Agent Provocateur

by Faith Bleasdale

  It is not until the food is in front of them that Betty broaches the subject of the magazine feature.

  ‘We want a profile, a sort of week in the life of a honey trapper.’

  ‘I hate that term.’

  ‘Sorry. What would you prefer?’

  ‘Detective, specialising in infidelity.’

  ‘But it is known as honey trapping.’ Betty looks at her sharply. ‘Detective specialising in infidelity’ hardly sounds catchy, she thinks, rolling her eyes.

  ‘It is.’ Grace sighs. She realises she will have to capitulate.

  ‘Well, anyway, what we want is to follow you round. I would observe you at work – you know, before a job – and then when you are on a job. Of course I’d keep out of the way-I just want to watch – and then we’ll profile you as well as talk about the industry as a whole.’ Betty sounds more confident than she feels; Grace feels far less confident than she sounds.

  ‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable being followed.’ She wishes she could articulate better.

  ‘I promise you’ll get used to it. I guess photographs would be a problem.’ Betty wishes that she hadn’t said this, as she already knows the answer.

  ‘No way.’ Grace feels her face redden. Then she feels stupid; she is getting upset over nothing.

  Betty looks at Grace sharply; she feels that the tone of voice she used was a little unnecessary. ‘We can do without photographs,’ she says kindly.

  ‘You’ll have to.’ Grace knows that she is being needlessly harsh, but she cannot seem to help herself.

  ‘So, tell me, in theory, how do you feel?’ If you have feelings at all, Betty thinks. Despite her resolve not to be riled by Grace’s job, she is already riled by the woman herself.

  ‘The publicity would be good for business and, of course, I believe that the industry is interesting to women, and necessary, absolutely necessary. I’d like to see a proper proposal, of course, and I’d like to be given some sort of say on the final draft. I also want to run it all by my boss. She set this up with your boss, I believe.’ Grace hopes she sounds like she knows, what she is talking about; in reality she is clueless.

  ‘I’m not sure about final say, but I will ensure that you agree the proposal before you start, and I give you my word that we will stick to the proposal.’ Uptight and whore don’t generally go together, but then control freak and whore maybe do, Betty thinks. She is growing to dislike Grace more by the minute, but she is glad that her instinct was right.

  ‘OK, well, I’ll wait for your proposal and we’ll take it from there.’ Grace can’t explain, what it is about Betty that makes her dislike her so strongly. She certainly didn’t turn up for lunch expecting to feel such animosity towards her. She wonders if it is just intimidation, but she can’t shake the feeling it is something more. However, she will do the piece, she has already decided that. She’ll do it for Nicole.

  After a painful and forced conversation over coffee, Betty signs the bill with a flourish, another action that Grace finds irritating. They get up to leave.

  ‘It was lovely to meet you,’ Betty lies, air kissing Grace’s cheek.

  ‘It was lovely to meet you too,’ Grace lies, wondering if Betty’s blusher will be attached to her face when she moves away.

  When she gets home, the first thing Grace does is call Nicole.

  ‘Hi,’ Nicole says.

  ‘How come you’re always at your desk when I call?’

  ‘I feel like I’ve been grounded! Really, there is so much admin to this damn job that I don’t get to do as much detective work as I used to.’

  ‘Doesn’t that bother you?’

  ‘No, actually. I’m getting lazy in my old age and I like to sit on my arse all day.’ They both laugh. ‘So, how was lunch?’

  ‘You know, this is going to sound really weird, but I get the impression she disapproves of me.’

  ‘Tosh. She doesn’t know you. Grace, you can be a bit paranoid sometimes and sensitive, especially when it comes to people you don’t know.’

  ‘My job is based on my confidence,’ Grace protests.

  ‘Yeah, but your personal life is based on something else. Gracie, I love you, everyone loves you, and don’t you let anyone persuade you otherwise.’

  ‘I asked for a proposal before we agree it.’

  ‘Good. Let’s make them think we’re in the driving seat.’

  ‘But we are going to do this?’

