Agent Provocateur

by Faith Bleasdale

  ‘I thought I’d teach her a lesson.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’m sick of people like her, you know, middle-class, safe people, never taken more of a risk than wearing odd underwear once or twice, looking down their noses at me.’ She thinks it might be a good idea to test the water with Oliver, although deep down she knows he will advise against it. For now, she decides to keep the details to herself, until she reaches a decision.

  ‘That’s what she’s doing?’

  ‘Undoubtedly. She practically called me a whore, actually I think she might have done. So I am going to teach the smug married cow a lesson.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Well, let’s look at it logically. This woman hates you because of what you do. And you hate her because of who she is.’

  ‘Where is this going?’

  ‘I’m just trying to think. Grace, do you want to be doing what you’re doing for ever?’

  ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Just humour me.’

  ‘OK, well, no, because when I’m grey and old and have saggy tits and my false teeth fly out whenever I try to talk, I don’t think the men will fall for me.’

  ‘But before then?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You know how we always talk about love and you tell me that you can’t fall in love, which is why you’ll never marry me?’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t want to talk about us.’ Grace feels defensive when Oliver brings up the question of their future.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t just feel threatened by her?’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘Because she is everything you’re not.’

  ‘You mean, she’s normal.’

  ‘Grace, don’t be so defensive. Look at it like this: you are both sitting on opposite sides. You are happy not being married, she is happy being married. She’s the anti-Grace and you’re the anti-her. It’s simple. She probably feels threatened by you and you feel threatened by her.’

  ‘I do not. She’s just vile, that’s all.’

  ‘But you never normally care what people think about you.’

  ‘Well, I do now. I must be getting sensitive in my old age.’ Grace stands up, abandoning the hamper food for a moment, before she decides that having a row with Oliver would just be silly and, besides, she is still hungry. Oliver smiles.

  ‘Let’s not row. I haven’t seen you for ages.’ He leans over and feeds her some pate.

  ‘OK, let’s forget about her and have some fun then.’ Grace looks at him seductively and he is a fallen man.

  Betty is getting ready for her party. She still hasn’t heard from Fiona, and she doesn’t want to think about Grace anymore. She hopes, in the wilds of her optimistic imagination, that on Monday she’ll receive a call from Grace, agreeing to resume the profile. But that is only in her dreams. Now, she still has a major problem on her hands; how to get Grace to agree to let her run the story. How to pacify her rapacious boss, because it is only Fiona’s greed for a good story that is causing her all these problems and now not only is Grace a villain but so is Fiona. Betty feels as if her mind is slowly slipping away.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ Betty is wailing at Alison. She is trying to decide what to wear at the same time as trying to figure out what she is going to do about Grace. Johnny has banned her from talking about it as part of his plan to get her to enjoy the evening. However, Alison knows nothing of the ban. Johnny and Matt have gone to the bar to set up, leaving Betty to discuss her dilemma with her best friend.

  ‘Firstly, pick an outfit. You’re making me dizzy with all this indecision.’ Betty is finding it hard to focus on the party. She would rather be staying in and trying to figure out how to salvage her career. But she refuses to let Johnny down, so she is trying to make an effort. She is also trying to stop herself from moaning, but that isn’t proving easy. Eventually she settles on a pale pink dress and some strappy sandals. The final effect is good.

  ‘I love that dress,’ Alison says wistfully. She envies Betty’s style, which is straight off the pages of her magazine. Alison is far too scared of looking silly so she keeps her clothes simple. When Alison first met Betty, she was fashionable but not overtly so, but she has seen her transform. Now, Alison contents herself with being in her friend’s fashion shadow.

  ‘Yeah, well, I am trying to look good even though I feel like shit.’

  ‘Betty, are you sure you’re not exaggerating the seriousness of this?’

  ‘No I am not! Fiona, who is not coming tonight, thankfully, said that if I don’t persuade Grace to do the profile she’ll demote me.’

  ‘Can she do that?’

  ‘Well, not officially, but she can make me do all the worst stories for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Oh. Well, you could get another job.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have to. I love my job. Normally I do.’

