Agent Provocateur

by Faith Bleasdale

  Chapter Twenty

  Fiona lives up to her word and swamps Betty with work. On day two of the bet she gets to work to find more emails than she wants and more assignments than she has time for. She thinks about arguing, but although Fiona is feeling guilty, she still doesn’t like being argued with. Betty shakes her head as she realises she is stuck. She pushes away an irrational thought that Fiona is deliberately trying to keep her away from Johnny so Grace can win. Fiona doesn’t like her being married – this she has made clear – but although she can be a bitch at times, she wouldn’t do that to her. Would she?

  At the same time, Fiona is sitting at her desk, composing another email to Betty. She isn’t the sort of woman that suffers from guilt. She is vindictive, she knows that, ambitious to the hilt, and alone. She hasn’t always been that way. When she started out in journalism she was like Betty. Just like her. She had a husband she adored and she worked hard and happily. She pulls her compact out of her handbag and looks at herself. She sees the person she is now. She used to look like Betty, a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. He came first. He always came first. Then he destroyed her. One man took the twinkle and the smile and left her with the hardness that her face now lives with. She can’t bear to see Betty go through the same. When she first met Betty, Fiona was a features writer for the magazine, and Betty was her work experience girl. She adored her from the first moment she saw her. She saw herself in her and she promised herself that Betty would be successful. She delivered. Somewhere along the line, Fiona lost him and became bitter. She began to let her ambition take over, because it was all she had left. She climbed up to the top, but she left her smile behind as she fought the competition off. She would never let a man take over her life again. The scars lasted too long.

  Betty is like her – she knew that, she was convinced – which meant that Betty would get hurt. Sometimes Fiona thought her conviction about this was irrational, but she believes it. That was the reason for Grace. She didn’t necessarily want to prove herself right, she just wanted Betty to find out for sure. She knew that Betty would hate the assignment – she herself would have done back then. She knew that Betty would feel threatened by Grace and what she stood for. She knew that she had to introduce the bet.

  The idea came to her after the dinner party. It wasn’t just about the feature, it was about Betty. She wanted to know - correction, she wanted Betty to know – that her man was either rock solid or like him. She needed Betty to find out now before it was too late. She did it because she had promised, from the moment Betty started working for her, that she would take care of her, and she was merely keeping that promise.

  All she had to do was to find an opportunity to suggest it. No, she didn’t suggest it – she knows that – she made it happen. Betty gave her that opportunity. She didn’t know that Betty and Grace would fight the way they did; she hadn’t seen that coming. But it provided her with the opportunity she needed to do what she had to do. That is what she believes.

  Hannah delivers coffee and perches herself on the corner of Betty’s desk.

  ‘Hannah, I know how this office works. I know how much they love to gossip and I love it too, but if they are using you to get them regular updates they’ll be disappointed.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Betty smiles indulgently. She would have done the same. ‘Well, maybe I will let you in on the situation and then you can go and be fawned over as the fount of all knowledge.’ She smiles again. ‘But at the moment there is nothing to report and I have so much work to do, I don’t know when I’m going to think about it. But I’ve got a mountain of research I need you to help me with.’

  ‘OK. But you will tell me?’

  ‘As soon as there is anything to tell.’

  ‘Good. Betty?’

  ‘Yes?’ She sips her coffee.

  ‘I made an appointment for you to get your hair done. And your nails. Just to be prepared.’ Betty feels shocked. It hadn’t occurred to her that she had to do anything. But then, having her hair done and everything else can’t hurt. It’s only what she normally does anyway.

  ‘Good thinking, Hannah. Thanks. Oh, and maybe you could add a bikini wax as well.’ Her assistant goes back to her desk with a smile on her face. Not only will she be the most popular member of staff for the next few weeks, but she also has her boss’s favour.

