‘You’re a great boss but you’re sneaky.’
‘Speak to you later, Grace.’
Betty sits on the bus, enjoying the sensation of non-crowded travel. She is replaying the morning in her head. She knows she overstepped the mark, but again, desperately doesn’t want to think that she is at fault. She was only asking what everyone would want to know. That is her job. She is a journalist. Fully justified, she turns her thoughts to what to wear that evening. She wants to prove to Grace that she is comfortable, and the only way she can do that is to be herself, rather than a sad woman desperately trying to compete with Grace. She decides that she will put on her scruffy jeans and a sparkly top, and so look trendy rather than smart. That was the mistake she made today; in trying to be someone she wasn’t she didn’t feel totally comfortable and Grace sensed that. She nods at herself in satisfaction.
Her thoughts stop abruptly when she realises the bus is pulling into her stop. She ticks herself off for nearly missing it. Then she smiles to herself and gets off.
The first thing she does when she returns home is to pull out her chosen outfit. Then she spends some time looking for Cyril, who seems to have gone out for the afternoon. Feeling loving, she leaves a note for Johnny, telling him she misses him. Then, finally she decides to call her editor and tell her, honestly, how her first day has gone.
‘It’s Betty. Can you put me through to Fiona?’
‘Betty, are you with her?’ Fiona is whispering for some strange reason.
‘No, of course not. I’m at home, changing before this evening’s job.’
‘Oh, how exciting. Very James Bond. Are you going in disguise?’
‘No, I’m just observing. Fiona, are you all right?’
‘Sorry, just getting a bit carried away. Anyway, how is it going?’
‘Not brilliant. She doesn’t like me.’ Betty tries not to feel guilty, because it’s not really a lie – Grace doesn’t like her – but that is probably Betty’s fault.
‘Why on earth doesn’t she like you?’
‘I don’t know. She’s very defensive, you know. I ask her a question and she goes off. It’s going to be difficult.’
‘But you’re going on a honey trap tonight?’ Fiona sounds unmoved.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose. But, Fiona, it’s going to be really hard to work with someone who doesn’t like me.’
‘I know, but, Betty, I also know you can do it. In fact, I’m relying on you to do it. After all it’s only a few days. Keep up the good work.’
There is no way out.
Betty is standing at the buzzer. It’s five minutes after five. Grace’s voice flows out from the intercom, announcing that she will come down. Betty reties her scarf. It’s not that cold, but the scarf adds to the overall effect. She fluffs her hair a bit, thinking that her thick, unmanageable mane is actually looking quite good for once. Then she rolls her eyes; anyone would think she is going on a date. That is the way she’s behaving. The hours spent poring over her outfit and the hours spent on her hair and make-up – she is almost angry with herself about it.
Grace opens the door and smiles. All her earlier hostility has been left in the flat. She decided, after speaking to Nicole, that she would do whatever she needed to do to be nice to Betty. She is a little taken aback by Betty’s outfit. She is wearing amazing jeans, which although scruffy, look as if they are supposed to be that way. They are the sort of jeans that Grace has only seen in magazines. On her top she is wearing a red sparkly thing, which crosses one shoulder and ends at different places around her midriff. Again, this is the sort of top that Grace would never feel confident enough to wear. Finally she notes the denim scarf that matches her jeans almost perfectly, and her bright red high-heeled boots. Grace is still smiling whilst taking all this in, but inside she feels horribly inadequate. She feels both old-fashioned and old, whereas Betty looks like she is young and going clubbing.
‘I like your hair,’ she says, not sure how to comment on the rest of the outfit.
‘Thank you. You look great.’ Betty is being polite; she doesn’t sound truly natural although she does mean it. Betty thinks that Grace does look great. She might not be trendy, but she knows how to make the most of her many assets. She is wearing a suit, a suit that on anyone else would look just ordinary, and perhaps boring, but it flatters Grace. The jacket seems to cling to her shape, the skirt rests above her knees, showing only a glimpse of her thighs. The high-heeled shoes with ankle straps make the outfit a bit naughty. Betty is impressed (even if she doesn’t want to be) at how Grace has put the outfit together. It says so much without being obvious. She has to concede that she does not look like a whore, more like a businesswoman.
