‘George, I’ve been married to your father for thirty-three years. We met, we fell in love, we worked hard to stay together but there was never any doubt that we were supposed to be together. That’s how you approach marriage. Not by trying to make someone marry you. Not even if you have slept together. There is no way you are being fair to Holly. If you are meant to be together then she’ll realise for herself. If you loved her you’d step back and wait. You talk about fate, but it seems to me that fate is a convenience to you because you certainly don’t trust it.’
‘I am doing what I have to do. I hoped you’d understand.’
‘George, you’re my son and I love you, but this...no, I can’t understand this. I can’t understand how you can drag yourself, Holly, and both families through the press like this. It’s not fair on anyone, least of all yourself.’
‘You don’t know. No one knows. I drove for hours to get your support, but you won’t give it.’ I felt tears prick my eyes. I was getting lonelier by the second. My parents had always been there for me, I couldn’t understand why they were turning against me; that wasn’t what parents did.
‘No, George, we won’t and I know your father feels the same way.’ I glimpsed tears in my mum’s eyes as I stood up, grabbed my unpacked bag and left the house. Until it was over and Holly agreed to be my wife I knew I wouldn’t be back.
I tried not to be too upset as I drove away. My past was my future after all, it was all intrinsically linked. Temporarily, and I knew it was temporary, I seemed to have lost my grip on my past: my family and Holly, but I knew it would come back. It was my future, of that I was sure, so this was a mere blip.
Chapter Twenty
Gaining Weight
I did what any self-respecting woman who was fast losing her self-respect would do. I panicked. I hadn’t told Joe yet and he was concerned because he thought that after the whole court thing we could put George behind us. He thought that our relationship would be fun, and it wasn’t; I wasn’t. I hadn’t broken the news to him yet that his life was about to suffer from a distinct lack of fun. By the way Joe, George has hired a bitch woman PR to turn our lives into a media circus and at the same time I’m pregnant and I don’t know who the father is. Oh, did I forget to tell you I had sex with George? Well I forgot to tell anyone so you’re in good company. I was really looking forward to that conversation.
Freddie persuaded me to talk to Francesca. After all, on top of everything I probably was going to be fired. George had given me warning of Cordelia’s involvement in our lives, but had omitted to tell me when she would kick off, so we didn’t have time to rest on our laurels. I tried to tell myself that no newspaper, magazine or television show would be interested in George’s story, but then I knew if that were the case then Cordelia wouldn’t have courted him in the first place. I was so angry, but not necessarily with George. He looked so dejected when he had left court and I was victorious. I watched him walk away having been rejected yet again, and I knew that he was vulnerable, hurt and probably a bit nuts, so I couldn’t blame him for being persuaded by Cordelia that this was a good course of action. She was completely and utterly taking advantage of him. I would have slapped her if I had seen her, no, I would have kicked and slapped her and pulled her hair. My thoughts were stubbornly refusing to get into line.
I wanted to talk to my old friend George, believe it or not, I missed him more now than I had in the last five years. I wanted to see him and talk and get the impostor George banished. And I would say that I understood how awful he must feel and that he must still be heartbroken about Julia, which I know is a dreadful, awful affliction. When it happens you think you’re going to die, or at best never recover. I would tell him that I’d support him and we’d work through it together as we used to when we were growing up. Because our friendship made us invincible; we could solve anything together.
But I would never say any of this because I didn’t know where George was. A stupid drunken shag, a marriage pact, a court case and a pregnancy discovery later, I knew I would never find George again.
Francesca, Freddie and I sat in the boardroom. I was tired. As soon as I’d discovered I was pregnant I had become pregnant. I craved sleep all the time and I developed the habit of rubbing my stomach, with a natural urge to protect whoever was growing inside me. I was confounded by the desire to get used to being pregnant, but at the same time trying to avoid the mess that was my life. Because no matter which way you looked at it, it was a mess.
Retribution. I am not a totally bad person, but I am quick to judge and I can be a snob. Before, if anyone had talked about a woman who didn’t know who the father of her baby was, I would have been quick to condemn. I would have immediately thought that the woman was a tart, probably a drunk, someone who was selfish and didn’t think about the life she was bringing into the world. It certainly couldn’t happen to a woman who was intelligent, who didn’t open her legs for a half shandy and a packet of peanuts, and who was on the pill and took it religiously, i.e. it couldn’t happen to me. But it had, and was this punishment? Was it because I had been judgemental? Was it because I was happy? Why was I, all of a sudden, being so irrational. I blamed it on my hormones. The other thing about being pregnant was that I had something to blame all of my emotions on.
‘Can we just get this straight? You’re three months’ pregnant, and you don’t know who the father is because you slept with George?’ Francesca asked. I nodded. ‘Which wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the fact that George has hired Cordelia Dickens to be his PR and to get media coverage for his plight.’ Again I nodded. ‘The thing is that George knows he slept with you, but Joe doesn’t know that. So no matter how we try to cover it up, unless we do the old trick of pretending you’re not as preg-nant as you are and saying you gave birth prematurely we’re left with a number of problems.’
