Mad About You (22 page)

As I turned the corner to go into the studio, I heard my name being called. I spun around and saw Babs frantically waving at me from a taxi. She was wearing dark glasses, even though it was raining.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she shouted. ‘I’ve been calling you all night and you never bothered to answer me. What happened to “I’ll be there for you, Babs, I’ll look after you, Babs”?’

Oh, God. James had made me turn my phone off after the text so I wouldn’t be tempted to reply again. I felt terrible. ‘I’m so sorry. Are you OK?’ I could see she wasn’t. Babs was wearing a tracksuit and had no makeup on. I hadn’t even known she owned a tracksuit. I strongly suspected that behind the sunglasses were puffy red eyes. Things with Gary must have gone very badly.

‘Get in, for God’s sake,’ she ordered. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me.’

I climbed into the taxi and turned to look at her properly. Even with the glasses on, she looked terrible. Her face was drained of any colour. I reached over and pulled her glasses down.

‘Jesus! That bad?’ I asked. Her eyes were completely swollen from crying.

She snapped them back up. ‘The bastard doesn’t want the baby. He told me to get rid of it.’

‘The shit!’

‘I know, but I’m not doing it. I told him I was having the baby with or without him.’

‘What did he say to that?’

‘He said if I ever told anyone it was his, he’d deny it. He said people in the industry think I’m a slut and no one will believe me.’

God, he was a real low-life.

‘I told him I could force him to have a paternity test, like Liz Hurley did to that millionaire guy who tried to deny her kid.’

‘Good for you. How did he react to that?’

‘He told me that if I did he’d make sure I never worked in TV again. That I’d end up in a council house with a screaming kid and no money.’

‘How dare he?’ I was shocked. I wanted to kill the bastard.

Babs bit her lip. ‘Well, you were right, Emma. Gary is an arsehole. He had no intention of leaving his wife and I was just another notch in his belt. Here’s your big chance to say, “I told you so.”’ She gazed at me anxiously.

‘I’d never say that. I’m sick for you.’

She tried to look defiant, but her voice shook. ‘There is no way in hell I’m going to let him ruin my life.’

I took her hands in mine. ‘Babs, I promise I’ll help you through all of this. He is a despicable human being, but what he doesn’t know is that you have a supportive family who love you and who’ll look after you.’

Babs then did something she had never done before – she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. I was so shocked that at first I froze, and then I hugged her back.

‘You can’t go to work today. I’ll call in sick for you. You need some rest,’ I said.

‘I already called. I told Karen that both you and I have food poisoning.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t want to be on my own today, Emma. Last night was the longest night of my life. I couldn’t sleep or even sit still. I tried your phone a zillion times and then I tried James, but his phone was switched off too. I almost cracked and called Mum.’

I gasped. ‘You didn’t, though, did you?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I haven’t completely lost my mind.’

I was relieved. We needed to think this through and come up with a plan of how and when to tell Mum about the baby. It had to be managed with an incredible degree of delicacy. Mum was not going to react well to the news that her youngest child was pregnant with a married man’s baby and that said married man was denying the child was his.

‘OK, well, let’s get you home and tucked up in bed. You’re exhausted. After you’ve had a sleep we can talk about how to deal with Gary … and everything.’

Babs crossed her arms. ‘I know exactly how I’d like to deal with Gary. I’d like to cut his penis off and feed it to a pack of hungry wolves.’

I smiled. It was good to see that her spirit hadn’t been totally crushed. ‘Well, let’s try and think of legal ways to make his life miserable. I don’t think prison is the best place to bring up a child.’

Babs smiled wanly. ‘Let’s go.’

When we arrived at Babs’s apartment, I sat her on the couch with a cup of sugary tea and some chocolate biscuits while I changed her bed. I always think that fresh sheets are one of life’s great comforts. Then I tucked her in and closed the curtains.

‘Now, have a good sleep and we’ll talk when you wake up,’ I said, closing the door softly.

‘Emma?’ she called.

‘Yes?’

‘Will you stay with me until I nod off?’

That was what Lara often asked me to do. ‘Of course,’ I said, going over to her bed and lying down beside her.

She looked so young and vulnerable, tucked under her duvet. For all her bluster, she was just a twenty-seven-year-old girl who had fallen in love with the wrong man and was now going to be a single mother. Her life would change for ever. I stroked her brow and she was asleep within minutes, exhausted physically and emotionally from the horror of finding out her beloved Gary was actually a total scumbag.

