The Model Wife Part 32

'Brigita, let me in!'

It seemed an age before she opened up.

'Sorry, Daddy,' she said, as he stumbled into the hall. 'Those men keep banging on the door, so I triple lock it. Come in and tell me: why were you so b.l.o.o.d.y rude to Minnie?'

It was nearly midnight by the time the dust semi-settled. There was a long debrief with the head of PR, trying to work out how to present this disaster to the world tomorrow. By the time it ended Thea's phone was jammed with texts and messages. None of them seemed to appreciate the trouble she was in; they all thought it was the most brilliant joke.

Funniest thing I've seen in years. Dunc says it will be a Mys.p.a.ce cla.s.sic, Rachel. x Irritated, Thea deleted it. Sodding Dunc.

'Darling,' said her mother, sounding the cheeriest Thea had heard in ages. 'I am shocked. I told you that Luke Norton was a dreadful man. Too handsome for his own good.'

Gloomily Thea hung up. For the fifth time, she dialled Luke's number. One moment they'd been about to relight a smouldering romance, the next he'd been kicked out of the building. But he still could have called her back. She got voicemail.

Thea looked at the next text.

Oh b.u.g.g.e.r. I bet you're wis.h.i.+ng you never met me. Fancy an apologetic drink? Jake Thea did. Not least because when Luke called she wanted him to hear the background noise of a lively bar, rather than her fridge humming and a distant ambulance wailing in Brixton. She replied rapidly, Only if we're talking right now.

The reply came almost instantly.

When else?

387.

They met in Soho House, which was the only place Thea could think of that would be open so late.

'I haven't been here in ages,' Jake said, looking round the dim room with its arrangements of low leather sofas and chairs, occupied by slightly past their prime media executives.

'The scene of too many mispent nights in my youth,' Thea said. In fact the last time she'd been there was on BAFTA night. 'I've kind of gone off it.'

'Ah, don't give me all this "my youth" stuff again. You're hardly ready for a Zimmer frame.'

'I think I aged about a trillion years tonight.' She finished her wine and refilled the gla.s.s from the bottle in front of them. 'Thank G.o.d tomorrow's my day off. I'd better check the daytime TV schedules and start to organize my life round them; develop a crush on Jeremy Kyle.'

'You won't lose your job over this!'

'I wouldn't be surprised.' Another big gulp. 'Luke will for sure. They've had the knives out for him for a while now.' She thought about Luke. He still hadn't returned any of her calls, but he was probably in bed by now. He'd as good as said he was leaving Poppy for her. They'd talk in the morning, she decided. Right now she'd enjoy herself with Jake and hope, rather unrealistically, that news of their flirtatious late-night drink would get back to the man she loved, further fuelling his pa.s.sion.

'It'll be a shame if Luke gets the sack,' Jake said. 'I like him. We had some good laughs in Guatemala though he is a bit of a liability, isn't he? I mean, I see where all that cad stuff comes from.'

Thea looked at him sharply.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, he was leching all over one of the interpreters and flirting with everyone in sight. We were all having a bit of a laugh about it. He was trying to be subtle, but he wasn't subtle enough.' Jake glanced at Thea. 'Are you OK?'

Thea felt as if cement was solidifying in her limbs. 'Yeah, I'm fine.'

'You sure?' He leant forward and took her hand in his. She s.n.a.t.c.hed it away. 'Listen, I know tonight's been a disaster in some ways, but think of all the publicity the programme will get as a result. No one's going to blame you. It'll just mean even more bad press for Minnie.'

'It's got nothing to do with tonight's show,' said Thea. 'I just... I just don't feel very well.'

Jake's face creased in concern. 'Is there anything I can get you?'

'You can get me another bottle of wine.'

'Is that a good idea if you're feeling ill?'

'Oh don't be such a granny,' she snapped.

Jake stood up. 'Look, Thea, I'm sorry if you don't feel well. But I'm not going to stick around to have my head bitten off. If you need a friend, great. If you want to be alone, that's fine too.'

She could almost hear the gears crunching in her head, as she computed it all. Luke had been leching over everyone in Guatemala. Luke was never going to change. He'd said those things tonight because... well, because he could. But he didn't mean them. He never would. In the words of the poet Roxette, it must have been love. But now it was over. Sod Luke Norton. As her thoughts juddered to a disillusioned halt, she did a mental hand-break turn.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'm a b.i.t.c.h. Please sit down.'

'OK,' Jake looked firm, 'but only if you promise to behave.'

'I can't promise, but I'll do my best.'

She took a gulp of wine. She smiled at Jake. He smiled back. Hey, he was eight years younger than her. Hey, he was short. Hey, he was a charity worker. Hey, she should know better. But...

