by Marian Keyes
Maybe. It was possible. But there was only one thing for it.
‘I’m going to see Mark.’ And for once, Manoj didn’t have an image of Jojo on her knees, fellating Mark. No way was it going to happen. Not today.
Mark’s office
He looked up, as she came in.
‘Mark, tell me the truth because I’ll find out anyway. Did you vote for me?’
A too-long silence. Then, ‘No.’
She stood stock-still for the longest time. Yet again, she felt like she was dreaming. She was getting kinda tired of these out-of-body experiences.
She pulled up a chair in front of his desk. ‘Why not? And this’d better be good.’
‘Actually it is.’ He sounded so sure of himself that Jojo was surprised – and super-relieved. This was going to be OK, this was going to be alright. This was Mark.
‘Do the sums, Jojo,’ Mark said. ‘Me leaving Cassie and you and me setting up a home together is going to cost shedloads. Richie said that if he wasn’t made partner he’d leave, taking his money-spinning idea with him. Plus, if you were made partner, your – our– income would go down for three years. And after you had the pregnancy scare, it made me realize that you might be planning to give up work anyway. It sounds a bit made-for-TV, but I did it for us. And there’s more. Everyone knows we’re together and they’re watching for signs of favouritism. If I wanted to retain the respect of my partners, I couldn’t vote for you – not when it made perfect financial sense to vote for Richie.’
Mute with frustration she stared at him. Everything he said added up – at least on paper. All she could manage was, ‘Why didn’t you talk to me about it?’
‘Because I know you, Jojo. I knew you’d choose the job over me. Us.’
She couldn’t keep her anger from busting out. ‘You wrecked my chance of being a partner so we’d have the money to be together.’
He eyed her shrewdly. ‘Put it another way. You’d risk wrecking the chances of us being together just so you could be a partner.’
It took her a long time to answer. ‘I didn’t realize it was a choice.’
She left, sunk deep in a crisis of the soul. Was Mark right? Was she too ambitious? But that description was never applied to men – in the same way it was impossible for a woman to be too thin, it was impossible for a man to be too ambitious. A man would never have to choose between his ambition and his emotional life.
Rising up in her again was something she wanted not to see – Mark had had no right to take that decision for her.
But she loved Mark. Like, she loved Mark. Something her dad used to say came to mind: Which would you rather be –right or happy? And like Mark had said, she was a partner now. She’d got what she wanted. Everything was fine, all she had to do now was wait for her feelings to catch up with the facts.
* * *
Dan Swann’s office
She needed to talk to someone and she trusted Dan, he was too mad to be treacherous.
‘Delighted you’re a partner,’ he told her.
‘Thanks, and I appreciate you and Jocelyn standing by me.’
‘And Jim.’
‘Jim? Sweetman? Jim Sweetman voted for me?’ That dreamlike feeling again. This was getting so old.
‘Er, yes.’
‘Why?’
Dan looked startled. How the hell did he know? ‘Because he thinks you’re good?’
‘OΚ, Dan, like, thanks. I have to go.’
She went directly to Jim’s office.
‘Jim, why did you vote for me?’
‘And hello to you too.’
‘Sorry. Hello.’ She sat down. ‘So why did you vote for me?’
‘Because I thought you were the best person for the job.’
‘Not the SkankMeister?’
‘I have a lot of respect for Richie, he’s a very good agent, just not as good as you. His corporate sponsorship stuff swung it with the others, but I thought – think – books are the wrong medium, they just aren’t sexy enough. I might be wrong, but I don’t think those promised millions will ever materialize.’
‘I see. Well, thanks.’ She got up to go, then sat down again. ‘Jim, we used to be buddies. Then after the night in the Coach and Horses when you said I couldn’t tempt you, things went kinda weird. What was going on?’
Déjà vu – she’d had this conversation before. When? Then she remembered: it had been with Mark – it was the trigger for him declaring his love for her. Oh, Christ…
Jim looked embarrassed, shifted in his chair then laughed uncomfortably. ‘OΚ, I might as well tell you. I had a bit of a thing for you. Face it, Jojo Harvey, you’re more than a little fabulous.’
