Agent Provocateur (21 page)

‘Absolutely, and Oliver has already fed me the lecture so if you want to do the same, then don’t.’ Grace knows she is being a bit sharp with Nicole but she is tired and defensive.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Nicole actually likes it when Grace stands up for herself, but it also worries her. ‘But I would say be careful. And if you really are sure then you have my blessing. But you should question Fiona’s motives for suggesting it and think carefully about it.’ Nicole hears the determination in Grace’s voice and is undecided how to talk her out of it without alienating her.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d approve.’

‘I’m not saying I approve, I’m saying I understand. Now, you need to set rules of the bet.’ Nicole also knows that she might be needed at some point to pick up the pieces. She curses Fiona and wonders just what sort of boss she really is.

Grace takes the piece of paper Fiona left her with her mobile number on it, goes to the study and dials.

‘Hello.’

‘Fiona, it’s Grace.’

‘Hi, Grace. So have you had time to think?’

‘I have and I agree.’

‘You agree to doing the feature?’ Fiona’s lips spread into a greedy smile.

‘And the bet.’

‘Good girl. Now here’s what you need to do …’ Fiona outlines the plan that she has carefully formed, and Grace accepts everything she says. She doesn’t even know if she is doing the right thing but she knows that she is going to do it anyway.

Grace calls her at three o’clock, the details of her plan now fully formed. She is actually quite excited; Fiona managed to fire her up. She also managed to get her to agree to keep Fiona out of it and make Betty think that the bet was all her idea. Here is the potential challenge her life needs. The challenge no longer offered by her job.

The phone is answered straight away.

‘Hello.’

‘Betty, it’s Grace.’

‘Right.’ Betty sounds confused.

‘I hope you don’t mind me calling on a Sunday, but I thought that perhaps we should talk.’

‘Great, great.’ Betty cannot inject the enthusiasm she feels into her voice because a storm is raging in her head. Grace doesn’t notice; she is too caught up in her plans.

‘Can you meet me for breakfast at nine tomorrow morning? Same place as last time.’

‘Of course. Have you changed your mind?’

‘We can talk tomorrow.’

‘Right. Can you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you give me a clue what it’s about?’

‘All I want to do is to sort things out so we’re both happy.’ Grace smiles as she puts down the phone.

‘Who was that?’ Johnny comes up behind Betty.

‘The honey trap woman.’

‘What did she want?’

‘To meet. She said that she wanted to sort things out and that we would both be happy.’ Betty tries very hard to smile, but is unable to, due to the fact that her head feels as if it is going to fall off.

‘I can’t believe how awful you look.’

‘Thanks. Don’t you just know how to make a girl feel good?’

‘Sorry, honey, but you did go a bit far last night.’

‘I got drunk at the party, that was your idea. So it’s all your fault.’

‘I didn’t hold your head back and pour the alcohol down your throat.’

‘You may as well have done.’

Betty cringes as she tries to remember what happened at the party, but past about ten o’clock she cannot. Johnny, always one to remember everything, told her that she ranted about ‘the honey trap bitch to anyone who would listen. She has no idea if she fell over and she has a horrible feeling she was sick at some stage. But she does not want to ask about that, just in case. Thirty-one, and behaving like a teenager.

She woke that morning with a head that felt as if it had been repeatedly hit with a heavy object. Her mouth felt dry and rough, like sandpaper. Nausea bubbled away in her stomach. She was fully aware that she had the hangover from hell. And worse than that, the hangover from hell followed her being drunk as a lush, leading to extreme memory loss and an acute sense of embarrassment.

It led to a row. Johnny told her that she hadn’t made an effort, wasn’t sober enough to talk to all the people she hadn’t seen in ages. He accused her of letting ‘this woman’ take over her life, and sulked all morning until she felt well enough to apologise and try to explain.