‘As it’s after work, I am posing as a businesswoman.’ Grace reaches into her handbag and pulls out a pair of glasses, which she puts on.
‘Don’t tell me, a prop?’ Betty cannot believe that Grace still looks just as sexy in glasses. It makes her think of her own glasses at school, thick NHS ones, which made her look anything but sexy. She feels angry with her again.
‘Yeah, I like them, though. I know it sounds silly but when I’m getting ready to go out and I’m doing that business woman in town for a few days thing, I like to wear glasses. I have no idea why.’ Grace starts to walk down the street, while Betty tries to decide how to process that last piece of information.
Grace hails a cab and Betty gets in. She immediately pulls out a notebook and starts writing.
‘Do you feel as if you’re acting?’ she asks.
‘Yes, but there’s no script and there’s much more than a director’s reputation at stake.’ Grace smiles, and Betty marvels at the way she sees her life, but can’t help a tiny bit of admiration creeping into her thoughts. It doesn’t last too long. ‘Here’s a photo of the man I’m looking for. He’s a forty-five-year-old accountant. He’s divorced and living with his current girlfriend, who was his mistress before the divorce. Now, it, seems she’s had a huge attack of paranoia that he will do to her what he did with her.’
‘Sounds like that’s what she deserves.’ In Betty’s world view, mistresses are worse than honey trappers.
‘Maybe, but that’s not for me to judge. I am simply going to see if he is the cheating type. Then she can make up her own mind what she wants to do.’
‘But, surely, it’s obvious; once a cheat, always a cheat.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe he married his wife because he thought he was in love and then really did fall in love. You don’t choose who you fall in love with.’
‘Maybe you don’t,’ Betty concedes. ‘Anyway, who would want him? He’s got more nasal hair than anyone I’ve ever seen.’ With that they both laugh, and almost relax.
They arrive at the first bar and Grace walks in. Betty waits outside for five minutes. She is going to watch Grace in action from a distance and she certainly doesn’t want to be sullied by getting involved. When she walks inside, Grace is standing at the bar, positioned in the middle. She is flirting with the barman, who seems to be delighted to be flirting back. After a little bit of banter (that Betty can’t hear) the barman presents Grace with a glass of champagne. Betty is sitting at a table and, watching Grace take a sip, she realises that she doesn’t have a drink, so she goes to the bar. She stands next to Grace, who smiles. Betty requests a tomato juice (no drinking on the job for her), and she makes a mental note to ask Grace about the champagne later.
‘He’s not here yet,’ Grace whispers. ‘I’m going to give it half an hour and then we’ll try the other bar.’ Betty nods surreptitiously, and looks at her watch. She can’t help but feel a little bit undercover, and as such she also feels a tiny fleck of excitement. Not that she would ever tell Grace that.
It is nearly six. She takes her drink back to the table that luckily still belongs to her. To pass the time, she pulls out her mobile phone and sends Johnny a text message, checking the bar every now and then for activi
ty. After half an hour and about one hundred messages she notices Grace walk past her, gesturing for her to follow.
Once outside, they speak.
‘I think we should go to the next bar. If he’s not there, then we’ll wait and come back here later. It’s all we can do. If he doesn’t turn up, then I’ll have to call my boss and let her know. It does happen sometimes.’
‘Are you sure it’s OK for us to be seen together?’ Betty is getting more into the cloak and dagger routine.
‘Well, you can follow me if you like.’ Grace looks amused as she gives Betty directions to the next bar and sets off before her.