  ‘Oh dear, you really have to get her back on side.’

  Betty looks at Alison but decides to be nice; it is not her fault she is being completely unhelpful.

  ‘Yeah, I do, and I have no idea how.’

  ‘Flowers?’

  ‘I think it might take more than that.’

  ‘Fine, but it’s a start. Why don’t you go to her flat, take flowers and refuse to leave until she talks to you.’

  ‘I’m not trying to woo her.’

  ‘I know, but what else can you do? If you call her, she’ll just hang up. Are you sure you can’t just tell Fiona that you won’t do it?’

  ‘No. I really can’t. I know what she’s like. When she wants something she never lets up and she always, always gets her way. I know what she’d do. She’d put one of the junior writers on to it, just to humiliate me. Shit, I hate her.’

  ‘Fiona?’

  ‘And Grace. I hate them both.’

  ‘So you’re going to turn up to her flat with flowers?’

  ‘I guess I will.’ Could life get any more shameful?

  Betty leaves for the party with the intention of not talking about Grace. She has always managed to work things out; that is the reward for her hard work. She will sort this out; she has to.

  Grace sits upright, having just experienced divine inspiration. She has been unable to sleep and she’s made her decision.

  ‘Oliver, are you awake?’ She knows he is not, but also knows he soon will be.

  ‘What?’ he mumbles, his voice drunk with sleep.

  ‘Oliver, wake up. I know what to do.’

  ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘No, the opposite. I know what to do about smug Betty.’

  ‘And you felt you had to wake me to tell me. What is the time, anyway?’

  Grace looks at the clock: it is four a.m. She decides not to share this information.

  ‘I didn’t tell you everything. Betty’s boss came to see me and I’ve been thinking about it all night.’ She is indignant that Oliver seems disinterested. Although, he is interested, it’s just he’s more afraid of the obsession that she seems to have developed.

  ‘Well, tell me then.’ He knows that the only chance of sleep is if he hears her out.

  ‘I’m going to seduce her husband.’

  ‘Grace, that is evil. You’re not a nasty person normally.’ Oliver is tired and angry. Things are going too far and he does not understand why she is being this vindictive. What he loves most about Grace is that she really is genuinely sweet. Not in a weak way, but in a loveable, amusing, beautiful way. As a character evaluation it is partly true. Grace is not malicious; she is amiable, desperate for approval from those she cares about. But here is another side to her that Oliver, and the other people in her life, do not see, and that is the determined, ambitious side. Not ambitious in a career sense, but in a personal one. In her desire not to have to face the past, and certainly not go back to it.

  ‘Fiona suggested it. She told me that Betty has been telling everyone who�
�ll listen how awful I am, and she suggested teaching her a lesson. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’ll challenge her to a duel.’

  ‘Am I asleep? Am I dreaming?’ Oliver rubs his eyes, but he knows that he has lost. Grace is alert, manic, even. She is living her plan and there is nothing he can do to reach her.

  ‘Not a real duel, but a figurative one. What I am going to do is this. I will agree to do her profile.’ A smile appears on Grace’s lips. Oliver gives up trying to get the story over and done with quickly and, wide awake, sits up to face her.

  ‘Explain.’ Grace explains Fiona’s idea to him.

  ‘I can’t believe it. Hell, Grace, it’s horrible – worse than horrible. It’s evil.’

  ‘Which will serve her right, because she was evil to me. Oliver, I don’t expect anyone has ever picked on you, told you were useless, stupid, boring, that you’d never make anything of your life. Well, that happened to me all the time, and the worst thing was that I nearly believed them. All of them. Whenever I was called a name I thought they must know something I didn’t. My childhood consisted of me being stripped of my entire confidence, and my adulthood has consisted of me trying to build it back up. She tried to take it way again, and I can’t let her.’

  Grace has tears in her eyes and Oliver is startled by her outburst. But he still can’t believe that this woman deserves what Grace is suggesting.

  ‘Then don’t go near her again. Grace, this is madness. You are going to get yourself into trouble.’

