Agent Provocateur

by Faith Bleasdale

  ‘Shit, anything but that.’ Matt puts his arm around his friend as they leave the pub. He can give him affection. After all, he needs some, and Matt is proud of his friend because, all of a sudden, he thinks that he will be all right.

  ‘You’re suggesting I try to save their marriage?’ There is a dull incredulity to Grace’s tone.

  ‘Yes. Look, Grace, when you go out to work you tempt the men by being a fantasy figure, and they fall for it because they’re weak men who are probably happy to cheat. But Johnny wasn’t. It hurt him to see you and his wife, and he refused to get physical. You have wrecked a perfectly good marriage.’

  Grace falls silent She sees the picture so clearly now. Betty with that twinkle in her eye every time she mentioned Johnny. Her slight blush when she talked about him. How Grace had seen how much she loved him from the start but ignored it because she disliked her.

  When the bet started, she was cruel to her when Betty called her, panicking. Instead of understanding how much she loved him, Grace almost mocked Betty’s feelings. She was jealous of her. All the time she wanted to have what Betty had and she almost got it. But at what price?

  ‘Oh my God, I have, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, and the only thing to do, the right thing to do, is to try to put it together again.’

  Grace knows Oliver is right, but when she thinks about it, and the letter she is desperate to write, she knows that she needs to try, one last time. She will tell him exactly how she feels about him. That is her right thing to do.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Betty is at home, having called Fiona that morning.

  ‘Hi, Betts. What’s up?’

  ‘Johnny found out about the bet.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  ‘Yeah, and Grace fell for him properly and he fell for her, but just before he was going to leave me for her, he found out and left us both.’

  ‘Holy shit.’

  ‘So I thought I might not come in today, if you don’t mind, my marriage being in tatters as it is.’

  ‘Take as long as you want. Bye.’ Fiona put the phone down rapidly and Betty almost laughed.

  Alison went to work, but she left early to deliver the letter. As Betty sits down with a cup of coffee, she imagines Johnny reading it. His hair will flop a little over his forehead as he bends his neck to read. If she were there she would remind him that it needs a cut. His hands might shake a little, because, she know he will be angry and hurt. She hopes he cries at her words because they were sent straight from her heart to his. She hopes he won’t stop halfway through but read it to the end. She knows that she will have to wait until he contacts her.

  Johnny wakes, feeling alien, but he soon remembers why. He gets up and goes to the office, having decided that any normality he can get into his life is a good thing. He has the letter that Alison gave him that morning in his pocket, and he reads it when he gets to his office. His hands shake as he takes it out of the envelope. His hair falls on to his face as he begins to read and he pushes it back. He sees the words and they strike him in his heart, and he finds tears in his eyes. He stops halfway, angry that she is making him feel sad, and he folds the letter and puts it in his desk drawer. He has slept on his dilemma as Matt requested, and he still wants to confront both women together. But not yet. He knows that it is too soon.

  Grace wakes, feeling slightly lighter, but still heavy hearted. She feeds her fish, drinks her coffee and goes to her office as if on autopilot, but as she hasn’t worked she has no reports to write and no jobs to prepare for. She has a long bath before she gets dressed. She still has two hours to kill before she needs to leave for lunch, but she has no idea how to fill them. She curls herself up on the sofa and watches her fish. She is interrupted by the phone. Still in the dating mindset she jumps to answer it.

  ‘Grace, it’s Oliver.’

  ‘Hi.’ She cannot help but feel slightly disappointed.

  ‘I’m going to Paris this morning, but my mobile will be on and I want you to call if you need anything.’ Her heart lifts.

  ‘You are truly a good friend.’ She sounds surprised; she is surprised.

  ‘I know what it’s like to be in love and lose someone,’ he laughs, ‘and that is not a dig at you, Gracie. But anytime you need me I’m here.’

  ‘Thanks, Oliver, and I do love you – in my own way I do.’

  ‘I know.’

