The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife (12 page)

35

‘Shall we go and visit Kasha today?' Mel suggested to Kelly next day. ‘She says that she can't stand up because her skin's too tight for her boob implants!'

Poor Kasha had been nowhere for almost a week, so battered and bruised was she after the latest session under the knife.

‘OK, it would be interesting to see how they managed to stuff more silicone into that area without it resembling a scene from
Alien
.'

Kasha was looking very sorry for herself and her eyes were not quite focussing, due to the hefty analgesia she was taking. She had been suffering from ‘cabin fever', stuck in the house whilst the nanny was taking her children into school and rumour had it that she was afflicted by some romantic tropical disease and had definitely not had a boob job at all. Kasha was a very thin person, so her breasts looked like huge architectural statements protruding from her upper chest area. The seams of her voluminous clothes were straining.

‘Why did you do this, Kasha? Does it hurt?' winced Mel.

‘Oh no, no! It's no problem at all. I am releasing my inner me. This is the size I was always meant to be but my hormones ran out. Really, I'm much happier like this.' Her perky smile was twisted into a sort of grimace of agony.

‘So what have you been doing while I've been away?' Kasha was staring at the ceiling above their heads as she watched the strange hallucinations induced by the opiates and tramadol she was taking for the pain.

‘Oh, not a lot. We've had Poppy, Tarquin and Algy the Hellboy over for a barbecue,' cringed Mel.

‘And we've finally made it to Aphid World and gazed in wonder upon the Aphid of Doom,' finished Kelly.

Kasha gulped. ‘Well, at least that's something I've managed to avoid! The kids have been on at me for months to go there, but I'm too squeamish to embrace my inner insect, I'm afraid!' Kasha said, pseudo-shamefacedly.

‘I know the feeling,' agreed Kelly.

‘So what's your bra size now?' asked Mel, cutting to the chase.

‘I'm a thirty-four HHH now, I think. Mr Homerton assures me that my skin will soon stretch to fit, but it's proving difficult to find the right bra size. I've had to start surfing the ‘Feed Me' fetish sites on the Net for my underwear. It would be easier if I was fat as well but, well, for my career, that wouldn't really be so good. Thank goodness for the Internet … you can get anything on that.'

‘Why do you want such big boobs?' asked Kelly.

‘Well, since the children have gone to school, I've needed to find something that would fit in with their school hours and earn enough money to keep us in the manner to which we have become accustomed. I tried phone sex for a while, then a bit of lap and pole dancing, but now I feel that my crowning glory will be on screen. They call it “porn” but as Jamie says, people never recognise great art until the artist has gone. My talents are wasted on these philistines, Jamie says. Have you met him yet? He is the most sensitive, creative man – born before his time. But our movies shall be a testament to his genius. He tells me that filming and directing the scenes is so intoxicating that he finds himself in a permanent state of artistic arousal!'

‘Does he indeed?' Mel and Kelly spoke as one, mouths agape. ‘That's … ahem … very romantic?!'

‘I thought so,' replied Kasha, without even the ghost of a smile. ‘He's so supportive.'

36

Next day at school, Poppy approached Mel and placed a confidential arm around her shoulder. ‘Thanks so much for the other evening. Alan's help has been an absolute godsend to Tarkers and me!'

Rupert was hanging around in the corner, fiddling with his shirt buttons just as he had at Aphid World. It was rather hot and humid and Mel couldn't fathom why he always wore such formal gear.

‘Good,' replied Mel distractedly. ‘I don't know what it's all about. It sounds very complicated. Alan tells me you're planning on buying to let property now? Do you want the fuss of being a landlord? Especially in properties in Greenwich and well … Portland? Where is that anyway?'

‘One word, Mel … Olympics? Portland's in Dorset. Property will go sky high in the places where it's being held! We'll have agents to handle all the landlordy stuff. We have bigger fish to fry. Anyway, that's beside the point. Tarkers and I would love to treat you to a night out sometime soon. We have a lot of contacts so take your pick. The ballet, opera, theatre, Ascot, Henley, Browns. You name it. You'll be assured VIP treatment. Just give me a bell on this number, OK?'

‘Oh, it's all right, Poppy. You've given us all your contact details, remember?'

‘I like to use this number for special friends and close family, you understand. I do consider you very close friends now. Don't give this number to anyone else.' Poppy winked and touched Mel's elbow as she walked away.

It all seemed rather over-the-top treatment for a little bit
of financial advice, but Poppy was a very strange fish. She was probably just a little eccentric and enjoyed weaving a shroud of mystery around herself.

‘What did she want?' asked Imogen with a barely-suppressed snarl on her face.