  ‘Relax, it’ll be fine. A bet, a bet to end all bets.’ Grace’s composure is back, as if the outburst had never occurred. Although she was reluctant, she has finally seen that Fiona is right.

  ‘What if she says no?’

  ‘Then she’ll be in trouble at work. You see, I really can’t lose.’

  ‘Why is ruining this woman’s life so important to you?’

  ‘She treats me like dirt and she condemns my job.’

  ‘But a bet to seduce her husband? That’s really low.’

  ‘Oliver, I didn’t ask for your approval and if you really want to be like that then you can get out of my bed.’

  ‘Grace, don’t start fighting. We’ll talk in the morning.’ Oliver turns on his side and shuts his eyes, unable to figure just who the woman next to him is.

  Grace faces the other way, worrying that she is doing the wrong thing. She finally falls asleep.

  They both sleep well into the morning. Oliver wakes with a start. He feels disorientated and when he looks at the clock, he feels even more disharmonious. He never sleeps past eight in the morning and it is ten. He remembers the argument with Grace, or the near argument, and he pokes her in the ribs.

  ‘Ow.’ Grace sits upright for the second time.

  ‘I overslept. I have to get going. I’ve to get home, pack and catch a plane to Frankfurt this afternoon.’ His tone is colder than normal and Grace feels it.

  ‘Fine, go then. Leave me to sleep.’

  ‘Like you did to me last night?’ He gets out of bed, pulls on the clothes he has folded neatly on Grace’s chair and dresses. ‘Grace, I really think you’re making a big mistake here. You could ruin her life, sure, but how will you live with yourself?’

  Grace refuses to respond. She tucks her head deeper into her pillow like a child. She hates him for being uptight about what she is doing. She wishes she had never told him.

  ‘I mean it, Grace, this will all end in tears.’

  Oliver leaves the house without looking back. Angry with her, angry with himself for being angry with her. Unable to do anything about it and unsure of why he feels the way he feels.

  Grace sleeps for another hour and then gets up to feed her fish. She is still angry with Oliver. She doesn’t need Oliver to tell her she is doing the right thing. She is independent and as such has learnt to be responsible for her own decisions and her own actions. She cannot expect everyone to understand her; after all, she keeps too much back. But she knows what she is doing, and she knows that it is right. What is most irritating is that Grace has not let anyone get under her skin for years, and now that is exactly where Betty is. All Grace’s men are kept at arm’s length, so that even Oliver storming out will not hurt her – not properly – but Betty is in there, inside, and Grace wants her out.

  Although it is Sunday, she calls Nicole.

  ‘Hi, Grace, what’s up?’

  ‘You sound more like a gangster rapper every day,’ Grace says.

  ‘If I knew what one was I might agree, but I don’t. Why are you calling me? What’s wrong?’ Nicole asks.

  ‘Well, I wanted to apologise for the fuss I made about the MW journalist. I overreacted a bit.’

  ‘Well, she did lose us a client.’

  ‘I know, but I did sort of provoke her by making her get involved in the case.’

  ‘Yeah, that was naughty. So you’re going to do the feature now?’

  ‘Well, I am, but she has to agree to something first.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Grace explains about Fiona’s visit and her realisation that the bet is the way forward. When she finishes, she hears Nicole take a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘My God, that girl has upset you. I’m not sure; are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely, and Oliver has already fed me the lecture so if you want to do the same, then don’t.’ Grace knows she is being a bit sharp with Nicole but she is tired and defensive.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Nicole actually likes it when Grace stands up for herself, but it also worries her. ‘But I would say be careful. And if you really are sure then you have my blessing. But you should question Fiona’s motives for suggesting it and think carefully about it.’ Nicole hears the determination in Grace’s voice and is undecided how to talk her out of it without alienating her.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d approve.’

  ‘I’m not saying I approve, I’m saying I understand. Now, you need to set rules of the bet.’ Nicole also knows that she might be needed at some point to pick up the pieces. She curses Fiona and wonders just what sort of boss she really is.

