’

  ‘Oh terrific, so if I get some oily car-park attendant officiating at what should be the most poignant and moving moment in my life I should count my blessings, is that it?’

  ‘Well, you have to be prepared for all eventualities,’ said Pippa sagely. ‘I mean, what about Kate Rawlinson?’

  ‘What about Kate Rawlinson?’ I said warily. I had the impression Pippa was getting a vicarious kick out of dredging up these horror stories. ‘Had hers in a public loo, did she? With the lavatory attendant as her birth partner?’

  ‘Oh no, she was in hospital, but she wasn’t on the labour ward because they thought she wasn’t going to have it for ages and it was only when a passing doctor stuck his hand up to check everything was OK that he discovered the baby was on its way and the cord was wrapped round its neck!’

  ‘Is that good?’

  ‘Of course not, you idiot, it could strangle itself! No, it was awful, but luckily the doctor managed to slip his fingers under the cord to stop it getting any tighter, but then they had to somehow get her to the labour room which was two floors down!’ Pippa’s eyes were shining now as she relived the horror. She leaned forward. ‘So guess what?’

  ‘What?’ I muttered nervously.

  ‘Well, the doctor had to keep his hand right up – literally elbow deep – and they pushed her into the lift with him still attached and then when they got out they had to run really fast down loads of corridors, and she was bouncing around all over the place and this doctor still had his hand right –’

  ‘Thank you, Pippa, that will DO!’ I screeched with my hands over my ears. ‘I simply don’t want to know about any more nightmare deliveries if it’s all right with you. I mean we’re here for God’s sake: our mothers must have done it, there must be some women who have these things without a hitch, mustn’t there?’

  Pippa pursed her lips and gave this some thought. Eventually she shook her head. ‘Not to my knowledge, Polly.’

  I sighed. ‘Oh well, I’ll manage somehow I suppose.’

  I sank back on the sofa and had just about rested my head when the phone rang, making me jump. It was right by my ear but I simply didn’t have the energy to swing around and get it. Pippa reached over and picked it up.

  ‘Hello? … Oh hi! … Yes, she is, hang on a minute.’ She clamped her hand over the mouthpiece and grinned. ‘It’s the father of your unborn child!’

  I ground my teeth together. ‘Which one?’ I hissed.

  ‘The married one!’ Her grin was getting bigger.

  ‘Pippa …’ I eyed her dangerously.

  ‘OK, sorry, it’s Sam.’

  I glared at her as I took the receiver, hauling myself over on to my tummy and up on to my elbows. I felt like I had a sack of potatoes on my head.

  ‘Hello?’ I said weakly. Surely we’d said all we had to say?

  ‘Hello, Polly?’ He sounded anxious. ‘Listen, you haven’t by any chance got my case, have you, only I think I left it in the taxi.’

  ‘You did, and I have. It’s right here actually.’ I eyed the fiercely trendy silver case sitting under the table next to my legs and aimed a vicious little kick at it.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness for that, what a relief, I thought I’d lost it! Thanks for picking it up, could you possibly ask Pippa to bring it in with her tomorrow?’

  ‘Sure, I was going to do that anyway.’

  ‘Great, thanks so much. Oh, and, Polly’ – he lowered his voice slightly, ‘listen, there’s some pretty confidential stuff in there regarding the company, so if you could give it to Pippa in the morning when she leaves, rather than now, I’d be grateful, only I don’t really want her to, well –’

  ‘To look? Sam, as if she would!’

  ‘No, no, of course not, silly of me even to mention it, but you know what it’s like – some people like to snoop a bit, not Pippa, of course, but – well, you know!’ He laughed nervously. ‘Thanks, Polly …’

  ‘Not at all, goodbye, Sam,’ I said, with what I hoped was grim finality.

  I put the receiver down, leaned across and picked up the case. I swung it round by its handle. Big mistake, Sam, big mistake.

  I grinned across at Pippa. ‘Guess what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This here case contains some awfully crucial information pertaining to your company, Pipps.’

