by Isabel Wolff
‘Oh, that’s interesting. Maybe things are working out after all.’
By lunchtime, I knew that they weren’t.
‘I just bottled out,’ said Henry when he phoned me from his mobile in the Army and Navy lingerie department where he was buying a corset. ‘I was going to tell her, but she was yakking away the whole time about the party and about how cross she is with her sister for going skiing and about what an idiot the new boyfriend is, and about what a brilliant help Beverley’s been…’
‘So you couldn’t find the right moment.’
‘No. And I’m definitely expected at the opening, so it’s going to be very hard not to go. No, it’s not for my wife, it’s for my mother,’ I heard him say to an assistant. ‘Yes, that’s right—my mother. No, she likes marabou trim.’
‘Well you’ll have to think of some subtle way of telling Bea,’ I said. ‘If you don’t she’ll continue to hope, and hope’s a killer.’
‘I know. Yes, yes, very young at heart. Sixty-eight next May. You’re right, Rose, I’ll do it soon. Well if Joan Collins can, why can’t she…?’
‘Henry and I had a super lunch,’ said Bea happily ten minutes later. ‘It went really well. He seemed a bit strained at first, but we were soon chatting away. He’s definitely coming to the party, so that’s a good sign isn’t it?’
‘Er, yes,’ I said. ‘It is.’
‘You do think he likes me, don’t you?’ she said anxiously. ‘Maybe he’s said something…?’
‘Ooh no, we haven’t discussed you at all. But I’m sure he…does. Er, actually, Bea, I can’t talk because Bev’s arriving in a minute. Now that you don’t need her she’s helping me for a few days.’
‘You too! She’s awfully good. I really liked her,’ Bea added warmly, ‘and Trevor’s divine. Henry seemed very taken with him: I do like a man who’s fond of animals don’t you?’
I thought of Ricky. ‘Hmmm. It all depends.’
‘Anyway, I’d better crack on, Rose. See you at the party.’
Ten minutes later Beverley was installed at Serena’s desk, with Trevor, as I showed her the ropes.
‘Here’s the log-book for the letters, and the keys to the filing cabinet, and here, in this file down here are the various leaflets I send out. This is the Health Address Book—that’s our Bible—which lists the different support groups. The job’s not hard,’ I added, ‘it’s just rather involved, and I hope you can bear all the noise.’
‘Bear it?’ she repeated wonderingly. ‘I like it!’ She looked around at the frenetic activity in the newsroom. ‘In fact I love it!’ She shook her head in happy disbelief. ‘I’m in an office, Rose. There are all these people—it’s…great!’ And I thought regretfully, yes, it is. It is great, and I’m really going to miss it. A wave of panic and sadness swept over me as I got back to work.
Within an hour Beverley was getting the hang of everything and my workload had suddenly halved. I didn’t even have to answer the phone—I heard her fielding enquiries with discreet aplomb. Trevor, wearing his red Helping Paw coat, lay quietly by the side of her wheelchair contentedly sucking the head of his toy gorilla. It’s his stress-busting executive toy.
‘I like the little pocket in his coat,’ I said to Bev. ‘I hadn’t noticed that before.’
‘Yes, it’s useful for putting things in. I think he’s going to get some good material for his column this week,’ she added as yet another person stopped by to stroke his ears. ‘Anyway, back to work.’ Beverley logged all the new letters, an expression of intense and sympathetic interest on her face. ‘It’s fascinating,’ she breathed.
‘What have we got today?’
‘Alzheimer’s, bedwetting, contraception, depression, missing persons, kleptomania and stress.’
‘Okay then, I’d better make a start.’
‘And here’s a woman with SCI.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Oh sorry, Spinal Cord Injury—she was paralysed from the waist down in a hit and run. She’s twenty-nine, distraught, her boyfriend’s left her and she’s suicidal. God,’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘I know exactly how she feels.’
‘Then you answer that one.’
‘What?’
‘You write back to her.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I’ll have to sign it of course, because she’s written to me, but why don’t you do the draft?’
‘Well, because I’m not an agony aunt, Rose.’
‘No, but you’d do a better reply than I ever could.’
