by Marian Keyes
‘He will. He’s not playing games,’ Andy said. ‘I saw him that day at Shayna’s. He looks at you like he wants to eat you.’
‘Eat me, yeah. Leave his wife and live with me, I don’t think so. You know how he stays nights with me now and how she doesn’t question it? I thought it was because she’d decided not to notice. Then I wondered if, like, she had noticed but didn’t care! That they were living separate lives, staying together for the sake of the children, and all that and maybe she had a guy too. But today they didn’t look like they were living separate lives. Do you know what they looked like?’
‘What?’
‘They looked like a happily married couple.’
‘Yikes.’
Up until now she’d been refusing to touch the sides of her life, refusing to think too hard about this affair. Now she was forced to. Was she the same as every other woman who was involved with a married man? Was she a fool? Would Mark never leave his wife?
‘I haven’t felt this bad since Dominic, when he was meant to be making his mind up, and I’ll break up with Mark rather than go through that again.’
‘But you love him,’ Becky protested.
‘It’s because I love him that I couldn’t take waiting for him to decide between us.’
‘No it’s not,’ Andy said. ‘You just want to punish him. You’re hurt and you want to scare the shit out of him for having a good-looking wife. But what about your job? If you dump him now, what’s that going to do to your promotion chances? You’ll have to leave Lipman Haigh and go somewhere else, start all over again.’
She went hot and cold with fear. Until now, she’d been in control but that one short encounter with Cassie had cast her adrift; she felt as powerless as a cork on the waves.
Ages ago Andy had said something about the danger of getting involved with your boss. He’d been right.
‘I feel sick. What if he picked me to have a fling with because he thought I’d never ask him to leave her? And why did he make me think she was a frump?’
‘But did he?’
Jojo thought. Maybe not. And hadn’t he told her at dinner that first night that his wife understood him. He’d even said that sometimes they still slept together. But she felt so shaken and uncertain…
She told them the rest of what happened and Becky concluded, ‘At least she didn’t put the cigarette in his mouth, so that they drove away looking buddy-buddy, like Thelma and Louise.’
‘And you’re a bit pissed,’ Andy said. ‘Things always seem worse when you’re pissed.’
‘They always seem better when you’re pissed, you moron.’
‘Oh right. Sorry.’
22
Saturday morning
Flowers arrived. It had happened once too often and now she hated them.
Shortly afterwards her phone rang. She checked caller-display: Mark’s mobile. She picked up and, dispensing with pleasantries, asked, ‘Where’s Cassie?’
‘Oh. In the spa.’
‘How was your seven-course dinner?’
‘Wha –?’
‘And the four-poster bed?’
‘The –?’
‘And the Romanesque pool. Look, stop sending me flowers.’
‘But they’re to let you know I love you when I can’t be with you.’ He sounded hurt.
‘I know, yeah, I know, but arranging them, picking up dead petals from the floor and fitting dead bunches in a garbage bag without getting stem-slime on my fingers – you know what? I seem to do fuck all else and I’ve had it.’
‘This is about Cassie.’
‘I guess.’
There was the longest silence, then he said in a heavy, resigned voice, ‘We’ve got to talk.’
She was shot through with a thrill of something very nasty.
Then he said, ‘This couldn’t have gone on for ever,’ and her head lifted with shock.
She wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. ‘Talk to me now, Mark.’
‘I can’t. Cassie will be back soon. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She hung up. Fuck. Twenty-four hours to get through.
Right away, she rang her mom. Not to discuss this with her, just looking to be reminded of who she was. ‘How’s everyone?’
‘Fine. Little Luka gets more beautiful by the day.’
Luka was the toddler son of her brother Kevin and his wife, Natalie.
‘I got the photos. He’s a honey.’
‘They’ve enlisted him in a model agency.’
‘Good idea.’
‘No, it is not. It’s bad enough for a man to be good-looking, but to be told he’s good-looking – oh dear! Luckily your father never had that trouble.’
‘I heard that,’ Charlie shouted faintly.
‘Far better for a man to develop his personality,’ her mom said. ‘Mind you, your father didn’t do that either.’
‘I heard that too,’ Charlie shouted again.
When she hung up she rang Becky, who arrived an hour later with Andy.
‘You must be in agony,’ Becky observed.
Jojo shrugged.
‘You’re being ever so brave.’
‘That’s me, Becks. Tough. Stronger than the average woman.’
‘Yes.’ Becky and Andy exchanged a look, acknowledging the bottle of red wine that Jojo was ploughing through, the cigarette smouldering in the ashtray, the other cigarette between her fingers, the video of Meerkats United on the telly.
‘There’s one good thing,’ Jojo mused. ‘At least I didn’t spend all my money on a first edition of The Grapes of Wrath. I just got him a first edition of The Pearl because The Grapes of Wrath was way pricey.’
‘Don’t give it to him. Resell it on the Internet,’ Becky said.
‘Give it to him,’ Andy said. ‘Stay on his right side. Whatever happens, he’s still your boss.’
‘I’m sure her career is the least of her worries,’ Becky chided.
‘This is Jojo,’ Andy chided back. ‘Not you.’
