On her way to Brighton Kitty twice had a near escape. First time she almost collided with a lorry: she didn't see anything because of the tears and her car skidded to the centre of the road. On second account she practically lost control over the car on a sharp turn.
She told Philip that she had to leave the party urgently. That her best friend called her and asked her to come because she got very ill. That there was no need to inform Lawrence about her unexpected departure, otherwise he would want to go with her and he couldn't help poor Mary anyway. And so on. She called Mary to warn her in case if Lawrence would call and as soon as her car hit the road she began to cry. She cried all the way to Mary's place and simply couldn't stop. When she entered Mary's flat three worried faces peered at her from behind Mary's back and she felt a warm sensation inside: even Elisabeth, dishevelled and without make-up – Mary raised her from bed – was there. They spoke all night (though Jane left soon after Kitty's arrival) and didn't come to any conclusion. Lydia insisted on Kitty's leaving Lawrence at once, Mary was for serious adult discussion and Elisabeth thought that Kitty had to have a nice good shag with some great guy or two and forget all about the matter. In the morning totally stupefied by the mixture of strong coffee and Pro-plus Kitty left for the hospital: unlike other girls she had to work that day. While fumbling for car keys she found a plump sweet-smelling package in her bag.
Mary, she thought and choked on her emotions. That morning she was particularly hormonal.
During her lunch break Kitty went to see Mike. Mike was her Patrick and Kitty was resolved to take Elisabeth's advice and get even with Lawrence through Mike. She came to this decision after weighing carefully the options the girls gave her the previous evening. She had no intention of leaving Lawrence: he was hers for better for worse and she loved him. For the same reason Mary's suggestion of adult conversation wasn't for her. She was afraid of adult conversation, she was afraid making things worse. She didn't particularly want to sleep with Mike but Elisabeth said that she could forget about what had happened afterwards and to forget was what Kitty wished most of all. To forget completely so that she would return to her old cosy world where there was no Joanne.
The closer Kitty came to Mike's quarters the weaker her determination grew. Not only she herself wasn't keen on having sex with him, she started to get doubts about his enthusiasm on that subject. Besides she had no idea how to put it up to him. In Elisabeth's lips all sounded light and easy, but that was Elisabeth, her attitude towards everything was light and easy. Kitty was different. Kitty took thing seriously. In other words Kitty was Kitty and Elisabeth was Elisabeth.
Kitty reached Mike's department, examined the sign above the entrance and turned back. At the evening she went to Mary's again. This was her customary night off when Lawrence's mother babysat Peter for them while they went to cinema or to restaurant. She told her husband that she had some other plans and he didn't argue. Maybe he was just happy to have a free evening to spend with Joanne.
"I can't do it." Kitty complained addressing generally Elisabeth. "I don't want to sleep with Mike. I don't want to sleep with anybody but Lawrence. I still love him, I'm afraid."
"Then you can't divorce him." Mary said with a childish conviction.
"I don't want to. I want everything to be like it was before. And I want him to forget this terrible Joanne."
"You're a fool!" Lydia said angrily. "If my husband treated me like yours I would send him packing in no time."
"That's why you're not married." Mary said hotly; she didn't like Lawrence much and often called him a pompous ass, which he undoubtedly was, but she hated to see Kitty unhappy and if it was vital for her to stay with her husband, then nobody had right to press her for divorce.
"Oh yeah?" Lydia said with the dangerous modulations in her voice. "And what's the reason for you not being married?"
"Guys, guys! Have you forgotten why we've gathered here?" Jane interrupted them calmly. "We have to think about Kitty. Your marital views and problems can wait until later."
"What sort of a woman this Joanne person?" Elisabeth asked thoughtfully.
"Tall, young, showy. In a cheap kind of way."
"Tawdry." Lydia said. "The word is tawdry."
"Why do you think she picked your husband?" Elisabeth continued. "I can understand him…"
"I can't," said Kitty curtly.
"For how long have you been married?"
"For almost six years." Kitty said with a shade of rightful pride.
"I think I know what Elisabeth's saying: you're not a novelty anymore." Lydia said slowly. "He doesn't have much of excitement at home and he has a rather dull job. He meets this flashy piece and he's thrilled. She is so different from you: free, always ready to please, always brightly-coloured, not a nice homely type like his wife although I won't be surprised if he is planning to convert her into one in future."
