Deranged Marriage

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Deranged Marriage Page 35

by Faith Bleasdale


  ‘Hi,’ he hugged me.

  ‘My God, you are enormous. I’m sure you weren’t this big last week.’ He laughed and I looked at him. The eyes, the lips, the trademark grey jumper and black trousers.

  ‘Thanks, Joe.’ I put his hand on my stomach and willed the baby to move. It did.

  ‘It’s amazing, I can feel it.’ Joe looked delighted. I led him in and sat him at the table. I wanted to get the food out of the way, I don’t know why but it was something less to think about. While we ate the most delicious toad-in-the-hole ever, I told him about George and the private detective.

  ‘So the media circus will be over now?’ Joe asked. I hadn’t seen him smile for a long time and it felt so amazing. I wanted to keep pinching myself because I almost couldn’t believe that Joe was here. What if I was dreaming. Imagine how pissed-off I would be if I woke up and found out all this was a dream. But it wasn’t. I was definitely awake. The baby kicking, my exhaustion, and a little tiny pinch on the leg confirmed my status.

  ‘It’s his fault, he did this. He started it and now I’m going to finish it.’ It was fighting talk but I hoped the fight was over.

  ‘He’s a sleazebag.’

  ‘We know that. I think he’s actually made the worst mistake a minor celebrity can make.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Believing his own publicity. But I don’t care about him, not even a bit. How do you feel about this?’ We’d finished our main course and I was watching him sipping his wine, while I drank water.

  ‘I just know I need to be here. When you told me you were pregnant all I could think about was the fact you cheated on me, and then I was so angry that it might not be mine. I’m not angry any more just hurting a little. But Holly, I can’t ignore all this and I want to be a part of it. I figure that when we do the test then I might have more difficult decisions but for now I want to be around, I want to be involved as if it were my baby.’

  ‘I really hope it is.’

  ‘So do I. I want it to be mine more than anything.’ His eyes filled with tears and I realised how hard this was for him. ‘But I want to be there from now on. I need to be there from now on. Is that all right?’

  ‘Of course. You can do the whole caboodle if you want. Birthing classes, hospital appointments, shopping for the nursery. I have to warn you that it’s not all fun. You have to watch videos, read books, there is a lot to learn.’ I felt as if I was addressing a child, but then Joe was childlike that evening.

  ‘God there’s so much I don’t know. What about names? Have you thought about names? And the birth. Can I be there?’ As his words gushed, I cringed at the thought that the man I wanted to win back was going to see me with my legs spread open and looking horrific like the woman in Dr Miriam’s book. But then I thought, if he was there and if he saw the birth maybe he’d fall in love with the baby, regardless. That was what I wanted, and that was what I needed. My baby deserved the best in life and Joe was the best. There was no doubt of that.

  ‘If you think you can handle it,’ I joked. ‘I haven’t chosen any names yet and I don’t know the sex. I’d like it if we chose names together.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ He looked at me, deep into my eyes and I wondered if he was still looking for the woman with whom he fell in love. ‘Holly, I love you, but I am still dealing with other feelings; jealousy, betrayal, I’m trying so hard to forgive you.’ I smiled through the tears that were threatening to fall. I hadn’t forgiven myself either.

  ‘I’ll go and get pudding shall I?’

  I showed him my shopping list and the conversation turned to the practical. I didn’t want to broach the subject of money (I had already discovered that this was going to cost a small fortune), but Joe wanted to. He said we’d shop together, and he became quite bossy.

  ‘If I am going to be involved, then I need to be involved in everything,’ and—quite male—‘Are you sure you should be working?’

  I loved it. I know it wasn’t normal, but it was more normal than it had been for a while. I was planning my impending parenthood with the man I loved so very, very much and that was normal. Even if we still didn’t know if he was the father. I was so touched by his concern, by his behaviour and I was full of hope for our future.

  ‘I’ve given up smoking, Holly.’

  I had noticed this. ‘How long has it been?’