*
The following day Mark arrived at Jojo’s at one-fifteen. He tried to embrace her and she stepped away from him. He followed her into the front room where they sat in sombre silence.
‘I love my kids,’ he said.
‘I know.’
‘I never wanted to leave them. I told you that right from the start.’
‘Always.’
‘I’ve been looking for the right time to leave them. I thought about the end of the school year, but I didn’t want to ruin their summer. Then I wanted them to have one last happy-family holiday, so I thought I’d go after we come back from Italy in August, but then they’re about to start a new school year, so that’s a terrible time.’ He hitched and dropped his shoulders. ‘Jojo, I’ve realized there is no right time. There will be no right time. Ever.’
Her heart seemed to stop.
‘So let’s do it now,’ he said. ‘Today.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Today. I’ll tell Cassie today. I’ll leave her today.’
‘Today? Waitaminute, you’re way ahead of me. I thought you were breaking up with me.’
‘Break up with you?’ He was a picture of confusion. ‘Why would you think that? I love you, Jojo.’
‘Because you said we had to talk. And because you never told me Cassie was so, like, attractive.’
‘But you’d seen her before. You knew what she looked like.’
‘I don’t remember her looking like that.’
‘Because at the time it didn’t matter to you what she looked like.’
She acknowledged that. ‘But you get along so well.’
‘I also get along well with Jim Sweetman. It doesn’t mean I should be married to him.’
She lit a cigarette; the turnabout had been too speedy. She’d thought she was losing him, she’d half come to terms with it and instead things were accelerating in the other direction. He was coming to live with her. Today.
After thinking she’d lost him, she wanted him wi
th an intensity that frightened her. But first there was a question she needed the answer to. ‘Mark, did you sleep with her this weekend?’
He laughed. ‘No.’
‘Why not? You had the four-poster bed, the seven-course dinner…’
‘None of that matters. I don’t love her, at least not in that way, and I love you.’
‘When was the last time you slept with her?’
He lowered his eyes, he crinkled his forehead, then he looked up again, ‘I honestly have no idea.’
‘You don’t have to lie to me. You told me at the start that you sometimes had sex.’
‘Yes, but since I’ve been with you, I couldn’t be with anyone else.’
She had to believe him.
He got to his feet. ‘I’m going to go home now and tell her. I don’t know when I’ll be back –’
‘Wait, wait, no wait. Today is too soon.’
He looked at her curiously. ‘When, then?’
She thought about it. When would be the best time to deprive Sam and Sophie of their dad? Next week? Four weeks’ time? When? The procrastination couldn’t go on for ever, they needed a definite date. ‘OK,’ she said, finally. ‘Have your family holiday in August.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘OK. The end of August. Now can we go to bed?’
23
Monday morning
‘On line one I have Miranda England’s husband, Jeremy. Accept or reject?’
‘Accept.’ Click. ‘Hi, Jeremy. To what do I owe –’
‘Miranda’s pregnant.’
‘Congrat –’
‘She’s had three miscarriages in the past eight months and her gynie says she has to rest completely. No work AT ALL. Which means her next book won’t be delivered on time. Tell them at Dalkin Emery.’
‘OK –’
‘Bye.’
‘Wait!’
But he was gone. Straight away she rang back and the answering machine picked up. ‘Jeremy, it’s Jojo here. We need to talk about this –’
The phone was snatched up. ‘There’s nothing to say. We’re having a baby, she needs to rest, she’s not going to write that book until she’s good and ready.’
‘Jeremy, I can hear that you’re upset –’
‘They work her into the ground. A book every year and all that promotional stuff. Fucking journalists wanting to know what colour her knickers are. No wonder she keeps losing the babies.’
‘I understand, I completely understand. Miranda works very, very hard.’
‘And I know she’s under contract but they can have the money back. Some things are more important.’
Jojo closed her eyes. He wasn’t saying that two years ago before she’d got Miranda a six-figure advance. Biggest mistake an agent could make: getting the author so much money, she no longer needed to work.
‘When is the baby due?’
‘Next January. And you needn’t think she’ll get straight back to writing once she’s had it, so tell them at Dalkin Emery they can whistle for their book. And not to bother ringing us trying to get us to change our mind. We won’t and Miranda can’t have any stress.’
He hung up again and this time Jojo didn’t bother calling back. She’d got the message loud and clear. What now? She’d better ring Tania Teal and try telling her her cash-cow author had gone on strike. This would so not play well.
Tania wasn’t in yet so she left a very detailed message with Tania’s assistant.
Ten minutes later Tania was on. ‘I heard Miranda’s wonderful news. I tried to ring her but it went to voicemail.’
And would continue to, if Jeremy had anything to do with it.
‘Jojo, Miranda’s pregnancy is great news, but I have a sales director breathing down my neck. What are the chances of Miranda finishing this book in time?’
Jojo weighed her words. ‘There’s always a chance Miranda and Jeremy will change their mind, but – honestly? I’d say forget it. They really want this baby and sounds to me like they’re going to totally do what the doctor tells them. To publish next May, she should really have delivered the book by now and she’s only halfway through writing it.’
