Before they trailed off, they had made a last-ditch attempt to get me to take a paternity test, and they didn’t seem to care that it might harm the baby. That, and the birth were the only events that held any interest for them. The story was almost dead, or if not dead, sleeping.
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for George. Now, instead of being a headline, he was featured and photographed in his everyday life. George on This Afternoon; George arriving at the BBC studios; George in Waitrose; George in San Lorenzo. The television appearances were increasing, he had constant exposure. Amazingly, most of the time he forgot to even mention me. What was laughable was the image he’d cultivated. Cordelia had torpedoed George into daytime TV. The housewives’ favourite. How long would it be until he was hosting his own TV show? Eamonn Holmes watch out; your sofa is under threat.
Imogen had gone and Lisa had replaced her. Max was away, so she said that I was doing her a favour rather than the other way round. I missed Imogen, funnily enough, although Lisa was far more cheerful.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ she asked as she came into my bedroom and handed me a cup of tea.
‘No, I want to see Joe on my own.’
‘On your own with a doctor?’
‘Yeah all right but at least I might get to talk to him.’
‘How long is it going to take?’
‘Usually about twenty minutes.’
‘When he sees the tiny little thing on the screen I know he’ll fall in love.’
‘Thanks Lis. How do I look?’
‘Beautiful, you’ll melt his heart.’
As I left the flat I said hello to the bored looking photographers.
‘Where are you going?’ one asked casually.
‘Gynaecologist. Want to come along for the ride?’ I had become cocky in my old age. He shook his head.
‘We’ve heard that Kylie is in South Kensington, shopping, we’re going to get photos of her.’
‘Good.’ I smiled. They had lost interest in me, for now.
I got the bus to the hospital, enjoying every moment. Freedom of movement had resumed. A few people stared at me but no one said anything, and I know how people stare normally, so they might not even have recognised me. I still felt nervous as I got off the bus and began the short walk to the front of the hospital where I was meeting Joe. I prayed that he would be all right.
He looked a bit dishevelled and was smoking a cigarette. God, he was sexy.
‘Hi.’ He stubbed out the cigarette, as I approached.
‘How are you?’ he asked.
‘Nervous.’ I managed a weak smile.
‘Me too. I couldn’t sleep last night.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Holly, this is still really hard for me.’
‘I know. How’s work?’ I asked him as we walked in.
‘Pretty crazy at the moment. I’m working on a huge corporate identity for a computer firm. These guys spend loads of money on stuff like that.’ I missed hearing details about his job, it made me realise how distant we had become.
We made small talk while we waited to be called to the doctor. The butterflies in my stomach weren’t just because of the baby.
‘How’s Freddie?’ he asked, keeping on the safe ground of small talk.
‘Fantastic. Freddie and Francesca have been brilliant. I’m sorry that you didn’t have anyone to fall back on. Well, I mean anyone who works in PR. We should have helped you more.’
‘Oh I think you got the worst of it. Anyway, it’ll soon be over. The mad media will lose interest.’ He laughed, uneasily.
‘That’s what I keep telling myself. Actually they’ve pretty much lost interest now.’
‘It was weird though wasn’t it, seeing our lives in the papers.’
‘Beyond weird.’
‘He’s always in things and on television. It drives me mad whenever I see him.’
‘I know. He’s done his best to screw up everything, although I’m not entirely blameless.’
‘But it was a mistake wasn’t it? One with huge repercussions but a mistake all the same.’
‘That’s all it was, a mistake.’
Joe nodded and fell silent. I bit the bullet and took his hand. I squeezed it, he smiled and gave a little squeeze back. There might not have been much but there was still hope. Just a tiny glimmer, but that was enough for now.
We went in to Dr Langton’s surgery and I sat on the trolley and pulled my top up to reveal my ever-growing bump. Joe looked scared as he watched the screen, as if he was watching a spooky film. But soon I saw the amazement in his eyes and I knew that I’d done the right thing.
‘Oh boy, that’s amazing,’ Joe said. He looked at the screen mesmerised and then, without prompting took my hand.
‘It’s growing so quickly,’ I said, thinking aloud.
‘It’s amazing.’ He smiled at me and I wanted more than anything to fall into his arms. We left the hospital together and for the first time in the whole mess, I felt normal. I was a normal mum leaving hospital with her boyfriend, the father of her baby. Even if it was based on fantasy.
‘It is amazing.’ Joe was a stuck record. I adored that about him.
‘I know.’ I stood outside and shivered. The weather was warmer now but I still felt cold.
‘Can I drive you home? I’ve got the car.’ Oh how I missed his car.
‘That would be lovely.’ We walked to the parking bay and I heaved myself into his low Porsche.
‘Not the most practical transport for someone my size,’ I quipped.
‘No, you’re a bit of a fat bird aren’t you.’
I laughed. ‘Not fat, pregnant. I’ll be lovely and slim again in no time.’
‘Yeah or you’ll be one of those cuddly mothers.’
‘I will not. I’ll be one of those slim, glamorous mothers that all young boys fall in love with. A yummy mummy.’
‘You will. Everyone will fall in love with you.’