  ‘A week, but it’s a start.’ He smiled, tentatively.

  ‘Do you want coffee?’ He shook his head. We had so much to talk about, but I felt the conversation slipping away. It had been intense, and we were both tired.

  ‘I better go, you need your sleep,’ he said. I nodded. I called a taxi for him, and of course it turned up straight away, just when I didn’t want it to. I walked him to the door.

  ‘Goodnight, Hol. Goodnight, baby.’ He kissed my cheek, then he kissed my tummy. I tingled.

  ‘Goodnight, Joe.’ I watched his back as he walked down the stairs and out of the door, then I went to the freezer and ate an entire tub of frozen yogurt.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Screwed

  ‘Cordelia have you seen it?’ I was shouting down the phone. Never had I felt this much rage; I was seeing red.

  ‘I have,’ she said, calmly.

  Why did she sound disinterested? This was our livelihood being flushed down the pan, not just mine. Ever since our affair had stopped she had been annoying me. Sure, she still got me work, and plenty of it, but her manner was abrupt; almost dismissive. Most of the time she had Sophie call me. Things had deteriorated so much, that I had actually started looking for a new agent. With my regular television slot on This Afternoon about to be finalised, I needed proper representation. My career was taking off, I was happy with the direction, but I wasn’t happy dealing with Cordelia any more. I did complain to her on one of the few occasions I was able to talk to her, but she said that as long as she did her job then I had no cause for complaint. But complain I did. She was infuriating and insolent and I wasn’t going to stand for it. I was her client and the client is always right. I hadn’t actually gone as far as to meet any agents yet but I had put out feelers. It was probably time to upgrade.

  Until the papers threatened to take everything away. I was screwed.

  ‘Well, what the fuck is going on?’ I was breathing fire.

  ‘You slept with a café girl, George.’ She was colder than ice.

  ‘But how did it get into the papers?’ I was fuming. I don’t remember ever being this angry. Everything had been so secure, now it was rocking on the edge of my personal career cliff. And the woman who was supposed to be in charge was doing a great impression of someone who didn’t give a shit.

  ‘It’s only in the Daily News, although I’m sure other papers will feature the story tomorrow. Your waitress kissed and told by the looks of things.’

  Devoted George Betrays Holly With Waitress. Fucking great!

  Debbie had spoken to a journalist, either knowingly or not. At a guess, not, she wasn’t the brightest spark in the book. But she had told him of our meetings. I had no idea how the journalist had got wind of it in the first place, or why Debbie hadn’t kept her mouth shut. Fucking women. They all screw you in the end. I panicked. Everything that I had built was beginning to crumble. I couldn’t let it all slip away.

  ‘It’s ridiculous. Tell them it’s all lies and we’ll sue if they don’t retract it.’

  ‘Is it lies then George?’

  ‘No. But we have to do something.’

  ‘This changes things slightly, George. You see I’ve had phone calls all morning asking for your blood. These people, it seems, are angry that you cheated them. They thought you were in love, they supported you, and they’re not happy that you betrayed them. They believed that you loved Holly so much you’d go to any lengths to win her, but not, apparently, by sleeping with waitresses. The TV companies are a bit unhappy as well. In fact all your appointments have been cancelled. Dear, dear, it looks like the fun is over.’

&n
bsp; I could have sworn I heard her cackle. ‘What do you mean?’ There was a stampede going on in my stomach; a riot in my head.

  ‘Your fame. It was given to you and now it’s being taken away. You pretty much became a star overnight, and now you’re going to be a nobody overnight.’

  ‘But we can’t let this happen.’ The windows in my mind were being smashed; someone was throwing rocks. Smash, smash, smash. No future.

  ‘There’s really nothing I can do. Apart from resign as your publicist.’

  ‘But we have to do something. Cordelia do not give up on me.’ Desperation hung in the air.

  ‘I’m sorry George, but with this, apart from hate mail, I don’t think you can expect any other interest.’

  ‘So that’s it. Your saying it’s over?’ How could she do this to me?