‘Johnny, you didn’t know me when I was younger. I know I told you about it, but you didn’t see me,’ she said. ‘The thing was that I was really ugly. Bad hair, bad teeth, bad eyes –I had the whole package. You know when we watch those American teen films and they always have the class geek? Well, they make me want to cry because I was like that, and I got treated like shit.’ Despite her throbbing head, her words were managing to perform. ‘When I was about sixteen, my teeth were fixed, I discovered and could just afford contact lenses and I grew in confidence, but I could never quite get rid of the chip I felt. I remember when I first went to university, and when I met Alison I was so serious, determined to succeed, but really chippy about my past. I was defensive and, well, actually I was a bore. Alison taught me to let go of the past and enjoy the fact that I was liked. You see, I’d never been liked before, so it was this huge novelty, and at the same time I couldn’t quite believe it. Anyway, she takes me back there, that’s all. She takes me back to the ugly unconfident, unpopular girl, and I vowed I wouldn’t go back there.’

‘But how?’ Johnny softened and stroked her hair. He knew how hard Betty had found it – she had been candid with him about her insecurities when they first met – and although he didn’t often see her as someone who would be bullied, there were times when the scars were still visible. He found it hard to be angry with his wife at the best of times, but especially when she was vulnerable.

‘She just does. Her confidence, her poise, her job, destroying people’s lives – only someone arrogant would ever think they could do that. Her upbringing was perfect; she has always been beautiful. She was the type of girl that made my life a misery, that meant I had to rebuild myself. I don’t fully understand, but she’s there, inside, trying to make me feel the way I used to feel and I can’t, Johnny, I am terrified of being there again.’ Betty cried and cried and Johnny held her.

Johnny makes tea after the phone call.

‘I’m never drinking again.’ Betty utters the over familiar statement that no one ever truly means.

‘Of course you’re not.’ He pats her bottom, and hands her a cup.

‘Did you enjoy the party?’ Despite the hangover, she is relieved. Yesterday she believed her career was over, due to Grace, which is why she drank so much, but now there might be a chance to save it. She hates Grace even more for making her wait.

‘Yeah, it was good to catch up with everyone. We should make more of an effort.’

‘But time is a commodity in short supply.’

‘Blimey, hung over and still able to utter wise words.’

‘Shut up. You know what I mean. There is no way that we could see everyone, even if we wanted to.’

‘Not all the time.’

‘Anyway, are you so unhappy with our lives?’

‘No. I just think it’s a shame that we don’t see people we used to be close to. I know it’s inevitable, but it’s sad.’

‘Being a grown up isn’t easy.’

‘Well, maybe that’s why you weren’t one last night.’

Betty swipes at Johnny. ‘For that, you can take me out for pizza.’

‘My God, all you’ve done today is eat.’

‘Well, I need it. Besides, I need to keep my strength up for tomorrow’s breakfast meeting with the bitch.’

‘Are you sure? I mean, if she gets to you that much is it really worth it?’

‘You know how I feel about my job.'

‘Yes, but you know how I feel about you. I’m worried.’

‘Don’t be. I won’t let her in any more. The marriage wrecking whore will not hurt me, will not make me feel bad about myself.’ Betty smiles. She will not tell Johnny how threatened she feels by her. That is one piece of information she will keep to herself.

‘What I love about you is that you have to grovel to her but you’re still slagging her off.’

‘Oh, darling, you have to be willing to be two-faced in my business.’ She kisses him on the cheek, determined to show him that she can handle it, that she will not take it seriously, and she leads him out of the house.

Chapter Sixteen

Grace tries to push her reservations away. After all, this is part of her revenge. It makes perfect sense. It’s a long time since she has felt so strongly about anything. The rage from her past, she thought she had buried. But it must have been simmering and now has resurfaced. Betty was the trigger, that much she is certain of. That is why she must do this, although at times she feels ashamed; she thought she was bigger than she is. It’s not often that someone like Grace is given the opportunity to get one over on someone like Betty. That is how she justifies it, so she is determined to be in control, and she is determined that this will be fun, although she knows it probably won’t be. She is caught up in her contradictions, but there is no going back. Whatever the outcome of the bet, this will restore her belief in her self-worth. The same self-worth that Betty is trying to steal. Despite her feelings, she is trying hard to believe that she is doing the right thing.