  Grace takes the piece of paper Fiona left her with her mobile number on it, goes to the study and dials.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Fiona, it’s Grace.’

  ‘Hi, Grace. So have you had time to think?’

  ‘I have and I agree.’

  ‘You agree to doing the feature?’ Fiona’s lips spread into a greedy smile.

  ‘And the bet.’

  ‘Good girl. Now here’s what you need to do …’ Fiona outlines the plan that she has carefully formed, and Grace accepts everything she says. She doesn’t even know if she is doing the right thing but she knows that she is going to do it anyway.

  Grace calls her at three o’clock, the details of her plan now fully formed. She is actually quite excited; Fiona managed to fire her up. She also managed to get her to agree to keep Fiona out of it and make Betty think that the bet was all her idea. Here is the potential challenge her life needs. The challenge no longer offered by her job.

  The phone is answered straight away.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Betty, it’s Grace.’

  ‘Right.’ Betty sounds confused.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me calling on a Sunday, but I thought that perhaps we should talk.’

  ‘Great, great.’ Betty cannot inject the enthusiasm she feels into her voice because a storm is raging in her head. Grace doesn’t notice; she is too caught up in her plans.

  ‘Can you meet me for breakfast at nine tomorrow morning? Same place as last time.’

  ‘Of course. Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘We can talk tomorrow.’

  ‘Right. Can you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you give me a clue what it’s about?’

  ‘All I want to do is to sort things out so we’re both happy.’ Grace smiles as she puts down the phone.

  ‘Who was that?’ Johnny comes up behind
Betty.

  ‘The honey trap woman.’

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘To meet. She said that she wanted to sort things out and that we would both be happy.’ Betty tries very hard to smile, but is unable to, due to the fact that her head feels as if it is going to fall off.

  ‘I can’t believe how awful you look.’

  ‘Thanks. Don’t you just know how to make a girl feel good?’

  ‘Sorry, honey, but you did go a bit far last night.’

  ‘I got drunk at the party, that was your idea. So it’s all your fault.’

  ‘I didn’t hold your head back and pour the alcohol down your throat.’

  ‘You may as well have done.’

  Betty cringes as she tries to remember what happened at the party, but past about ten o’clock she cannot. Johnny, always one to remember everything, told her that she ranted about ‘the honey trap bitch to anyone who would listen. She has no idea if she fell over and she has a horrible feeling she was sick at some stage. But she does not want to ask about that, just in case. Thirty-one, and behaving like a teenager.

  She woke that morning with a head that felt as if it had been repeatedly hit with a heavy object. Her mouth felt dry and rough, like sandpaper. Nausea bubbled away in her stomach. She was fully aware that she had the hangover from hell. And worse than that, the hangover from hell followed her being drunk as a lush, leading to extreme memory loss and an acute sense of embarrassment.

  It led to a row. Johnny told her that she hadn’t made an effort, wasn’t sober enough to talk to all the people she hadn’t seen in ages. He accused her of letting ‘this woman’ take over her life, and sulked all morning until she felt well enough to apologise and try to explain.

  ‘Johnny, you didn’t know me when I was younger. I know I told you about it, but you didn’t see me,’ she said. ‘The thing was that I was really ugly. Bad hair, bad teeth, bad eyes –I had the whole package. You know when we watch those American teen films and they always have the class geek? Well, they make me want to cry because I was like that, and I got treated like shit.’ Despite her throbbing head, her words were managing to perform. ‘When I was about sixteen, my teeth were fixed, I discovered and could just afford contact lenses and I grew in confidence, but I could never quite get rid of the chip I felt. I remember when I first went to university, and when I met Alison I was so serious, determined to succeed, but really chippy about my past. I was defensive and, well, actually I was a bore. Alison taught me to let go of the past and enjoy the fact that I was liked. You see, I’d never been liked before, so it was this huge novelty, and at the same time I couldn’t quite believe it. Anyway, she takes me back there, that’s all. She takes me back to the ugly unconfident, unpopular girl, and I vowed I wouldn’t go back there.’