While Babs slept, I tidied up her messy apartment. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Her fridge contained only bottles of Prosecco and Corona Light, and chocolate bars. Her cupboards were almost bare, save for a few packets of biscuits and a box of Cheerios. Suddenly my diet didn’t seem so bad.

She’d have to learn to cook for the baby. It was all very well for her to eat out most nights or order takeaways, but a baby needed proper food. I’d have to buy her some books and get her to practise a few basic recipes.

Among her post, most of which was stuffed into an overflowing drawer, I found an open bank statement. Babs was six thousand pounds in debt on her Visa card. She’d need to start looking after her finances, too. I’d get Sean to talk to her about how to manage her money. I wasn’t the best at it myself, but I’d never run up Visa bills like that.

As I went around the small apartment – estate agents would describe it as
bijou
– I realized Babs had a lot of work ahead of her if she was to become a responsible parent. But it would do her good to grow up and have to think about
someone other than herself. Maybe it would be the making of her. But I was worried about her career. Gary could cause a lot of problems for her if he wanted to play nasty. She’d have to be very careful with him. She didn’t want him bad-mouthing her about town.

It was all so complicated. Both of our lives were a mess. Maybe we’d end up moving in together and raising our children side by side. Or even living back home with Mum and Dad in Dublin, in a kind of commune-type environment, sharing child-rearing and chores. No! That definitely wouldn’t work. I could never live with Babs. We’d kill each other.

While Babs slept, I poured myself a large glass of Prosecco. Drinking at ten in the morning was not something I normally did, but today I needed something to take the edge off. My emotions were dangerously close to the surface and I wanted to calm down.

I had never seen my sister like this before, so vulnerable and upset. Gary was some jerk. I hated him. But I was glad to hear Babs talking about going back to work. She’d need to keep busy. It was all that was keeping me going these days.

I went to her bedroom and peeped inside – she was fast asleep. Good. She’d be able to think more clearly after a rest. I sat on the couch and finished my Prosecco. Babs’s laptop was on the coffee-table. I decided to go to the
Daily Mail
showbiz website, one of my guilty pleasures. I found looking at the photos of celebrities mind-numbing in a good way.

I was flicking through the pictures, marvelling at Heidi Klum’s body, when I saw the word ‘stalker’ out of the corner of my eye. I sat up and clicked on the link. It was a story about some country singer I’d never heard of being stalked by a crazy fan. She had just got a restraining order to stop him following her.

I wondered if there were other articles on the same theme and typed ‘stalker’ into Google. Oh, my God, seventy-four million results! I decided to narrow it down to ‘being stalked’. More than three million. Apparently stalking was an epidemic. How had I not known it was such a problem?

I clicked on some of the stories and found one in the
Guardian
about a man who was stalked by a woman he’d only met twice. I read on … Oh, he’d slept with her on the second meeting and then she’d told him she loved him and stalked him for months. Had James done that? Had he slept with someone and then she’d gone crazy? I clicked on another article that said, ‘Are you being stalked?’ and gave a list of eight things that meant you were. Five matched my experience.

My chest was tightening again as the realization that I was being stalked sank in. These people were dangerous. Some of the stories said that the victim ended up as an alcoholic – I immediately vowed to stop using alcohol as a crutch – depressed, or harmed. Some stalkers attacked their victims, some of whom ended up dead. My heart was pounding. What was I going to do? How was I going to stop this?

I decided that information was key. I kept searching and found a website that linked into a chat room. It was all about how to get rid of your lover’s wife. The women suggested sending sextexts to drive a wedge between the couple. I gasped. That was exactly what was happening to me! I wondered if she was on this chat room. She must be, chatting away to all the nutters and finding ways to get rid of me. It was terrifying.

I forced myself to read on. Another suggestion was to send things to the wife’s workplace or home to freak her out. I was reading about my own life! Maybe this was our stalker, telling all the other freaks how to get rid of other wives. They
all agreed that men with children were harder to push into leaving their families. They said you had to be more aggressive with those wives to get rid of them. How much more aggressive? I held my breath and read on. One woman suggested slashing the wife’s tyres, another recommended sending hard-core porn to her work, and another said you should harm her.

I tried not to cry. I’d had the texts, the parcels. All that was left was for her to harm me. I had never felt so terrified.

‘What are you looking at?’

