Prime Time (35 page)

Chapter Forty

My greatest fear is that PMT doesn't exist and this is my true personality.

I turned the wooden plaque over in my hands. ‘Thank you,' I said. ‘How thoughtful.'

Charlotte laughed loudly. ‘Knew you'd like it. You can put it up in your kitchen. And look what else I've got!' She opened her fridge to reveal two bottles of pink champagne. ‘I thought we'd have a bit of a party!'

‘Why?' I asked suspiciously, my PMT, as it happened, bubbling away nicely and making me scratchy. ‘Presents, inviting us for dinner, champagne … Why are you being so nice to me?'

Charlotte snorted. ‘Cheeky moo. I'm always lovely to you and you spend half your life eating round here. But if you must know,' she went on, ‘I am getting sick of the sight of your miserable face. I thought if I could get you half-cut on fizz, you might cheer up.'

‘I'm sorry,' I said, glumly.

‘It's about time you snapped out of it,' continued Charlotte, removing the foil from one of the bottles. ‘That wretched TV programme was weeks ago and everyone has completely forgotten about it. So I really think it's time you stopped walking around like someone's died.'

‘I am mourning my lost youth.'

‘You're being a pain in the arse.' Charlotte covered the top of the first bottle with a tea-towel and twisted. There was a loud pop. ‘Glasses! Quick!'

‘We could ask Alfie and Clara round if you like,' she said, as she poured. ‘I've got a massive piece of beef.'

‘They're in Rome,' I said. ‘Alfie booked a weekend trip for Clara's birthday.'

‘Lucky buggers. I'd like to go there – or Milan. My New Year's resolution,' she added, as Roger appeared in the doorway, ‘was for my husband to take me away more.' Charlotte gave him a mock-severe look. ‘Off his own bat!' She raised her glass cheerily. ‘Come and get a drink, love.'

She didn't look at me as she filled a glass for Roger. ‘How about inviting Andrew, then?' she said slyly.

I put my drink down in irritation. ‘For God's sake, you never give up, do you? Andrew is not interested in me. I haven't heard a word from him.'

Charlotte took a large swig of champagne. ‘What did you expect? He declared his passion for you and you turned him down – you can't expect the poor bloke to keep coming back for more after that. It's down to you. I bet if you called him now and said we're having a little celebration, he'd be round here like a long dog.'

‘What are we celebrating?' I asked moodily.

‘Wait and see!'

I looked at her as she opened a bag of peanuts. She was smiling to herself and I felt a deep sense of foreboding. The last time she'd looked like that had been my 21st birthday, when she'd had the bright idea of rounding up my previous boyfriends to join in the fun and I'd been forced to dance with Kevin Gornley, last seen aged 15, whose spots and foot odour had only intensified in the meantime.

Stanley and I'd been round for Sunday lunch plenty of times before but at this point it was usually her and me and a glass of Pinot Grigio at the kitchen table while she peeled vegetables and Roger watched the sports channel. This felt different.

And I knew why as soon as the doorbell sounded. I glared at Charlotte as Roger went into the hallway and I heard a familiar voice floating toward us.

‘How could you?' I hissed furiously. ‘I asked you not to interfere. I don't want to see him.'

Charlotte was unrepentant. ‘Never mind what you want, love. It's Sunday afternoon and I'm in the mood to party. The more the merrier. Can you get those crisps open?'

‘I'm sorry – you know what she's like,' murmured Roger, winking at me as he passed on the way to the fridge, carrying cans of beer. I looked up unwillingly. Andrew stood just inside the door, wearing jeans and a soft blue shirt. Charlotte was beaming at him. ‘Glass of champagne? We won't be eating till about four so do have some nuts …'

‘Hello Laura.' Andrew gave me a polite smile. I cringed inside as I muttered back a greeting. What the hell was Charlotte doing? He didn't want to be here like this any more than I did.

Roger was making jolly conversation. ‘How are things? Good Christmas?'

Charlotte pulled a face. ‘That was ages ago. And best forgotten. If ever the Americans want to develop a new torture I've got one – eight hours listening to your mother at the same time as Laura's. Thank God for the numbing effects of alcohol.'

Too right,
I thought, knocking back all the rest of the champagne in my glass and wishing I could go home. I couldn't believe Charlotte had gone to such lengths to do something so utterly crass. She hadn't even put the meat in the oven yet – we were going to be stuck together for hours. What would we all talk about?

