Wiping away a tear, George Conway manages a smile as he leaves and waits for his one true love to respond to him.
If you know Holly Miller, or if you have a marriage-pact story contact the Daily News.
Oh I knew Holly Miller all right, but not the one in the paper.
Chapter Twenty-two
When Max and Lisa emerged about two hours later, I had my head in the oven.
‘Shit Hol, what are you doing?’ Lisa screamed.
‘Cleaning the oven,’ I replied, pulling my head out and displaying my pink rubber gloves for them to see.
‘You scared me,’ Lisa said, going to the fridge to get her morning piece of celery.
‘Sorry.’ I peeled off the gloves and put the kettle on. ‘I’ll make you both coffee to compensate.’
‘Holly, the newspaper. Do you want me to get it?’ Max asked.
‘No need.’ I pointed to the counter where the newspaper lay open at page thirteen. Max and Lisa started to read it when the phone went. I went into the sitting room to take the call.
‘Hello.’
‘Hol, it’s me.’
‘Oh Freddie, thank goodness. Did you see it?’
‘Yes, so has Francesca. We don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I mean I know it’s a pack of lies, but it isn’t that damaging. It’s on a crap page, and it’s not that big, well it does fill the whole page but most of that is the photo.’
‘Freddie, why do you sound so stressed?’
‘We called the Daily News to refute the story, they refused to print your side.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘Not interesting enough.’
‘Shit. Can’t we make it interesting?’
‘Well, not unless we offer them the pregnancy exclusive. That might make it too interesting.’
‘What are we going to do?’ I needed Freddie to tell me that it would be all right.
‘Well for now, nothing babes. I’ve blackmailed every sub-editor on every tabloid to call me if they pick it up. Luckily, we’ve given them enough good stuff to get into their good books. I’m preparing a press release for you which we’ll send round to everyone if the story isn’t dead today. Even the Daily News have agreed to let me know if they are going to continue running the story. They don’t think it’s going to get any more coverage to be honest. If that is the case then it’s over.’
‘Freddie, you know Cordelia won’t let it be over.’
‘She might not have any choice. Shame there isn’t a general election or something. Unfortunately it’s a quiet time for news, that’s our biggest problem.’
‘Yeah, well I’m not enough of a bitch to wish for a world disaster just to suit me.’
‘I know. Hol, Francesca and I are on top of this. I’ll e-mail the planned release for your approval, and we’ll take it from there.’
‘What would I do without you?’
‘That’s a bloody good question.’
I went back into the kitchen where my two guests had made their own coffee.
‘So?’ I asked.
‘It’s a pile of shit,’ Lisa said.
‘Yeah and we’re going to e-mail the paper and tell them that,’ Max added.
‘You’d do that?’
‘Of course. I have to go into the studio now, so I’ll mail them from there. What does work say?’
‘Freddie thinks it will all be over soon.’
‘Fingers crossed.’
By the end of the morning I was exhausted. Lisa had been brilliant, fielding calls from people; but I spoke to my parents, who were very reassuring; my sister, who was hysterical should they connect me to her famous husband; and again to Freddie. No news from his end, I wanted to believe desperately that that was good.
Lisa made lunch, which was no mean feat for her, and I guess the reason we had a tuna salad.
‘It’s very good for you,’ she explained, when she put it in front of me.
‘It is,’ I replied.
‘You know that oven thing earlier?’ she asked.
‘Um.’
‘Is that you nesting?’
‘What?’
‘You know they say pregnant women get urges to clean everywhere because they are nesting.’
‘Makes me sound like a bird. I guess I did get an urge to clean though. Normally I have to bribe myself to go near that oven. How come you’re an expert on pregnancy all of a sudden?’
‘I told you, we’re thinking about trying for a baby, but I still want to see how yours turns out first.’
‘Any baby made from you and Max is bound to be gorgeous.’ Not only was Lisa in possession of model looks, but so was he. I didn’t think my baby would stand a chance in the beauty stakes compared to theirs, even if it was Joe’s. Lisa just smiled.
She came with me to my doctor’s appointment. I saw the same doctor as before, who told me much the same as I had been told at the hospital. She went through all the tests I needed to have done, gave me leaflets, said she would arrange an appointment with a gynaecologist and finally she asked me how I was. I decided to give her a potted version as I knew she had a waiting room full of people. I was growing to like her. She had sympathetic eyes, and a comforting smile. She wasn’t one of those cold horrid doctors who made you want to stay away. I could imagine she was ultra busy because everyone would want to come to see her, even if just for a chat. I pulled myself out of my silent thoughts as I heard her mention antenatal. I asked her if I could go to Francesca’s yoga teacher and she seemed to think that that would be all right. As long as I had a chat with my gynaecologist about it, and went to at least a couple of birthing lessons. I promised I would.
Even though I could picture the scene and I didn’t like it: Lisa, clutching her celery, accompanying me, a class full of happy, smiling, smug couples, assuming that we were lesbians and probably keeping well away from us in case it was contagious. The men would be calling their pregnant women honey, and Lisa would be taking the piss out of each and every one (the only silver lining). The teacher, although I am not sure if they are called teachers, would tell us both off for giggling too much and I’d sulk like I did at school. I really, really didn’t want to have to go through that, but if it was my punishment I would take it like a woman.
