The Further Adventures of a London Call Girl (12 page)

‘Love is patient, love is kind,’ I said to the wet tiles. I wondered, if I were a wife, how much I would want to know. How much I would be able to forgive.

jeudi, le 16 décembre

It’s been a difficult week and I can barely stand to look. But I manage somehow to obsessively read all of the Boy’s past emails and his weblog entries. It’s a tangled web indeed; he’s been a very busy boy. As near as I can reckon, the list of objectionable women in the Boy’s life runs roughly thus:

1 Sierra Hohum. Bland, blonde medic who happily admits to not knowing the names of the heart valves. Extremely jolly-hockeysticks. As far as I can tell, he simply idolises her, but she hasn’t slept with him. I met the girl several times and was never particularly impressed. Men treat her like some exceedingly rare jewel; can’t figure why, since I was at school with six-hundred-plus identical models.

2 Susie. The dark horse. Clearly their relationship is ongoing while she is away in Thailand; less clear is why he lies about that. Possibly something to do with her mother retiring to Costa del Croydon while her father goes off to marry a Thai lady. Or is that ladyboy? Maybe because he constantly refers to her as ‘a bit thick’ and clearly finds her smoking unattractive. Either way, not the sort of girl he would introduce around at home.

3 Georgie. Like Sierra Hohum, but fan of sci-fi. And will deign to fuck him, judging from email she sent asking whether he avoided catching anything while she had thrush, since her boyfriend seemed to be having odd symptoms. The very thought of people of that class passing round the same STIs to each other makes me retch. Why are men always suckers for a posh accent, pear shape and pashmina? Smokes as well. Clearly he’s disgusted by the habit, but can overlook such small defects.

4 Lena. Frizz-haired stick insect I caught him in bed with over a year ago. ‘Nothing happened, she was just sleeping next to me in her underwear,’ he claimed. His email begging her to give him another chance tells another story. She clearly wised up and moved on. Therefore, in his parlance, ‘the one that got away’. Often wonder why I didn’t move on, too.

5 Jo. Large, frumpish first girlfriend who is ten years his senior and would happily drop everything – job, boyfriend, house, identity as an autonomous human being – to be back with him. According to him they did it eight times a night, so either she is made of asbestos or she has very low standards for effort.

6 Me. I hate myself for even letting him back in the door tonight. I’m tired and stressed and don’t know what to do. Curiosity truly has, if not killed the cat, at least left it significantly grumpy.

vendredi, le 17 décembre

‘Girl, you look hot!’ Angel said. I was a little apprehensive about introducing her to L, but as it happened they were in the same college at uni, so I needn’t have worried. They both knew the Boy, of course.

The Boy smiled, but it didn’t go to his eyes. ‘You’re wearing that?’ he’d said as we left the flat. I was dressed in a strapless black minidress with metallic patterned stockings, pink cashmere knee socks and a pair of black stilettos. It was an attention-grabbing outfit and I knew it.

‘I thought you liked this dress,’ I said. We’d bought it together ages ago; he’d snuck into the changing room to fuck me while I was trying it on.

‘Bit OTT for someone else’s birthday,’ was all he said. There was an accusation implicit in his voice, but fuck it, I thought. I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just a friend’s party.

Angel was feeling a little fragile and unable to ‘deal with public transport’, as she put it, so we took her car. It being central London and a Friday night there was not only no such thing as a spot to park, but no possibility that there would be any time soon. We circled further and further away from our destination, trapped in the one-way system. I gritted my teeth and tried to smile. This was going ever so well.

Finally the Boy lost patience and jumped out. ‘You stay right here,’ he yelled. ‘I’ll find a space and come back to get you.’ Eh? With what, your bat-sense? He slammed the door and jogged off.

‘God, I thought he’d never go,’ Angel sighed. ‘He just talks and talks and never lets anyone have a word in.’ Pot, kettle and black, I thought, but she does have a point. ‘Did you see when we were at mine and my housemate was making fun of him? He didn’t even notice.’