‘Oh, just being friendly. She wants to treat us to a night out.'

‘Does she now? I'd rather trust some nasty plague germ than that,' said Imogen, sighing heavily. ‘If you ask me, she's up to no good.'

‘You really are very cynical. I was just starting to feel guilty that I'd misjudged her so badly. I'm sure I didn't used to be this bitter and distrusting. First impressions aren't always right you know! Hey! Talking of first impressions … did you know that Kasha's contemplating a glittering future in the porn movie industry since she had her operation? I always thought she was dead straight-laced, in all her county set clothes and tweeds. She even goes mock-hunting. I didn't realise that she had other uses for leatherware and whips!!'

‘Good grief! Really? I wondered why her chest seemed to grow bigger every six months. Have you seen her since this latest op then?' giggled Imogen.

‘Oh yes! She's hallucinating on the painkillers, and she can't stand up straight … got to wait for the skin to “give” or something.'

‘What does her husband say? What's his name … ?' asked Imogen.

‘Jamie. He's very supportive. Aroused by the filming, she says …'

Out of the corner of her eye, Mel saw Rupert slink off with his children in tow. But, she was too intrigued by the Kasha situation to make any remark to Imogen about Rupert.

‘Fancy popping over for a coffee tomorrow? My house? I've got Kelly coming over,' asked Mel, glad to change the subject.

‘OK. I'll see you in the morning.'

Amy and Michael had taken their aphid souvenirs into school today and had presented a ‘show and tell' to the class.

‘… and Mummy, I told the teacher that when baby aphids are born, they have the next geranium of aphids inside them, ready to pop out! Did you know that, Mummy? The teacher said that they sounded like Russian dolls … You know, those ones with one doll inside another inside another?' Amy was full of excitement.

‘And Mummy … I told the teacher about the ants farming aphids so they can get Slush Puppies and 7 Ups like we did at the restaurant!' shouted Michael.

‘Slush Puppies? How do they get Slush Puppies out of aphids? I didn't know ants liked Slush Puppies!' But now anything was possible, as far as Mel was concerned. The whole world seemed to be sucking something out of something … parasites and victims. She still needed to correct her children's grammar though, there had to be some order left to hold on to.

‘Amy, by the way, it's “generation” not “geranium”.'

‘I got a gold star!' whooped Amy.

‘So did I!!' yelled Michael.

‘Marvellous!' exclaimed Mel. Well, that was positive anyway. It was a relief to know that her children were approved of for a change instead of being considered for inmateship at an approved school. There hadn't been approved schools for decades as far as Mel knew, but she was sure that the school would have reinvented them just for her offspring, the way things had been going recently. She had heard the news. Britain locked up more children in prisons and similar facilities than any other European country. With narrow-minded teachers like the ones here, she wasn't the least bit surprised.

‘Hi babe!' growled Alan huskily, as he did his newly-rediscovered ‘Master of the Universe' pose on entering the house. These
days, Alan seemed to be going from strength to strength, in work at least. Most of the time, his nose was bright red and he sniffed a lot. He never sat down to relax. He was either at a frenzied full speed (for eighty per cent of a twenty-four-hour day) or unconscious. The bill for the kitchen was already paid but Alan seemed driven by something more than mere necessity these days. He didn't stop fiddling with his phone from the moment he came in. It was really starting to get on Mel's nerves, but she knew better than to question. If she was blessed enough to get a response these days it was always rather arrogant and dismissive.

‘Fancy going out to the West End and then flying to Monaco in the boss's private jet this weekend?' Alan mumbled, whilst simultaneously doing things with bits of gadgetry.

‘What about the kids though? Can we take them on a weekend of debauchery and drugs?' asked Mel, carefully and justifiably.

‘Well! If you're going to be ungrateful you can bloody well stay at home. I only asked you because Poppy and Tarkers wanted you to join us!' he yelled.

Mel felt as if he had kicked her in the stomach, but she managed to remain calm and asked if the Cuthbertsons were leaving Algy at home alone.

Alan observed her as if she had just crawled out from underneath a stone and was as unable to speak the Queen's English as a woodlouse.

‘They've got a nanny. Why don't we leave the kids with their nanny too? I'm sure they won't mind!' suggested Alan gleefully, acting as if he had just discovered penicillin. Leaving the kids – especially Michael – with his erstwhile harpy, Algy, was still a total anathema to Mel. She felt her guts twist. She felt utterly isolated and alone. Alan was like another species. He now seemed to possess none of his old morals, integrity, understanding or compassion. She didn't have the heart to continue this conversation as she realised that whatever
she said it would be pounced upon unless it agreed exactly with what he had in mind. She tried to make some light, pointless conversation, but it was like trying to communicate with a rather angular piece of rusty garden furniture, so she gave up and went to bed.