  ‘Oooh, really? Is that what he said? Hang on, I’ll just go and get a yoghurt and then we’ll open it, shall we?’

  ‘Thought you might say that.’

  She crammed the last of the evil-smelling salami into her mouth and dashed out to the kitchen for some nice sour milk to taunt me with. The moment she’d gone the phone rang again.

  ‘Pippa!’ I yelled.

  ‘Can’t you get it?’ she bellowed from the kitchen, but dashed back, grumbling, to pick it up.

  ‘Hello? … Oh hi!’ She clamped her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘It’s the father again.’

  ‘Sam?’

  ‘No! Guess again!’ She giggled. I could see she was finding this hard to resist.

  ‘I’m going to kill you later!’ I hissed.

  She composed herself with difficulty. ‘Sorry, it’s Nick.’

  ‘Nick!’ I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘What does he want?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know – talk to him, for God’s sake. He’s not going to eat you!’ She rammed the receiver into my trembling hands.

  ‘H-hello?’ I whispered.

  ‘Polly? It’s me.’ He sounded fierce. ‘Look, I got some convoluted message from Mum saying you’d gone off to London to investigate the burglary, is that right?’

  ‘Well, I just thought I’d –’

  ‘Well don’t. For God’s sake, it’s not for you to poke your nose into this – it’s the police’s job – and apart from anything else it could be bloody dangerous. She said you had some harebrained idea about going to see Bruce. I couldn’t believe it! You haven’t seen him yet, have you?’

  ‘Oh, er, no, no, of course not.’

  ‘Good, I absolutely forbid it. Who knows what state of mind he might be in? If he’s guilty, he’ll be furious at being caught and if he’s not guilty he’ll be bitter as hell at being arrested. If you go skipping round there offering tea and sympathy, he might just go ballistic, so don’t go, OK?’

  A tiny glimmer of hope shone out of a very dark sky. ‘No, darling, I won’t, and sweet of you to worry.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Polly. I just don’t want to have to pick up the pieces, that’s all.’

  I gulped. ‘Oh. Right.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Um, how are you, Nick?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said shortly. ‘Except that a fox got into the chicken run last night and killed most of the laying stock – that didn’t improve my temper, I can tell you.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said lamely.

  ‘Yes, eleven dead
and feathers everywhere. Doesn’t exactly add to the gaiety of nations, does it? Incidentally, have you found anywhere to live yet? Sarah said there was quite a nice house over at Polzeath.’

  I couldn’t speak for a moment.

  ‘Polly?’

  ‘Y-yes, that’s right, I’ll go and look at it when I get back.’

  ‘Good. No rush, but decent houses don’t hang around for long, you know – it’ll get snapped up. Anyway, remember what I said about Bruce. Goodbye.’

  He put the phone down.

  I lowered the receiver back into its slot, feeling awfully sick. Tears welled in my eyes.

  ‘What happened, what did he say?’

  ‘He – he asked me if I’d found anywhere to live,’ I whispered. The tears began to topple over the brink.

  ‘Oh! Oh dear. Is that why he rang?’

  ‘No, he rang to tell me not to go and see Bruce.’

  ‘Bit late for that.’

  ‘Exactly, but don’t tell him. He thought it might be dangerous.’

  ‘Well, that’s good news,’ Pippa said brightly. ‘He obviously cares, don’t you think?’

  ‘He might care enough not to want to see me decapitated but he doesn’t care enough to want me back, that’s for sure,’ I whispered. I wiped my wet face with the back of my hand and sighed. ‘Said he didn’t want to have to pick up the pieces.’ I slumped back on the sofa. ‘He was awfully terse.’

  ‘Oh well, you know Nick, he’s not exactly the gushing type, is he? At least he rang. Now come on, buck up,’ said Pippa hastily, trying to ward off a fresh flow of tears. ‘Let’s have a look at this.’