Shit, she thought. Shit, shit.
‘But I’m over it now. For the past three months I’ve been seeing a very nice woman.’
Shit, she thought. Shit, shit. Hey, she was only human.
‘She’s great. I’m very–’ he sought the right word – ‘fond of her.’
‘Great, happy for you.’
Back in Jojo’s office
Something clicked and suddenly she was left with no choice.
Worth trying anyway…
She said to Manoj, ‘I need you working late every night for the rest of this week.’
‘On what?’
‘It’s a secret.’ She leant in close to him. ‘And if you tell anyone, I will kill you.’
‘Fair enough.’ He swallowed and she felt a little bad; she shouldn’t go round scaring him but it was so easy.
‘I want phone numbers for all my authors.’
‘Why?’
‘What did I just tell you?’
Gemma
After Owen dumped me, to my great surprise, I was devastated. Even though I knew it was silly, I cried all the way driving to work the next day, I cried at work and I cried at home that evening. Then I got up the following day and repeated the pattern exactly. It was like being fifteen all over again.
It was very different when Anton had dumped me – that made me bitter and warped, it had changed me. But I didn’t call Owen a bastard and I didn’t fantasize about getting him back. I had no intention of even trying. Instead of generating bile his departure had opened up a big boxful of sad.
I rang Cody and he took me for a drink and some serious hand-holding.
‘I never took it seriously, but what if Owen is The One?’
Cody snorted.
‘The One comes in all shapes and sizes! Often you don’t realize that that’s who you’ve met. There’s a woman who met her The One when she was on a ship to Australia, but she was stalking some other bloke in Australia and when she got there he was riding rings around himself and then she realized the man on the ship was her The One…’
‘What woman? Who is this?’
‘Someone Mam knows.’
‘Dear God, she’s taking romantic advice from Maureen Hogan. Like taking flying lessons from Osama Bin Laden.’
‘Now I’ve no one to have my fantasies about Anton with.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘We’d make up stories, where Owen would get back with Lorna and I’d get back with Anton. And now Owen’s back with Lorna and I’ve… I’ve…’ Big long pause, as I tried to get past a wave of tears. ‘NO ONE.’
‘You spent your time with your boyfriend fantasizing – out loud, I take it? – about getting back together with your previous boyfriend. He-llo.’
‘It’s not how it sounds. We were comforting each other.’ I was weeping so much I was making the sucky sounds Hannibal Lecter does, but not voluntarily. ‘I was so fond of Owen and now I miss him so much…’ A fresh consignment of tears pushed up through my eyes and toppled down my face. This isn’t right…
Cody watched me in fascination. ‘God Almighty. But all you did was fight.’
‘I know. I know this doesn’t make any sense.’
‘When did you last cry like this?’
I tried to remember. When Dad had left? I’d barely shed a tear. When An
ton left? No, not then either, not like this. I’d just closed up and hated everyone. I’d been too tight with anxiety to cry, and that tightness had never really left me.
‘Dunno. Never, maybe. Oh God, Cody, am I having a nervy breaker?’
Anyone else would have said, ‘Shush, shush, don’t be silly, you’re just a bit upset.’ But not Cody. Sounding serious, he said, ‘Something’s happening, that’s for sure. Delayed something or other. Transference, that sort of thing.’
‘I suppose it’s better to let it all out.’ I gulped.
‘Yaays,’ he said doubtfully. ‘But try not to do it in public.’
‘Thanks, Cody.’ Another bout of sucky-noised convulsions gripped me. When I could speak again, I said, ‘You’ve been very supportive, for you.’
I cried when I tried to cancel the holiday to Antigua and cried even more when they wouldn’t give me my money back. ‘Your boyfriend going back to his old girlfriend isn’t covered by the terms of your insurance policy,’ the woman in the travel agent told me.
‘There’s always some bloody loophole,’ I said and broke down.