The answer was nothing, it seemed. ‘Let's all go and watch television,' Charlotte said brightly. I stared at her. This was the woman who used to berate Roger for hiding behind the remote control if she had friends round.

‘Call the kids, Roger!' she instructed. She looked up at the clock. ‘Come on – we've got five minutes.'

She refilled my glass and held out the bottle toward Andrew. ‘Have a top-up,' she said, picking up the crisp bowl with her other hand. ‘Bring the peanuts, Lu.'

I trailed behind her and the others into her sitting room, wondering what on earth she was up to, feeling suddenly sick as a horrible possibility occurred to me. Surely not …

‘You weren't going to tell me, were you?' Charlotte was saying, pressing buttons on the remote. ‘Lucky I still had Alicia's number – she was very helpful. She told me that your cookery programme ' Charlotte turned round to stare at me ‘ went out on Thursday.'

I heaved a small sigh of relief. ‘Did it?' I asked casually. ‘Oh, I didn't know …'

‘Alicia said you'd have been sent an email,' said Charlotte accusingly. ‘She did it in the end with one of her friends – they pretended to be cousins, I gather – and she got an email weeks ago with the dates. Why didn't you tell me?'

‘I deleted it,' I said shortly. ‘I didn't want to know.'

‘Well, I did,' said Charlotte. ‘And guess what?'

Please don't tell me you've got a recording …

‘It's repeated today!' she cried triumphantly. Charlotte grinned at me. ‘It's being shown on Foodies UK and we're all going to watch it right now.' She threw back her head and yelled, ‘
Boys
!' before looking at Roger. ‘Thought you'd called them?'

‘I did,' he said.

‘We'll record it too.' Charlotte seemed oblivious my horror. ‘Bex will be furious if she can't see it. I told her to watch it at Lauren's but she says they might be shopping. For a change!'

I felt sick to my boots. ‘Charlotte, please …' I began shakily, stopping as Joe and Stanley came reluctantly into the room, my son looking suitably askance to find his form tutor there.

‘We were in the middle of a game,' Stanley said to me plaintively. I shrugged helplessly.

‘Well, this is much more exciting,' said Charlotte. We're going to watch your mother being a television star!'

I stared at the carpet, hating her. Why was she doing this? Surely she could imagine what it was doing to me.

‘I'll tell you what,' I heard Andrew say. ‘Stanley's fantastic in the play we're doing at school. Quite the star himself – got his mother's acting ability, all right.'

I bit my lip as I felt tears of humiliation tingling at the back of my nose. That was all I needed – him taking the piss. Bastard. Why had he come? Just to laugh at me with everyone else?

Then suddenly the opening music started and I shrunk back into the sofa as the red and green lettering of the
Cook Around the Clock
logo bounced across the screen. ‘Oh my God …'

Andrew was somehow next to me. ‘You're going to be great,' he said brightly.

Yeah, right – like I was last time?

‘Entertaining, anyway,' added Charlotte with a grin. She beamed at me across the room. I scowled back, feeling like crying and longing to run from the room.

‘Embarrassing, more like,' said Stanley glumly from the carpet, where he was sprawled next to a giggling Joe.

I stared mutely at the screen as the couple I remembered as Bob and Carol appeared in front of me.

‘And now we have Bob and Carol!' cried Austin the presenter, flashing his improbable white teeth. ‘Are we excited?' he cried.

‘She was terrified,' I snapped.

‘She looks it,' said Roger.

‘He looks a right dick,' said Charlotte. ‘Told you,' she continued triumphantly, when Bob had finished regaling the audience with his prowess in the kitchen and special flair for making sausage and apricot curry.

‘No, I can't cook at all,' said his wife Carol faintly, looking as though she might collapse.

‘Probably doesn't want to go in the kitchen if that prat's in there,' said Charlotte.

‘Stop talking,' said Roger. ‘You're worse than the kids.'

Stanley and Joe were too busy hoovering up the nibbles to say anything much. but both looked suitably bored as Bruno the chef led a quaking Carol off to one side of the studio and Bob made a show of putting his chef's hat on and striding off to the other. My hands clutched each other, nails digging into my palms. My stomach was churning.