Beverley smiled. ‘Well…okay. If you’re sure then. I’ll give it a shot.’ She picked up her pad and began making notes; and we worked in companionable silence for a while, when I suddenly remembered. I’d been too overwhelmed with work to think of it before.
‘Beverley, the other day you said there was something you wanted to tell me.’
‘Oh. Ye-es,’ she shifted slightly in her wheelchair and her neck reddened. ‘Yes, that’s right. Well, it might not be relevant after all, so then I wasn’t sure whether or not to say anything about it to you…’
‘About what?’
‘About the fact that… Well…you see. It’s quite an awkward situation, potentially, although, as I say, it might be all right, because, erm…’ What on earth was she talking about?
‘Is it about you?’ I asked. She shook her head.
‘Is it about me?’
‘Sort of. Well, yes. It is about you actually. Or, to be more precise, it’s about Ed…’
‘What the hell’s Bella thinking of?’I asked Bea five minutes later. ‘She’s completely lost it this time.’ I lowered my voice—I didn’t want the whole office to hear. ‘I mean it’s one thing to go off on a skiing holiday ten days before you open, it’s quite another to invite my soon-to-be-ex-husband to the bloody launch.’
‘Oh God,’ Bea gasped. ‘She hasn’t has she?’
‘Yes, she has. Bev’s just told me. She was going through the RSVPs and she went down Bella’s list ticking them off and suddenly saw “Ed Wright”. She agonised about whether or not to tell me, because she knew I’d be furious, but she felt that I ought to know.’
‘And has he replied yet?’
‘Apparently not—which is why Bev hesitated about telling me.’
‘Well it’s highly unlikely that he’ll come…’
‘I hope you’re right, because if he does, then I can’t.’
‘But that’s not on—you’re our closest friend! I’m sure he won’t accept,’ she reiterated.
‘No, he won’t, because you’ve got to uninvite him, okay?’
‘Rose, I can’t do that—it’s so rude.’
‘I know it is. But you’ve got no choice because it’s either him, or me. Here’s his number; you’ve got three days. I don’t want him there, Bea, not least because he might bring her.’
‘Rose, I’m really sorry about it,’ said Bea. ‘But Bella’s back tomorrow, and she invited him, so it’s up to her to stand him down.’
My fury with Bella lasted all day.
‘How could she do that?’ I said to Beverley for the twentieth time as we chugged back to Camberwell in a cab. ‘It’s incomprehensible.’
‘I know why,’ she said quietly.
‘You do?’
‘It’s because she’s so madly, deliriously happy that she wants everyone else to be happy too. It’s the selfish insensitivity of the ecstatic,’ she concluded sagely. ‘Bliss blunts their minds to others’ pain.’ I looked at Beverley as she said that and suddenly saw that she was right. And I realised in that instant how wise she is, and what enormous insight she has.
‘Anyway, that’s why I wasn’t sure whether or not to tell you,’ she went on. ‘I didn’t want to cause a rift between you and Bella, and I didn’t know whether or not he’d accept. If he’d simply sent his regrets I wouldn’t have mentioned it to you, but there’d been no reply. And if he did come, and no-one had warned you, then…’ her voice trailed away. ‘I mean, you didn’t reac
t well at the Helping Paw ball,’ she added delicately.
I cringed. ‘No, I got steaming drunk. Well, I’m glad you told me,’ I said as we turned into Hope Street. ‘It could have been an awful shock. Are you coming in?’ I added.
‘No thanks,’ she said as the cab driver dropped the ramp. ‘I’ve got to get ready—I’m going out.’
‘With Theo?’ I asked casually, though my heart sank slightly.
‘No. With Hamish. He’s a lovely guy. I knew him five years ago, and we met again at New Year. He’s down from Edinburgh for a week, rehearsing—he’s a conductor—so we’re going out for a bite.’
So perhaps Trevor was right and it wasn’t Theo, but this Hamish, who was the object of Beverley’s affection. Maybe she’d sent him the Valentine’s card. My heart lifted, because, as I say, I’ve got used to Theo.
As I opened the front door I could hear the clattering of saucepans. Theo was busy.
‘You’re back early,’ he observed as he rummaged in the cupboard under the sink.