  ‘I told you, it’s your decision. But I would be pleased.’

  ‘Then we’re doing it.’ Grace basks in the pleasure of doing something to please Nicole. ‘That’s my girl.’

  Betty is sitting in Fiona’s office.

  ‘So what was she like?’

  ‘Stunning with a capital S. My God, she’s straight out of our fashion pages. She seemed a bit quiet, not terribly chatty. I’m not sure if that’s because she’s really arrogant or because she’s only used to chatting up men.’ Betty is trying to display her diplomatic side.

  ‘If she’s so gorgeous, it’s a shame we can’t photograph her.’

  ‘No way will she agree to that, or your friend her boss. They’ll lose all their business.’

  ‘I think that’s a bit dramatic, but never mind. You can describe her as stunning; we’ll have to content ourselves with that. So, is it all agreed?’

  ‘She wants a proposal to run by her boss, but apart from that, I think so, yeah.’

  ‘So we can get going soon?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Betty, you’re brilliant. This is going to be a great story.’

  Betty smiles weakly at her boss and hopes that she is right. ‘OK, I’ll go and write the proposal.’

  ‘Will you email it to me before you send it to her? I’m sure it’ll be fine but I’d like to check. You know, I think this honey-trapping thing will really appeal to our readers.’

  ‘You do?’ Fiona seems a little too enthusiastic.

  ‘Yes, and I wish I’d used one years ago to nail my bastard ex.’

  ‘But you divorced him anyway.’ Betty knows that Fiona is going to take this feature personally, which makes it worse for her.

  ‘But I couldn’t get him for infidelity, which was so unfair because he shagged half of London. I think honey trapping is a great industry.’

  Betty sees the glint in Fiona’s eyes and knows that she has no choice but to write a brilliant feature.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday.

  ‘Let’s go to bed.’ Eddie says this with a knowledge that the answer will be no. That does not stop him trying.

  ‘No, Eddie. I’m all dressed up to go shopping.’ Grace is wearing her one pair of trainers, flared black trousers and a-jumper. Eddie is wearing a shirt and some chinos, his normal uniform. Eddie is the older of her lovers, and he has lost most of his hair. He is also a couple of inches shorter than she but she thinks he is adorable. Reliable and adorable.

  ‘I can’t believe you invite me over on a Saturday and you want to drag me round the shops.’ He looks exasperated but is wearing a hint of a smile.

  ‘I need new clothes.’

  ‘You have a million clothes.’ Eddie rolls his eyes. He will never figure Grace out, which he knows is probably why he is still with her. The minute she starts to make sense (which he is sure will never happen) is the minute he falls out of love with her, or infatuation – he is unsure which.

  ‘I need more.’ Ever since she met Betty, Grace has felt that something new is needed in her life. New clothes, new shoes, and maybe a new handbag. A female solution rather than a Grace solution. She thinks it is actually a Betty solution.

  ‘Well, can’t you go on your own and I’ll wait here?’ He is teasing her. He knows he will go with her. He knows that he is grateful for any time she gives him. It does not annoy him, it is merely fact.

  ‘Eddie, I might have to get cross.’

  ‘OK, you win. Where are we going?’

  ‘Selfridges, of course. Where else?’
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  Grace kisses him hard, to thank him, which he appreciates. He puts on the coat he discarded half an hour ago, and they leave. They get into his car; a TVR Tuscan, his pride and joy. Grace teases him about the car, saying it is a ‘chick magnet’, and Eddie responds by saying if that were the case he’d have had her knickers off in there long before now. Grace kisses him when he says this. There is no way there is room in a TVR Tuscan for her long legs.

  They park, having crawled through the Saturday traffic, and go to Grace’s favourite store.

  Two hours later they go and get a coffee in the bar.

  ‘Christ, Grace, I’m knackered.’

  ‘Just how I like my men, completely tired out.’ She smiles as she looks at the bright yellow shopping bags lying loyally at her feet. She has bought herself some trendy outfits; perfect to wear when Betty starts following her around. Or at least perfect for her to almost compete with the amazing outfits that she is sure Betty will be wearing.

