Authors: Jane Green
She passes CVS, and jams on the brakes, suddenly remembering the prescription she was supposed to pick up. ‘Oh bugger,’ she curses, unable to do a U-turn, and too lazy to turn around, so she picks up her cell phone and presses quick dial to Lavinia.
‘Lavinia?’
‘Hang on,’ Lavinia yells, as Amber hears screaming in Lavinia’s background.
‘What’s going on?’ Amber says.
‘Sorry,’ Lavinia comes back on again. ‘Jared just took Gracie’s cookie so she’s having a fit. No, Jared, give it back. Grace, don’t hit him. Grace! Grace! Stop that! Sorry, Amber. Is everything okay?’
‘Yes, fine. I just remembered, though, I have a prescription at CVS, would you mind picking it up for me?’
‘Sure,’ says Lavinia, who is on the other side of town, with two over-tired and fractious children, dinner to cook when she gets back to the house, and a pile of laundry to get through tonight as she watches television in her room, with just the ironing board and Ginger, the golden retriever, for company.
‘Thanks, Lavinia, you’re an angel,’ says Amber, who suddenly spies a parking space next to the new French furnishing shop in town, one that she’d been meaning to go to since it opened three weeks ago. Perfect, she thinks, as she expertly manoeuvres the car into the spot then checks her watch. Just enough time to see what everyone’s talking about before going home and getting ready for dinner tonight with Richard.
By the time Amber gets home the kids have eaten and are quietly watching
Shrek
2 for the 149th time.
‘Lavinia!’ Amber shouts as she walks in the mud room, greeting Ginger then pushing him away so he doesn’t get dog hair all over her black coat.
‘I’m just clearing up the dishes. Do you need some help?’
‘Oh yes, please!’ Amber unbuttons her coat, throws it over the banisters from where she knows Lavinia will retrieve it later to hang it up in the coat closet where it belongs, and walks into the kitchen where she collapses on a chair. ‘I’ve got a load of shopping in the car. Would you mind bringing it in?’
‘Sure,’ says Lavinia, who truly is an angel for she sees that Amber walked in empty-handed and doesn’t resent being asked in the slightest because she loves the children, loves living here, and thinks that Amber and Richard are incredibly nice, if a little spoilt. But she is now part of the family, so much so that Amber regularly sits in the kitchen and chats to Lavinia, has even shared with Lavinia the secrets of her background, so whilst Lavinia sees that Amber is a little spoilt, she understands why, and she forgives her for it.
Chapter Six
It may only be a BBC radio show where no one is going to see her, but as Vicky pulls on a skirt and flat pumps, shakes her hair out to give it some more body, checks her make-up in the bathroom mirror, she thinks of her mother and smiles to herself.
‘You never know who you might meet,’ her mother always says, and whilst, on the whole, Vicky tends not to listen to her mother, these words have been drummed into her so often it is now second nature to ensure she looks, if not her best, then certainly acceptable, before she leaves the house. Because her mother, she hates to admit it, is right. You just never know.
There was the time when she was driving her Beetle along Chalk Farm Road and she had spotted a parking meter and zipped over, jumping out to find the car behind had also pulled over. She had looked at the driver strangely, wondering if he had something to say to her, but he hadn’t said anything and she had shrugged and walked off, only to return to find a note on her car asking her for a drink.
That drink had turned into a five-month relationship.
There was the time when, again driving her Beetle along Park Lane on the way to a club, she had passed a Triumph Stag, the roof down, crammed with laughing
men, one of whom had jumped out and climbed into her car at the traffic lights. She had slept with him a week later.
There was the time she had taken the train to see some friends in Manchester, and had started talking to the man who had come to sit opposite her, even though the rest of the carriage was practically empty. She hadn’t fancied him in the slightest, but he had become a good friend, and was now married to a girl that Vicky had introduced him to.
So her mother was right, you just never knew, although those times, those spontaneous, exhilarating meetings, hadn’t happened for a while, and every now and then Vicky worried that they’d never happen again, that you are supposed to have adventures when you are in your twenties but by the time you reach your mid-thirties the adventures stop happening: you are supposed to be settling down and growing up.