By the end of the day, there was no news about any more media interest in my life. I received the press release Freddie had prepared, I approved it, dealt with a couple more work-related things, then I made a chicken casserole for dinner. As I was never that keen on cooking, I guessed I was ‘nesting’ again, but after consulting Dr Miriam discovered it was probably a bit early for that. Actually I was trying to keep myself occupied and my mind off other matters. Max came home, we had dinner, and then, straight after, I fell into bed exhausted. It was a dreamless sleep.
As soon as I got up I logged onto the laptop. I was eager to do some work, and needed something to focus on something other than the mess that was my life. I didn’t have any e-mails to check, which upset me, so I fired loads off to Freddie, Francesca and Dixie. That way I knew that they would reply to me and my inbox wouldn’t feel quite so lonely. Neither would I.
Then I went to buy all the newspapers, ignoring Max’s offer to go. He had to get ready for a lunchtime flight to Scotland, and I wanted the fresh air. I walked to the local newsagent, bought all the tabloids, and carted them home.
I had learned early in my job to read newspapers quickly, looking for specific references, which is what I did, whilst sipping another cup of hateful herbal tea. Lisa and Max offered to help, but I waved them away and they could see I was on a bit of a mission, so they left me alone. I was pretty sure they were talking about me, but I didn’t mind. This roster that my mother had arranged for me was probably organised on the basis that it wasn’t safe to leave me on my own. When I thought about the next person on her roster, I was sure it was either her and Dad, or Imogen. They were the only people who didn’t have full-time jobs to go to, my parents being retired and Imogen being the wife
of a rich man. I didn’t have the energy to tell my mother that I would be all right on my own, but also I wasn’t sure that I would be. At times I felt I was slipping into the realm of madness and I didn’t want to be alone for that reason.
I read until I had covered each paper. There were no mentions, not one.
‘It’s clear,’ I shouted, giving Lisa and Max the opportunity to join me. I wasn’t sure who was more relieved, them or me.
That afternoon I was diverted from my problems, when Lisa took me to a London hotel spa. It was a lovely surprise and I filled up when she told me. I was taking the afternoon off work, but actually I hadn’t got any to do. Freddie and Francesca were definitely covering for me, which annoyed me a bit because I wasn’t totally incapable, but I have to admit the idea of a relaxing afternoon being pampered was more fun than work.
‘I can’t believe how much you’ve done for me.’
‘Oh don’t be silly. You’re stressed and stress isn’t good for the baby. But a massage, a manicure, a pedicure and waxing. Do you want anything waxed?’
‘No need.’ After all, waxing was something I did religiously for Joe. Now I could become really hairy and no one would notice.
‘OK, then manicure and pedicure. No need to let yourself go.’
‘I wasn’t going to,’ I lied.
We arrived at the spa which looked incredibly expensive.
‘I can’t let you pay for this,’ I said, knowing she had already booked two passes.
‘You don’t have a choice. Birthday present.’
‘My birthday has gone.’
‘Christmas then.’ I gave her a look but didn’t pursue the argument. I knew I would have to find a way of paying everyone back but had a feeling that if their support were translated into money, I’d need to win the lottery to do so.
We parted ways once we’d changed into our fluffy white robes. I was having a massage, and I think Lisa was going for colonic irrigation, although she didn’t tell me that. I actually didn’t want to think about it, so as I lay on my treatment table and felt warm hands unknotting me, I really did relax.
It started slowly, as at first I could almost feel my tension. I was rigid. A couple of comments from the masseuse confirmed this. But after a while I felt the knots dissolving and fell asleep.
Still drowsy from my massage I offered my hands to the manicurist and then my feet. I couldn’t decide what colour I wanted them painted because I was too relaxed, so she went for a neutral colour. When she finished I put on my swimming costume and went to the spa where I got into the warm, bubbly water, wishing every day to be like this. There were no worries in the spa, no concerns, because it was a haven, a protective haven where nothing and no one could get me. As I felt the bubbles working magically up and down my body, and my mind more settled than it had done in ages, I realised that if I really could keep stress to the minimum I would be all right. But then I knew that as soon as I stepped out and I left the spa and went home all my problems would be there still. I couldn’t drown them in the jacuzzi even if I wanted to.
Lisa looked relaxed as she came to join me.
‘This place is amazing,’ I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
‘I know, it makes you feel as if you’re in heaven or something, and there’s no outside world.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’
‘Which is why I thought it would be so good for you.’
‘Lisa, you’re a wise woman.’
‘No one’s ever called me wise before. Holly, you have to promise me something.’ I nodded. The way I was feeling I’d promise anything. ‘If you ever get into a proper state and you’re really stressed, and you can’t afford to come here, then come and talk to me. We’ll do something to get rid of it, but you were ready to explode and that’s not good for anyone.’
Lisa was getting wiser by the second.
