A Class Apart (2 page)

“So I see my adoring public missed my show again this afternoon,” she finished.

“It’s the time,” Kate complained. “I’m nearly always out during the . . . hey, hang on! What am I talking about? I recorded it. Now, how’s that for loyalty? Satisfied?” She ran across to the video. “Now we’ll just have to hope I got the right channel. It’ll be a first if I have.”

She pushed the button to rewind the tape, then sat back on the floor. “I want you to know that I am only watching this to see the erection. Nothing else. Forget blind dates.”

“But it won’t be blind, will it?” said Jenneen. “I mean, you will have seen him.”

There was a knock on the door and Kate looked at her watch. “That’ll either be Mrs Adams from upstairs wanting to borrow something else, or it’ll be Ashley.”

“I don’t know how you put up with that old lady,” Jenneen said, as Ellamarie got up to answer the door. “Does she ever do anything for herself?”

“Not much,” Kate admitted, “but she’s not a bad old stick really.”

Opening the door, Ellamarie was relieved to see it was Ashley standing outside, her dark hair plastered to her head and her collar pulled high round her face. “Is it raining?” Ellamarie enquired.

Ashley pulled a face, then shook out her umbrella and handed it to her.

“How did it go?”

“Don’t ask me,” Ashley peeled off her wet coat. “I couldn’t keep my mind on anything long enough.”

“Julian there?”

“No, he’s in Paris. Giles Creddesley chaired the meeting. And picked his nose. God, he’s revolting!”

“But have you got an answer yet?” Ellamarie asked.

“From Newslink? Tomorrow.”

“What did Giles think of the presentation?”

“I think he liked it, but you know him. Anything that’s not his idea is never quite up to the mark. Anyway, I don’t much care. I’m more worried about what Julian will say if we lose the account.”

“You won’t!” said Ellamarie, confidently. “Now come along inside, we’re about to watch a blue movie.”

“A what!”

“A man with an erection. For Kate.”

“Not for me.” Kate looked up as they came into the room. “Hi, Ash, how did it go?”

“Right now I’m more interested in a glass of wine and a blue movie,” she answered. “But all right, I think.”

“OK, everyone!” Jenneen cried. “Get ready, here comes the future Mr Calloway.”

They watched in silence for a while, until Ashley burst out laughing.

“What’s the matter?” said Jenneen.

“He talks in quotes.”

“A sign of a well-read mind. Well,” Jenneen turned to Kate, “what do you think? As I said, I was going to have him for myself, but under the circumstances I think you might get better use.”

“What circumstances?” said Ashley.

Jenneen filled her in on the details of Kate’s date with the infamous Stephen French.

“But I thought the book you were writing was all about the adventures of an oversexed journalist,” Ashley said, looking at Kate.

“I’ve got an imagination, haven’t I?”

“But what are you feeding it on?” Ellamarie wanted to know.

“It hasn’t been hungry, until now.” Kate swivelled round to face Jenneen. “I think he’s absolutely gorgeous. What’s his name again?”

“Joel. Joel Martin.”

“And is he a good agent?”

“Who cares? Oh, of course, you do. Well, yes, or at least so he tells me. And the writer there with him, she couldn’t sing his praises highly enough.”

“How soon can you get him here?” Kate grinned.

“Oh well, if you’re not that keen, then we’ll just forget it.”

“Jenneen! Sometimes . . .”

“OK. Just leave it to me.”

“Are we going out anywhere?” Ashley was looking at her watch. “I’m starving.”

“Food coming up,” said Kate. “It’s such a ghastly night I thought I’d cook, save us going out.”

She went off to the kitchen and the others fell into the easy and idle chatter that was an integral pan of the evenings they spent together. The Barnes Conference was what they called these evenings, owing to the fact that, in their early twenties, they had shared a house in Barnes. Now, in their early thirties, and nearing the top of their chosen careers, their friendship was every bit as strong. They were, as Jenneen put it whenever she was feeling philosophical, four women pursuing their lives in a London of the 1980s, all of them successful and capable of loving no more nor less than their mothers and grandmothers before them, but who had to contend with the social pressures that promiscuity, equality and the sixties had thrust upon them. And the prejudices too.

