Deranged Marriage (29 page)

I had to stay around while he challenged some member of the audience to eat a bowl of uncooked vegetables, then it was over. He took hold of my hand.

‘I wish you luck George, you’re such a nice man.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, and went to call Cordelia.

‘George, how did it go?’

‘How are your knickers?’

‘Slightly damp.’

‘It went fine, do you want to watch it together?’

‘Yes, but your flat is so depressing, come over to mine.’

‘When?’

‘As soon as. I’m leaving the office now.’ She gave me her address and hung up the phone.

The feeling I got after walking off that set was unreal. It was awesome. People clapped and cheered for me! All I did was tell my story and they all applauded. I wasn’t the freak that Holly and my family made me feel like; I was no longer isolated. Someone cared about me. More than one person cared about me. Suddenly I had gone from being alone to being a hero. I was in demand. It was incredible. I felt more like my old self; I was regaining control of my life. I felt as if I was seven-foot tall when I walked out of the building. The preceding weeks had bowed me but now I was walking tall once more. Not defeated, never going to be defeated; invincible. At the door a couple of young women approached me.

‘Could we have your autograph please?’ one asked, and shoved a piece of paper in front of me. I flashed them my best smile.

‘Do you know who I am?’ I asked, using the old celebrity line but not in the way it was normally orated. I wanted to make sure they hadn’t mistaken me for the footballer. I needed them to know who I was.

‘Course we do, you’re George Conway, we’re your biggest fans. I can’t believe that girl doesn’t want you, she must be insane.’ I laughed aloud, I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I took the pen and asked their names then I signed their pieces of paper, bestowed a cheek kiss on each one before climbing into my waiting car. I wound down the window.

‘I really do appreciate your support,’ I said. ‘It’s been very hard.’

‘We think you’re great.’ As the car pulled away I realised I was sexually aroused.

I was a celebrity. Somehow or other I was. Offers from
GQ
, the newspapers, television shows, even some women’s magazines were flooding in. Radio 1 wanted me to appear on a show, as did Virgin, Capital and others. I was in demand. Real demand. And I couldn’t believe how good it felt. This would show Holly. She would see how famous I was becoming and then she’d be more than sorry about the way she’d treated me. Adulation is the biggest high you can ever get, and I was getting it daily. If I had known it would feel this good, then I would have joined this world years ago. It was so easy. Not only was it sexier than law, it was more rewarding than law.

When Cordelia opened the door she was wearing very little. A black basque covered her slim body. Black lace stockings held up with a black suspender belt clasped her legs. No knickers. High heels. I was out of my clothes in a flash. I looked at her and wondered if it was her that was turning me on, or my new-found career. I think it was a combination. After we’d had a quick fuck, I wanted to get down to business.

‘Can we go through all the offers I’ve had before we settle down to watch the show?’

‘How romantic.’ Cordelia licked her lips and went to get her notebook. We went through the list twice (I couldn’t believe the offers I was getting), then we had more sex. Fame is such an aphrodisiac. I wondered if, when it all died down, I’d ever be able to raise an erection again. Or maybe it was here to stay. The fame not the erection. ‘George, you are becoming a star, you realise that don’t you?’ Cordelia said.

‘I do, and I know exactly who I need to thank for that.’ I was aware of how invaluable she had become, and I figured that if I wanted this level of fame for a while longer then I would need to keep her happy. Luckily, I knew just how to do that.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kiss
And
Tell

Safety in numbers, that was my new motto. My mother was right, it wasn’t a good idea to leave me on my own. Ever since the tabloid story and the ensuing television appearances I had felt more and more threatened by what George was doing. It had been only a week but I was part of the daily news. Or George was. Past the fact I was the evil nymphomaniac slut who ruined his life, no one was interested in me. The sad thing was that George was fast becoming a national hero for doing nothing but concocting a load of lies. No one would be captivated by the romance of the real story; nor would they be enamoured by his behaviour, so he changed it. It had very little to do with me and it was driving me crazy. The worst thing was that I knew his story had a limited shelf life, but then the pregnancy would extend that, and at some point they would find out about it. I had no doubt of that.