  She puts the phone down and picks up the sealed envelope that she put on her desk last night. Her heart is in that envelope. She doesn’t know where Johnny will be, but she has a strong feeling that he will go to work. Without hesitation she calls for a courier and arranges to have the letter delivered there.

  Fiona has been pacing her office since she put the phone down on Betty. She is experiencing a new emotion: guilt. She can’t quite believe that that is what it is, but she is ashamed. Did she think it through? Of course she didn’t. She wanted Betty to be like her, a bitter woman with a failed marriage. Or, a successful career woman with no time for men. It was time she stopped kidding herself, and it was time to come clean.

  She grabs her coat and tells Michelle that there is an emergency she needs to attend to. Then she walks out of the office.

  Betty is still in bed, only moving to answer her mobile when Alison calls her every five minutes. Alison doesn’t want her to worry any more than she already does. Betty wonders if he has read the letter yet, but she cannot do anything. She has to wait.

  When she hears the doorbell she thinks for a minute that it might be him. But then she remembers that he has a key and, even when angry, he would use it. She drags herself out of bed, walks sluggishly down the stairs and opens the door. She finds herself face to face with Fiona.

  ‘Are you going to let me in?’ Fiona finds it hard to be humble, even when she is about to deliver a grovelling apology. Betty doesn’t say anything, she just stands aside. She leads her into the living room, where Fiona sits down on the sofa, while Betty remains standing.

  ‘I think we should talk.’

  ‘About?’ Betty doesn’t want her there; she wants to go back to wallowing in her bed.

  ‘About the bet. About the fact that I am the one responsible for the bet.’

  ‘Shit, Fiona, can’t you just leave it? Yes, you pushed me into it and threatened to demote me and all sorts of horrible things, but I could have stood my ground. Now, if you’re here to clear your conscience, then you can leave because I don’t have the energy for this.’

  ‘It’s not that. Betty, the bet was my idea.’

  ‘Grace, not you.’

  ‘No, that’s the thing, you see. I came up with the idea, and I talked Grace into it. I thought it all up and I went to see her. She was reluctant at first but I talked her into it by making you out to be, well, not very nice about her and she finally agreed. I told her that you were too judgemental in your ivory tower and needed to be taught a lesson and then I suggested the lesson.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’ Betty sits down in an armchair. She puts her head in her hands, takes it out, looks at Fiona and shakes her head.

  ‘I’m a horrible, horrible person.’ Fiona is sure that it will take more than that but apologies aren’t her thing.

  ‘You did this? You did this to me?’ Betty cannot believe her ears. She’s looking at the woman who has been responsible for her career. Her mentor. She knew that Fiona was a hard woman, a bitch at times, but she also trusted her. Which is why she had agreed to the bet – because she believed her boss knew what was best for her career. And now she is learning the truth.

  ‘You must really hate me.’

  ‘No, no, Betty. I don’t hate you. You know I care about you.’

  ‘How can you care about me? You tried to ruin my life.’

  ‘No, I tried to make it better.’

  ‘Hold on a minute. You seriously believe that?’ Betty feels like laughing, but she thinks that is more a sign of her losing her mind than anything.

  ‘No, of course I don’t. I tried to t
ell myself that that was what I was doing but it wasn’t. I don’t have a defence, I don’t. I’m such a bitch.’

  ‘Carry on. This should be good.’ Betty folds her arms and looks at her boss, as if seeing her for the first time.

  ‘When we first met, I saw myself in you. You were so determined and I knew that you’d be a great journalist. I took you under my wing and I never regretted it, but I wanted to turn you into me.’

  ‘That’s why you pushed this feature on me?’

  ‘Before the bet I needed you to see what men were like. I couldn’t believe that you’d got a good one when I’d got the worst one ever. That didn’t make sense. You were so like me in every other way, and I couldn’t believe that your marriage should be more important to you than your career.’

  ‘So you tried to wreck it.’

  ‘I guess I did.’

  ‘Because you wanted to turn me into you.’

  ‘Yes.’ Fiona cowers, as if Betty might hit her.

  ‘You wanted Johnny to cheat on me so we could have that in common?’

  Fiona nods.