Kate opened the door of the microwave and, putting the dish on the work surface, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She shook her head, allowing her new curls to fall around her face. Shame Stephen French had been such a bore, the idea of a good Yuppie stockbroker had rather appealed to her.

Hearing Ellamarie’s burst of laughter, she popped her head through the serving hatch demanding to know what all the noise was about.

“It’s Jenneen,” Ellamarie gasped, wiping the tears from her face. “She’s being disgusting again.”

“Me?” Jenneen cried.

“Perish the thought,” Ashley said.

Leaving the doors open, Kate started to dish up. “Oh hey, I’ve just remembered, any chance of two extra tickets for opening night, Ellamarie?”

“I’ll find out. But I thought you were all coming on the second night?”

“That’s what I meant,” said Kate, bringing the food in on a tray. “Daddy says he’d like to come. Mummy’s coming home for the week and he thought it would be a treat for her. If she’ll agree.” Kate’s mother had been in what they all referred to as a convalescent home ever since Kate’s brother had died in an accident three years before. Mrs Calloway had been unable to accept the death, and in the end it had been necessary to send her somewhere where she could be looked after properly.

“How are rehearsals going, Ellamarie?” Ashley asked.

“Not bad. Very slow though.”

“And Bob?”

“Is loving every minute of it.”

“Where is he tonight?” Jenneen asked.

“Where he always is on a Friday night. Home with wifey.”

Ashley looked sympathetic. “I don’t know how you stand it, Ellamarie.”

“Neither do I, but what the hell. I have him four nights a week, sometimes five if I’m lucky. He gave me this tonight.” She held out her arm to show them the tiny gold bracelet Bob had slipped onto her wrist before they left the rehearsal rooms. Her pale face shone, highlighting the freckles that bridged her rather aristocratic nose, as the others made all the right noises. “Isn’t he just the most wonderful man?” she sighed. “He said it was because I had remembered all my lines. Which, I can tell you, is more than can be said for Maureen Woodley.”

“Isn’t she playing Viola?” Kate asked, taking a mouthful of lasagne.

Ellamarie nodded. “And do you want to know why? Because she’s shaped like one.”

“Oh, Ellamarie!” Ashley choked.

“Well, she is. She’s got to be at least a hundred round the hips, and her neck, Jesus, have you seen that neck? Even a giraffe would find it difficult to compete.”

“God, you can be a bitch at times,” Jenneen laughed.

“Which is no more than she is. I could kill Bob for giving her the part. She just keeps ramming it down my throat.”

“Well, you know why he didn’t give it to you,” said Kate.

“I know, I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.” She started to mimic Bob. “‘Slowly, slowly does it. One step at a time. Don’t rush. You’ll get there in the end.’ And any other variation you can think of on that. I’ve heard them all. But hell, Maria isn’t so bad a part, I suppose,” she added grudgingly. “Now, enough about me, what about you, Ashley Mayne?”

“Me?”

“Don’t come the innocent. Are you going to tell the great Julian Arbrey-Nelmes about the grand passion that burns in your heart, and if so, when?”

Ashley flushed, and her insides began to draw into a knot. “I think so,” she said.

“Think so! You’ve got to.”

“It’s all very easy for you to say, you’re not the one who has to do it.”

“And if you had done it before, then it wouldn’t be so difficult now. Besides, I don’t know what you’re worried about, the man’s simply crazy about you.”

Ashley grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“From him. Get him to tell you, not me.”

“When’s Blanche coming back?” asked Jenneen.

“Wednesday.” Ashley answered, the smile disappearing from her face.

Ellamarie waved her fork in the air. “Don’t worry about her. If Julian really intended to marry her he would have done it by now. It’s you he wants, but you keep playing hard to get.”