‘I’m not doing that. I’ve lied enough and look where that’s got me. I need to be honest. If I did pretend that I was less pregnant than I was, George wouldn’t believe it. Can you imagine what will happen? He’ll demand a test anyway and where will that leave us?’ I was getting slightly hysterical. I didn’t believe the situation could be any worse than it was, but it was sounding worse by the minute.
‘Holly, calm down, we have to look at the whole picture before we can decide what to do,’ Freddie said, sensibly.
‘Firstly, let’s look at the media side of things. There is always the possibility that the story won’t be picked up.’ Optimism was something I had already said goodbye to, so that didn’t soothe me.
‘Francesca, you know as well as I do that that is highly unlikely, Cordelia will twist it until someone picks it up, you know that.’
‘But is it enduring?’
‘Probably not as it is, but with the baby twist, that gives it another six months life.’
‘OK, so damage limitation. You have to tell Joe about the baby and about sleeping with George. I know that that is an awful prospect but you need to tell him straight away.’
‘But I’ll lose him.’
‘The only way you can guarantee not losing Joe is if you get rid of the baby and say that George is lying when he tells the world he slept with you.’ Francesca sounded harsh, but then she normally did. I still burst into tears.
‘Francesca, don’t be so hard on her, this isn’t easy,’ Freddie pleaded, as I sobbed.
‘I’m not trying to be hard, I am trying to be practical. I’m sorry if I sound sharp, but life is going to get tough.’
‘I know you’re right, but maybe we could be a bit gentler with her?’
‘Freddie do you think the press are going to be gentle once this gets out? If we’re going to implement some damage limitation then I don’t think we need to do it by being fluffy.’
I sobbed louder, which was awful because I sounded like a silly girl. I felt as if they were talking about me rather than to me, which they were because I had turned into a snivelling idiot who had probably lost her marbles. I pull
ed myself loosely together.
‘You’re right. Freddie, Francesca is right. I should harden myself but I think it’s hormonal. All this crying and stuff. Anyway, I would just like to say that I am not getting rid of the baby. I know that would be the easiest option, but not one I can entertain. I already love it, even though it’s partly responsible for my life becoming anything but a picnic. So, can we go from there?’ I was astounded by my composure, and by the surprised looks on Freddie and Francesca’s faces, so were they.
‘Glad we’ve established that. Firstly you need to talk to Joe. The sooner the better. We don’t want him learning of this through the newspapers. Freddie, you need to call the tabloids and find out if any have been offered the story and if so when they’re planning on running it. The only thing I can think of is to offer Holly’s side to whoever isn’t running the story, but if we do that we’re going to have to predict what George, or Cordelia, will be saying. The other option is to ignore it and hope it goes away; which I favour. If we put our side of the story across in the media, that gives ample opportunity for us to be criticised. It will be hell but I probably would vote for maintaining a dignified silence at first and then offering to put your side across to a chosen publication. What do you think?’
‘I know the media, if I put my side across they’ll probably twist everything. Also, although I can pretty much guess what George is going to say, I would rather wait and see. With the pregnancy I don’t feel that I have a strong defence and all I want to do is to keep that from him for as long as possible.’
‘Which means that you are going to hibernate for a while,’ Francesca said.
‘What? I can’t do that. What about work?’
‘You’ll work from home. And also, when I’ve found out when the story is breaking, then you will need to call our clients.’
I looked at her. ‘They’ll freak.’
‘No they won’t, not if we explain things to them properly. Holly I am not worried about our clients leaving us over this, anyway I am certain that won’t happen, but only if we’re honest with them in the first place.’ Francesca looked serious, the situ-ation was serious but at least she hadn’t fired me. I probably would have fired me.
The thought of calling all my clients filled me with dread. Actually the thought of talking to Joe did as well. There was a lot of dread about. My increasing body weight was dread. However, I knew that I had to do it. Both things.
‘Can we work out an official line?’
‘What for Joe, or for your clients?’ Freddie quipped.
‘Both,’ I replied.
Francesca said I was to tell our clients the story from my point of view. It didn’t sound too bad in the retelling, or should I say in our interpretation. I was going to warn them that George would be portraying me in the worst light he could, whilst protesting my innocence. It was complicated. I was going to tell them that George was in the grip of madness and believed we should enforce a marriage pact made ten years earlier. Then warn them that he would probably tell of an incident that passed between us, when we both had too much to drink. I was to assure them that the whole press invasion, if it were to come to that, was a highly exaggerated chain of events. I wouldn’t tell them about the pregnancy just yet, as we were still keeping it under wraps but I would promise them that whatever happened, their interests would be looked after as well as ever. I had to persuade them to stick with us because I knew that although Francesca was fantastically supportive, if I lost clients over this then I wouldn’t have a job.
I would tell them that any press invasion would not affect my professional life and I would explain that Freddie and Francesca would personally be ensuring that. Finally I would beg them to stay, if necessary. I might have to take the same line with Joe.
‘Can you take a paternity test now?’ Francesca asked. I hadn’t told them about what the doctor said, although I wasn’t sure why.
‘No, I’ve been told it’s dangerous for the baby. I could lose it and anyway apparently there are some ethical issues as well. My gynaecologist said I would have to wait until after the birth.’