I nodded. Part of what I had once loved about the Boy was his odd anachronisms, the way he was always up for company, always jolly. But now it seemed like his constant chatter was blustering against some inner void, more annoying than entertaining. He hated anything with a sad ending, never read any of the books I gave him and was enthusiastic about a film as long as it involved a mothership landing during the third reel. Quiet contemplation and being alone were anathema – his mobile was such a constant companion it might as well have been grafted to his ear. The silly turns of phrase I once thought funny turned out to be the common parlance of other men of his class, something I soon realised and used to my advantage as a call girl. He wasn’t as sharp as most of the people I knew: unable to speak any foreign language or play an instrument even badly, not a good cook, not well versed in science, modern culture, current events, or … anything much apart from sailing and skiing, in fact. Worse still, his wide-ranging ignorance seemed to be a point of pride. Among his crowd this was pretty typical; they enjoyed success without much talent, intelligence or hard work. Among my friends it was embarrassing.

Fucking hell, I seethed. Why am I settling for this moron?

Just as he disappeared a modern miracle occurred – a car pulled out of a space literally metres away. Angel took the better part of a lifecycle parallel parking the car, but managed it in the end. She and L disappeared into the club while I went to find the Boy.

He’d gone. I rang his mobile – straight through to answer-phone. Must be on the phone to someone else. I turned a corner, and another, and another, until I wasn’t sure if I could find my way back and finally found him walking along, looking at the pavement, deep in conversation on the phone.

He rang off quickly as I approached. ‘We’ve found a spot and have gone in,’ I said. ‘Who were you on the phone to?’

‘Uh, no one,’ he said. ‘What’s your problem?’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’re being short with me. I don’t know why you’re being like this, and I think I’m going to go home.’

I was confused. Clearly, he was lying about something – he rarely took notice of my moods enough to discern annoyance short of a nuclear explosion. Something else must be going on. ‘Come on, nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to miss much more.’

He stood firm, arms crossed over his chest. ‘You’re acting like a freak,’ he said. ‘I can’t deal with you, I’m going home.’

I sat on the kerb. It was cold and my skirt was short; I didn’t want to think what I might be sitting in, either. ‘Suit yourself,’ I said. ‘Obviously you have a better offer elsewhere and you’re trying to get out of here by blaming me.’

‘I don’t understand why you always do this to me,’ he said. I always do this to you? I thought. It’s my friend’s birthday we’re ruining. Not one of yours. Not that you would ever invite me along, anyway. ‘I need to be with a woman I know I can trust. You’re a complete mess.’

‘Really,’ I said. ‘Why don’t we just knock this on the head, then? I’m sure you’d be better off with Susie. Or Georgie.’

He was just about to start off again – I told you for the last time I’m not seeing Susie, she’s just a friend, etc., etc. But he stopped himself. I could tell he wondered how I knew about Georgie, but didn’t dare ask.

He sighed. ‘If you never acted like this I wouldn’t even be tempted by other women,’ he said.

‘Don’t blame me. If you weren’t tempted by other women I wouldn’t be acting like this.’ It felt like my arse was freezing to the kerb. ‘I’m going inside to see my friends,’ I said. ‘Feel free to join me or go elsewhere, as you wish.’

He came back in after half an hour. On the phone to one of your harem no doubt, I thought. We left L and Angel and took the night bus home. A man across from us eyed me up the whole way while the Boy stared grimly into the middle distance. Yes, I thought, my eyes playing over the man looking at me. I should definitely get away. Ring J in the morning. Tell him I’m coming, and I’m bringing a bikini, and I mean business.

The Boy left in the morning.

samedi, le 18 décembre

The thing about the Boy is, I have a giant weakness. For his brothers, I mean.

No, not in that way – though they are all attractive enough. He has three brothers, and apart from the one just younger than him, whom I’ve hardly ever seen and who thinks I’m a slag, I adore them. The youngest two are growing into extraordinary young men, particularly the second youngest, Magnus, who is like a younger version of the Boy. Except a bit cleverer. We have similar tastes in music. And he has some idea how to be economical with his words.

So I was only a little surprised when he rang during the week – he was meeting a ladyfriend in town before Christmas, but wanted to come up the day before; could he stay at mine? I said yes, the sofa is always available to friends and asked where his girl lived. Magnus didn’t know what area of London she was in, but had a street name – I looked it up – luckily there was only one street by that name, and it was near the Kensington Olympia Tube station.