I jumped. I hadn’t heard Babs come out of her bedroom. I snapped the laptop shut. ‘Just googling the
Daily Mail
showbiz page,’ I lied. ‘How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?’

She nodded. ‘Better, thanks.’

She flopped down beside me, pulled a chocolate bar from her bag and began to eat it.

‘Babs, you need to make some changes,’ I said. ‘You’ve probably only got about seven months until the baby is born so you need to eat more healthily and look after yourself properly. The baby needs less sugar and more vegetables and fruit. You drink about ten cups of coffee a day and you’ll have to cut down on that too. Maybe you could switch to decaf and try green tea.’

Babs said nothing as she shovelled another square of chocolate into her mouth.

‘You’ll need to start saving, too. Babies are expensive. I can help you out with buggies, cots and clothes, but you need to get your finances in order. You’re going to have to stop buying clothes and shoes and put money aside for the baby.’

Babs got up from the couch. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’

She clearly wasn’t ready to face the realities of being a mother. I’d leave her for now, but sooner or later she was
going to have to accept the stark fact that babies need minding.

She closed the bathroom door and I logged out of the stalker sites on her laptop. As I switched it off, my hands were shaking from the shock of what I had seen and read. I’d have to watch my back. Someone was out to get me.

By the time I got home that night, I had calmed down a bit. But I was still extremely jumpy. I kept looking over my shoulder as I was walking home from the tube to make sure no one was following me. I had taken a knife from Babs’s kitchen and was holding it in my coat pocket. I closed the door and put the chain on. I was so happy to be home and to see the children.

Claire offered to give them their bath, but I wanted to. I needed to be with them. I bathed them and put them to bed. We had lovely cuddles before I turned their lights out. I felt much less shaky by the time I came downstairs. Claire was still there because she was babysitting for me. James was working late and I was going to Carol’s. She’d invited Poppy and me over to taste her new batch of home-made wine. Before I left, I sat Claire down and told her that someone was potentially stalking us. I didn’t want to worry her or involve her too much, but I felt she should have an idea of what was going on so that she could be extra careful with the children. I wanted her to be really vigilant. I explained it as briefly and succinctly as I could, playing it down so as not to frighten her.

She was shocked. ‘How awful! I knew you were rattled by that package the other day, but I had no idea things were so bad. You must be so stressed.’

‘I am,’ I admitted.

‘What does James think? Does he have any idea who it could be?’

I was uncomfortable discussing James and his possible unfaithfulness, so I was deliberately vague. ‘Well, he thinks it might be someone at the club playing a very unfunny joke on us. We really don’t know, to be honest. So if you can just keep the kids close to you at all times and don’t answer the door to anyone, except your mother, obviously, if she’s calling in from Poppy’s.’

Claire’s face darkened at the mention of her mother. ‘I’d be glad not to open the door to her. She’s such a control freak. It drives me mad. You’d think I was nine, not nineteen.’

‘Well, I’m sure she’s just protective of you because you had a tough time in the past.’

‘She needs to back off,’ Claire said, biting her nail.

I smiled. ‘All mothers can be a bit overbearing at times. She’ll probably ease off when she sees that you’re happy and in a good place.’ I put my coat on. ‘I won’t be long and if there are any problems, I’m just next door.’

Carol answered the door in a dress that looked as if she’d made it out of old curtains.

‘Do you like my dress?’ She twirled around. ‘I’ve just finished sewing it. I made it from some old curtains I found in a second-hand shop.’

‘It’s very floral and cheerful,’ I said, trying to be as honest as possible without hurting her feelings.

Poppy arrived up the path, behind me. ‘Christ, Carol, what’s
that
?’

‘My new dress.’

‘It’s beyond hideous. Please take yourself down to Putney High Street and buy yourself something decent. You’re a lovely-looking woman, so why do you insist on hiding behind these appalling outfits?’

‘I love it,’ Carol beamed, ‘and it only cost three quid.’

Poppy laid her hand on Carol’s shoulder. ‘Darling, it looks as if it cost fifty pence. I admire your attempts to save the planet and be frugal, but really and truly there is a limit.’

Carol seemed completely unfazed by Poppy’s brutal honesty. I would have taken the criticism so personally, but she was so happy in her own skin that Poppy’s comments slid away, like water off a duck’s back. She was amazing, really.