We still hadn’t heard any more from the newspapers, no news was still good news. Francesca gave me some proposals to write, to keep me from driving myself mad, and Lisa went shopping for groceries. There was an element of calm in my flat, but that scared me because everyone knew what calm came before, didn’t they?
Chapter Twenty-three
The ripple in the calm came at the end of the week. One particular columnist on the second biggest tabloid had picked up on the George story, highlighted it and said that it was difficult to enforce a broken promise in this day and age, as if that was a bad thing. There wasn’t much, but it was implying sympathy for George. That wasn’t a disaster in itself, but it was inasmuch as columnist Lindsay Black was one of the most popular and widely read. Freddie told me, reluctantly, that the story would probably now be pursued by that paper, he then sent our press release to each paper and the said columnist.
Days were merging into each other. I was constantly on the lookout for press coverage, I was trying to keep it together, but not succeeding very well. As Lisa and Max packed up to leave my flat and resume their lives, I changed the sheets in the spare room, in preparation for my parents’ arrival. My second set of babysitters were due the same day Lisa and Max left.
I was managing to keep on top of things. I wanted to kill Lindsay Black, whom I had always found intelligent reading until now, I still wanted to kill George and I still hadn’t heard from Joe.
My parents arrived with enough food to keep me going for the whole remainder of my pregnancy. I was approaching my fourth month, and I was steadily (daily) gaining weight. I thought that it would only be a matter of weeks before I would show. I had a couple of weeks for all the media interest to die down, but as it hadn’t really started, I didn’t know when this would happen.
I settled my parents into their room, then we had dinner, cooked by my mother. They tried to reassure me the way parents do, but I was too preoccupied. For a moment, I blanked out everything but the fact that I could do something about the mess; I could make everything all right. I was going to be a mother, it was my duty to behave like my mother, a woman who always made everything all right. When you’re fighting for someone, other than yourself, someone you love very much you fight that much harder. I imagined all those terrified soldiers going to war, fighting for the safety of their loved ones, and although I wasn’t in any way comparing myself to them, I needed some of their courage.
That was exactly what I was going to do. I was going to be brave; take control, I’d put an end to the nonsense of the press threat by facing the enemy and I would also tell my loved ones how I felt. I was sure that this was the best course of action, I knew I was doing the right thing.
My first brave act was to write a letter to Joe. I begged an early night, and tucked up in bed with my hot water bottle (my mum), I took out a pen and pad and began composing.
Dear Joe
I agonised over writing to you, not only because I didn’t know if I could find the right words, but also because I didn’t know if you would want to read them. My intention is not to cause you any more pain, if you feel a fraction of what I feel then I have caused you far too much already.
I still have no answers for you as to why I slept with George, but all I can tell you was that I was reeling from the shock of finding that I was in love with you, and fighting with you at the same time. That is no excuse but fear can make people act irrationally; turn for comfort in any way they can. Falling in love with you was the most wonderful thing I did, but also the scariest. I was terrified, especially as I hadn’t heard from you and I didn’t know how you felt.
George is familiar. That sounds awful but he is. Or was. When I saw him again I remembered how secure my childhood was, which had a lot to do with him. He was my security blanket as I grew up.
There are no details to give you, because that I know is too painful, but what I want to say to you is simple. I love you with all my heart. I miss you in a way I have never missed anyone. I go to bed each night and pray that the baby is yours, that is all I want because then maybe you’ll feel able to be a part of my life aga
in.
That is all I hope.
Joe, I love you. Ignore this letter if you want to, but please don’t ignore that I really do love you.
Holly xx
I didn’t have to tear up any pages, it flowed the way I wanted it to right from the start. I had a warm feeling inside me. I was taking some control back. I was going to do anything in my power to fix things, I would never stop fighting for what was important. Not in the way George was doing, but in the right way.
*
Do you lose the ability to sleep when you get older? Or is having kids the end of your late mornings? My parents were at the kitchen counter drinking tea when I got up at seven the next morning. They were fully dressed, and my father had taken over my job of buying all the papers.
‘No mention, love,’ he said.
I smiled. I needed to check my e-mails and make a phone call. ‘Why don’t you guys go out and explore a bit?’
‘But we can’t leave you.’ My mum looked horrified.
‘I’ll be fine for a couple of hours, Mum, I just want to check in with work. I do still do some occasionally,’ I pushed. Eventually I managed to get them out of the house armed with an A-Z and an umbrella. I had no idea where they were going, but guessed that a walk around the common would be it, before they’d start fretting and return to check I hadn’t run away.
I didn’t need to check e-mails, after all it was only Monday morning, but I needed to send some. I sent one to Freddie copying Francesca requesting I be given more work. It felt weird and I knew they were protecting me but I also felt as if my role in the company was diminishing. Yes, I’d been writing proposals, talking to clients, bossing people around, but I had been out of the office for so long that I felt out of touch. I also felt as if they were protecting me too much. I was pregnant, not ill, and I needed to keep busy more than ever. Although I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure I was doing the right thing, it had seemed like a good idea last night. I was trying to sort my life out, so I made a phone call.
Deranged Marriage Page 19