  ‘It sure is.’ Cordelia laughed, then hung up.

  At first I wanted to scream, but instead I punched the wall. I pulled back my fist and launched it as hard as I could. At first I didn’t feel the pain; but soon it set in. I looked at my knuckles, shocked by the redness and the immediate swelling. Then I looked at the dent in the wall. I couldn’t believe how the fates had suddenly conspired against me. One minute I was the media’s favourite son. Now I was their black sheep. I thought I was going to be a star. But now I had had that snatched away. I called Cordelia back, I couldn’t let things end like this.

  ‘Cordelia Dickens.’ She sounded so smug.

  ‘Why did you laugh at me? This is going to affect you as well. You weren’t doing badly out of me.’ At least I had another outlet for my frustration, other than the wall. I rubbed my knuckles and saw how they were changing colour, the purple beginning to blink at me angrily. I knew how it felt.

  ‘George. shouting at me isn’t going to help. Now, the thing is that you’re right when you say that I make money out of you, but well, there are more important things in life than money.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘George, you screwed up. Simple. This is your fault. The press is fickle, one minute they love you the next they’re your enemy. The public is the same. It’s over, face it, and I for one won’t shed any tears.’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Oh, I am. And when I said that you screwed up, well you did, but your downfall had a little help.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You’ve learned a valuable lesson, I hope. You shouldn’t have fucked with me.’ She hung up for a second time.

  I had come full circle. I was alone. I was unloved. I was upset. More than that I was angry. I grabbed my coat and left the flat.

  As I opened the door on to the street I saw them. They were huddled together like a pack of wild dogs. The photographers and journalists who had supported me, had come for my blood.

  The noise was deafening as the cameras popped, and the hounds bayed. It was the scariest thing I had ever faced, and fear replaced my blood in pumping itself around my body. I couldn’t focus on what they were saying and I felt myself lose control.

  I pushed through them, they were grabbing me, pushing tape recorders and cameras into my face, shouting some more. Animals.

  Eventually, I broke free of them, but they pursued me all the way down the street.

  People stared as I pushed open the door with as much force as I could muster. I saw her, standing behind the counter, looking as pretty as ever. But really she was ordinary. What was I thinking? All I wanted was a bit of comfort when Cordelia had rejected me and look where it got me. The scheming cow probably planned the whole thing. Planned to seduce me and then to make money from me.

  I was aware of the press behind me, squeezing themselves into the small cafe, leaving the door open, fighting to get a bit of space to get close to me. The customers were stunned; the press were drooling. I didn’t care a shit.

  ‘You bitch!’ I screamed. The cafe fell silent. The cameras started up again.

  ‘George, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that they would print it,’ she said. She sounded emotional; looked upset. I nearly believed her. The cameras were in overdrive.

  ‘Debbie, you spoke to a fucking reporter, he’s quoted you. Did you say this or not?’ My voice was tight with rage.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. Some big guy came out from the back room and glared at me, but I stood my ground.

  ‘How could you tell everyone that we were in love? That I loved you, not Holly? It’s total crap. I had sex with you but I didn’t love you and now you’ve ruined everything.’ The counter separated us but I moved my face as close as I could. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to destroy her, the way she had destroyed me.

  ‘Hang on mate, you can’t talk to her like that.’ The big guy came round and looked at me threateningly. He glowered at the journalists, then looked at Debbie.

  ‘She’s ruined everything. Everything!’ I screamed.

  ‘Out!’ he shouted and pushed me. I wasn’t in the mood to be bullied so I turned round and punched him in the stomach using my good fist. It wasn’t my finest punch. He grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go. Again, I heard the orchestra of cameras in cruel harmony. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I would regret what I was doing, but I had no idea how to stop myself.

  ‘Let go of me, you fucker,’ I yelled with all the frustration I felt. I was giving the press such a show. I could, in the back of my mind (the only remaining sane bit), already see the headlines: The Rise And Fall Of George Conway!

