Sugar Mummy (32 page)

'But I've booked a table at Scarafino's - just like our first
date.'

'I'll see you tomorrow night, though.'

'Oh, don't leave her on her own tonight,' says my colleague Maria
who seems to have magically appeared behind me, ostensibly handing out a memo.

I put my hand over the receiver and hiss 'Shut up' at her. She
laughs and gives me a tragi-comic grimace.

'Who was that?' says Marion.

'Oh, no one, sorry. Look, can we go to Scarafino's tomorrow night?'
There is a pause. 'Can't we?'

'OK,' says Marion briskly.

'I'll call you tonight, anyway,' I say.

'Sure,' she says. 'Have fun.'

Bloody hell, Marion. Steal my watch, take away my lift to work
and then come on all luvvy duvvy. I don't believe there's any booking tonight at
Scarafino's for us.

'Women!' I say to Sami.

'Men,' she snaps back.

Yes, we are bunch of shits, probably, but we can't help it, I
think to myself as I leave the office early again.

Jane doesn't exactly look pleased to see me.

'I don't need a lift, thanks, anyway,' she says, walking briskly
away from the Paperchase staff entrance.

'Good, because I haven't got a car,' I say, following her.

'Why not?'

'Gave it back,' I say. She can't help registering some interest
at this. Even though it was unplanned I realise it was the right answer. We walk
on in silence for a while until she says, 'What do you want?'

'Take you for a drink.'

'Sorry, I'm running late.' We walk a bit further until she stops
and says,

'Are you going to follow me home?'

I think about it. 'Perhaps.'

We walk on down the street and I'm beginning to wonder whether
I should get on the Tube and go home with her, at least we would be able to talk
in private. But just then she stops. She turns to look at me and already her face
has softened slightly. She chews her lip for a moment while she considers the pathetic
retrograde in front of her. I smile, gently wondering what I can say to give me
five minutes.

'There's a bar round the corner we sometimes go to after work,
it's usually pretty quiet.' She leads the way.

We order a half pint of Pimms each from a big, blonde Scandanavian
girl. I have just enough money to pay for them. As we sit down at a quiet table
near the window I decide to dive straight in.

'I'm sorry about that stupid stunt with the car the other day,'
I say, playing with the fruit in my glass. 'I just wanted to talk to you.'

She snorts. 'Very tactful way to do it.'

'I know, it was really stupid. I wasn't trying to impress, I
just thought we could spend some time together.'

'In her car.'

'Yeah,' I say, beaten on this. What the fuck was I thinking about?
She seems to accept my complete capitulation.

'She must be pretty rich.'

'Her father gave it to her,' I hear myself saying.

'All right for some.'

'Yeah,' I smile, glad that she is sort of aligning us together
on this one. Rich people, huh!

Jane takes a sip of her drink. 'Sorry, I lost my temper that
day.'

'I don't blame you.'

'No, I shouldn't have stormed off, that was childish.' God, she's
so sensible, so reasonable. 'I was just pissed off and tired.'

'I suppose Saturdays are always the busiest days, aren't they?'
I ask, not the slightest bit interested but glad to move into a proper conversation.

'Erm,' she says, idly looking around the bar which is now filling
up, 'it depends. Sometimes. I think that day was particularly bad because every
customer was really complicated and foreign and also my boss was in a bad mood because
she had a row with her boyfriend.'

'She shouldn't bring her love life into work with her.'

'Well, she can't help it, her boyfriend's the store manager.'

I laugh and so does she. She tells me about her manager's complicated
love life and how she has to listen to her sob stories. 'She's got a husband and
three kids at home in Stanmore.'

'No!'

'Yes,' says Jane, warming up to her tale. 'I said to her, "Doesn't
he notice when you don't come home at night?" She said, "Well, he hasn't
mentioned anything".' We both laugh again. I love the way Jane throws back
her head when she laughs. For a girl who is so petite, she has a big, dirty laugh.
'Then there was this amazingly thick American woman-' She looks at me mischievously.
'But I shouldn't be rude about Americans, should I?'

'Up to you.'

'She's American, isn't she?'

I decide to play it cool, see how much she knows - and how much
she cares. 'Vinny told you that, did he?'