  She picked Sam’s case up from under where I’d dropped it, pulled it up on to her lap and flipped the lid open. I watched gloomily as she rifled through the papers. I’d completely lost interest now, and, anyway, it all looked deadly dull to me. Nick, my Nick … he’d sounded so cold, like a stranger. And he wanted me out of the way as soon as possible. I stared into space, trying to gulp back tears as Pippa flipped through the papers. Every so often she’d exclaim as she came across a new snippet of gossip.

  ‘Oh really? Gosh, that’s interesting – a merger’s possible apparently … oh, with Bazooka Films … Hey it looks like Marion’s finally going to be fired, ’bout time too – she’s lazy and good-for-nothing. All she does is paint her nails – ooh look, his Filofax. I bet he’s lost without this.’

  She went to put it back but I grabbed it from her.

  ‘Polly!’ She looked shocked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not going to look at it, are you?’

  ‘Well, you’re going through his case.’

  ‘That’s different, a Filofax is – well, it’s like a diary.’

  ‘Oh don’t be silly, it’s just a notebook really – ooh look, photos.’

  ‘That’s Sally,’ said Pippa, instantly abandoning her principles and peering round over my shoulder. ‘Pretty, don’t you think?’

  ‘Very,’ I said, staring at the rather shy-looking girl with long blond hair and freckles who smiled back at me from a deckchair in her garden.

  ‘And that’s not actually awfully good of her,’ said Pippa, ‘she’s a stunner in the flesh, oh look, there’s one tucked in behind it, maybe that’s better.’

  She pulled out a tiny snapshot. ‘Oh!’

  ‘What?’ I peered over. ‘Oh! Golly.’

  It was a photo of Serena Montgomery. We stared at the picture, then at each other.

  ‘How very odd …’ said Pippa slowly. ‘What on earth d’you think he’s doing with a picture of her in his wallet?’

  ‘Could it be for casting purposes, or something? I mean he does use her quite a lot in his films, perhaps it’s to remind him what she looks like?’

  ‘In his Filofax though? Behind a picture of his wife?’

  We gazed at each other.

  ‘Pippa, you don’t think …’

  ‘Oh no. Surely not. He doesn’t even know her that well, at least that’s what he says.’

  ‘Makes quite a point of saying it too, doesn’t he?’ I said slowly. ‘Always telling someone how he doesn’t know her very well and doesn’t like her much either. Odd how she crops up in all his films and commercials though, isn’t it? Methinks he doth protest too much.’

  Pippa looked shocked. ‘But, Polly, he’s a happily married man!’

  ‘But is he, Pippa? I mean, the more I think about it the more I wonder. I saw him at lunchtime today and to be honest he was desperate to have an affair with me, and if he’d have one with me, well, why not other girls as well?’

  ‘But I thought he said it had never happened before, that you were the first?’

  ‘He did, but then if you think about it, he would, wouldn’t he? He’s not going to admit he’s always played around with other women, is he?’

  ‘I suppose not … Golly, I always thought he was happily married.’

  ‘I’m beginning to think he’s about as happily married as Prince Charles.’

  ‘So you reckon he’s cheating on Sally?’

  ‘Well, of course he’s cheating on her, we know that much from the high jinks he got up to with me, so why not with Serena too?’

  ‘Crikey. Serena.’

  We stared at the photo. Pippa shook her head. ‘I don’t know, they just seem so unlikely …’

  ‘Only because he pretends to bitch about her so much, but when you think about it – glamorous film director, beautiful actress, what could be more obvious?’

  Pippa raised her eyebrows. ‘What indeed?’

  We peered at the photo again. It was a tiny black and white shot of Serena sitting by a pool, no doubt in some exotic location, throwing back her beautiful blonde hair and laughing into the camera, displaying perfect white teeth.

  ‘You’ve got to admit, she is pretty gorgeous,’ said Pippa. ‘I suppose he just couldn’t resist her. I expect he was bowled over by her when they were away shooting somewhere, just couldn’t help himself.’