  In real time, it had been a fast rise to fame. I had gone from being a nobody to a somebody overnight. And it had disintegrated just as quickly. Here today...gone today. ‘If you don’t leave I’m calling the police.’ He didn’t exactly give me a choice as he frogmarched me on to the street, depositing me on the pavement.

  I went back to the flat, not knowing what else to do. It had all gone. Evaporated. No more television, no photo calls, no interviews, no nothing. When the last shot of me was taken—sitting humiliated on the pavement—the press walked away. They had what they wanted; they didn’t need me any more. Apparently no one did. My answerphone was silent, my publicist no longer working for me. I had nowhere left to turn and no one to turn to.

  ‘Fame is fickle,’ Cordelia had said. And she should know. Because what I had was all gone, and now I had nothing. Less than nothing, because as I nursed my bruised knuckles, took off my soiled clothes and looked at my red, angry face in the mirror I realised that I had also lost my self-respect.

  Chapter Forty-two

  I woke the next day feeling ill. I was cold and hot all at the same time. I had a fever. I had never felt more dreadful in my life; a life that had changed beyond all recognition. No longer was I the smart lawyer, the New Yorker, the man in a stable, grown-up relationship. No longer was I the famous person, the housewives’ favourite, and the tabloid king. No longer was I the Marriage Pact Man, the father of her baby, no longer was I...anything. It hurt, I ached. Everything was dull. I had no idea what my next move would be. I was alone. Totally alone and devastated.

  I stayed in bed for days: I’m not sure how many. I couldn’t move. I got up to go the toilet, but I didn’t wash, clean my teeth, change my clothes, or eat. I didn’t leave the house, I didn’t see a newspaper and my phone was loudly silent. I hadn’t watched it ebb away, I had watched it sprint away. Ready, steady, go! GONE. I had a bottle of water which I managed to sip when I really needed to, but that was it.

  What made me get up? I don’t know but I did and I showered and I changed and I went out of the house and I bought the papers. There was no mention of me. I had been phased out as if I had never been there in the first place. I watched the television; all the shows I did, and the ones I should have done, and again it was as if I had been obliterated from everyone’s memory. I no longer existed.

  I was no one and nothing.

  What possessed me to call her I don’t know, but I did. I called her and I told her everything. I was painfully honest with her and with myself, for the first time. I ad
mitted that I had slept with Holly, that I didn’t love her but felt so drenched in rejection that I convinced myself I did. I told her that Holly had been the only person in my life that had never hurt me, that was why I chose her. I told her that when I found the marriage pact it all seemed to make sense but actually it made none.

  I told her that after the court case I was more alone than ever which is why I saw Cordelia as my saviour. I told her that the media attention really got to me, made me feel special and loved, and sexy. How I started the sordid affair, and how it was more sordid and sexual than anything. How Holly was pregnant and I used that to get myself more sympathy. How I turned her life upside down as well as splitting up her and Joe. How I rejected Cordelia, discounted her feelings when she said she was in love, how I then took up with the first girl that I met afterwards, and used her for sexual gratification.

  How I believed I was special, a star, how I believed I actually had a television career ahead of me. A long and successful career because I was a celebrity. How people asked me for my autograph, and how they all recognised me, and how I enjoyed that adulation. How special I believed I was. I told her how it had all gone wrong. Cordelia was involved, but young, sweet Debbie had talked to the press, told them we were in love. That I loved her and not Holly, because that’s what she believed. I told her how I’d behaved so badly towards Debbie, shouting at her at work, how I’d hit the big guy, how he’d thrown me out on to the street. How the press had captured it all; my last and finest moment. How I hadn’t seen the papers, how I hadn’t spoken to anyone. I told her that I called her because something told me to, and that something was my reason returning. I told her how I stayed in bed for days and days and how I felt empty and alone. I told her that I hated myself, detested myself. And as I told her, I felt as if I was hearing it for the first time; hearing what really happened. But it hadn’t happened to me, it had happened to a stranger. A stranger that was me. Finally I asked her for help.

 

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