She leant forward. 'Let's not get another bottle here. Why don't we have a nightcap at mine?'

41.

Poppy couldn't sleep. Even though it was a balmy summer night, it was cold in Toby's flat and she pulled the bedclothes over her naked body, teeth chattering, an unpleasant metallic taste in her mouth. Her head was beginning to throb as if it was pressed under a huge weight like a wild flower. Beside her Toby lay, snuffling faintly, one hand thrown back over his head. After they'd had s.e.x, he'd swallowed a little blue pill. 'It'll help bring me down,' he said. 'Want one?' But Poppy had refused. Mistake, she thought now, peering at her watch in the half light. Nearly three.

Lying back, images of the past few hours ran through her head like a bad music video. She and Toby coming out of the party, where some flashbulbs went off in her face. Hailing a cab, heading to Whitechapel where he lived, kissing madly in the back. Stumbling up the stairs to his flat, which wasn't the white loft s.p.a.ce she'd envisaged but a floor of a tiny terraced house, furnished by Ikea. A lot more kissing on the sofa. Poppy squirmed in a mixture of joy and agony as she recalled those kisses, soft ones on her lips, firm ones on the tops of her thighs, hungry ones on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Somehow, they'd stumbled into the bedroom, where Toby had waved vaguely at the clothes scattered on the floor and the unmade bed, before he pushed her down on it and...

391.

Actually, it hadn't been that good. Inexperienced as she was, even Poppy knew that. It had been a bit perfunctory and Toby had come before she was even remotely ready. Even more than last time, Poppy felt guilty about Luke. But he treated me so badly, she justified herself to Migsy, as she watched the shadow of Toby's body moving on top of her on the ceiling. He was never around. We had nothing in common. Basically, I married too young. And I was so unhappy, though I never told anyone. Of course I have no regrets because I have Clara. But Toby is my soul mate. We were meant to be together...

Anxiously, she curled into him. In his sleep, he rolled towards her and cupped her bottom with his hand. She lay awake for hours, listening to the water pipes announcing morning. As the sun gushed in through the curtains, she pushed herself up on her elbow and traced Toby's eagle-beak profile with her finger. He stirred again; she froze. She listened, as his breathing, which had been slow and rhythmical, grew shorter and sharper. Poppy began to suspect that Toby was not asleep any more, that he was faking it. Hurriedly, she rolled on to her side. If he didn't want to talk to her just yet, then she wasn't going to spoil things. She shut her eyes and willed sleep to come.

'Hi.'

Instantly, she flipped over. 'Hi!'

He shook his head slightly and winced, regretting it, then suddenly sat up. 's.h.i.+t, it's nearly eight. I need to get going. Do you want to have a shower?'

'No, no. You go first.'

'No, no.' He shook his head. 'I insist.'

392.

Poppy showered feeling a bit shaky. Why did he sound so cold? She lathered her body in his Clarins shower gel, admiring his taste far nicer than Luke's boring old Imperial Leather then wrapped herself in a towel, dressed and made her way into the dining area, where he was standing up eating cornflakes from a bowl. A cupboard was open behind him, revealing three cans of chopped tomatoes, two tubes of Berocca, a packet of penne and a tube of Pringles. By the kettle was a variety of teas: rosehip, Earl Grey, peppermint, echinacea. For a second, Poppy felt all gooey. There was something about a man's choice of groceries that made him somehow vulnerable. She wouldn't have taken Toby for a tea man and it made her want to throw her arms round him, but the look on his face made it quite clear that wasn't an option.

'Do you want some breakfast?' he said unwillingly. Poppy knew it was time to get out of there.

'I'm fine, thanks,' she said, ignoring her loudly rumbling tummy. 'Better be going. See how my little girl is.'

'Christ. I'd forgotten you had a child.' He rubbed his eyes blearily. 'How old is she?'

'Just turned two.'

'Nice.' He smiled weakly and headed towards the door. 'I could call you a cab,' he said unenthusiastically. 'If you want to get the Tube, turn right then second left and you'll see it.'

'I'll get the Tube,' Poppy said hastily.

It was only a couple of weeks since she'd returned from Meena's in her party clothes. Then it had felt glamorous in an Amy Winehouse kind of way; this time it just felt cheap and shabby. Poppy didn't know how Meena could do this all the time. The happiness she'd felt last night at being wanted again was rapidly being replaced by renewed guilt that she had actually been unfaithful to her husband.

But I was so miserable, she kept repeating to herself, but somehow that excuse didn't work. As she approached her front gate she was s.n.a.t.c.hed from her thoughts by the sight of a group of men in anoraks. Some were smoking, some were talking into phones, some were chatting. As she approached, they all jumped to attention, pointing their cameras at her.