  ‘Well, you got me. What do you want to do now?’

  ‘Do you know what I’d really like?’

  ‘No, but I bet it doesn’t involve bed.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. I would really like to go and see a film. I haven’t been to the cinema for ages.’

  ‘OK, but as I came shopping with you, I get to choose.’

  ‘Deal, but if you choose you have to buy the popcorn.’

  They seal their bargain with a kiss.

  A thought keeps popping into Grace’s head and she tries to use the mechanics of her brain to squeeze it out again. The thought is the way that she feels like part of a normal couple. Shopping and a film; a totally normal activity for people in a relationship on a Saturday. Utterly normal. Grace squeezes as hard as she can to expunge the idea. She is not normal; they are not a couple. And that is the way it is. Eddie notices her mood darken, as it so often does when they are together. He also knows to ignore it. It will pass. They sit in front of an action film, Eddie’s choice, lightly touching each other’s hands and sharing a monster bucket of popcorn. By the time they leave, Grace has regained her earlier mood. She is not part of a couple, but that does not mean she cannot enjoy her day out. It does not mean that she cannot enjoy Eddie. She vows to relax more.

  They return to her fiat, where she insists on unpacking her shopping and hanging it up. She even changes into her expensive new jeans and a tight, sexy top. Eddie watches her as he always does.

  ‘Drink?’ she asks, once she’s finished. She is not the best of hostesses.

  ‘Whisky, thanks.’

  She pours him a whisky and pours herself a glass of red wine. She likes the distinction between the drinks of her two men. Oliver drinks brandy or wine, Eddie, whisky.

  They sit on the sofa, with their drinks. Grace feels tired, shopping type of tired, and she rests her head on Eddie’s shoulder.

  ‘You didn’t tell me what happened with the magazine woman.’

  ‘Oh, well, she was quite scary. You know, ultra trendy, really confident. I know I’m confident and outgoing in my work, but for some reason she made me feel really nervous. Actually I turned into a moron, barely able to string a sentence together.’

  ‘I doubt that. Anyway, she probably felt just as nervous.’

  ‘God, no, she wasn’t intimidated at all. She was actually a bit bossy. Anyway, I agreed in principle but asked for a proposal. I said what you said and asked if I could give editorial approval but she said that wouldn’t happen. Gosh, I hope this isn’t going to be a big mistake. Nicole is so excited that I said I’ll do it, I now feel that I’d be letting her down if I back out, but I’m still apprehensive.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know, but this Betty woman is going to be shadowing me and I’m not sure I like that. She’ll probably put me off and cause me to falter on the job.’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid. You’re a pro, Grace.’

  ‘Could you imagine, though? I see her watching me and I fall flat on my face or something equally embarrassing. She might make me say something stupid’ like: “Do you come here often?” ‘Grace laughs, but she is a tiny bit worried.

  ‘Well, if you do fall over, and then give them a crap chat up line, and they fall for it at least you’ll know they’re proper cheats.’

  ‘Could be a new way of doing business.’

  ‘Grace, now, I think you should do this, but first I think you should tell yourself that this woman is only a woman, and maybe you could even be friends.’

  Grace shudders. ‘I’m not good at that.’

  Eddie sips his whisky and puts his arm round her. No, he will never understand Grace, which totally ensures her place in his affections.

  Saturday.

  ‘I love your job, Betts.’

  ‘Me too.’ Betty and Alison lie side by side on massage tables in London’s latest day spa. Betty won the review tickets in a raffle, and while their husbands are playing golf the two women are enjoying a pampering. There is not a paintbrush in sight.

  ‘I might have a steam next.’

  ‘Then a swim. I wish we could come here every week. I would be so relaxed and happy.’

  ‘You’re happy anyway.’

  ‘Yeah, but I get stressed at work, don’t I? And to come here and do this every week would mean I got rid of all my stress.’ She closes her eyes and imagines it for a minute.

