Oliver sits down on the sofa and studies her.
‘You look tired.’ He is concerned. He wants to protect her, but she won’t let him. Grace is the most infuriating woman he has ever come across but he is in love with her, so there is no question that he can walk away. He worries about her, not about her job. He believes that her job is destroying her but also that that is because she is Grace rather than because of the honey trapping. The job doesn’t worry him, but the results of it do. He believes that she is cynical, detached, and terrified because of it. He believes it affects her more than she should let it. After all, it is only a job. However, there is no way of telling her. She is a relatively passive person until you criticise her job. Oliver thinks that Grace is riddled with contradictions, like an old table riddled with woodworm. She cannot get rid of them, but they only serve to make her more attractive – not something most people would say of woodworm.
Grace goes to the sofa, and sits next to Oliver. She leans over and kisses him gently on his lips. Then she pulls back and looks at him. He leans in and kisses her. It is a tender kiss. He reaches his arm behind her head and rests his hand gently on the back of it. He takes her other hand and touches her fingers lightly while kissing her. His eyes are shut.
She falls into the kiss, feels herself changing physically. Her body is warm, her head is fuzzy. She touches his fingers lightly. They feel hot.
Eventually she pulls away. Reluctantly perhaps, but necessarily. Grace’s evenings don’t start in bed, they end there, and so she needs to regain control.
‘Wine?’
‘Sure. I’ll come with you and get the takeaway menu.’
Grace opens a bottle of red wine and pours two glasses. Oliver decides that they will have Chinese takeaway and he orders for both of them. Grace lets him do this. They sit back on the sofa with their wine.
‘You didn’t tell me what happened with that man’s wife,’ he says, sipping his wine without taking his eyes off Grace. He doesn’t approve of her job, but it is important to her, therefore he always tries to talk about it.
‘Nicole said it was horrible. Apparently she was so nice, but so sad. You know, most women don’t hire us unless they’re pretty sure, and I guess that’s why I prove so many of them right, but it’s heart-breaking for them to have confirmation. I guess when it’s just a suspicion they can tell themselves they are being paranoid and you can bet that that’s exactly what the men tell them. Bastards. I wish sometimes they would turn me down. Maybe then I’d feel better.’
‘No sane man would turn you down.’ He smiles, but then sees the scowl appear on Grace’s face, and immediately starts back-pedalling. ‘What I mean is, you just said that they don’t hire you unless they’re pretty sure, so the men you get to meet are all cheaters. You just don’t meet the faithful ones because their wives or girlfriends don’t need to test them. Do you really believe that?’
Grace would like to think that is the truth, but in her heart she doesn’t. The truth is that most men cheat, and that is based on some sound statistics. If it were true that the faithful men never needed to be put to the test, then that would perhaps make the world better, but that is a truth that eludes her. If her clients were convinced, they wouldn’t come to her; they come to her because they are unsure. And all she does is prove that they’re right to be unsure. That is her truth.
‘I do.’
He takes her hand and kisses it.
‘If a supermodel tried to tempt me I wouldn’t be interested.’
‘How’s work?’ She abruptly changes the subject because he sounds too much like a boyfriend.
‘Fine. As usual too busy, but we’re making money and we’re hiring some new people …’ He tries to sound cheerful but he is hurt by her rebuttal.
‘So it’s a nightmare?’
‘A bit.’ The conversation is stilted. There is a cheerful pitch to her voice that sounds fake, and he is trying to cover his feelings, but is unable to string a sentence together. The evening is in danger of disintegrating. This is a typical meeting for Grace and Oliver.
The buzzer saves them, announcing the arrival of dinner. He goes to the door to collect the food and pay while Grace goes to the kitchen to gather plates. Her shoulders are hunched as she reaches into the cupboard; she feels tense. Oliver joins her, carrying two bags, and they begin to serve food up.
‘You’ve got an extra spare rib,’ she says to him, determined to lighten the mood.
‘I’m bigger than you,’ he replies. Grace winks at him and removes the rib from his plate and puts it on to hers. He takes it back.
