About a Girl (42 page)

‘We can,’ he said. ‘But I need to move fast on the clients, and most of them just want you. They don’t give a monkey’s whether or not I’m there ? you’re the creative genius, you’re my Lady Draper. They just want you.’

‘Always nice to be wanted,’ I sighed, slugging my coffee. Of all the things I’d thought he might say, this was the most unexpected.

‘But in principle yes?’

‘In principle I don’t know.’

He nodded, wisely declining to force the issue.

‘And what about the other thing?’ he asked, speaking slowly. ‘Does that need to wait until tomorrow as well?’

‘Other thing?’

‘Other thing,’ he replied, reaching out for my hand again. This time I didn’t pull away. ‘Me and you?’

‘Hang on, have I missed something?’ My heart was pounding. Had I blacked out during a very important part of this conversation? Me and him?

‘Oh God, I’ve had ten years to get this right and I’m still cocking it up.’ Charlie moved his chair closer to mine and pressed my hand harder. ‘I am a cockwomble. Tess, if you still want to, I think we should give it a shot. You know, going out. Being together.’

‘What?’

I realized I was shouting when the next three tables all jumped out of their seats at the same time.

‘You want to what?’ I hissed. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I’m totally serious,’ he said looking around, a little embarrassed. ‘Weren’t you listening? I’ve had a week to think about it. I missed you so much, and not just as my friend. I know we didn’t exactly start things off right or in any sort of way Amy will ever approve of, but I don’t care. I’m sitting here talking to you and all I want to do is kiss you.’

‘Really?’ I wouldn’t have wanted to kiss me. I looked like shit.

‘Maybe that’s not all I want to do, but we are in public and I think that sort of thing is frowned upon in Starbucks,’ he replied.

Well. I was wrong. Out of all the things he could have said,
this
was the most unexpected. Not the shagging in Starbucks, but suggesting we give it a go. Me and Charlie. Boyfriend and girlfriend.

‘You’re going to make me wait, aren’t you?’ Charlie pushed up the sleeves of his jumper and pulled his whiny face. It was the same one he gave me when I wouldn’t let him eat ice cream before his dinner, even though I always ended up giving in. But not this time.

‘I’ve waited ten years, Charlie,’ I sighed. All. Too. Much. ‘You can wait until I’m awake.’

I pushed the rest of the muffin away and stood up. He hopped to his feet, towering over me in a way that had always made me feel safe and small before, but as he leaned down to kiss me chastely on the lips, all I could think of was the way Nick’s eyes burned directly into mine in the second before we kissed. And there was nothing chaste about any of his kisses.

‘I’ll call you later,’ I promised. ‘I have some stuff to sort out.’

‘OK, I’ll text you,’ he said. ‘Or I’ll just wait for you to call. But I’ll probably text you.’

I nodded, my brain exploding with too much information as I walked back out into the cool summer sunshine. I was so tired, but so completely wired from the ridiculous quantities of caffeine I’d consumed in the past three hours that I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit still. Checking my phone as I walked down Theobalds Road, away from an office that was no longer there, I saw a text from Amy wanting to know if I’d run off to the Caribbean and could she come with me, and a missed call from Agent Veronica. Of course she’d heard the news. Drawing up every last ounce of courage, I pressed redial and hoped she didn’t have a sniper using my phone as a tracking device. Of course, if she did have me killed, or as she’d so eloquently threatened, strung up by my tits, at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the Charlie dilemma. So that was a plus.

‘Tess motherfucking Brookes.’ Agent Veronica looked exactly how I had imagined. Short hair, fag hanging out of her mouth, dressed in black and wearing very expensive shoes. What I hadn’t expected was for her to stand up as I slunk into her office, walk round her desk and give me a bone-crushing bear hug.

‘Are you going to kill me?’ I asked, my arms pinned to my sides while I nervously folded and unfolded the Wispa wrapper in the pocket of my jeans. It was a shit last meal, but it was all I’d been able to wolf down on my way over to Veronica’s office. ‘Is this like a mafia kiss or something?’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Agent Veronica was apparently insane. ‘I got your photos on Saturday. And then I got a phone call from
Gloss
this morning. It took me a minute to put two and two together and come up with something other than forty-fucking-two, but I got there. You were the one in Hawaii taking the pictures.’