'Oi, Poppy!' They shouted over the guillotine snapping of the cameras. 'Hey, bimbo!' 'Where have you been?' 'How's your stupid c.u.n.t of a husband?'

'Sorry?' Poppy tried to push through them, but the flashes were in her face, bang, bang, bang, blinding her. 'Go away!' she snapped, surprisingly ferociously, fumbling in her bag for her keys, which slipped between her fingers on to the pavement. She bent down to retrieve them.

'Hey! There's a ladder in her tights!'

Neighbours' heads appeared at windows. Pa.s.sers-by stopped and stared. Somehow Poppy managed to get her key into the lock and almost fell into the hallway and Luke's arms.

'Oh. So you're home at last?'

'Sorry!' she said, taken aback at his furious face. 'I texted you. I had to stay at Meena's. She was sick. I was worried about her.'

'And what about me? Why didn't you call me? I've left about ten messages.'

Despite his tone, Poppy felt a glow of vindication. So he'd missed her. Now he knew what it felt like.

'What about about you?' Then she remembered. 'Oh, yes. How did the Minnie interview go?' you?' Then she remembered. 'Oh, yes. How did the Minnie interview go?'

'You don't know?'

'No. I was going to catch it on Sky Plus. Shall I watch it now?'

'It was a b.l.o.o.d.y disaster,' Luke said. 'A disaster not helped by you telling the world how we'd already had one b.l.o.o.d.y disaster in Scotland.'

'What do you mean?' Actually Poppy suddenly had a very good idea what he meant. s.h.i.+t. Perhaps she'd told Migsy too much again.

'I don't believe it,' Luke shouted. 'First Hannah betraying me in print. Now you. What is it? What is it with my wives?'

'I didn't betray you. What do you mean?'

He brandished a copy of Wicked Wicked at her. "'My husband went to Scotland to interview Minnie but she wouldn't talk to him." Why didn't you tell me, Poppy? That was confidential. I'm in big, big trouble now. I've been suspended.' at her. "'My husband went to Scotland to interview Minnie but she wouldn't talk to him." Why didn't you tell me, Poppy? That was confidential. I'm in big, big trouble now. I've been suspended.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means I'll almost certainly be sacked.' He smote his chest, like a bad actor performing a Shakespearean soliloquy. 'What have you done?'

'I'm sorry,' said Poppy, taking her phone out of her bag and plugging it in to its charger. Immediately, it began ringing.

'That'll be all my messages,' Luke said, as Poppy held it to her ear. She expected it to be her husband's berating tones, but instead she got Barbara's throaty voice.

'Poppy.' She laughed like a braying donkey. 'Well, what a storm you and your husband have stirred up. The phones haven't stopped ringing all morning. Call me, babe. This is going to lead to big things.'

The doorbell dringed again.

'I've had enough!' Luke yelled. 'I'm going to disconnect it.'

An hour later, everything had become clear. With Luke in bed, eyemask on and earplugs in, Poppy had watched the recording. She'd also talked to an amused Meena, a delighted Barbara and an ecstatic Migsy.

'I have to tell you, Poppy, everyone at Wicked Wicked's thrilled. I knew you'd make a great columnist, but we could never have foreseen this. We're going to give you two pages next week. How's Luke reacting to the whole scandal?'

'Um. I'm not sure I should go into details.'

'But you have to! Our readers will be dying to know. I imagine he's a bit embarra.s.sed, isn't he?'

'Yes, he is. And cross. He's been suspended.'

'Oh, poor man. But Minnie was being very difficult, wasn't she?'

'Oh yes, she's a nightmare,' Poppy agreed.

They talked on in this vein for a few more minutes.

'Who was that?' snapped Luke from the doorway as she hung up. Poppy jumped like a cricket.

'Just the magazine wanting to know how I was getting on.'

'You're not not still doing that column for them, are you?' still doing that column for them, are you?'

His tone made something explode in Poppy's head.

396.

'Yes, I am! Why the h.e.l.l shouldn't I?' Tears filled her eyes. 'Luke, I'm sorry. I told them some things about Minnie, but I didn't think they'd print them. It was stupid of me, but it won't happen again.'

'Why couldn't you get a proper job?'

'I didn't know what else I could do.' Her throat was burning, she felt an embarra.s.sing lump of snot about to dribble out of her nose. 'This is the way I am. I never pretended to be anything else. I'm not a genius. I don't have any qualifications. I'm not a thrusting businesswoman. I don't bake great cakes like Hannah. I'm not clever like Thea and Roxanne and those other women in your office. I'm just me. Poppy. If you didn't like it, you shouldn't have married me.'