  Betty cannot think about the bet for the rest of the week, because she is too busy working late and not even getting to see Johnny herself, let alone knowing if Grace has met him yet. They are existing on phone conversations and when they do see each other she is too tired to speak and he is too tired to ignite conversation. She swings between wanting to kill Fiona, and feeling grateful for the distraction. She is unsure which. Part of her still believes that Fiona is trying to split her and Johnny up, but the other part of her can’t believe that she would do that. She hasn’t got enough time to let them debate it.

  She determines that, work or no work, she will devote her time to him at the weekend. On Friday, she skives off early to keep the appointments that Hannah has made for her. Her first stop is her hair.

  ‘Highlights?’ Beth, her hairdresser, asks.

  ‘Why not?’ Beth normally knows what is best for her and Betty is almost too tired to think about it.

  ‘Any occasion?’ she asks when Betty is sitting down, having her hair painted.

  ‘Not really, just due.’ She doesn’t want to have to discuss the bet with anyone else. The office gossip is bad enough, as are Fiona, Hannah and Alison.

  ‘Just want to look nice for your man,’ Beth says, which is fairly near the mark.

  ‘And for myself,’ Betty replies, remembering that she is Modern Woman.

  When she has an amazing head of hair, notably shorter, but also notably sleeker, she gets her nails done, and then an incredibly painful waxing. Of course she is doing it for Johnny, but she is also doing it for herself. She praises herself for the sensible way she is behaving. She has barely given Grace a second thought.

  As preparation week draws to a close, Grace feels an immense excitement building up. The anticipation that the week has provided has given her even more of an appetite for the bet.

  She goes to the hairdresser, a smart salon, one she has never been to before. What is amazing about it, apart from the prices, is that as someone does her hair, someone else does her nails (hands and feet), and she feels as if she is receiving a proper pampering.

  ‘Any occasion?’ the man doing her hair asks.

  ‘No, not really. Just thought it was time.’

  ‘Well, darling, with your hair, you must come here more often. It’s a joy to work with.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I mean it.’ Grace is tempted to tell him the truth – she’s getting her hair done to seduce another woman’s husband – but she stops herself. Enough people are judging her right now; she doesn’t want to add to the number. Especially as she knows that she is right. She has to be.

  Back home, as she admires her new haircut, looks at her beautifully manicured nails and picks up the all-important notebook, she knows she is ready. And she is going to win this bet.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It is the first day of the bet proper. Grace wakes with a smile on her face, which Eddie, who is lying beside her, thinks is for him. Unexpectedly she gets up, and makes him coffee before packing him off to work.

  ‘Just like a wife,’ Eddie says.

  ‘Not quite,’ she replies.

  Once her flat is hers again, she follows her usual routine. On day one of the bet, she has an appointment to see a financial adviser at eleven. Which gives her ample time to choose the right thing to wear.

  She goes to her office and picks up the bet notebook. Inside she has his place of work and his phone number along with what she knows about him. All that, she memorised last week. His name is Johnny Parkin. He is thirty-three and a financial adviser for STN, which is near the City. He likes golf, football and Carry On films. She st
ill has no idea what he looks like because Betty refused to give her a photo, but as she has a professional appointment with him, she doesn’t need one.

  She has headed a page ‘Phase One’. Under ‘Phase One’ is today’s date and the time of her first appointment. She is looking forward to writing a description of that meeting when she gets home. She is treating the bet as a business transaction, a normal job, even if it is anything but.

  Betty wakes feeling funny. At first she is unsure if she is ill, but she feels a bit wobbly, unhinged and uncertain. Then she remembers that the bet has been going for a week and she has no idea if Grace has even seen Johnny yet. She looks at the still silent alarm clock, and sees that it is about to jump into life. Then Johnny will, and then she will have to, in order to go to work. She wonders again what Grace is doing, if she has arranged to see him. How is she, Betty, going to cope with not knowing? Ignorance is bliss, Alison said, spouting the old cliché, but Betty is not sure that she can submerge herself in it for two months. She knows she will win. She is still as confident as she was last week. However, she must stop these recent habitual visits of anxiety. She must shake those feelings away.