She wears a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt for her breakfast meeting. She is smiling like a clown as she makes her way there. She giggles aloud on the bus, prompting strange looks, but she feels better than she has in ages. For once she is taking control, and defending what is important to her. She is no longer scared of the bullies.

If Betty’s husband is as devoted as she makes out, then the bet will be one hell of a challenge. Grace gives herself a fifty per cent chance of success, which is an evaluation based on her general experience of men and what Betty has told her about him. Although if she fails, Betty will be even smugger, she will definitely have experienced doubts and insecurity, and therefore will not be so quick to judge in future. The other point is that if he turns her down she will have met a man who doesn’t cheat because he loves his wife, and that will restore her faith in men. It may even remove the figurative block she has that prevents her from falling in love. Which is why the fifty per cent chance of failure makes her just as happy as the fifty per cent chance of winning.

Either way she will win. Betty does not need to know that. That information belongs to Grace. All she has to do now is to get Betty to agree to it.

They face each other in the café, waiting. Betty looks nervous; her face is twitching. Grace orders coffee and then takes her time choosing breakfast, even though she ends up ordering just toast. Betty is trying to smile but her face feels as if it is going to crack from the effort. She can see how much Grace is enjoying herself and all Betty wants to do is to jump across the table and smack her in the mouth (a very un-Betty thing to do). But instead she tries to break through the pain that her smile is causing her and she sits on her hands, just in case.

‘How was your weekend?’ Grace asks.

‘Great, thanks. Yours?’ Betty has entered a world where small talk happens only to mask the real reason behind such false conversation. A world where the anticipation of the pain gives pleasure to the administer of the pain. When Betty was younger she always believed that dentists were sadists who would make everything last longer to prolong the pain. As she grew older she switched the accusation to the beautician who waxes her bikini line. Now it is Grace.

‘Oh, it was all right. I had a row with my lover.’ Now Betty is stunned. Grace is offering her personal information. She needs to tread carefully. If she lets her defences down then she will be in trouble.

‘The one I met?’ Polite, but wary.

‘No, another one. Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details.’ The coffee and toast arrive and both women stare at each other as it is placed on the table in front of them. When the waitress leaves Grace waits for Betty to take a bite of her toast before she speaks.

‘I’ll do your profile, but I do have a condition.’ Betty stares at her with her mouth full. She cannot speak, which was Grace’s intention. ‘Because you hurt my feelings, really. You tried to make me out to be cheap and I’m not. So, in order to do your little story, you have to agree to a bet.’

‘A bet?’ Betty has discarded the rest of her toast, she can see that it is being used to keep her at a disadvantage. She begins to hate the toast. She glances longingly at her mug of coffee but doesn’t dare to take a sip. Just in case.

‘Yes, you know, a wager.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Betty is confused and Grace is playing with her.

‘A gamble, Betty.’

‘Gambling what?’

It is time to put her out of her misery. Grace smiles. ‘You give me three months to seduce your husband. Of course, if he’s as devoted as you make out, he won’t be interested, but if he isn’t, then you will perhaps look differently at me before you judge me.’

Betty laughs. She laughs loudly. She has never heard anything more ridiculous in her life. Her fake smile and politeness have fled in disgust.

‘You have to be joking. You’re mad, mental, completely insane. There is no way, in a zillion years, that I will even consider anything like that.’ She laughs again, loudly. She has never heard anything more ludicrous in her life.

‘I accept your bet,’ Betty says.

She is in the office, on the phone to Grace a few days after the breakfast: She has tried everything to avoid agreeing, bar speaking to Johnny about it, and she can barely believe the words she hears herself saying. It has been nothing short of agonising, and her hatred of Grace and what Grace stands for has intensified. She has swung between deciding to quit her job, to crying because she doesn’t want to. She is officially in hell.

She left the café in disgust and went straight to work. There, she requested an urgent meeting with Fiona and was kept waiting for an agonising half-hour.

‘So?’ Fiona started as soon as Betty walked through the door.