‘I’m having an extra prawn ball then.’ By the time they take their full plates to the table in the sitting room, they are friends again.
After dinner they clear up and they feed the fish together. Then, scared of any tension reappearing, they go to bed. They make love for a long time, gently and silently. Afterwards he holds her, gripping her tightly as if he is scared she will slip away. They lie like that for a while, until he falls asleep. Then, as per his fear, Grace gets out of bed. She lights a cigarette (she hardly ever smokes) and she sits, tasting the combination of cigarette and salty tears, that for an unknown reason are rolling down her face.
Chapter Four
At six thirty, Betty manages to leave the office. She still has a little bit of work to do, but she takes her laptop with her so she can do it at home. She prefers to work late at night, once Johnny is asleep, rather than stay in the office, and as long as she gets the work done then there can be no complaints about when and where she actually does it.
She says her goodbyes and leaves. Most of the editorial staff are still working, but Betty is no longer a junior so she doesn’t need to worry about impressing anyone. Thankfully, those cruel days are behind her.
She gets the tube home and thinks about all the research she has read. She wonders if she’ll get her case study tomorrow. She wonders what she’ll be like, how open she’ll be and how willing to do the feature. She wonders what sort of person the woman will be. Betty already thinks of honey trappers as brash, confident and bossy. That is the image she has, and although she is dreading the case study part of the feature, she wants to get it underway. The sooner she starts, the sooner she will have it finished. It is confusing her.
She arrives home, her musing having distracted her enough to carry her all the way there. As she puts her key into the front door, her mobile rings. It is Johnny.
‘Hi, hon.’ She cradles the phone under her ear, juggling the laptop and the house key.
‘Hey. I’m going to be a bit late. Shall I meet you at the pub?’
‘Sure. We’re going to Barnie’s. About half seven.’
‘I’ve just got a couple of problems to deal with. I shouldn’t be much past then.’
‘No problem. See you later.’
‘Bye.’ He hangs up and Betty renegotiates the opening of the door.
She picks the mail up off the mat and puts it on the hall sideboard. She isn’t a huge fan of opening the post straight away, because normally it is junk mail or bills. She hangs up her coat, leaves her laptop in the hall and goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She then goes up to the bedroom to change into her jeans.
Barnie's is a bar down the road from her house, only a five-minute walk. It is a regular haunt due to convenience. As she has plenty of time, Betty takes it easy getting ready. She sips her wine as she changes, reapplies her make-up and brushes her long, unruly hair. She clips it back, then decides she looks like a schoolgirl so she unclips it. It doesn’t help that the clips are silver glitter – a sample stolen from the magazine office. She brushes her hair again and, satisfied, she is ready.
Dropping the empty wine glass into the dishwasher, she grabs her handbag and her keys and leaves the house.
It is just getting dark, and it is also warm as she walks slowly to the bar. When she pushes open the door she sees that Alison and Matt are already there.
‘Hi.’ She kisses Aliso
n on the cheek and then kisses Matt.
‘Shit, what is that smell?’ he asks, with a smile. He is always overpowered by Betty’s perfume.
‘Gucci Rush – don’t you like it?’ Betty pretends to be hurt.
‘I think it’s sexy,’ Alison says, shooting her husband a look. Alison is overprotective towards her.
‘It is quite, actually.’ Matt grins, and goes to the bar to get Betty a glass.
Betty gives Alison’s hand a squeeze. She adores her best friend and secretly sees it as one of her biggest triumphs that she got her together with Johnny’s best friend. It is a readymade social life; everyone likes each other equally. This is important to Betty. If she is living in an acute world of coupledom she doesn’t mind. She likes it.
‘It’s quite a nice Chardonnay,’ Matt says, when he returns to the table and pours a glass for Betty.
‘Flash?’ Betty asks.
‘No, quite cheap actually,’ Alison explains. ‘Well, not cheap but not expensive.’
‘Where’s Johnny? I need some football talk.’ Matt stares at the door.
‘He’ll be here soon; he got caught up at work.’
‘Yeah, right.’ He makes a face.