'Yes. I know you swore him to secrecy but Vinny's hopeless.'
She looks serious for a moment. 'Don't take it out on him, will you?' I'm too busy
wondering exactly how many beans Vinny has spilt. He did promise me he hadn't told
her about my escort work. I would just die if Jane knew about that, I realise. But
then she wouldn't be here if she did. I feel myself blushing at the thought and
looking away.

I decide that I'll go so far as to tell her that I'm seeing the
woman, which in Jane's feminist vocabulary probably includes 'girl' and that she
does have a bit of money, hence the car but leave it at that. I won't tell her that
Marion is older than me and I certainly won't tell her how we met. It occurs to
me though that if Jane has interrogated Vinny about me, she must be interested.

'No, I won't take it out on him,' I smile. 'You really like Vinny,
don't you?' Again, I'm glad to change the subject.

'Yeah, I do,' she says thoughtfully. 'He's so kind and I love
his dry sense of humour. It's amazing, even now he can lead me on for hours before
I realise what he's doing.'

'Yeah, I suppose he is quite funny in his own way.'

'All the girls at university adored him.'

'Really?' I think about it for a moment, decide women are too
much of mystery to try and work out in one evening and ask, 'Did Vinny have any
girlfriends? He never talks about them.'

She frowns thoughtfully. 'Not really. I think there was one girl
he was very keen on. He always had lots of female friends. I don't think he's gay,
though. I mean it wouldn't bother me if he was, I just don't think he is.'

'No,' I say and stir my drink with my straw. I realise that,
having dealt with the car episode, I had better mention what I wanted to talk to
her about if she hadn't stormed off; in other words what happened after our visit
to the pub. 'The other night, after the pub,' I say but I realise that I don't know
how to put it. 'That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about when ...'

'Yes,' says Jane. 'We do need to talk ... but ... well ... you
know what I'm going to say.'

'No.'

'You do know!' Before I can think of a way to avoid mentioning
Marion she says, 'There's your American.'

'We're just ...'

'Just good friends?' Oh, we're not even that, Jane. It's a fling
and not even a fun fling. Half the time I think Marion is running rings around me,
laughing and plotting behind my back with her freakish friends. Demanding and suffocating
one minute and cold and manipulative the next. Being with Jane feels so relaxed
and uncomplicated. But I'm painfully aware that there are things to be cleared up
between us so I say, 'Sort of. Look, I'd really like to see you again.'

There is a pause. She smiles. 'OK, but if you're going out with
somebody else, you've really got to sort that out first, haven't you?' Oh, Jane,
you're so right. Have I ever got to sort this out.

'Well, we're not really going out, it's just a sort of ... thing.'

'Sort of fling thing?'

Why isn't there a better word than fling? It sounds like one
of us is being thrown across the room.

'It's a bit of fun.' That sounds worse so I try to explain. 'I
suppose I'm sort of on the rebound after a long relationship at university.' Jane
nods. 'Vinny told you about that as well, didn't he?' She nods again, unembarrassed.
'What's your job at Paperchase, interrogations?'

She laughs and then begins to pick some more wax off the candle
holder on the table between us. 'So she's just a rebound ... fling thing?'

It doesn't sound very nice. 'Well, I suppose I just decided that
I should just get out more, see some girls.' I wait for some reaction to my shallow,
blokish confession but Jane's too good a listener for that. She raises her eyebrows
sympathetically. 'But it's going nowhere. Worse than nowhere. I'd have finished
it even if I hadn't met you.'

'Well,' she says, rolling up the remainder of the wax and putting
it neatly at the foot of the bottle. 'You're the only one who can do that - if you
really want to, that is.'

'I do.' We both take a sip. 'I ... ' I have to say this. 'I must
say, I didn't think I was your type, though.'

Jane looks surprised. 'My type?' She laughs. 'What's my type?'
But I want her to answer the question. 'All right, when I first met you I thought
you were such a smug yuppie, that you really fancied yourself but you're actually
quite funny, like I said. And ... well, I suppose Vinny convinced me.'

'Vinny?'

'Yep, I suppose you've got Vinny to thank,' she says. 'I thought
you were so smart-arsed and knew you were good looking.' For some stupid reason
I feel myself blushing, so I look down at the table and play with an imaginary bit
of fluff. Jane continues mercilessly. 'Well, you know you are. You can't help it.
I think that's why sometimes you come across as ultra cool, sort of aloof, when
people first meet you, when we first met, that night. You're just shy, I suppose.
Bit self conscious.' She takes my silence as assent. 'It must be a bit of nuisance
actually - girls falling for you for the most superficial reason.'