The first thing that Betty notices as she opens the door to the bar is how crowded it is. The second thing she notices is Grace pushing her way to the front of the bar. Thirdly, she sees a group of five men; the victim is one of them. She cannot help but feel a slight thrill as she makes her way to the bar, and decides on the way that perhaps she could have a glass of wine. She isn’t the greatest drinker, but one or two glasses she can take. She tries to catch Grace’s eye at the bar, unsure if Grace knows the man is there, but Grace is resolutely refusing to look her way. Betty watches her take her glass of champagne to a ledge located near the group of men, but not too near. She is probably going to observe him for a while, the way she said she does. Betty finds a space to stand, but nowhere to sit. She is wishing she hadn’t worn her boots, because they are beginning to hurt, but she has a good view of both Grace and the men, and she settles herself to watch.
After what seems an eternity, Grace approaches the group with an unlit cigarette. She says something, and four men all reach into their pockets and pull out lighters. The victim does not. Grace takes a light from one of the men, but establishes eye contact with the victim. Betty shuffles forward a bit, intrigued by the way she works.
Conversation is happening. Grace seems in the middle of the group, and although Betty has no idea what she is saying, she hears the men laughing. Then she starts to move away, but turns round as someone says something. Betty realises that one of the men (but not the victim) has offered to buy her a drink. Grace has her drinking companions for the night. She stands with them for a long time and finally, after two more drinks, she seems to be talking to the victim. Betty wishes she could hear what is being said, but she cannot risk moving nearer. Two of the men leave. There are three now, and it is nine o’clock. Betty can barely believe how quickly the time seems to have gone. She still hasn’t drunk her glass of wine, she is so absorbed in observing.
She looks around the bar, and sees that it has emptied without her noticing. She finds a seat, and her feet are grateful. It is so smoky that her eyes are beginning to sting, but she barely noticed that before. People are definitely merry by now – the after-work crowd that always go for one and stay for several. She knows that Johnny sometimes goes out after work and comes back plastered, and she wonders if he would be in a bar like this.
She pulls her attention back to her honey trapper. Grace is now talking only to the victim. The other men are looking the worse for wear, but are still trying to muscle in on the conversation. She sometimes lets them, other times she does not. Betty can see that she is totally engineering the situation, though she still cannot hear a word she is saying.
He whispers something in her ear. She nods, then walks away. She goes to the ladies. She returns later and Betty almost misses it, but sees her put something in his pocket. She immediately thinks it’s drugs, and feels confused. Then to her surprise, Grace says goodbye to the men, allowing her look to linger on her victim and walks past Betty out of the bar.
After a few minutes, Betty gets up and follows her out, but can’t see her. Then she notices a black cab, stopped a few feet away. She walks to it and gets in.
‘What happened?’ Betty desperately wants to know. Her curiosity is genuine and she has forgotten to be judgemental.
‘It’s normal when there are a group of men. He whispered to me, asking me if we could meet later when the others weren’t around and asking for my phone number. I realised that while he didn’t mind his friends seeing him flirting with me, he didn’t want them to know that anything more was going on, so I went to the ladies, scribbled down my phone number and slipped it into his pocket.’
‘You gave him your real phone number?’
‘Of course not. I should have explained. Each job is different, but I keep a couple of pay as you go mobiles, and take them with me. If further proof is needed then I’ll give the man the number. Tomorrow it will be in the bin. I charge it to the client, of course.’
‘But isn’t it proof enough that he asked for your number?’
‘No. I need him to call me and ask me to meet him. That is what this particular client wants.’ Grace pulls out a mobile and starts to dial.
‘What if he’s trying to call you?’ Betty asks. In answer, Grace pulls out another phone and lays it on her lap. She still feels adrenalin pumping from the job, as, surprisingly, does Betty.
‘Nicole.’
‘How did it go?’
‘I gave him a number. He was with some colleagues and didn’t want them to know. If he calls me and asks to meet, is that enough?’
‘Yeah. If he doesn’t call you, then there will be a happy client. But if he does, then the job is done.’
‘I can go home and wait then.’
‘You might not even make it that far.’
‘I’ll call you later.’