‘Stop being a moron,’ Alison snaps, slapping his arm. She glances at Betty, but Betty knows better than to be bothered by Matt’s suggestions.
‘Thanks, Ali. I was only joking.’ He rubs his arm.
‘Not all your jokes are funny.’
‘Can you two stop bickering? I feel like a mother.’ Betty is used to Matt’s teasing and their constant arguing. Although the arguments are rarely serious, they sometimes seem continuous. Betty wills Johnny to hurry up.
‘We don’t bicker, we discuss,’ he retorts, and kisses his wife.
‘No, we don’t, we bicker,’ Alison replies.
Betty puts her head in her hands and then takes a large swig of her wine. It immediately warms her up.
‘You’re right, this is a nice Chardonnay. Matt, go get another bottle, there’s a love.’
Johnny walks in while Matt is at the bar. He kisses Betty, gives Alison a peck on the cheek, then goes to give Matt a hand.
‘You are so soft, the way you go all cute when you see him.’
‘Piss off, Ali. Anyway, I can’t help it.’
‘You’ve been married for two years – doesn’t the sight of him annoy you yet?’
‘No. Does Matt?’ Sometimes, Betty panics when she thinks her friends are not as in love as she is, but she has no idea why.
‘Only sometimes,’ Ali laughs, just as the men return with another bottle of wine.
‘Did you sort your problem out?’ Betty asks as Johnny refills her glass.
‘Almost.’
‘What problem is this?’ Matt asks, and Johnny explains. Alison makes a face.
‘Guess what, Ali,’ Betty says when the men are safely talking about work.
‘What?’
‘I have this new assignment.’ Alison is envious of Betty’s job at the magazine. She herself works in retail; she is the area manager for a number of stores.
‘Which is?’
‘I have to interview a honey trapper.’
‘What on earth is a honey trapper?’
‘A woman you pay to test your partner’s fidelity.’
‘No way. Tell me more.’
‘Well, say you suspect your husband is unfaithful or capable of being unfaithful, then you pay this woman to tempt him, and if he capitulates you know.’
‘Women really do this?’
‘I’m glad you said that because I’m having a few problems getting my head round it, but yes, women really do it.’
‘Are these women really attractive?’ Alison looks worried.
‘Apparently. I don’t know who I’m going to be interviewing but Fiona says they are all good-looking, as does all the research I’ve read. That’s what I find hard to understand. You’ve got this man and this gorgeous woman who is being paid to tempt him. I think that’s just wrong.’
‘Yeah, but if you thought that your husband was cheating, wouldn’t you want to know for sure?’
‘Johnny wouldn’t cheat.’
‘I know he wouldn’t. I’m being hypothetical.’
‘No. I’d just ask him. What is the point in being in a relationship with someone you don’t trust?’
‘Yeah, but not all men are trustworthy.’
‘I just think it’s sick. I mean, there are other ways of finding out if he’s cheating. I think hiring this woman who is blatantly no better than a common whore to tempt him is wrong.’
‘Shit, you do feel strongly about this.’
‘I know, and I have to follow some woman around for a week or something to do a feature.’
‘When?’
‘As soon as. I’m waiting to hear.’
‘Not talking about the honey trap woman again, are you?’ Johnny asks, joining in the conversation.
‘What?’ Matt asks, and Betty explains again. He pales.
‘I am not sure I like the idea of you women doing that. It shows a lack of trust and respect.’
‘I agree. I’d never do it,’ Betty says.
‘Well, I bloody well would. If you gave me cause, obviously,’ Alison adds with a wink.
‘And obviously I wouldn’t, but I’d rather you confronted me if you had any doubts.’
‘My point exactly,’ Betty agrees, taking another drink.
‘Christ, you’re drinking quickly today. Is something wrong?’ Johnny asks.
‘Not at all. I’m just thirsty. But maybe we ought to eat before I get really pissed.’