  Betty stands up and goes to the window. Life has taken a bizarre turn. She is unsure what to do or say next. But she knows one thing, and that is that she is not angry with Fiona. God knows why she isn’t but she cannot be angry with her. ‘You wanted Grace to wreck my marriage, you talked her into this bet.’

  ‘I know, and I’m so ashamed and angry with myself.’

  ‘You are?’ Betty looks at her and sees a bitter, lonely woman. She doesn’t fear her any more, she just feels sorry for her. Finally she finds a reaction. She laughs. Fiona couldn’t look more shocked if she’d struck her.

  ‘Why are you laughing?’

  ‘Because, Fiona, this is a joke. You wanted to turn me into you, and you succeeded. What now? We can be man haters together?’

  ‘Well, that’s not exactly—’

  ‘Fiona, I’m not you. I never will be. Shit, I don’t believe this. Why didn’t you talk to me?’

  ‘I don’t think I knew any of this until just now. I didn’t realise what I was doing, or why. I just did it.’

  ‘Well, it’s done now.’

  ‘But I wanted her to win. Don’t you see, I kept you busy so she could have a clear go at him? I wanted him to be a cheater because then I would have known that we were the same and I was right. I’m sick and twisted and horrible and I don’t know how you can bear to look at me.’

  ‘Oh, Fiona, you are all those things, but I still listened to you.’

  ‘Is that all you’re going to say?’

  ‘To be honest, it’s all I can say. You might have come up with the bet but that doesn’t matter much now. All that matters is me saving my marriage. Why did I ever listen to you?’

  ‘I don’t know but I don’t think you should ever listen to me again.’

  ‘Fiona, you’re my boss.’

  ‘Right, but if I say anything, ever, that you don’t like, you must tell me.’ Fiona is still taken aback, not only by her confession but by Betty’s reaction.

  ‘I will tell you. And now I’m going to try to win Johnny back. I don’t suppose you have any ideas on how to do that?’

  ‘I’m keeping quiet.’

  ‘Fiona, that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.’

  When Betty lets Fiona out, she hugs her goodbye. The look of confusion on Fiona’s face is priceless. Betty feels better; almost calm about everything. Fiona wanted to turn Betty into a carbon copy of herself. It might have screwed up her life but at least it made sense of things. Because now one thing is clear to her: this whole business is her fault. She let Fiona manipulate her, she always did, and now she is paying the price. Johnny wasn’t at fault, nor was Grace. Even Fiona could be exonerated. The only person Betty can blame is herself and the lesson she is learning is perhaps the most painful and the most valuable of her life.

  She thinks back to the times when she let Johnny come second to her career. It has happened. Fiona was always behind it. Seeing the truth, finally, admitting that she isn’t the perfect wife, gives her hope. Maybe she will get him back. And if she does, then she will never let Fiona influence her again.

  Despite the way her life is crumbling she begins to see some good. She was immature, worried that single people and the word ‘divorce’ could contaminate her marriage. She was convinced her marriage was perfect but no marriage ever is. She sees it, finally, for what it is: two people in love, totally in love, but having to live together through the realities of modern life. Now she sees it she feels stronger, but she also hopes that it isn’t too late.

  Grace has lunch with Nicole, wearing enough make-up to mask her misery. She can barely string a sentence together or eat as she wonders if Johnny has her letter. But all she can do is wait.

  Johnny’s secretary brings him a courier delivery. He looks at the envelope and wonders if it is from her. Another bolt of unfamiliarity hits him as he realises that he doesn’t know her handwriting. He opens it, and pulls out four pages of A4. He doesn’t read it but looks at the bottom where she has signed her name. He feels sick. He takes out Betty’s letter, and he holds one in each hand. Then he quickly stuffs both into his jacket pocket before they destroy him completely. He has their letters but he is not going to read them.