  The alarm goes off. Johnny opens his eyes. He looks sleepy but beatific. Betty plants a kiss on his forehead. He looks at her, slightly startled, still in a half-conscious state.

  ‘Good morning, my dream girl,’ he finally says, reaching over to her.

  ‘I love you so much,’ she replies. She looks around the room: everything is the same, nothing has changed. ‘I really do love you, you know,’ she says, and she kisses him.

  Everything is going to be fine because they love each other. No one can penetrate their relationship.

  Grace has managed to limit her outfit dilemma by choosing a role for the bet. She is going to enjoy the drama of the situation. Of that, she is determined. When she thinks back to the reason she is doing this the humiliation wedges itself around her, tightening itself with huge screws. She thought that Betty might be a pain but she certainly didn’t expect an enemy. She doesn’t think she deserves one either. Betty made her feel worthless and in Grace’s world, in the carefully constructed life she lives, no one is supposed to do that. Betty cannot think she is better than Grace; she shouldn’t be allowed to think that. She is luckier than she is, that is all, but not better.

  She pulls her thoughts back to the task at hand. After a week of planning she is ready for her new challenge. Johnny Parkin. It is as if a light has gone on in her head. Maybe it is a game, maybe it is more, but she has a role to play and therefore she must throw herself into it.

  She settles for a conservative beige suit. She looks good, as she always does, but she also looks like a character – the character she is playing. Grace Regan, divorcee, legal secretary, vulnerable damsel in distress. She will melt hearts with her sorrow, and then she will attract hearts with her resilience. That is the Grace that Johnny will meet. He does not stand a chance.

  Betty has finished the second draft of the honey trap story. The first draft, according to Fiona, was too full of ‘blatant disapproval’. In the second draft she doesn’t write a bad account of Grace, but the fact is that her disapproval of the industry (is it an industry?) is more subtly apparent. She questions lack of trust; she points out that for any relationship to stand a chance, trust has to be visibly employed. She trusts Johnny. Her faith in him is unshakeable, which is why this bet isn’t really bothering her. At worst she is just angry about it, ashamed she is lying to Johnny, and unhappy about Grace cropping up in his life. After all, look what she did to hers. She is as disruptive as the winter wind, that much she knows, and she wants to get the bet over and done with and move on. The end of the bet will get Grace out of her life once and for all. For ever.

  Fiona has the story again and will let her know if she wants changes. Betty has four other stories on the go now. Her workload is ever increasing and she is not quite struggling but almost. Even so, she can’t help wasting time speculating about Grace marching into Johnny’s life and trying to steal him like the common thief she is, but then she is only human.

  His office is on the seventh floor. It is one of London’s many characterless, huge glass spaces. Grace would hate to work in one like it. For some reason it reminds her of the soulless homes she grew up in, built by the council, obviously a council house, using the most depressing grey cement rendering to remind them that they weren’t quite worth anything else. She chastises herself for such thoughts. Those thoughts are banned in her new world; she must remember that.

  She gets out of the large empty lift, checking her reflection one last time, and walks into the reception area. It is small but the furniture looks expensive. The sofas are red with chrome legs, the coffee table is glass and chrome, and the reception desk matches. It feels a bit like a furniture showroom, with choice paintings on the walls (canvas) and wooden floors sprinkled with rugs.

  She announces herself to the receptionist (a woman who looks as designer as the furniture), feeling adrenalin kicking in. She is slightly nervous about messing up, or giving herself away, but that is normal in her job. That slight lack of confidence makes her good at what she does; arrogance makes mistakes.

  She sits on the sofa and flicks through The Times, not really concentrating as her eyes dart from the pages to the door leading from reception. Finally, she sees him walk towards her.