‘That’s because Beverley was such a huge help. She even drafted some of the replies; it saved me loads of time, and her advice was great.’
‘Yes,’he agreed emphatically. ‘She’s very astute. She’s given me some good advice, actually,’ he added over his shoulder.
‘Really?’ I didn’t like to ask him what it was about. His separation presumably.
‘And what did Trevor contribute?’ he asked as he pulled out several pans. ‘Envelope-licking?’
‘No need, they’re self seal.’
‘Got it!’ he said triumphantly. He held up a wok. ‘I knew I’d seen one. Blimey!’ he exclaimed, looking at it more closely, ‘it’s absolutely pristine. I don’t think this wok has ever been used, has it?’
‘No. At least not by me.’
‘Well, this is its Big Night.’
‘Are you expecting someone then?’ The kitchen table was set, for two, with table mats, candles and linen napkins.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am.’
‘Who is it?’I asked casually. ‘Not that’s it’s any of my business.’
‘It is your business. It’s you. We’re having Thai green chicken curry in case you’re wondering. And you’re making it by the way.’
‘I am? But I only do passive cooking, Theo, you know that.’
He threw me an apron. ‘Come on.’
Five minutes later I was happily grating gnarled bulbs of root ginger and fat sticks of woody lemon grass. The aromatic tang made me ravenous.
‘That’s grand,’ said Theo, as he inspected my work, ‘now crush the garlic cloves.’
‘This is like Ready Steady Cook,’ I said as I had a quick slurp of white wine.
‘Now finely chop the coriander,’ he instructed, then he poured oil into the pan. As he did so he sang, ‘Are the stars out tonight, I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright, for I only have fries, for you, dear…’ I smiled. He had rather a nice voice. Then he sang, ‘Don’t fry for me Argentina…’ and as he diced the chicken breasts he crooned, ‘Love meat tender, love meat true…’ He was clearly in a happy sort of mood. By now the rice was bubbling, and the oil was gently spattering; then Theo handed me the wooden spoon.
‘Right, stir-fry the garlic for about forty seconds, then add the lemon grass and ginger. Now slop in some curry paste. Quick!’
‘Okay, okay, don’t be so bossy—but how much?’
‘A couple of tablespoons should do it. That’s it—don’t overdo it; and keep stirring. Don’t let it stick, silly. Right, here comes the meat.’ He scraped in the cubes of translucent pink flesh which turned white as they sizzled in the pan. ‘Keep it moving,’ Theo added. ‘Now pour in the coconut milk.’ The creamy fluid went in in a steady stream, as smooth and viscous as oil.
I looked at him, his glasses had steamed up. He removed them, wiped them, then gave me a myopic smile and I noticed how nice his eyes were, and how blue. ‘There,’ he said as he put them back on, and peered into the pan. ‘That’s it.’
‘Really? That didn’t take long. I thought curries were long, fiddly, drawn-out affairs.’
‘Not Thai ones,’he replied. ‘Indian ones rely on lots of spices, but for a Thai curry all you need are a few fresh herbs. Now we just leave it to simmer away nicely for eight minutes, then we add the roughly chopped mushrooms at the end.’ Theo took the rice off the heat, and showed me how to wash out the starch, then he put it back on the flame. ‘By the time the rice is done, the curry will be cooked.’
‘It smells wonderful,’ I said. ‘I’m starving.’
Theo turned off the spotlights and lit the candles. ‘Glad to hear it.’ Five minutes later he was ladling the creamy mixture onto a pile of fragrant, non-sticky rice. I sunk in my fork, and closed my eyes.
‘This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life,’ I breathed.
‘Better than packet soup and take-aways, eh?’
‘Hmm. It’s…divine. What lovely flavours.’
‘I used to make it for my wife.’
‘She must miss it,’ I added.
‘Maybe. She phoned today to say she wants to start the divorce.’ I looked at him. ‘She has met someone else. She thinks it’s serious.’
‘I’m sorry, Theo. That’s hard. But you seem quite cheerful.’
‘It’s gallows humour.’ He drew in his breath. ‘It’s depressing, but it’s probably for the best. Fiona and I have been in limbo city for seven months, so I guess it’s better to move on.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I repeated, impotently.