‘Why don’t you go anyway?’
‘I couldn’t. I’m in no condition to get on a plane.’
Because the woman felt sorry for me, she broke the rules and said I didn’t have to lose the money but could book something for the same value when I was ‘feeling better’. ‘And I know you think that will be never.’ She beat me to it. ‘But you’d be surprised.’
I was a liability. I cried at everything. I did it deliberately. I rented soppy videos that you’d have to have a heart of stone not to cry at. On nights out I collared people and force-fed them my tragedy. At my work Christmas party (we had to have our work Christmas party in January because as party planners we were too busy in December organizing everyone else’s) I was the girl who got scuttered and had to be taken home weeping incoherently. I suppose there has to be one.
Even work was breaking my heart. I was working on a very unusual event – Max O’Neill, a young man, only twenty-eight, was terminally ill and had hired me to plan his memorial service. Initially I’d been touched and flattered that he’d picked me. (Although F&F hadn’t been. Frances had grumbled, ‘It’s not like we’re going to get much repeat business from him.’) Every time I saw him and we made videos in which he told his friends not to grieve for him, or when we planned the drinks for the ‘party’, I came away a wreck.
And in the middle of all this lachrimosity I descended on Johnny. After a particularly wrenching session with Max, I’d been driving past the chemist and on a wild whim, called in, looking for comfort, emotional ice cream. After we’d exchanged New Year felicitations, he asked, ‘What can I get you?’
I hadn’t given this any thought. ‘Oh, ah… a glucose lollipop. And – what’s this? Surgical gauze? OK, I’ll take a packet.’
‘Are you sure about that, Gemma?’
‘No, no, I’m not. Just the lollipop.’
Even after I’d tried to pay (He wouldn’t let me, ‘For God’s sake, it’s only a lollipop.’) I still wouldn’t leave.
‘How are things?’ he asked.
‘Great,’ I said miserably. ‘Dad’s back. How’s your brother?’
‘Very good, he’ll be back at work soon and my life will be my own again. Your book should be out soon, shouldn’t it?’
‘May. And it goes on sale in airport duty-frees sooner than that. Some time in March.’
‘You must be very excited.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘I’m looking forward to reading it.’
‘I’ll try to get you a free copy.’ My worry about him reading about himself had diminished, washed away by sadness.
Eventually he asked – and it wasn’t like I hadn’t been fishing for him to – ‘And, er, how’s your non-boyfriend?’
‘Oh, that’s all over. He went back to his old girlfriend. It was very amicable.’
My eyes filled with tears, not the shame of full-blown crying, but enough for Johnny to hand me a tissue. Well, he had a shopful of them.
Later, in the comfort of my own home, I realized that the kindness of the tissue gesture was what prompted the ensuing insanity. I dabbed my eyes and heard myself say, ‘You know, maybe we should go out for a drink some time, you and me.’
I cocked my head to listen. Did I really say that?
Then I saw his face. You’d want to have seen it. He looked really insulted.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ I said, hurrying away. ‘I’m very sorry.’
I got into the car, clutching my free lollipop. Dad was back and I was worse mad now than I ever was.
Little did I know that life was about to change in a major way.
It began with a phone call from Jojo.
‘Like, totally great news,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a call from a production company called Eye-Kon. They’re interested in optioning Chasing Rainbows for a made-for-TV feature. They’re crazy for it but they’ve no money. But they’re talking about a co-production with the BBC. Anton says –’
‘Anton?’
‘Yeah, Anton Carolan. Hey, he’s Irish, you probably know him.’
‘I know him.’
Pause. ‘I was only kidding. But you know Lily, so of course you know him.’
‘I knew him before Lily did.’ But I didn’t really try to score points. I was way too stunned: Anton wanted something I had. I had something that Anton wanted. Even in my most elaborate fantasies, I’d never imagined this situation. I thought back to three and a half years previously when I’d been almost suicidal without Anton. When I wanted him so badly and I was totally and utterly powerless. How insane life is. Breathlessly, I urged, ‘Jojo, tell me more.’