Vicky drives herself to the BBC studios in Portland Place and parks the car. She’s early, so she sits in the car listening to the show for a while before going in to collect her pass and wait outside the studio.
‘Next on the show,’ says the voice of Lisa Diamond, one of the presenters of the show, ‘we’re going to be talking about… wait for it, Jamie… speed sex. Yup, speed sex is apparently the answer to all my problems.’
‘
Any
sex is the answer to my problems,’ says a male voice with a soft Irish accent, one that Vicky recognizes and struggles to place as Lisa laughs.
‘Typical,’ she says, ‘although according to the papers you haven’t had a lot of problems in that area lately.’
‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to believe everything you read in the papers? Although in this case I would say believe everything. Particularly the story about me and Angelina Jolie –?’
Lisa’s slightly sardonic voice interrupts him, ‘So, coming up after this we’ll be talking about speed sex between Jamie Donnelly and Angelina Jolie, oh and we’ll have the features director of
Poise!
on to tell us why we’re all raving about speedy sex, although I’m sure Jamie will do a perfect job all by himself.’
‘Careful, you’ll get me sued,’ Vicky hears Jamie’s voice in the background as Damien Rice’s haunting tones fill her car, and she quickly checks herself in the mirror before getting out. Shit. Jamie Donnelly. She had no idea he’d be on the show and all of a sudden she starts to feel slightly nervous. Jamie Donnelly! The star of
Dodgy
, a comedy sketch show that started small on BBC2, swept the boards at the British Comedy Awards, and is now the show that everyone’s talking about, phrases being repeated in pubs all over the country, amidst much laughter.
All it takes is a raised eyebrow and a ‘Not in my back yard, missus,’ for a roomful of people to start cracking up. Or an ‘Is that your dog or are you just pleased to see me?’
Jamie Donnelly: Irish, twinkly, usually made to look horrendously ugly in most of the sketches, his teeth blacked out, or dressed as a baby, or a homeless
man with a luxury home in the doorway of WH Smith’s on the Strand, has become an overnight star, not least because he is also the writer and producer.
A regular guest on various radio and TV shows, Vicky never understood what all the fuss was about until she switched on the TV one night and happened to catch Jamie Donnelly being interviewed by Jonathan Ross, and all at once she got it. She sat in her living room, all by herself, shrieking with laughter until her face actually hurt.
Jamie Donnelly hadn’t been in her consciousness at all until that night, but since then she had seen his name everywhere. He’d been linked with every gorgeous single woman in London, and a couple from overseas who had just been visiting, including, allegedly, Angelina Jolie, from whose hotel he had been spotted emerging in the early hours of the morning.
But what had really done it for Vicky, what had sealed the deal as it were, in turning Jamie Donnelly into her number one crush, was when Deborah had phoned her at work one day and offered her an interview she had done with Jamie Donnelly.
‘I can’t believe you interviewed Jamie Donnelly,’ Vicky had said. ‘I love him! I wanted to interview him.’
‘Sorry,’ Deborah said. ‘But I managed to get him on his own at a film do last week and he gave me half an hour. I’ve got some great quotes about being single, the womanizing, what he really wants out of life. A lot of stuff he’s never talked about before. I was going to give
it to the
Mail
, but I thought
Poise!
would pay more…’ They both laughed, knowing that no one paid more than the
Mail
, but also knowing that half the time the
Mail
never actually printed the story, and Deborah wanted her byline in print more than she wanted the money.
‘So what was he like?’ Vicky asked. ‘I have to tell you I’m deeply jealous. I really do think he’s gorgeous.’
‘The funny thing is I didn’t think he was gorgeous before I met him, but he does that thing where he completely focuses on you and makes you feel like the only person in the room, and he kind of nods earnestly at everything you say, and I have to be honest, I do understand why all these women fall head over heels. He’s also kind of flirty which is always nice. If I wasn’t happily married…’
Vicky sighed. ‘Oh God. Stop. Be still, my beating heart.’
‘Well he does say in the interview he’s ready to settle down.’
‘Okay, now you got me. Send it over now and I’ll have a look. Maybe we can set up a photo shoot to go with the piece and I’ll go along to style it. Christ, I’ve got to be able to meet him somewhere, I’m Features Director of
Poise!