Carol showed us into her ‘good’ room. I’d never been into it before. It was filled with the strangest mish-mash of furniture I’d ever seen. The coffee-table was a tree trunk. One chair was made from steel rods and cable wire. Poppy sat on another that was made of four branches nailed together, with a skateboard on top for the seat. She looked hilarious, perched there with her Louboutins skimming the wooden floor. I sat in a third made entirely from coils of thick rope, with a hard cushion in the middle.

‘Did you make the furniture yourself too?’ I asked, as Carol poured us a glass of muddy-looking red wine.

‘Yes,’ she said proudly. ‘The boys helped me. Almost everything in the house is home-made.’

‘You’d never guess,’ Poppy said, with a raised eyebrow, and I bit my lip to stop myself laughing.

Carol grinned. ‘I’m thinking of our children’s future.’

‘By the time my kids are grown-up, I’ll be too tired or Xanaxed to care,’ Poppy drawled. I burst out laughing. These two women were the original chalk and cheese. ‘Now, Carol, can you please explain what this foggy-looking drink is? Tell me there’s alcohol in it.’ Poppy looked suspiciously at her glass.

Carol nodded. ‘Yes, there is.’

I took a small sip and tried not to gag. It was awful, really vile. I managed to swallow it and put my glass down.

Poppy spat hers back into her glass. ‘Are you trying to kill us? This is poison.’

Carol sipped hers. ‘I think it’s lovely.’

‘It’s probably an acquired taste,’ I said diplomatically.

‘The only thing you’ll acquire drinking that is hair on your chest. Sod this. I’m sorry, Carol, but I suspected the home-made wine would taste like old socks, so I came prepared.’ Poppy pulled two bottles out of her large Louis Vuitton tote. I could have kissed her. I wanted a glass of proper wine, not gloopy muddy water. She waved them at Carol. ‘There’s a reason that we leave wine-making to the professionals. Now get me a corkscrew and let’s have a drink.’

‘I’ll stick to my own,’ Carol said, handing Poppy a corkscrew.

I felt bad about abandoning Carol’s wine, but it was really awful. As Poppy poured, I remembered what Mum had said about not getting too friendly with her. Could she be stalking us? I thought it was very unlikely, but then again, she could easily leave parcels on our doorstep, and she bumped into James sometimes on the street. He thought she was absolutely mad, but that didn’t mean she didn’t fancy him.

As if reading my thoughts, Poppy said, ‘Darlings, I have some news. I’ve met someone and he’s stinking rich.’

That ruled James out.

‘Is he a nice person?’ Carol asked.

Poppy waved her glass. ‘He’s a bit of a bore, actually, but the private jet more than makes up for it.’ She grinned delightedly at us. ‘He took me to lunch yesterday … in Paris! We went to the divine Sur Mesure on the rue St Honoré. The food is so good there, I actually ate it. Anyway, Jasper started banging on about some merger he’s working on. Obviously I had to stop him before I keeled over with boredom, so I said, “Look, Jasper, I haven’t eaten a meal since I
turned thirty-five and my metabolism shut down. This body is the result of starvation and yoga. All that boring chat about your merger is ruining my appetite.”

‘Well, he looked at me for a few seconds, then he said, “You are the rudest person I’ve ever been to lunch with. All of my previous dates found me very interesting.”’

‘Did you think you’d blown it?’ I asked, thoroughly enjoying this wonderfully distracting saga.

Poppy smiled. ‘I said to him, “Jasper, for a man who has clearly made millions in business, you are incredibly stupid. I can assure you that no woman who has been out to lunch with you has ever found your mergers and acquisitions conversations interesting. The only thing they’re interested in is your bank balance.”’

Carol and I burst out laughing.

‘So he said, “I find that offensive.” That was when I decided to give it to him straight between the eyes. I’m too old for pussy-footing about.’

‘What did you say?’ Carol asked, her eyes wide.

‘I said, “Let’s be honest here. You are a short, round, fifty-five-year-old man. Any woman younger than thirty-nine is only interested in your cash. I’m actually interested in it too, but I’m also looking for company. I’m lonely, Jasper. I don’t like being divorced. I want someone to go to dinner, the theatre and cinema with. I want someone to talk to who isn’t under six and who doesn’t think that poo is the most fascinating topic in the world. I wouldn’t have looked at you twice ten years ago, but I’m older, wiser and more realistic now. I’m not going to meet a Bradley Cooper lookalike with deep pockets.”’

‘You never!’ Carol gasped.