‘I’ve told you all I know. They’ve no money but the BBC has. So you’re interested, in theory?’
‘Of course I’m interested!’
‘I’ll tell them. These things take time, don’t hold your breath, I’ll keep you in the loop.’
‘But –’
She was gone and I sat staring at the phone, too astonished to carry on with my day. Anton! Out of the blue! Wanting my book!
Jojo had said his company was called Eye-Kon so immediately I looked it up on the net and could not believe what I was reading: they were in deep shit. There was a recent article from a trade magazine, saying that Eye-Kon had made no decent programmes or any money in over a year and if they didn’t get it together soon, they’d have to shut up shop. It sounded like Chasing Rainbows was a last resort for them, an all or nothing. I could have been wrong, but what if I wasn’t? How much would Anton want it? For the first time in a long time I wondered about him and Lily. Lily can’t be much fun at the moment, I thought, what with her new book having tanked. Maybe Anton had had it with her, maybe he was ready to jump ship.
What should I do, I wondered. Should I let this option thing go through the official channels or should I contact him directly? After all, we were old friends…
For the next two days I thought of nothing else; in fact I was so caught up in it I almost forgot to cry.
Then Jojo rang again. ‘Gemma. Can you talk? I’ve got a proposal for you.’
‘Another one? Go ahead.’
‘I have decided,’ she sounded excited, ‘to set up on my own and I’d like to take you with me.’
The lucky cow. I’d love to do that, set up my own agency. But I enjoyed my facial features in their current configuration.
‘So whatcha say? Are you in or out?’
It was a total no-brainer. This was the woman who’d got me sixty grand. Why wouldn’t I stay with her? ‘Count me in. What other authors are coming with you?’
‘Miranda England, Nathan Frey, Eamonn Farrell…’
‘Lily Wright?’
‘I haven’t spoken to her yet, but yeah, I hope so.’
‘Even though her latest book didn’t do very well.’ Catastrophically. There had been yet another piece in the latest Book News about it bombing and Dalkin Emery takin
g a huge hit on it. She was out of contract with Dalkin Emery and the article indicated she’d be lucky to ever get another deal.
‘It got great reviews,’ Jojo said.
It did? Well, I hadn’t seen any of them.
Jojo
Friday morning
Jojo checked that the announcement of her partnership was in Book News, then she went to Mark’s office and handed him a letter. He looked at it. ‘What’s this?’
‘My notice. I’m leaving.’
Mark looked weary beyond weary. ‘Jojo, for God’s sake… You’re a partner, isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘Only because my boyfriend pulled strings.’
‘If your boyfriend had done the right thing in the first place by voting for you, he wouldn’t have had to pull strings. I’m so sorry.’
‘You did what you thought was right.’
‘Don’t do this,’ he beseeched. Horrified, she realized he might cry. ‘You need a job.’
‘I have a job.’
‘Working for whom?’
‘Myself. I’m setting up on my own.’
Mark made a jaded sound, halfway between a laugh and a sigh.
‘I have to, Mark. I can’t stay here. Me working alongside Gant when I didn’t get my partnership through the normal channels? It would never work. And no way am I going to work for another agency and watch the same shit happen again.’
He laughed in a beaten way, then asked, ‘Jojo, what about us? You and me? Are you setting up on your own in a personal capacity as well as a professional one?’
Funny, she hadn’t really decided what to do, not until that moment. She looked at him, at his beloved face, so familiar and handsome to her, she thought about their affection and fondness for each other, their friendship, their hope for their future, the children they’d have together, the companionship and intellectual stimulation they’d always shared and would share as they got older.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s over, Mark.’
He nodded, like it was what he’d expected to hear.
Then for the first – and last – time she did something she never did on work time: she hugged him. She pressed herself against the length of him, in the hope that she could remember how he felt, how he smelt, the hard heat of his body. She held him fiercely, trying to stamp him for ever on her memory. Then she walked away.