‘’S’ all right. I feel a lot better than I thought I would. And it means I’ll be able to get my share of the house as Fiona’s going to buy me out. After five years there should be quite a bit of my money in it, certainly enough for a decent flat.’
‘Oh,’ I said. I felt a sudden stabbing sensation. ‘Oh, well, that’s…good. Especially as I’m probably going to have to sell this place—I’ll probably be asking you if I can be your flatmate!’
‘Well, that’d be nice. But you’d have to obey my rules.’
I laughed. ‘And what would they be?’
‘You would not be allowed to be too tidy.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘And you’d have to eat proper food. And, well, that’s about it.’
‘Sounds like you’d be an easy landlord.’
‘I probably would.’
‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re not too miserable about Fiona,’I said.
‘It’s funny, but now it’s happened, I’m not. For months I was that upset I could hardly function, but now I feel I can cope. I’ve discovered that there’s life beyond every relationship, Rose,’ he added softly. I felt a strange fluttering in my stomach.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘There is.’ I looked at my plate. It was empty.
‘Shall we have second helpings?’ I heard him say. ‘Second helpings?’
‘What? Oh. Yes please.’
As I held out my plate, I told him about Bella inviting Ed to the twins’ launch party. Theo looked appalled.
‘It’s awful,’ I said, glancing at the gold-edged invitation, marked Rose & Theo pinned to my notice board. ‘She’s got to uninvite him. I went mad.’
‘Well we don’t want him turning up,’ he said bluntly.
‘Er, no,’ I agreed. ‘We don’t.’ He caught my surprised expression.
‘Well it would upset you,’ he said.
‘You’re right. It would.’
‘And how’s it going at the Post?’he asked as he sat down again.
‘Well, with Bev’s help, it’s bearable—but I finish next week.’ My heart turned over. A professional chasm yawned before me. ‘My contract expires on the tenth. My editor’s already trying to recruit someone else,’I went on. ‘The whole thing makes me feel sick. I put so much into that job, Theo. It was my whole life. My raison d’être.’
‘Hmm,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I know.’
‘And the way Serena betrayed me was
awful, especially as I was trying to get her a rise. But you know it’s funny…’ I told him about her claim that she’d been tipped off about the letter.
‘Well who do you think that was?’
I shook my head. ‘I really don’t know. All I do know is, it’s a bit whiffy. I guess it’s someone who wanted to see Electra ripped apart in the press.’
‘Well it certainly hasn’t made her look good. Going-over-the-hill-rock-chick has lesbian fling. Maybe it was the backing singer’s bloke,’ Theo suggested. ‘It could be a simple case of lover’s revenge. Or maybe—and I don’t like to say this—it’s someone who’s got it in for you.’ I looked at him, my heart sinking at the thought, but I knew that he might be right. ‘I mean you’ve suffered as much as that Electra in all this.’
‘Yes,’ I said bitterly. ‘I have.’ But who might want to hurt me, and why? And what could possibly connect them to Electra? I had another sip of white wine. I was too tired to try and work it out. My plate was empty again. I held it up.
‘What, more?’ said Theo with a laugh.
‘Yes please. Is there any?’
He peered into the saucepan. ‘Just a smidgeon. We’ll have to make double the quantity next time.’ We. We’ll have to make. As Theo spooned it onto my plate I smiled at him, and he smiled back and held my gaze for a moment in his. And in that instant I wasn’t sure whether I cared if Ed went to the twins’ party or not.
Chapter 15
By the next morning, however, my indignation had returned, on its high horse, all guns blazing.
‘How could you?’ I said to Bella when I phoned her at ten.
‘I’m sorry, Rose,’ she whimpered. ‘But I’ve been feeling so happy with life and I just got carried away. I wanted everyone to come to the party—the whole, wide world. And I saw Ed’s name in my address book a couple of weeks ago and so on an impulse I invited him too. But I didn’t put her name on it,’ she added earnestly.
‘Oh that’s really thoughtful of you, Bella—thanks.’
‘I don’t know how I can make it up to you, Rose.’
‘By phoning him and standing him down.’
‘Ooh, that’ll be embarrassing,’ she breathed.
‘I don’t give a damn. You’ve got to do it, otherwise I can’t go.’