  He gives up on work early. The worst thing is his inability to know what to do. His thoughts and feelings are killing him, but how does he stop that? Anger, fear, hurt, all ripping through him, and he doesn’t know how to get rid of them. He needs to get out. Before he leaves, he does the ‘sensible Johnny’ thing and calls Matt. He tells him that he is going to visit a friend, to get some space, and will call him the following day. Instead, he gets rid of ‘sensible Johnny’, grabs his jacket and goes to get drunk.

  The bar he chooses is unfamiliar, as is the drink he chooses, Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. He drinks quickly, hoping that each burning mouthful will help him forget. Because that is the only thing he wants now: to forget. He switches his mobile off. He buys a packet of cigarettes. He hasn’t smoked since university and that was only for a couple of months. But smoking and drinking are offering him a distraction. They are stopping him from going mad.

  His head is too fuzzy. It is all too much to bear. One minute he wants revenge, the next he desperately wants to turn the clock back to before Grace. He was happy then. He didn’t particularly want to change anything about his life. But now it has changed, and he has no idea what he is going to do about it.

  He buries himself in the drink but thoughts keep flowing into his head. Where is he going to live? Will he get a divorce? What will he say to them, to the two women who thought it was a good idea to turn his life upside down?

  What about his own near infidelity? He failed the test, if it was a test. He nearly buckled; he was about to succumb. He might have walked away, but now he will never know. He will never know which woman he would have chosen and that just adds to his confusion.

  He misses the simplicity of life. Everything is so complicated and there is no way he can start simplifying it now. It is all too much.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the letters. One half read, the other unread. He cannot bring himself to read them; he doesn’t yet want to hear their excuses or declarations of love. He doesn’t want to exonerate either of them. At the moment hate is burning its brand on to his mind. Hate is safe waters; hate he can deal with. He does not enjoy it, but along with anger it is here, and it makes him feel for a while that he knows where he is.

  Without his realising it, the pub is calling last orders. Johnny panics. What is he going to do now? He lied to Matt. He doesn’t have a friend to stay with; his drink was his friend. He decides to go somewhere that ‘sensible Johnny’ wouldn’t go. He goes to a club in Soho.

  When he stands up the drink seems to hit him, and he wobbles his way out of the bar. He stands straight enough to hail a cab and get it to take him to his destination. When he gets there he pays the driver and wobbles in. It’s a cl
ub that one of the guys at work talks about, it’s ‘full of scantily clad women who are all looking for a shag’. He remembers this. He walks into the club, pays an extortionate entrance fee and realises why they were all looking for shags. It is depressing. The girls are all wearing next to nothing, either standing at the bar watching the door or on the dance floor watching the door. Drunken men are wobbling around, just like Johnny, and girls are letting them breathe on them. It is not a strip club, it’s not full of hookers. It’s a club for London’s lonely young people. It is depressing.

  Johnny would never visit a club like this. He hasn’t been to a club for years and his party was the nearest he’s got. But Johnny isn’t Johnny any more. He doesn’t know who he is, but he is here. He walks to the bar and orders a drink. He pulls out his cigarettes (which he cannot even taste any more), and lights one. A girl smiles at him. He offers her a drink. She agrees. As he waits for the barman to give him change he looks at her. Through his ‘drunk vision’ she is all right. Not a patch on Grace, of course, and not a patch on Betty. But she is blonde and, as neither of them is, that is a positive attribute. She also has an enormous chest, which neither have. She is actually quite enormous all round (well, she is fleshy), nothing like the other two. He immediately smiles. Now he knows what to do.

  ‘I’m Johnny.’ His chat-up lines are a bit rusty. ‘Sally.’

  ‘Cheers, Sally.’ He realises that he doesn’t really know how to talk to her.

  ‘So, what’s a handsome man like you doing here?’ He thinks that he might not need to do much talking.

  ‘I just wanted a drink and a friendly chat.’ He cannot believe how cheesy he sounds.

  ‘Well, you came to the right place. Do you want to dance?’

  They hit the dance floor, Johnny, still a little unsteady on his feet, but that doesn’t matter because Sally is practically holding him up. She has pushed her ample chest right into him and, despite everything, he is getting turned on. She is nothing like the women he loves, but that is proving even more of a turn on.