  ‘I suppose you could book yourself in for a massage once a week.’

  ‘Yeah, but not here. Have you seen the prices? It’s criminal.’ Betty shudders at the thought of how quickly she could bankrupt herself.

  ‘Talking of criminal, how did your lunch go with that woman?’

  ‘The honey trap woman? Just as I thought, really. She was uptight, absolutely stunning, too confident and sure of herself.’

  ‘And you managed to be civil?’ Alison knows how cutting Betty can be. Although she is not scared of her best friend, she knows many who are.

  ‘I didn’t give her the “I think you’re a whore” speech, if that’s what you mean. I was actually very civil. But I still don’t think what she does is right.’

  ‘Me neither, but then maybe we shouldn’t blame her. After all, it’s the women who hire her who want to test their men and it’s the men who are untrustworthy.’

  ‘But as you said, why not confront them? Seriously, Ali, Grace was incredible looking; having her chat a man up isn’t just slightly tempting, it’s unrealistically tempting, which is bloody unfair. I know Johnny wouldn’t go for it, or Matt, but most men would be so flattered to be chatted up by someone like her that they’d capitulate. Now, if you want to do this sort of thing, give them an averagely attractive woman, nothing special, and then see – not that I agree with that, but you know what I mean. Sending Grace to test your husband is like sending Kate Moss. They don’t stand a fucking chance. Ow.’ The masseuse pounds harder when Betty gets excited. She mentally curses and tells herself to calm down.

  ‘So now you object on the basis that the woman is too good looking? First you were opposed to the whole premise.’ Alison’s voice is soft.

  ‘I still am. I’m just saying that there’s this woman who is stunning and knows it, and I know that the only reason she does the job she does is because she likes seducing other women’s partners. It gives her massive ego even more of a boost and that is the only reason she does it.’

  ‘It’s going to be a fair interview then?’ Alison laughs at Betty’s intensity.

  ‘I just say it how I see it.’ Betty giggles too. Massage really is good for relieving stress.

  After the spa, they make their way back to Alison’s house where they are meeting their husbands. Betty flings her arms round Johnny.

  ‘Good game?’ she asks, planting a kiss on his slightly flushed cheek.

  ‘No, I lost.’

  ‘I won,’ Matt pipes up, as if there is any doubt.

  ‘Talk about mass humiliation, losing against him,’ Johnny adds, wrapping his arms round Betty. ‘Um, you smell gorgeous.’
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  ‘Massage oil.’ A rush of love fills her. She knows that she is the luckiest woman in the world, but still she cannot understand why Grace and her honey trapping bothers her so much. Johnny is the one man she is certain of, the one man who wouldn’t capitulate to the charms of Kate Moss or anyone. She is so sure in their love, she really is. So why are her thoughts behaving so irrationally?

  ‘Do I smell gorgeous?’ Alison asks, sidling up to Matt.

  ‘Can’t smell anything but my own success,’ he replies, but gives her an affectionate squeeze anyway.

  ‘We’ve decided that we need to have a massage once a week,’ Alison says.

  They are sitting at Alison and Matt’s small round dining table, and eating tuna steaks cooked by Alison with a warm rocket salad. Alison is a far better cook than Betty, although most people are better cooks than Betty. She can manage pasta and baked potatoes but would rather not try anything more adventurous than that. Johnny isn’t much better. Their local takeaways benefit from this fact.

  ‘Which means we’re free to play golf,’ Matt says.

  ‘We’re turning into boring marrieds,’ Johnny bemoans. ‘The men play golf, the women go to the beauty parlour. Shit, we’re middle-aged.’ Although he doesn’t sound too serious, his outburst visibly upsets Betty.

  ‘We’re not, we’re only in our early thirties,’ she protests. She will defend their lifestyle at all costs. She loves it so much that anyone criticising it makes her nervous; especially if that anyone is her husband.

  ‘I know, in order for us not to feel so old, let’s have a party.’ Johnny suddenly sounds excited, although it is not as spontaneous as he is making out.