  For a minute everything is in slow motion. She instinctively knows it is him, although he looks nothing like she expected. He is tall, with hair so blond it is almost white. He looks slightly serious; a frown decorates his forehead. His suit is immaculate but not in a sleazy way, not the way she associates with her usual bastards. His face is perfect, as if someone knew what they were doing when they lovingly put his features together. Her heart speeds up; she does not move. Everything is still for a minute. He has a word with the receptionist, and then moves towards her. She feels her hands become clammy. She is unsure why she is having these feelings; she tries to slow them down. It is just nerves, she insists to herself. There is, after all, so much at stake.

  ‘I’m Johnny Parkin,’ he says, his hand outstretched.

  Grace looks at him, smiles and stands up, feeling shaky. ‘I’m Grace Regan,’ she replies. Although she still feels slightly light headed, her in-excitable nature is returning.

  She follows him to a small meeting room where a cafetiere, a teapot and two cups greet them. He gestures for her to sit down, and she obliges. He sits opposite her. She studies him. He looks honest, his face is open, and his smile is delicious. For a split second something in her head tells her to run, but she doesn’t run. She stays and refuses to listen.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asks.

  She wonders what he must be seeing, what she must be showing him. She sternly tells herself to behave.

  ‘Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous,’ she replies truthfully.

  He establishes what she wants to drink and pours her some coffee. She adds the milk, concentrating on not letting her hand tremble. She shakes her head as he proffers the sugar bowl.

  ‘How can I help?’ he asks, and she gets an urge to tell him the truth, but she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.

  ‘I’m in a bit of a mess.’ Her character clicks in, and starts working, much to her relief. He is looking at her intently and she feels naked. ‘You see, my husband – well, ex-husband now – left me almost a year ago and he dealt with things. I thought it was time I took control. I have no idea what to do.’

  ‘Where do you want to start?’ he asks, looking surprised:

  He is surprised. He has noted how beautiful she is and wonders why her husband left; how any man could leave someone who looks like her. He is cross with himself for being so sexist. And unprofessional. She could, after all, have a really horrible personality.

  ‘I have some money, not a huge amount, but some. And I have a job, and I have the flat. I didn’t bring all the details because I didn’t know what you’d need. But I want to make sure that I
’m going to be all right. I probably need a pension and, well, you see so much about mortgage deals and I’m hopeless with all that. He did it, you see – took care of it.’

  ‘I’ll probably need to see everything before I can advise you.’

  ‘Of course. I should have brought them, but I was feeling a bit nervous, out of my depth. I have got details of my earnings here, so a pension should be a start, I suppose.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Thirty-two. I suppose I should have all this sorted already.’ She allows herself another look at his eyes. They really are spectacular.

  ‘Not everyone does.’ He is being kind. Grace hands him some papers that Nicole helped her prepare. Although Grace knows she doesn’t approve, she is being very helpful. They have details of her earnings from a fictional job, and also details of her savings. When she phoned up to make the appointment, she spoke to Johnny’s assistant, who told her to bring as much information as she could. However, she realised that if she brought everything he would require, then there wouldn’t be the excuse for the contact that she was planning.

  ‘I can get everything else to you. I just find finance baffling, to be honest.’

  ‘Grace, the number of times I’ve heard that, please don’t worry. What we’ll do is collect all the information I need, and then I will go through the options, leaving out all the technical terms and making it simple. It is simple, but we don’t like people to think that. We like them to think that we’re really clever.’

  Grace likes him. She wasn’t expecting to like him – after all, she cannot stand his wife. This surprises her and scares her. Finding the men devilishly attractive is acceptable, but she isn’t supposed to like them. Even if this man isn’t one of her normal jobs.

  They spend the rest of the meeting going through a few financial details, until Grace tells him, unprompted, that her ex-husband had been a serial philanderer and had left her devastated. He looks on with sympathy as she describes six months of despair before she pulls herself together. It is all part of the plan. When she gets ready to leave, not only have they made an appointment for Friday of that week, but she also has his much-needed direct line number, which he offered. It is early days but it all seems to be working like a dream. The only thing bothering her are the lies. Lies are second nature to her, but for some reason she is feeling ashamed.