‘Sorry. I don’t know where you live.’ Grace turns to Betty.
‘About two miles away from you. If we go to your flat, I can take the cab on.’
‘OK.’ Grace shrugs.
Just before they reach Grace’s street, her second phone rings. Betty almost jumps out of her skin.
‘Hello, Susan speaking.’ This is news to Betty, who has no idea who Susan is. ‘Oh, hi, you ditched the others then?’ Grace’s voice is syrupy sweet. ‘Well, it is very late. I’m not sure. Oh, what the hell, I’m only in town for a couple of days. Will you come to my hotel?’ After a while, she hangs up.
‘But you’re not going to meet him?’
Grace looks at Betty, then instructs the taxi to pull over outside her building.
‘No.’
‘But you told him you would.’
‘Well, I like to give them an extra present. The idea of the scumbag standing in the bar at the Great Eastern Hotel, waiting for me, gives me a kick.’
‘I suppose it serves him right. Why that hotel?’
‘I told him earlier that that was where I was staying.’
‘What did he say to you?’ Betty is still interested in the details, to Grace’s surprise.
‘He asked me if I’d meet him because he wanted to fuck me, actually.’ Betty looks horrified, as Grace pays the taxi driver and, without another word, she gets out.
Chapter Ten
‘She is such a bitch.’ It’s midnight on day two of the assignment. Betty is at home with Johnny, who has waited up for her. He is wearing his dressing gown and nothing else. The plan was to jump on his wife the minute she walked in the door, but she has other ideas. ‘I know I was a bit out of order, giving her opinions, but I’m a journalist and I could argue that I was playing devil’s advocate. But she gives me this spiel about how she is doing a job and it’s the women who want it otherwise she wouldn’t offer it. She makes out she’s a fucking saint.’ If there was tension on day one, it had nothing on the second day. In fact the first day now looks positively rosy.
‘Christ, I don’t remember seeing you this riled.’
‘Well, you spend two days and two nights with that woman and then you tell me I shouldn’t be riled.’
‘I didn’t say you shouldn’t be, I just said it was unusual.’
‘Well, it’s not unusual because she’s a marriage-wrecking bitch who revels in ruining women’s lives.’ Betty is amazed at how strong her feelings are. She can barely believe that one person could make her feel like this, but Grace has managed to get t
o her in the worst way.
‘But they request her.’
‘Yeah, that’s what she says. Anyway, it doesn’t matter who asks for what, she is a bitch.’ They have come full circle.
Johnny manages to get Betty to come to bed, but she continues talking about the honey-trap woman. Johnny realises that he is out of luck and because of that, he almost hates her himself.
Betty turned up at Grace’s flat at ten o’clock as agreed. Then she asked her all the questions she wanted to ask after having seen Grace in action. She was polite and tried to keep their relationship professional.
‘How comfortable are you flirting, because that’s a big part of your job?’
‘To be honest, I only flirt so easily because I know I am doing a job. Otherwise I’m hopeless.’ Betty didn’t believe her, but she didn’t say anything.
‘There were five men, how did you ensure that you got the right one’s attention?’
‘Eye contact, mainly. He wasn’t the one who was making the moves initially. It was someone else who lit my cigarette, someone else who offered me a drink, but by using eye contact, I managed to get him to chat me up.’
‘You were in control the whole time.’
‘Absolutely.’ The questions were fair, and the answers honest, but things started to go wrong when Grace made a call to a woman whom she was working for that evening. Betty heard only half the conversation, but that was enough.
‘I can’t believe you just said that,’ she said when Grace put down the phone.
‘What?’
‘You said that she wasn’t to worry, you’d be blonde, and you’d talk about stocks and shares.’
‘So?’
‘Well, you’re not testing his fidelity, you’re presenting him with his ideal woman, which is a different matter.’
‘It’s what his wife has asked me to do.’
‘Why not just go as yourself, talk about soap operas and if he still falls for it, then you’ll know.’
‘That is not my brief.’
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