‘Good idea.’ Betty and Johnny have one repetitive argument: her ability to get drunk quicker than anyone else and her insistence on forgetting that fact. Johnny doesn’t mind her getting drunk – he’s not a caveman – but sometimes when they’re out and she is tipsy so quickly he finds it embarrassing. He just wishes she would slow down. Betty drinks because she thinks it increases her confidence, not something anyone else thinks she lacks, but she sometimes does.
Johnny asks at the bar for some menus, and he also buys another bottle of wine while he is there. He is tired, and although he happily buys the wine he hopes he won’t regret it when he has to carry Betty home. He is a little bothered himself. He received an email today from an old school friend, Simon, saying that they never seem to have time to see each other and for some reason it made him think about all the people that he hasn’t seen in ages. It isn’t that he even wants to see Simon -they had nothing in common at school and it doesn’t look as if that has changed – it just made him look at his life. It bothers him because he seems to spend his entire life with Matt and Alison and, although he adores them both, he thinks that perhaps they are too cosseted. The problem is Betty. He knows that she likes that about them and he is unsure how to broach the subject. But for now he has a wife to feed, so he tries to push those thoughts away. He will think of something.
‘Anyone want to share some nachos to start?’ he asks, plonking the wine on the table and distributing menus.
‘I will.’ Betty leans over and kisses his cheek.
‘Let’s get two lots then,’ Alison suggests.
Matt nods and pours more wine into everyone’s glasses. ‘So, what are you guys up to at the weekend?’ he asks.
‘Nothing. Nothing planned, anyway. But our spare room needs painting,’ Betty replies.
‘Exciting,’ Matt responds.
‘Yeah, well, you can help us then,’ she bites back.
‘Betty, thanks for the invitation but I think we might have better things to do.’
‘Everyone has better things to do; even I have better things to do.’ Johnny looks at her, and strokes her hand.
‘Um, but when we’ve got a lovely guest room your mother can come to stay more often.’ Betty laughs and strokes his hair.
‘God, can you two stop mauling each other long enough for us to order?’ Matt asks, and they do.
‘I feel dru
nk,’ Betty says, as they get up to leave. Despite the food, she is more than tipsy.
‘You are drunk,’ Matt replies.
Johnny takes her hand and guides her to the door. They say good night and they make their way home.
‘You’re going to have a hangover tomorrow,’ Johnny says, desperately trying not to mind.
‘It’ll be easier to work on the marriage wrecking whore story then,’ Betty says without thinking.
‘How can you be so bothered? Betts, you’ve never been this upset about anything you’ve worked on.’
‘Not upset, couldn’t care less.’
‘Fine. Come on, let’s get you home to bed.’
‘Are you propositioning me?’
‘Certainly not, you lush. I’m going to make you drink water and then I’m going to tuck you in.’
‘Johnny, I feel horny.’
‘No you don’t. You’re drunk.’
Betty giggles. ‘Drunk and horny. Horny, horny.’
‘Betty … I’m warning you.’
‘Oh, you’re so sexy when you’re being strict.’ She giggles some more.
Chapter Five
The alarm beeps at six o’clock. Grace rolls over and snuggles into Oliver, who has reluctantly opened his eyes.
‘Hey,’ he says, kissing the top of her head.
‘Morning,’ she murmurs, kissing his armpit.
‘I wish I could stay in bed with you, but I’d better go.’ He kisses her properly on her lips before moving the duvet and getting up.
‘See you later,’ she mumbles before falling back asleep.
He watches her from the door, knowing that she can’t see him and knowing that if she could she would probably get angry. But that is his indulgence. Instead of a few extra minutes in bed with her, he prefers to watch her sleep. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and he knows that he loves her. He knows that the image of her sleeping will stay with him all day as he works, and he showers, dresses and leaves feeling good about that.
Grace waits for-half an hour before she opens her eyes again. She knows he has left, having heard the door open and close. She knows that he was staring at her, which is why she pretended to be asleep, because she doesn’t know how to deal with it. She gets up and goes to make coffee, feeling uncharacteristically tired. She barely slept, although she knows that she probably slept for longer than she believes, because that always tends to be the case.
Agent Provocateur Page 4