I thought about telling him myself, but then why should I feed his story? I didn’t have the strength to battle with him but I wasn’t going to give him the ammunition. I was driving myself round the bend with my musings on the whole thing so having people with me was keeping a degree of sanity in my life.

My parents were leaving at the weekend and my sister was arriving for a week. I wasn’t looking forward to it. She was the only person who was cross with me and I didn’t really like being told off. But my mother decided that we needed to spend time together and Imogen was sacrificing a week of cooking dinner for Jack (or more likely a week of going out for dinner with Jack), to take care of me. I was supposed to be grateful and I was, honestly. I was just a bit scared of her and her opinion of her little sister.

To have people round to watch Keith Northam, or more accurately George on Keith Northam, had been my mother’s idea. When we watched him in
Wake
Up
Britain!
I shouted at the television and ranted for hours afterwards. When I saw him with Nancy I cried. The Michael Martin show reduced me to screaming at the screen, and when they read my statement and people booed me, I cried again. I couldn’t believe the exposure he was being given. I certainly couldn’t understand the hype.

Reading the newspapers was becoming an ordeal. In my job we used to celebrate even the tiniest mention in the tabloids, now I dreaded looking. My work was suffering because I was so wrapped up in myself and my new interactive relationship with my television, and I know that Francesca and Freddie were carrying me. So, my mother had decided that I would feel better if I had people to take the edge of my reaction, hence the party that was awaiting George’s latest appearance. My mother had even bought nibbles and wine. Anyone would think we were celebrating, except that the atmosphere didn’t match the refreshments. We had the television on in the background but no one was watching and the conversation was definitely stilted.

Lisa was sitting on the floor, in front of the armchair which housed Max. She was looking at the day’s papers, catching up on the life of her wayward friend. Lisa said to me that she never thought my life would be more interesting than hers but it was. I believe she meant well.

‘Oh my God,’ she shrieked.

‘What now? I read that paper and there wasn’t much, Oh God this is a nightmare,’ I shrieked.

‘It’s got nothing to do with you, Hol. No, there’s this thing you can get to make your boobs bigger just for a few hours. But then they go back to normal size. Apparently it’s very popular in the States.’ I heard myself laughing loudly, out of relief that I hadn’t actually missed anything.

‘I would sue,’ Freddie said.

‘What are you talking about?’ Francesca looked at him sharply.

‘I’d sue any bird that did that to me. Imagine, you spot this woman in a bar and you think to yourself “nice tits love”, then you go up to her and buy her a drink. You get talking, have a few more drinks, maybe go to dinner and then you go home with her and before you’ve had time to say whey hey her tits have shrunk and they’re pretty much like fried eggs and you’re sizzling in bed with them. I would sue for having been seduced under false pretences.’

‘You are so sexist, Freddie,’ Lisa said.

‘No shit,’ I added.

‘Actually I think he has a point,’ my father said, which shocked us all.

‘But you wouldn’t chat up a woman because of her bust size would you dear?’ my mother said. I think it was more of a statement than a question.

‘I wouldn’t chat up anyone full stop love, but if I were a young, free, single man like Freddie I would agree with him.’

‘What do
you
think, Max?’ Francesca asked. ‘We might as well get the whole male point of view.’

‘Well I’m not really a breast man, obviously,’ he said looking at Lisa’s flat chest; she took a swipe at him. ‘But I think that the point is why? Why would you increase your bust size for a short time anyway? And how on earth would you know what size of bra to buy?’

‘That’s a good point. I wouldn’t do it,’ I said, looking at my ever expanding chest, ‘but then I wouldn’t need to the rate I’m going.’

‘Well I might give it a try. It’s only sixty quid a tube. We could have five hours of fun, Max, and then I’d go back to normal, and that’s not all, apparently it works on men’s bits too.’

‘In that case, I might give it a try,’ Freddie said.

‘You’ve got a nerve, I’d bloody well sue you,’ Francesca said.

‘Ah, but I’d use it just before and you’d be long gone by the time five hours was up.’

‘Freddie you’re a monster.’

‘I think it’s starting,’ my mother said, initiating silence in the room.