  ‘Mmm, she’s certainly got the capacity to twist men round her little finger. Look what happened to Nick: he went out with her for ages before he saw the light. Still, Serena and Sam. That’s quite a turn-up for the books, isn’t it? I wonder if his wife knows?’

  ‘Doubt it,’ said Pippa. ‘I’m sure she thinks he’s totally faithful – oh God, there’s the phone again, it’s like the blasted BT exchange tonight and I bet it’s not for me either.’ She reached across. ‘Hello?’

  I tensed up, wondering which of my possible impregnators it might be this time.

  ‘Oh hi, Amanda, how are you?’

  I relaxed. Thank goodness. I stared down at the photo again. Sam and Serena. Who would have thought? I had a quick flick through the diary section of the Filofax and, sure enough, now and again I spotted a discreet little ‘S’ in the lunch and evening sections. And to think, he’d been hoping to pop a little ‘P’ in as well. He really was a bit of a lad, wasn’t he?

  ‘Polly? Yes, she’s right here, hang on.’

  I looked up. ‘For me?’ I mouthed. She nodded. I frowned and took the phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Polly, it’s me, Amanda, how you doin’?’

  ‘Er, fine, fine thank you.’

  ‘Good. Listen, I wondered if you’d got time to meet me for a quick drink, only I need to have a little chat with you about this an’ that.’

  ‘With me?’

  ‘Yeah, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Er, sure. When did you have in mind?’

  ‘Well, I’m still at work but I’ll be driving past Pippa’s place at about nine o’clock, so why don’t I meet you down the Scarsdale?’

  ‘Tonight? Why not tomorrow or –’

  ‘Can’t wait, I’m afraid, for one thing I’m off on location tomorrow, but apart from anything else I’ve gotta get something off me chest.’

  I froze. Jesus! I swallowed hard. ‘Er, righto then, I’ll meet you there at nine. Um, what’s it about, Amanda?’

 
; ‘It’s about Sam. See you later, Polly.’ She rang off.

  I replaced the receiver slowly and stared at Pippa.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  I licked my rather dry lips. ‘She wants to meet me,’ I whispered, ‘to talk about Sam.’

  ‘What about Sam?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, do I? But – oh God, Pippa, she sounded really odd, really – well, cross actually.’

  ‘But why doesn’t she just come here for a drink?’

  ‘I think she wants to see me alone,’ I whispered. ‘Oh, Pippa, I think I know what this is all about – she’s going to kill me, I know she is!’

  ‘Don’t be silly, why on earth should she do that?’

  ‘Because I’ve seen the way she looks at him.’

  ‘At who?’

  ‘At Sam! She’s having an affair with him, I’m convinced. Or she’s had an affair with him and he’s spurned her, or she wants to have an affair with him or – or something, anyway, I’m absolutely sure of it. She’s found out about our night of passion and she’s coming to get me!’ I went cold. ‘Of course! She saw me dancing with him in Annabel’s and she probably saw us leave together – oh, Pippa, what am I going to do?’

  Pippa looked very confused. ‘But … I thought we’d decided he was having an affair with Serena?’

  ‘Well, why not Amanda too? I mean, he slotted me in, so why not her as well?’

  ‘But –’

  ‘And don’t tell me he’s happily married!’ I shrieked. ‘The man’s clearly a sex maniac. He should be in that clinic in Hollywood, the one Michael Douglas went into for sex addiction; he’s quite obviously a nymphomaniac!’

  Pippa frowned. ‘I think only women can be nymphomaniacs.’

  ‘Typical, if it’s a woman she’s a maniac, if it’s a man it’s something medical, an addiction – but, oh God, Pippa this is awful, she’s coming to sort me out!’ I wrung my hands in terror.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Amanda’s not violent.’

  ‘How d’you know? She’s from the East End, isn’t she? I mean, that’s where her roots are and that’s where the underworld is. She’s coming to warn me off, fill me in – d’you know what she said? She said she wanted to get something off her chest, that’s probably rhyming slang for dead meat or something.’