I laugh, embarrassed. 'But you fell for me for a deep, serious
reason.'

'Not really. And you and Vinny are really funny together. Your
football game.' Oh God, good old One A Side Indoor Footy - whatever happened to
that? 'He's a huge fan of yours.'

'What?'

'He is. He really looks up to you. He loves the fact that you
share that flat together. He thinks it's really cool. Oh, you know how boys hero-worship
each other but you two are sweet together.'

'Perhaps I should go out with him, then.'

She rolls her eyes but she can tell I need more convincing. 'For
instance, he was so grateful when you sorted out his tax thing, or something?'

'What? Oh, that.' Earlier in the year Vinny had decided the best
way to deal with a demand from the Inland Revenue for some freelance work he had
done was to put it behind the toaster for a few months. Then he received another
official letter and got incredibly worked up about the whole thing so I sent it
to my brother-in-law who knows about tax and grown-up things and he sorted it out
without any charge.

'He was so relieved and so grateful,' continues Jane. God, Vinny's
weird - it really was no big deal. 'I just thought that was really kind. So, despite
all my reservations, Vinny won me round and made me think that if I did like you,
there was actually a good reason for it. It wasn't just that you looked like you'd
walked out of a glossy magazine.'

'Well, I suppose I should be grateful, then. Good old Vinny,'
I say, bemused. 'To Vinny.' We clink glasses and finish our drinks. I want to kiss
her again and she realises it so she looks away.

'But like I said, it's really up to, you've got to decide.' I
consider the truth of this observation, once again. I'm sure instead of 'decide'
she means 'chuck her'.

'Would you like another?' I ask.

Without checking her watch she say, 'I should be making a move.
I'm going out tonight.' She looks me in the eye for a moment and then reaches over
and runs a finger down my cheek and over my mouth. It tickles slightly and makes
me smile. I look down at my empty glass. She gets up and picks up her bag. I get
up too, realizing I have half a hard-on.

'You can come if you want.'

'Sorry?'

'Tonight.'

A date? I like the idea of seeing Jane on a proper date. A few
drinks, a bit of music, some food - why not? But am I ready to be introduced to
the friends yet? There'll be the usual quick ring round the next morning for feedback.
I suddenly feel very nervous. Jane's friends would probably hate me. I'd probably
hate them.

'Erm ...'

'Actually, you'd hate it. We're going to a pub.'

'I don't mind pubs. We went to a pub that night, the night.'

'Yeah and you looked like a fish out of water, mineral water.'

'Ha, ha.'

'No,' says Jane slowly. 'But you'd probably hate my friends.'

'Why?'

'You just would.' We look at each other, both realizing that
the Judgement of The Friends is a bit premature.

'Here, I'll walk you as far as the Tube station at least.'

She laughs and squeezes my arm. 'Thank you,' she says.

On the way to the Tube station Jane tells me what she has against
James Bond and his treatment of women.

'He is pretty sexist, I suppose, but everyone was in those days,'
I say. Then, for good measure I add: 'They didn't know any better.'

'It's not just the way he treats women as a bit of tatty,' says
Jane enthusiastically. 'Of course, he smacks them on the bum and sends them away
like the woman who's been massaging him by the pool at the beginning of Goldfinger
or the way he slaps them around to get information out of them. It's the way women
die around him.'

'Do they?'

'Yes, especially after a sexual encounter. He shags that woman
in Goldfinger and then she is painted with gold and dies. In From Russia with Love
he pushes the woman he is dancing with in front of an assassin's bullet to protect
himself. He's always doing it.'

'Yeah, but women are always getting killed in action movies,
even today.'

'No,' says Jane, exasperated. 'The thing about Bond movies is
the juxtaposition of sex and death. They're just glorified snuff movies, really.'
I suddenly feel slightly concerned that Jane is some kind of Bond anorak but I'm
also impressed she is the only girl I've ever met who uses words like juxtaposition
without thinking about it. Her face lights up. 'Actually, it's not just sex - even
with marriage,' she says. 'Look at On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. George Lazenby
and Diana Rigg tie the knot at the end and she is shot immediately after. And -
and when he marries that Japanese woman in Dr No she gets poisoned by having stuff
trickled down that thread while she and Sean Connery are lying in their matrimonial
bed together.'