I smiled, sadly. Because he did, he did fall in love with me, and look where that got him. ‘Do you want to come in?’ I asked before we reached the flat. ‘Lisa’s there, she’s babysitting me.’
‘What about the press?’
‘Two at the last count and they were leaving to go and find Kylie.’ I looked at him beseechingly, I didn’t want him to leave.
‘I better not,’ he said in the end. ‘I’ve got loads to do at work.’ I nodded and bit my lip to stop the tears. I had no right to cry in front of him.
‘What next?’ he asked as he pulled up.
‘I want you to be involved as much as you can. We need to go to antenatal and birthing lessons. I know this is hard but if this baby is yours then you have a right to know it now.’
‘Give me some time.’
I nodded, and bolted from the car, tears streaming down my face, as I made my way to the front door. I bet a photo of me heaving myself out of Joe’s car, fleeing to the flat in tears would have been a great one. I was so relieved that they were no longer interested enough and so that latest humiliation, would be kept from the front page.
I let myself in with shaking hands, barely able to see, and was relieved to find both Lisa and Freddie there. I fell into his arms. My surrogate boyfriend.
‘What happened?’ Lisa asked.
I told them how he looked so gorgeous but so nervous. I told them how we had a normal conversation just like in the old days. I told them how he’d teased me when he drove me home, how he didn’t want to come in, how he knew that he needed time to think about what next.
For the first time I would have given anything to know who the father of my baby was. I really would have. ‘I can’t bear it, I just can’t bear it,’ I sobbed, as Freddie held me in his vice-like grip and didn’t let go.
Finally when I regained some semblance of composure, I realised that Freddie shouldn’t be here.
‘Is something wrong at work?’ I asked.
‘No darling, look I came here today because we kn
ew you were seeing Joe. Francesca is joining us after work. We’re your support. But there is something.’
‘Really, what?’
‘Wait until you hear this,’ Lisa chipped in, animatedly.
‘Well, Francesca received an anonymous phone call from some woman, who said that George wasn’t all he seemed and that there was more going on. She said that he was only interested in himself and that it wouldn’t be hard to prove that his claim to be in love with you was false.’
‘I don’t get it. How?’
‘Apparently he hasn’t been living like a monk. We don’t know any more because when Francesca asked, the woman hung up. But this is the weird thing, Francesca could have sworn it was Cordelia, she had tried to disguise her voice but as you know Francesca knows her pretty well.’
‘What do you think it means?’ Lisa asked, rubbing her hands together.
‘Well, our guess is that he slept with her.’
‘But why would she tell us?’ I was trying to process the information, which still made little sense.
‘Because he dumped her?’ Freddie smiled.
‘No, Freddie, none of this makes sense. Cordelia is making money out of him, he’s making money out of me. He wouldn’t risk that.’
‘You’d think, wouldn’t you.’
‘Anyway, if he dumped her then we’ve no proof.’
‘But he could be doing it with someone else.’
‘Doing it?’ I laughed. ‘You mean being unfaithful to me.’ I couldn’t quite take it in after the day that I’d had, and anyway I didn’t believe it. It was too ridiculous.
‘It’s worth a try. Until we know the results of the paternity test, then there will be some interest in the story. Especially when the test is finally taken and if it turns out to be George’s then, well.’ I flinched. ‘Sorry, Hol, sorry, to be so blunt but we know that’s a possibility. Therefore if we can make George look like he’s not whiter than white, then you get the sympathy vote. Game over.’
‘What a tosser,’ Lisa stated. We couldn’t argue with that.
‘OK. But say he did shag Cordelia—yuck, that’s a coupling not to imagine—and then dumped her, he might not be with anyone else.’
‘Or he might be. Worth having him followed.’
‘I’ll follow him,’ Lisa offered.
‘Don’t be silly, he knows you. Freddie, are you suggesting a detective?’
‘Why not. What have we got to lose?’ It was a good question.
‘I just don’t see it.’
‘Well, maybe that’s because you’re secretly flattered that he loves you and you’re jealous.’ I hit him. ‘I know; that was a joke. But it’s worth a try. Lisa?’
‘Absolutely. Do you think we should go one better and hire one of those honey-trap women.’
‘A what?’
‘I’m sure I read about it in Cosmo or something. Women you pay to test your boyfriend’s fidelity.’
‘No way. Hiring a detective is bad enough but paying someone to set him up. No, no way.’ I rolled my eyes. Ever since George had come back on the scene, not only had my life been turned upside down but he had also cost me a small fortune. Solicitors’ fees, taxis to avoid the press, maternity stuff (although I hoped I wouldn’t be blaming him for that), the costs that Francesca endured, and now a detective. If George ever came to his senses and scuttled back to New York then I would definitely be sending him a bill.
‘OK, but let Francesca persuade you to have him followed. It was her idea.’
‘Fine, if you think it’ll work...after all there really isn’t anything to lose.’ I shrugged because I wasn’t convinced.