‘Yes,’ I admitted as Veronica finally let go of me and sat back down. She pointed at the empty chair opposite her. I checked it very quickly for hidden explosives and took a seat.

‘And it was you I spoke to on the phone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Should have known it wasn’t that cockmuncher Kittler. Never answers her phone – always emails. Nasty bitch, that one.’

I wasn’t going to argue with that, but I still felt a bit bad.

‘Veronica, am I in trouble?’ I asked. ‘Paige was furious.’

‘Well, that’s because you shagged her fella, didn’t you? You dirty mare.’ She let out a foul, hacking laugh and slapped the desk. ‘She isn’t happy with you. But I’m fucking ecstatic.’

‘Yay?’ I whispered.

‘Those pictures of Bertie Bennett were amazing,’ she said, suddenly switching gears. ‘As soon as I saw them, I knew Vanessa hadn’t shot them. She hasn’t done anything as good as that since I’ve had her on my books. Even the pictures that made me sign her weren’t as good as those.’

‘I keep hearing about these amazing pictures.’ Fear of violence fading, I relaxed a fraction into the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. ‘Do you have them?’

‘Yeah, they’re in her book ? give me a sec.’ Veronica lit another cigarette, clamped it between her bright red lips and spun around to a bookcase full of portfolios. ‘Now, obviously you’re going to be signing an agency agreement with me before you leave this office, since I’ve smoothed everything over with
Gloss
and I’ve got your first job lined up already.’ She handed me a thin, light brown pleather book with Vanessa’s name printed on the side in silver type. Mmm, tacky. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not following?’ I said, flipping through the pictures. I very nearly felt bad saying it, but they really weren’t great. Vanessa was not a natural photographer. ‘A job?’

‘Bertie Bennett, aka your best friend in the entire world, other than me,’ she announced with a flourish, ‘wants you to go to Milan and work on his retrospective. He’s putting together some sort of exhibition with someone. He’s doing a book – the whole shebang. Shenanigans ahoy. He wants you to do all the pictures, document the entire exercise. It’ll be three months at least. Starting as soon as.’

If Bertie’s proposal hadn’t left me speechless, what I saw in Vanessa’s portfolio would have done the job.

‘These are her pictures?’ I breathed out without breathing in again.

‘Oh yeah, they’re the ones. There are, like, four of them? She really caught something there.’ Veronica took a drag on her cigarette and then flicked the ash over her shoulder. ‘Other than an STD, for a change. That’s why I took her on. I thought she knew how to tell a story, but all I’ve had off her since is bollocks.’

I couldn’t speak. The photos were beautiful. The first one showed an old couple sitting beside a pond at sunset, smiling at each other and feeding the ducks. The next one showed the same couple walking off down a country road, holding hands, silhouetted by the low light. The next two were more of the same – a mother and baby smiling at each other, two teenage girls giving each other filthy looks.

‘Intimate,’ she said. ‘Honest. Bit like your Bennett pics.’

‘That’s because I took these,’ I said, my words stilted and uncertain. ‘Veronica, these are my pictures. I took them years ago. They must have been on the memory card when she took my camera.’

‘Fuck. Right. Off.’ She looked absolutely delighted. ‘You’re serious? You’re fucking serious. That sneaky cow.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ I breathed. It was becoming something of a catchphrase of mine. Perhaps I should get it printed on to a T-shirt to save my breath. ‘But these are totally mine. It’s the mill pond in the village where I grew up. I can’t believe she would do this.’

‘You can’t?’ Veronica didn’t seem quite so surprised. ‘I can.’

‘I just … she knew how much I loved photography and she still took the camera, but to steal my pictures, pass them off as hers and make a career out of it? That’s something else.’

‘Yeah, that’s even more mental than pretending to be your flatmate, nicking off to Hawaii and shagging the journo on the job,’ she replied, leaning across the desk and snapping her fingers in my face. ‘Tess, this is the past. We are looking at the future. Your future, my massive commission. Say yes to the job. We’ll book your flight right now. You get to go and play dressing-up with your mate Bertie and even use your own name. How exciting is that?’

‘It’s so exciting,’ I said, still staring at the photographs in my lap. ‘Um, can I have a day to think about it?’

‘What?’ She didn’t sound nearly as understanding as Charlie had. ‘What is there to think about?’