‘Oh for God’s sake, can we talk normally for a while, at least until he comes on,’ I asked, as I heard the irritating opening credits.

‘What shall we talk about?’ Lisa asked.

‘I don’t know,’ I snapped, feeling myself tense up. I was sure that all this tension and stress wasn’t good for the baby, but I consoled myself with the fact I had started my yoga sessions last week and the instructor assured me that not only would they benefit the baby and the fitness of its mother but also it would help to control my stress. I definitely needed that. I knew I should make more of an effort to stay calm, but it wasn’t in any way easy.

‘I don’t like this chap very much,’ my father said.

‘I think he’s sweet,’ my mother countered.

‘Bent as a two-bob note,’ my father replied.

‘No, really?’ My mother sounded genuinely surprised. I wished the silence would return.

I chewed my hair through the guests that preceded George. I wasn’t interested, I couldn’t concentrate, and I don’t think I heard a single word they said. Then, all of a sudden, he was on screen.

‘He always wears the same fucking suit,’ Freddie said.

‘Shush,’ Francesca chastised. We all watched.

‘Well that wasn’t so bad,’ my mother said as cheerfully as she could muster.

‘It’s strange,’ Francesca said. We all turned to look at her.

‘What is?’ I asked. I had managed to refrain from shouting at the screen but I was feeling utterly depressed by the warm response he got from Keith and the audience. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how this story, even his version of it, had captured the public and the media. The Marriage Pact story was known to so many people thanks to the newspapers and his television appearances. George was known as The Marriage Pact Man. I was the hated villain, or should I say The Marriage Pact Villain. It was incredible. All this just because I signed a marriage pact with my best male friend when I was twenty and drunk. They say things in your past come back to haunt you, but no one could have envisaged this, surely.

‘He’s changed an awful lot this week. Have you seen how at first, when he was on that breakfast show he was quite timid, well not timid exactly but not as confident as he came across there,’ Francesca continued, pulling me out of my thoughts.

‘What are you saying?’ Freddie asked.

‘That he is beginning to enjoy himself.’

‘Shit,’ Freddie said.

‘But what does that mean?’ Lisa asked.

‘It means that George is no longer doing this to get Holly to fall in love with him, he’s doing it because he likes it.’

‘Which makes him a hundred times more dangerous than he was,’ I finished.

‘Oh dear,’ my mum said. Understatement of the year.

‘I’m not sure what to suggest,’ Francesca said, looking worried.

‘Me either. I thought that he’d give up on me at some stage, I thought it would all die down long before the baby thing came out, but now, now he’s enjoying his notoriety, so he’ll keep it going as long as he can.’ Now I was getting a tiny bit hysterical.

‘But he’ll need something to hinge it on. Look at the
Big
Brother
contestants, they got famous for being on TV, but when they were off TV only a couple went on to stay famous,’ Max said reasonably.

‘You’re right, but George is so determined, and relentless. If he is enjoying the fame, he’ll make it last a bit longer, maybe not for ever but long enough for this to continue until everyone knows about the baby, which will give him his lever, at least until after the baby is born and the paternity is determined.’

‘I wish you’d take a test, just so you could tell the press that you do know who the father is,’ my mother said.

‘And if it’s George?’

‘Then at least we’ll know.’

‘Mum, you know it’s dangerous. I can’t do that, not yet.’

‘I’d like to take a shotgun to him,’ my father said, suddenly.

‘Me too,’ Max echoed.

‘Perhaps if we all went round with baseball bats and acted threateningly,’ Freddie suggested.

‘I don’t think that I will dignify that suggestion with an answer,’ I stated.

It soon became apparent that we weren’t getting very far, and the ‘party’ broke up soon after. I was too exhausted to think any more so I went straight to bed.

*

When I woke the next day, I thought of Joe. He hadn’t responded to my letter and although I wasn’t really surprised, it still hurt. I couldn’t help thinking how humiliated he must feel. I was pretty humiliated but men felt it more keenly than women. According to the press and according to George, I was in love with him and had slept with him for most of my post-pubescent life. According to me I had only slept with him once. That must have been hurtful for Joe and I knew that he couldn’t ignore it.