‘But if she recommences writing as soon as she’s had the baby? If she gets the manuscript to us by next March we’ll do a rush job. We can copy-edit, proof-read and turn any manuscript around in five weeks max. Then three weeks at the printers and we’ll be ready to go.’
Jojo would remember that timescale the next time publishers had a go at her about an author delivering late.
‘There’s no way anyone can write with a newborn in the house,’ Jojo said. ‘Tania, this is not going to happen.’
Tania went silent, then, almost experimentally, ‘She is under contract.’
‘She doesn’t care. Jeremy says you can have the money back.’
Tania fell silent, and Jojo knew what she was thinking: if Miranda needed the money she’d write the book; perhaps they should never have given her that big advance. But she had the grace not to say it. Instead she sighed, said, ‘Poor Miranda, she can do without this sort of grief. Give her my best, Jojo. Flowers are on the way, of course.’
TO: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
FROM: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
SUBJECT: Meet me for lunch
I’ve something to tell you.
TO: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
FROM: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
SUBJECT: Re: Meet me for lunch
Tell me now. Especially if it’s bad.
TO: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
FROM: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
SUBJECT: Re: Meet me for lunch
Not bad, but confidential. Antonio’s in Old Compton Street at 12.30
TO: Mark.avery@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
FROM: Jojo.harvey@LIPMAN HAIGH.co
SUBJECT: Re: Meet me for lunch
ANTONIO’S??! Last time I was in that dump, I was working as a bargirl and Becky got poisoned. This’d better be good.
Mark was already there when she arrived, a thick white cup of watery cappuccino in front of him.
‘Nice place,’ Jojo laughed, swinging through the corridor of tightly placed Formica tables and almost dislodging lunches with her hips. ‘Not.’
‘But no one will see us here.’
‘You could say the same about a room at the Ritz.’ She squashed into the too-small booth. ‘What’s up?’
‘Jocelyn Forsyth is retiring.’
Her breath caught. ‘Yay! When?’
‘November. It’ll be announced when he’s told his clients but I thought you’d like to know asap.’
‘Thank you.’ She was suddenly excited and bright-eyed. ‘Sometimes it can be very handy sleeping with the Managing Partner. So Lipman Haigh will be taking on a new partner, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Who’s it going to be?’
He laughed regretfully. ‘I don’t have that much power, Jojo. That’s up to all the partners to decide.’
‘So I’d better be real nice to all the partners.’
‘Starting with me.’ He slid his thigh between hers. ‘Shall we order?’
‘I dunno. Eating in here is a form of extreme sport.’
He nudged his thigh in a bit further. ‘A little more,’ she said quietly.
‘Wha –? Oh, right.’ Instantly his pupils turned almost black. Romantic novelists came in for a lot of stick but Jojo had to hand it to them about the dilating pupils.
Mark slid his leg along an extra couple of inches and she shifted down slightly in her seat, letting her legs fall open until his knee had made contact.
‘Bingo,’ she said quietly. ‘I could get to like it in here.’
‘Jojo. Jesus Christ,’ he said with low intent. He gripped her hand and stared at her mouth, then at her nipples which were straining through her bra, her shirt and her close-fitting jacket.
He began to move his knee against her and she caught his hand in her mo
uth then, all of a sudden, she was sitting up straight and dropping his hand like it burned; someone she recognized was coming in. She actually felt it before her brain made the connection – it was Richie Gant. And he was with – of all people – Olga Fisher!
High-speed, four-way eye-contact was made, like a complicated knife-throwing trick and everyone froze, locked in a bond of mutual mortification.
Fuck, Jojo thought, feeling strangely dislocated, I thought Olga was mine.
‘Surprisingly good lasagne in here,’ Olga said, smoothly. ‘But perhaps we should have Chinese instead.’
They backed out of the door and Jojo and Mark looked at each other.
‘How many people know about Jocelyn retiring?’ Jojo asked idly.
‘It was only meant to be me, but clearly the silly old fool has been telling everyone.’
‘I thought,’ and her throat tried to close on her saying it, ‘I thought Olga was on my side. What’s she doing with Skanky Boy?’
‘Maybe they’re having an affair.’
She laughed, although it wasn’t remotely funny. And then it was kind of funny. Refined Olga having sex with the poster boy for acne, what a thought.
‘It’s OK,’ she grinned. ‘You, Dan Swann and Jocelyn are dead certs.’
‘And Jim.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I think so. Really,’ he insisted. ‘He thinks you’re great. And so do the boys in Edinburgh.’
‘They do? You know, perhaps I should take a trip to Edinburgh. See how Nicholas and Cam are doing.’
‘Great idea. And I’m long overdue a visit, maybe I should come with you.’
Fully cheered up, she said, ‘Now, where were we?’
When she returned, Tania Teal had left a message on her voicemail. ‘We’ve just had a sales meeting about the Miranda situation. We were wondering if there’s any way round this.’ She was trying to sound cheery but her voice kept cracking with anxiety.
Jojo rang her back and Tania launched into the plans they had come up with. ‘We could provide a secretary to go to Miranda’s home and take dictation from her. Miranda needn’t even get out of bed. She could stay lying down –’