, for heaven’s sake, I meet celebrities all day every day.’
‘And I thought you were jaded by now?’
‘Oh I am, I am. Just not when it comes to Jamie Donnelly.’
*
But what had really affected Vicky, turned her minor silly crush into a series of full-on fantasies, had been the interview itself. Jamie had said that despite his reputation for being a womanizer, what he really wanted was to settle down. He dreamt, he said, of a house in the country, with children and big dogs everywhere, of finding the one woman who would make him happy for the rest of his life.
So Vicky decided she would be that woman. He was, after all, the same age as her, and even if he did tend to be photographed with young bimbettes, that didn’t necessarily sound like what he wanted. No, surely what he
really
wanted,
really
needed, was a thirty-five-year-old successful, intelligent features director of a magazine; someone who wasn’t all that great at cooking but who would be willing to learn; someone who shared his dreams, who would bring him cups of tea while he sat in his office off the kitchen writing wonderful comedy scripts.
And thus began a series of fantasies: Vicky and Jamie (even the pairing of their names sounding perfect), their children Lola and Milo, their deerhounds Fitzroy and McHairy, their friends, their profiles in
Hello!
with photographs of the happy couple in their cosy country home.
Meanwhile, Vicky hadn’t ever met him, hadn’t even come close to meeting him, and her fantasies of a perfect happy ever after with Jamie Donnelly had slowly faded to fantasies of a perfect happy ever after with a tall, faceless stranger.
And now here he was, a guest on the radio show that she wasn’t even supposed to have been on. Could this, she thinks, as she tries to swallow her nerves, finally be fate working in her favour at long last?
Vicky is ushered into the studio during a song. Lisa smiles and waves from her position on the other side of the console, and Jamie Donnelly – Jamie Donnelly! – leans over and shakes her hand.
And Vicky thinks she is going to be sick.
Thankfully she gathers herself enough to be ready when the song finishes and Lisa gaily announces, ‘My next guest’s dream night of passionate sex lasts roughly eight minutes, and she says that most married women agree with her. Vicky Townsley, welcome to the
Lisa Diamond Show
.’
Vicky’s mouth drops open as a deep flush covers her cheeks. It has just been announced on national radio that she enjoys sex for eight minutes, which is a complete lie, there has been no mention of the fact that this was work, that she’s from
Poise!
, and meanwhile Jamie Donnelly is sitting next to her watching her mortification and is cracking up laughing.
‘So, Vicky, tell us why speed sex is such a fantastic thing, and what the rest of us who are spending a good hour on foreplay are missing out on.’
Jesus. Could this get worse? Vicky takes a deep breath and manages to compose herself. ‘Lisa, thanks for having me on the show, and can I start by saying I’m Features Director of
Poise!
, and this was a feature that
we ran after we noticed the number of married women, particularly those with children, talking about sex and how quickies were all they had the energy for.’
‘I think what she’s trying to say is that her shags last longer,’ Jamie laughs.
‘I’m not actually married,’ Vicky smiles, ‘so my shags are not up for discussion.’
‘Oh go on.’ Jamie raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re here, we’re talking about sex. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.’
Vicky just stares at him. Is he flirting with her? Is she imagining this? And more to the point, what kind of a conversation is this to be having on national radio, even if it is a hip, late-night show that gets away with practically everything. Her mother could be listening to this, for God’s sake.
‘My mother could be listening to this, for God’s sake,’ she says, shaking a finger at him. ‘And I’m not here to talk about my sex life. Although if you want to reveal a few details about Angelina Jolie,’ at this point she raises an eyebrow back at him, ‘please, be my guest.’
‘Er, excuse me?’ Lisa interrupts. ‘But you’re both my guests, and I want to hear a bit more about speed sex. Vicky, ignore Jamie, and tell us about what
Poise!
magazine found during research for the article.’
To Vicky’s immense surprise she manages to be articulate, quick-thinking, and even quite funny. The chemistry between the three of them works better than the
producer has expected, and quips and puns fly back and forth throughout the show.
At nine thirty Vicky and Jamie are led out of the studio by the delighted producer, leaving Lisa to finish her show.