Suddenly things were looking very different, but I didn’t quite understand. Freddie’s joke wasn’t near the mark, I wasn’t jealous. But, and this is the age old but, for me, this was George we were talking about. Despite the fact he’d been an absolute sod to me he was still George, somewhere he was, and I couldn’t believe he would do that. I couldn’t believe he could have been so stupid. Why would he risk everything? How could he have changed so much, way beyond all recognition? We knew he was broken-hearted, but that didn’t seem to be enough of an explanation any more. I had talked it over with Imogen and Lisa and we’d reached the conclusion that George was still in love with Julia. It’s just that I’d become an easier target to hit. It might not have made perfect sense but it made more sense than the fact he was in love with me and it certainly made more sense than him and Cordelia. But then what did I know? I had been wrong every step of the way so far.
By the time that Francesca arrived, I was still unconvinced. Or I had unconvinced myself again. Freddie was definite about the course of action and wasn’t relenting. But I wasn’t sure. George had played dirty but that didn’t mean I should. Should I? And there was the fact that the anonymous tip-off had been anonymous, and it was only a guess that it was Cordelia and that wasn’t even a sensible guess. He was her client, why would she try to ruin him? And then the speculation that he was sleeping with her was ridiculous. It would be like a fly arranging to go and have tea with the horrible, big, fat, hungry spider. George wouldn’t stoop that low.
But supposing, in the tight grip of madness, he did sleep with her, that didn’t mean he would sleep with anyone else. If it was her on the phone, then that meant she was being vengeful, which meant that they were no longer sleeping together and there would be nothing for the private detective (which was probably going to cost my childcare savings) to discover. Not that I believed that he had slept with her. No, not George, not even mad George would do that. Surely.
‘Make her see sense, she’s driving us nuts with her head-in-the-sand attitude,’ Freddie said. I gave him my best sardonic smile.
‘Holly, I think this could turn things around for us. If we have him followed, and he is doing something we can nail him for, the press will turn against him just as quickly as they turned against you. It will be a perfect solution. A final solution.’
‘But it doesn’t make sense,’ I reiterated, sounding like a repetitive song. It was becoming my theme tune. ‘It doesn’t make sense, it just doesn’t make sense.’ Put a monotonous dance beat on that and you’ve got a number one.
‘Holly, are you OK?’ Lisa asked. Actually I was fine, I was daydreaming, or hallucinating. I wondered if that was hormonal. Had my pregnancy finally driven me insane? I patted my stomach and apologised, silently, to my baby. I tried to refocus on the situation at hand but I was so, so tired.
‘I’m fine, a bit tired that’s all,’ I replied.
‘At least if we try this and it works you could sleep again. I can’t believe what a sleaze he is. I know he’s a shit for what he did to you alone, but he’s even more of a shit for sleeping around while destroying your life in the press. I’d like to break his balls myself.’ Lisa was stomping around my living room in her tirade. Freddie was nodding vigorously. She was a soldier rallying her troops, he was her troop. Not much, but more than nothing. I shook my head at my ever-wandering thoughts. Was the drifting mind I was experiencing part of pregnancy? It never ceased to amaze me that there were so many symptoms and side-effects. Getting fat was only a tiny bit, it was the easy bit. Nausea, exhaustion, trapped wind, constipation, backache, oh I could go on and on with my list of ailments but I didn’t want to sound like the medical encyclopedia I was fast becoming.
‘Holly, listen to me.’ Francesca stood in front of me and held on to my arms. I must have been wandering around. Or waddling, because I waddled now. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with my extra bulk and instead of walking in a straight line I seemed to move from side to side. Only slightly, but Lisa had noticed it. She said I looked like a duck. Francesca gave me a tiny shake and continued. ‘Maybe it doesn’t make sense, maybe it does, this whole situation from start to finish hasn’t made sense. We are trying to get you out of the mess you’re in and this is a lead. My instinct is that we can turn things around. The press are losing interest but the media still loves him. At the moment George isn’t s
howing signs of disappearing into obscurity and that is the only thing that you should want. That and a George-free future. Look, I am prepared to stake my reputation on this.’
‘I don’t know.’ I didn’t. Because he might be the father and if he was and we discredited him would that make me a bad mother? My child might never forgive me for ruining its father’s career as a celebrity because that was what we were trying to do. No matter how we dressed it up we wanted to ensure that George had no more friends in the media, no more fans among the public, and no future in broadcasting. Then he would pack his bags and head back to New York. He could be a lawyer again and I could have my baby and George wouldn’t be in a position to exploit that. No, he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. But then how would my baby feel that I had denied him or her a father? What was the right thing to do? I thought about the problem page in the tabloids that I was, by now, so familiar with. They could do a great photo casebook.
HOLLY’S BABY DILEMMA!
Picture one: Holly with a big bump (or blonde model pretending to be Holly), wearing a dressing gown (because they always do). Speech bubble from model’s mouth; ‘What should I do? Should I ruin the potential evil father’s chances of stardom while I can, and then I will be free from his clutches?’
Picture two: Blonde model Holly wearing same dressing gown and discussing things with her beautiful brunette friend. Holly: ‘Should I follow him? If he really is a sleaze bag sleeping with loads of women then I worry about the baby and how it will feel when it is grown up.’
Deranged Marriage Page 33