‘I’m just really tired and jet-lagged, and I think I need a minute.’ I slapped the portfolio shut and threw it onto the desk, suddenly disgusted by it. ‘I think I need some sleep before I make any big decisions.’

‘Your journo friend is back in New York,’ Veronica said with a casual wink. ‘Heard he didn’t take your big reveal that well.’

‘How do you know he’s in New York?’ I sat up straight, my plait swishing behind my head. ‘Do you know him?’

‘Passing acquaintances.’ She screwed up her face and clucked. ‘And he was in on the emails from the magazine. Bennett wants him to work on the retrospective as well.’

‘Has he said he will?’ I could barely sit still at the mere mention of his name. My heart was beating hard, and not just from the jet lag and the caffeine. If we were both working with Al, he’d have to talk to me.

‘He hasn’t confirmed yet,’ she said. ‘Seemed very keen to know whether or not you’d be there, actually. Email him. Tell him your side of the story and see what he says. If nothing else is true, I do know that man loves a story.’

I pulled out my crappy knackered phone and opened a new email. But what was I supposed to say?

‘I didn’t mean do it now, you wanker.’ Veronica clapped for my attention. ‘Go home and cry over your love letter there. You made quite an impression on everyone, you did. Not sure if that’s good or bad, but I do know you’re a fucking good photographer and I want you on my books, Brookes.’

She slapped her desk hard and cackled. ‘Ha! It rhymes. Now fuck off home, get some sleep and call me in the morning to apologize for making me wait an entire fucking day before I book this job.’

I stood up again, nodding like the Churchill dog, and stumbled towards the door in a complete daze.

‘Come on, Brookes,’ Veronica yelled over her shoulder. ‘I’ve just offered you a job and a shag in a oner. How often does something like that come around?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ I said, pushing the door open, and wished I had another Wispa to eat on the way home. Or some crack. I imagined some crack might be nice about now. ‘You’d be really surprised.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

‘I have no words.’ Amy sat cross-legged on the settee, clutching her neon-pink ankles, her face a picture of shock. ‘No. Words.’

Stretched out on the hardwood floor of the living room, I gently knocked the back of my head against the floorboards and pressed my feet into the sharp edges of the TV cabinet. Nope. Still couldn’t actually feel anything.

‘I know.’

‘No, really, all of it.’ Amy grabbed the remote and turned off the random episode of
The Vampire Diaries
that she had on mute. This was serious. ‘The agency, the cockwomble finally bloody growing a pair, Milan, that’s all awesome. But fuck me, Tess, I cannot believe she is such a complete and utter psycho.’

‘I know.’

For the last two hours, all I’d done was think about what might have been. What if Vanessa had shown my photos to her agent but admitted they were mine? I could have been a professional photographer for years. I might have left the agency and had a life. I might not have spent so long hung up on Charlie that I didn’t know how to have a functional relationship with another human being. Jesus, forget the relationship – I didn’t even know how to have a conversation about a relationship. Everything might have been different. She’d stolen my life.

Which was funny when you thought about it.

But, then again, everything might not. I might have said thanks for the offer, but I’ll stick with my torturous, low-paying, zero-regard office tomb, thanks, because that’s what my mother wants me to do. There was no way of knowing, and as Al had said, life was too short for regrets. It was, however, not too short for swift and violent retribution. If only I knew where she was.

‘So what are you going to do?’ I could tell Amy was feeding on the drama. I hardly ever gave her anything to get her teeth into, so this was like all her Christmases come at once. ‘What does your gut say?’

‘My gut says I need to not eat any more pineapple for about a year,’ I replied. ‘I don’t know. I’m too freaked out right now. I’m having more feelings than I knew one person could have at one time.’

‘Have some more wine,’ she said, grabbing the open bottle of white and pouring it into my Snoopy mug. ‘That’ll help.’

‘It won’t help because it’s half past twelve in the afternoon,’ I said, taking a swig. ‘But I will have some anyway because I don’t really know what else to do.’

‘You do seem very emotional,’ Amy said with as much sympathy as she could muster. ‘Like, more conflicted than when
Jersey Shore
finished, and I know how hard that was for you.’

‘I was just really worried about what would happen to them when the cameras stopped rolling.’ I sloshed my mug back onto the floor, trying not to spill any of the half-bottle of wine Amy had poured into it. ‘What life will they have now?’