‘That’s bad.’ Freddie looked upset.
I just shook my head, but deep down I was relieved. How can I explain? I didn’t want the baby to be George’s. I couldn’t cope with what that would mean for the future. For a start it would mean no more Joe, although I think that was going to be the case anyway. It was too confusing and too complicated and even if I could have a test, I didn’t want to find out that the baby was George’s and the way my luck was going, I believed a paternity test would confirm my worst fears.
‘How will Joe feel about that?’ Francesca asked.
‘To be honest, I think that Joe is going to be upset about the fact I slept with another guy and that will preoccupy his thoughts first of all. Then, he’ll want to know, but not at the expense of the baby’s health, although I am not sure I can say the same for George. Shit, I can just imagine George turning up with some horrible, private doctor who will do anything for money and demanding we take a test and then hurting my baby.’ This scene became so vivid in my thoughts that I became slightly hysterical.
‘OK, I vote we keep the baby issue from the press, and from George, for as long as possible. You’re barely showing any signs of pregnancy, so no one would guess.’ Francesca tried to reassure me, but I wasn’t convinced.
‘But I have hospital appointments and antenatal and stuff like that. Actually I have no idea what I have to do but I will have to go out.’
‘Just wear baggy clothes. I think the best thing is to hope that the press interest dies down before anyone finds out about the baby.’
‘Francesca, I think I should resign.’ My stomach was knotted and I just couldn’t see how any of this could make any sense to anyone: clients, Joe or me.
‘No way. You have worked hard and successfully for my company and now you need this job more than ever. I’m going to set you up to work from home. Freddie will run the office side of things and we’ll hire other people if we need them. After all it is time we expanded the business.’ I loved the way Francesca was making out I was almost doing her a favour.
‘I’m worried about my clients, they’ll probably go elsewhere.’ In my mind, the conversation with my clients had gone badly: ‘I’m sorry Holly but we can’t have someone as loose as you working for us, especially as you’re in the media. We have reputations to uphold and your actions will reflect on us adversely. Therefore we are rescinding our account with Francesca Williams PR, effective immediately.’ They would all say exactly the same.
‘No they won’t. None of this questions your professional judgement. What we’ll do is convince them that we’ll plug them whenever we can. It’s all publicity after all. You’ve got a pretty good relationship with them, and they value you, so you know that they’ll be fine. We just need to ensure that we explain the situation and they don’t find out from anyone else. Call them when Freddie has found out when the story is going to break, not before. And Holly, go home. Take the laptop, I’ll send someone over to install the e-mail network, another phone line and anything else necessary. Is that all right?’
‘Francesca thank you so much. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this but your support and Freddie’s means the world to me.’ Fresh tears streamed down my flushed cheeks.
‘Shit, you can tell she’s hormonal,’ Freddie said. Francesca smiled.
‘When the story breaks, we’ll issue a press release giving our side. We know the media, and we know it has the attention span of a gnat. We’ll ride the short storm and then one day we’ll look back and laugh. Well, maybe we will.’ Francesca squeezed my hand. She should have been sainted for letting me stay on.
Dixie booked me a cab and I went home feeling slightly better. At least I had a job, I wasn’t going to be a ‘single mother on social’ cliché. Which I know sounds snobby, but at least I could afford my child, even though it hadn’t been planned. If I needed to salvage something from this,
it was a tiny vestige of pride. That gave it to me. But what I needed to do next would take it away.
I got home and changed out of my office clothes into a pair of grey exercise leggings and a hooded sweatshirt. Then I set my laptop up on the small wooden dining table that sat behind my sofa in the living room. I grabbed a faux suede cushion from the sofa and wedged it behind me on the wooden chair. My new office. I inserted the lead into the laptop then plugged it into the wall. I stopped there, there was no point in switching it on because I couldn’t focus on work and besides I didn’t know what work I should be doing. Instead, I rooted around in a drawer until I found a pen and pad, then I sat back into the cushion and started writing a list.
Lists, I find, give clarity and focus. I also believe that they give me a semblance of control. The first part of my list consisted of everyone I needed to tell about the situation: Joe, my parents (who I was still seeing at the weekend, although not to announce my engagement any more but to tell them that their daughter was knocked up and didn’t know who the father was). At this point my list broke down as I broke down. My actions would hurt so many people. I stopped thinking about myself for a moment and thought of others. When I returned to the list, I wrote my sister’s name, and Lisa’s. Actually Lisa wasn’t someone I would worry about, but I knew Imogen would be full of disapproval. Imogen had always been an angel. An angel that liked to tell her younger sister what to do.
I thought for a second how much easier I could make this by having an abortion. It was late, I knew that, and when the doctor had mentioned it I fobbed him off. Probably because I worried that if I thought about it for more than a second it might be a good option, or at least an easy one. But I couldn’t. I had never been broody, but all of a sudden I felt totally maternal. There was one overriding certainty in the whole mess, and that was that as soon as I found out I was pregnant I wanted the baby. When my thoughts were just tuned on that, I felt euphoric. When they strayed to the practical side of my life, I was desolate.
Deranged Marriage Page 16