‘That’s not the end of it.’ Poppy was enjoying our rapt attention. ‘I told him, “I’m too old for games. I want a
companion. I want someone to have a laugh with and talk to. I no longer look particularly attractive in the morning. It takes a while to put this face on. If you’re not great in bed, that’s OK. Half the time I’m too damn tired for sex anyway. I have two small boys who I’m very fond of, but don’t really understand. I hate football and the opera. I have an ex-husband who just told me he’s expecting a baby with his new young beautiful wife, who has a pert bum and breasts that defy gravity. I know that some of my clothes are too young for me and that really depresses me. I know I should do charity work, but I don’t want to. I hate all animals, even goldfish, and I have a secret crush on Justin Bieber, which is very worrying.”’

I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Poppy, you are some woman. I like a straight talker, but that takes it to a whole new level.’

Poppy smiled. ‘Sometimes honesty is the only way, ladies. Anyway, thankfully, Jasper wasn’t one to be scared away so easily. He laughed and then said, “You’re something else, Poppy. I can honestly say I’ve never had a lunch quite like this before. But I appreciate your honesty. So here’s the thing. I got divorced ten years ago and I’m used to my own space now. I like eating toast lathered with honey in bed while watching old war movies. I hate exercise. I find it boring and tiring. I enjoy sex, but my sex drive is definitely not what it used to be. I find lately that I have a tendency to fall asleep in the cinema. I don’t understand Twitter. I think most modern music is loud and noisy. I have a house full of gadgets that I have no idea how to use. I have a teenage daughter who is a nightmare and an ex-wife with a cocaine problem.” I just clinked my glass against his and said, “Then we’re a match made in heaven.” He winked at me then and said, “How do you fancy flying back to London, coming to my house and having average sex?”’

Carol and I squealed like schoolgirls.

‘Well, ladies, I looked that wealthy average man in the eye and said, “Best offer I’ve had in years.”’ She held her glass up to us and took a big gulp of wine.

Carol and I cheered.

‘That has to be the best date story I’ve ever heard,’ I told her, and we laughed. ‘So … how was the sex?’ I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

‘Average,’ Poppy admitted, ‘but in a nice way.’

‘He sounds lovely,’ Carol said. ‘A nice, decent man, just what you need.’

‘Yes, with the added bonus of the private plane and a mansion in Holland Park.’

‘So, have you arranged another date?’ Carol asked.

‘I’m seeing him tomorrow. We’re going to the cinema. Let’s hope he can stay awake for the whole film. I suggested he drink a double espresso beforehand.’ Poppy glowed. It was lovely to see.

‘Romance is alive and well in Putney,’ Carol noted.

Poppy held up the bottle to me to suggest another glass and I checked my watch. ‘I’d better not,’ I said. ‘I told Claire I’d only be an hour. She’s spending too much time at our house as it is – the poor girl practically lives with us.’

‘How’s it going? Are you still finding her good?’ Poppy asked.

‘Gosh, yes, absolutely brilliant.’

‘Good. Her mother, Maggie, is wonderful. But she does worry about Claire a lot – too much, probably. If I was her, I’d be thinking my job was done and I’d be off living the high life.’

‘She does seem very protective,’ I agreed. ‘Claire’s a bit fed up with it, actually. You can see the tension between them.’

‘Claire was at my house the other day while your children were at school. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw Maggie trying to grab her phone. Claire was going crazy and pulling it back.’

‘Oh, I know what that’s about,’ I said, ‘but you must swear not to breathe a word. Claire has a new boyfriend and she doesn’t want her mother to know about it because she won’t approve.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Poppy said, with a grin. ‘She seems so mousy and quiet. A boyfriend will do her good.’

I reached for my bag and coat. ‘I’d really better go. Thanks so much, Carol, for a lovely night.’ I tried to climb out of my chair, but my bum was stuck in the rope. I gave myself a tug, lost my balance and fell out sideways. Poppy jumped up to help me, but her jeans got stuck in the edge of her skateboard chair and ripped.

‘Carol!’ she exclaimed. ‘Will you please buy some normal chairs? These jeans are my brand new Hudsons.’

‘I’m sure I could patch them for you.’ Carol examined the large hole in the side of Poppy’s jeans. ‘I’ve got some curtain material left over.’ Poppy looked utterly horrified. Carol burst out laughing. ‘I’m joking, but you should see your face.’

I went home smiling. Having a laugh with those two was the perfect antidote to all the crazy stuff going on at the moment. I needed all the ‘normality’ and fun I could find if I was to have any chance of staying sane.