“I’d hardly call spending five nights a week together hard to get,” Kate remarked.

“Well, you know what I mean,” said Ellamarie. “And look at it this way,” she went on, helping herself to more wine, “how old is Alex now? Seven? Yes, seven. It’s time you were adding to your family before he gets too old.” She was referring to Ashley’s son, the only good or worthwhile product of an early marriage that hadn’t worked.

“Or before I get too old,” said Ashley.

“And Julian adores him, so what’s the problem?”

“Blanche.”

“Rubbish. She’s been away for over two years, if he loved her then he wouldn’t have put up with it. And he’s only put up with it because he’s had you. Who he wants, not her. Now, pick your moment. You’re seeing him tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

Ashley nodded.

“Tell him then. It’ll be the best Christmas present he’s ever had, I promise you.”

“And then next will come the wedding,” said Kate, looking dewy-eyed. “God, it’s simply ages since I went to a wedding. When do you think it will be, Ash?”

“I thought Easter.” Ashley allowed herself to get caught up in the mood for a moment.

“Oh dear, why wait?”

“Valentine’s Day?” Jenneen suggested.

“No, definitely Easter. We’ll stand a better chance of good weather.”

“How many bridesmaids?” said Ellamarie.

“Oh, isn’t it bliss!” Kate sighed. “What will you wear?”

“Oh stop it,” said Ashley, pulling herself together. “If he could hear us now he’d probably run a mile.”

Ellamarie’s eyes could speak volumes without her uttering a word, and Ashley got the message. Get off that negative road, they were saying, and Ashley wished she could. She had been having an affair with Julian Arbrey-Nelmes, the Chairman of Frazier, Nelmes Advertising Agency where she was an Account Director, for well over a year now, but in that time neither one of them had admitted to their feelings. Ashley was sure that he cared for her, probably more than cared for her, but he had never shown any inclination to break off his long-standing relationship with Blanche Wetherburn. Ashley did not want to admit to the fear that Julian’s ambition would dictate the direction of his heart, but in the end she knew there was every chance it would. As far as Julian Arbrey-Nelmes was concerned, Blanche met all the requisites. The right background, connections, breeding, everything that would be important to a man in his position. She was even related to Conrad Frazier, Julian’s American partner. Furthermore, Blanche was a gentile. But Ashley refused to believe that Julian would put any store by something like that.

By the end of the evening, the others had talked her into doing what she knew she would have done anyway. But, secretly, none of them would have wanted to be in her shoes. Telling a man you loved him when he had not broached the subject first, was no easy thing to do. Old-fashioned it might be, but the unwritten rules of the procedure of love were deeply rooted in them all.

“I’ve decided,” Ashley said, as she was leaving, “that if we win the Newslink account tomorrow, then everything will go well. If we don’t, then . . .”

“You and your silly superstitions,” said Kate. “You have a serendipitous life, I’ve always said so. You’ll win, you wait and see. You’ll win them both.”

TWO

It had been one hell of a day. It seemed that in the world of advertising, people had never heard of Saturday. Ashley’s telephone had hardly stopped ringing, with everyone wanting everything done not yesterday but last week. Finally she had left the office just after three, telling her creative team to cope as best they could and had rushed down to Surrey to see Alex for an hour.

She only just made it back to London in time – thank God for her father driving her up. Alex would enjoy the trip, he had said. Her mother had stayed behind to fix the evening meal. Keith, Ashley’s ex-husband, and his family would be dining with them, as they usually did on Saturdays.

Julian arrived at her flat in Onslow Square just after eight to take her to dinner. Ashley had been a bundle of nerves all day at the thought of what lay ahead, and she felt no better now as the waiter showed them to their table. Julian nodded towards the old man sitting in the corner and Ashley managed to wave. Neither of them actually knew the old man, but he was always there whenever they came, napkin under his chin and his round spectacles slipping down over his nose, with a smiling mouth settled comfortably between.