He arrived late, so I threw together some pasta and sauce. We ate and drank beer while watching Spinal Tap. In the morning he took advantage of the shower and I asked what time he had to be off.

‘Not until late,’ he said. I suggested we might visit Greenwich – it is one of my favourite places, and I hardly ever have an excuse to go. Plus there is the bonus of seeing the tourist sights by riverboat. It always feels a bit inauthentic going to the Tower of London when you actually live here; viewed from the water, however, you don’t look so much the grockle. Magnus agreed. We would pretend to be tourists for the day.

He texted the girl and we took the Tube into town. I noticed how easy it was to spend time with him not talking; a relief after the constant chatter of his brother. Ah, if only you were five years older, I thought. But then that wouldn’t be possible, and if it was, ethical. I have learned from experience not to sleep with the brother of someone you’ve already bedded.

We were waiting for the riverboat when he received a text reply. ‘Fuck,’ he said, and walked off to make a call. He came back with a black look on his face.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘She doesn’t live in London any more,’ Magnus groaned.

‘What, she just moved?’ No, he said. She hadn’t lived in London for ages. ‘But you have an address, right? We found it on the map.’

‘I guess there must be another place by the same name … in Nottingham.’

I was helpless with laughter. ‘You mean you managed to organise a date without even knowing where the girl lived?’

‘Well, we did it all by text. I haven’t actually seen her in a year, so, you know …’

‘What do you want to do?’

He looked at his watch. ‘Let’s go to Greenwich. I’ll get a train later.’

Even though it was cold and windy, he insisted on sitting on seats on the deck. No one else was there, and it had an amazing charm, like London was all ours. I didn’t have to pretend to be ultracool and could openly stare at the sights. The King’s Reach, the Tower, the Golden Hind, the Belfast … slowly giving way to warehouse conversions around Canary Wharf, then there was the Dome, and finally Greenwich. As the river-boat came up to its pier we saw a man out in a rowing boat, battling the weather and the wake of the boats passing through. ‘Madness,’ I said, pointing him out to Magnus. ‘He must love it,’ he said. My fingers and ears were aching from cold, but I was enjoying the day too much to mind.

We went to the Maritime Museum, and I spent ages staring at a giant propeller. What did it come off? How fast did it go? It hardly seemed possible that humans could make and use something so fine and so big, but then I’m aware that there are many other human talents widely divergent from my own more modest ones. We went on to the Royal Observatory, and went for a drink. He asked what I was doing for the holidays: packing mostly, I answered. Put a few things into storage, shop for a swimsuit. No point seeing my family for Chanukah with the divorce and all. Maybe going to Yorkshire to see A4’s family.

‘You’re not coming for Christmas?’ Magnus asked.

‘Your brother didn’t invite me,’ I said.

‘Really? Mummy told him to ask you. You should come for New Year, at least.’

‘I doubt I’d be the most welcome guest,’ I said. ‘Your brother didn’t exactly leave on good terms this week.’ I wasn’t going to go into the details – Magnus was a friend, but he was a brother first.

He smiled and shook his head. ‘You must know what he’s like by now. Act in haste, regret at leisure. He’ll have been in tears before he even got to the M25.’ I nodded and half hoped he was right. But we didn’t speak of it again, just went for eel, pie and mash before taking the riverboat back to London. They only had jellied eel that day, not stewed, so I had pie and mash. I escorted Magnus as far as the train station and wished him luck with his lady in Nottingham.

lundi, le 20 décembre

Giles and I met again for lunch. This time I chose the venue: a small Polish restaurant I know well, where the tables are close enough for everyone to hear your business but no one cares enough to notice.

He looked over the menu, amused. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to leave the decision in your capable hands,’ he said. I waved to the waitress and ordered us both barzcz and the huntsman’s stew.

‘So what have you brought me out here for, then?’ he asked, as a smile of amusement flickered across his face.

‘I’m sorry to do this to you, but I don’t think I’ll be able to join you in the New Year.’

‘You’ve decided not to leave your job?’

The waitress plopped two bowls of soup in front of us, cerise where cream had been stirred in. I asked her for some rye bread and she nodded. ‘No, I’ve just reconsidered my priorities,’ I said. ‘I’m going to do some travelling, really think about whether this is what I want to be.’