I could feel Andrew breathing beside me as we watched Bob guffawing his way through the creation of a chicken and leek pie while Carol gripped a large knife in frozen terror before eventually managing to chop some broccoli. I slumped in relief as Austin grinned manically at the camera and the music played.

‘Let's get the next bottle open,' said Charlotte getting up and prodding Roger as the adverts came on.

‘Can we go back upstairs now?' asked Stanley.

‘No,' said Charlotte. ‘Your mother's on next.'

Stanley sighed.

‘Got a football? I'll stand in goal for two minutes,' offered Andrew. ‘That OK?' he said to Charlotte. He didn't look at me.

‘Good idea. I'll come and watch,' said Charlotte at once, delving into her handbag for her cigarettes.

‘She's supposed to be giving up,' said Roger, as they all disappeared through the back door and I stood uncomfortably in the kitchen while he got champagne out of the fridge.

‘Well, she's got a nicotine ally out there in Andrew,' I said. ‘Unless he's stopped again by now.'

‘Charlotte says she's cut down,' said Roger, pulling a disbelieving face. ‘Though I can't say I've seen much evidence of it.'

‘Is everything all right now?' I asked awkwardly. We hadn't spoken about Hannah since Charlotte and I had made up. She and Roger seemed happy enough, but I wanted to make sure.

‘Yes, it's good,' said Roger. ‘After I told Charlotte everything, we said we'd put it behind us. Well, I told her nearly everything,' he added, slightly shamefaced. ‘I didn't go into detail …'

‘You told her enough,' I reassured him.

He nodded. ‘Yeah. Thank you.'

‘And Hannah's not being a problem any more?' I held out my glass to be topped up.

Roger poured. ‘I've been waiting for a chance to tell you. She's left the company. Got a job in Ashford. It was a huge relief when she went.'

‘And you've told Charlotte?'

He gave a wry smile. ‘It was Charlotte's idea.'

A fresh wave of nausea came over me as the programme re-started. I'd tried to hide in the bathroom but Charlotte, an iron grip on my arm, had marched me back to the sofa, where I now sat clutching a cushion to my face with clammy hands.

‘Oh hey – you look fab, love.' Charlotte gave a sudden squeal. I peered around the edge of the cushion to see myself running down the steps of the studio and shaking hands with Bruno. ‘Lovely top!'

‘So, Laura,' Austin was saying, ‘what are you going to make for us today?'

I stared at myself on screen. I appeared remarkably composed as I smiled back at the presenter and explained about the pulverised Snickers bars in my special desert. My voice sounded odd – not like me at all – but I looked much slimmer than I expected to, with the green top flowing around me.

I'd forgotten what my hair was like before it was cut. I preferred it shorter and funkier, but it looked pretty sophisticated the way they'd done it, and my make-up was brilliant. My skin looked flawless, my eyes really large and shining.

Beside me, Andrew gave me a tiny nudge and murmured something I couldn't hear. I didn't dare look at him.

‘You look fantastic,' shrieked Charlotte.

‘Lovely,' said Roger.

Even Stanley smiled. ‘Not bad, Mum,' he said, before groaning, ‘Oh no,' as I mentioned that the pudding was his favourite.

‘Now you're famous too,' Andrew told him.

I breathed out in stunned disbelief as we watched me stirring a saucepanful of chopped chocolate, me chatting with Austin as I spooned ice cream into a large bowl, laughing with Bruno as we compared desserts at the end. I seemed very confident and assured in a way I couldn't remember feeling at the time.

It was OK! It had been as beautifully filmed as the other had been awful. Somehow they'd edited it so that you couldn't even see the way our noses had crunched together when Bruno and I kissed goodbye.

As I gazed at myself it felt like a dream. It all seemed so very long ago now and this witty, smiling Laura, who looked glowing and even youngish, was a person I'd never seen before.

‘Congratulations, love,' said Charlotte as the credits went up. ‘To Laura!'

They all raised their glasses.

‘
Now
can we go back upstairs?' said Stanley.

‘Aren't you going to answer that?' said Charlotte as, back in the kitchen, my mobile began to ring.

Still in a daze, I glanced at the display and shook my head. ‘It's Alicia. She keeps phoning. She's trying to get me to go on
Round up with Randolph
with her. You know, this programme where they show all the highlights of the last series. I've already told her no.' I pushed the phone away from me across the table. Charlotte pounced on it.