She lay awake for a while, wondering when he might join her. She wasn't sure she wanted him to, as it would only be to start a row about, say, ‘why had she gone upstairs so rudely?' Most communication these days seemed to be conducted under the influence of Alan's testosterone level which doubled everyday, if his moodiness was anything to go by. Mel tried to ignore the persistent whisper in the back of her intuitive mind, which appeared to be suggesting cocaine as another culprit in changing his behaviour so devastatingly. Mel had taken to having a little tipple in the evenings, before he came home, just to help her remain calm and unresponsive to the pain his weirdness and cruelty caused her. If she had been her normal self, she would have kicked him into touch, but so low, powerless and stupid did she feel, her spirit was afraid to show its outspoken and brave self. She just had to trust that the real Alan would soon return to her when he had settled into his new-found banking success.

What the hell was she going to do about this binge trip to Monaco? If she said no, he'd call her ‘Mother Theresa' and tell her that there were plenty of other girls who'd die for the chance of going on a jolly with him and Big Swinging Dick. But, if she gave in to him to keep the peace, she would be failing her children.

37

‘Mummy!' shouted Michael the next morning. ‘Can I stay with Algy at the weekend please? His mummy asked me and Amy yesterday!'

‘Did she now? And you want to do that?' Mel was amazed.

‘Yes! Me and Algy are best friends now. We're in a secret club!'

‘Yes! Please, Mummy! Algy's mum said that we can play in their dance and drama studio and wear make-up and swim in their pool. And she promised we could go wherever we want and eat whatever we want all weekend!' concluded Amy.

Mel felt a strong urge to vomit, right there and then. On the surface of things, it seemed wonderful that Michael was no longer getting bullied and that her dilemma of appeasing Alan was solved so neatly by this little plan. But she couldn't shake the deep-down fear that all was not as it seemed. That there was a threat over everything she held dear. It was like living in a place that was poisoned by something undetectable to the five senses … like radioactive fallout. It made her spine tingle, but despite this, she decided to submerge and drown her misgivings.

‘Yes. What a lovely idea! I'll speak to Algy's mum.'

38

‘You're going to let your cherished ones stay with the Addams family for a whole weekend? Have you completely taken leave of what little sense you ever possessed Mel? What has that woman been feeding you?' demanded Kelly with eyes bulging out of her head.

‘Well, I'm thinking of the long-term, bigger picture. You know, I'm worried about our marriage. Alan's totally lost touch with me as well as reality. I can't change his behaviour, but I can change my own. So I thought that if I was more accommodating to his needs? … And …' burbled Mel, trying to convince herself.

‘Excuse me! But just how accommodating are we aiming to be here? Are we all going to end up in swinging groups and porn movies like Kasha, just to suit our men? Really, Mel, I always thought you had more about you than that! And what's all this sudden lovey-doveyness with that bloody Poppy woman? You've told me over and over again that she's about as trustworthy as a cockroach … and now you are abandoning your children in her dark, damp lair and buggering off to Monaco with her!' Kelly had finally run out of indignant breath.

‘Yes, but maybe I just haven't been open-minded. Perhaps the problem is with me. Maybe I'm too judgemental. I've been feeling cynical a lot recently so maybe it's not the world that's changed but my hormones. Or maybe I need to go on Prozac?'

‘Mel … you are not depressed, OK? Your moral compass has always been bang on as far as people are concerned. I
mean, you've seen me in states other people would have me banished to hell for being in, but you've always known who I am and stayed by me. You know that I'm not really some raging lesbian, bad-tempered, aggressive lush, don't you?!' Kelly was nodding her head vigorously in expectation of a mirrored affirmation of her statement from her friend …

‘Er … Mel? I said that you know I'm not a raving dipso, don't you?' now Kelly was a little less sure of herself.

‘Yes … yes … absolutely, Kelly,' reassured Mel.

Kelly sighed with relief. ‘There you go then, you silly moo! You're right on the button with people stuff.'

‘Mmm.' Mel was more convinced than ever that she was doing the right thing. Of course she'd misjudged Poppy. Alan, Amy and Michael couldn't all be wrong. They were all great friends and they do say that out of the mouths of babes … That settled it, then. So she ran the plan past Willy the spider for good measure, because she sensed that he could also tell no lies. Willy's whole being shivered with apprehension at the prospect. If Mel had looked deeper into his multitudinous eyes, she'd have seen the warning signs in every single one of them.