"Oh no!" Kitty said through her tears.
"Please, don't cry," said Mary, "now, have a cookie."
"Yes, calm down." Lydia said: "I didn't mean that he's going to marry her and even if he is we won't let him. Our task now is to show him that she's not a woman he thinks she is."
"How?" Kitty asked with a hope.
"I know!" Mary exclaimed excitedly. "Elisabeth will make you a new hairdo: something smashing like for Jane (And what good came out of that for me, Jane thought uneasily), then we make you up, choose you some stunning outfit and then Lawrence will see how gorgeous you are. Much better than that Joanne."
"I'm thinking about something more down to earth," said Lydia, "like another man."
"I've told you I'm not sleeping with anybody!" Kitty cried.
"Not for you," said Lydia with first signs of irritation, "for Lawrence's bird."
"You mean to find her somebody, so she will leave my husband alone? A new partner for her? Somebody she'll fall in love with and he will fall for her? But where will we find such a person and soon?"
"Not necessarily a real new partner. It will be sufficient if she will think that he's in love with her. And he has to be or at least pretend to be much more alluring than Lawrence from the point of wealth and such things."
"You think she's for his money? We're reasonably well-off but not rich."
"What are her chances to get something better?"
"I don't know. Maybe none. So your plan is to make her to swallow the bait and then to chuck my Lawrence?"
"Sort of. But to make sure that it will be one hundred per cent foolproof we will also make photos of her and her new interest in compromising positions and show them to your husband. Then he won't have any illusion about her."
"It sounds like a good plan," Jane said. "With one flaw, of course: where can we find a man like that? The one who will agree to play a role of a charmer and what's more important: the one who will agree to have sex with her knowing that he will be photographed, ah?"
"I can always ask Pat," Elisabeth started looking slyly at Lydia.
"No!" Lydia barked.
"You know, Lydia, you're terribly selfish." Elisabeth said mockingly. "You have to try not to think about your interests and your interests only but to make an effort and help your friend in need. Alright, alright, I was just kidding! I'm not going to touch your precious Pat. I have somebody else in mind."
Elisabeth met Rob at the time when she wanted to become an actress. Rob was a struggling actor too but unlike Elisabeth he managed to make a career and now was rich, successful and relatively known. He didn't become a film or TV star but made a name exclusively in porn productions, the fact that didn't bother him as long as he was satisfied with the pay. In the days of their youth he and Elisabeth had a stormy fling and during all the years which followed he constantly tried to get into her pants again. Ineffectively. In real life he was an unimaginative type of lover and even his work in the porno industry didn't teach him how to treat a woman who wished to enjoy sex as much as her partner instead of just lying under him waiting till he would get what he wanted.
Rob was an ideal candidate for their plan: he wouldn't be turned off by all the cameras in the world. He was also very good-looking in a masculine way. With golden rings on his fingers, his white costumes and his silver Lamborghini he was a dream of any Joanne of this world.
"Do you think he will agree?" Lydia asked anxiously: she was still slightly worried about possibility of drawing Pat into their plot.
"But naturally! Why not, I mean? It will appeal to him. He likes challenge. But we will need a flat here in Brighton."
"You can use mine!" Lydia said a bit too enthusiastically and everyone laughed understanding her real motives.
Somehow it humoured even Kitty and she began to smile and Elisabeth went to the kitchen to make something to eat for all of them. Fortunately Mary's fridge was full and with the help of the others she prepared fast and delicious supper.
After supper Elisabeth called Rob to arrange meeting with him.
"Rejoice," she said to Kitty, "he agreed and we'll show that horrible Joanne how to steal other people's husbands."
"Fingers crossed," said Mary worriedly, "let's hope that everything will go as planned."
"More like, knees crossed." Elisabeth muttered: she knew the price she would personally pay but unlike Lydia she wasn't selfish at all."
The girls learned from her later that after two days spent on some homework Rob got to know Joanne. The girls met him on Sunday morning when he came with Elisabeth and his friend to Lydia's flat to install the cameras.
"He is gorgeous!" Mary said with admiration. "Is he for real? I didn't know that they still make them like that."
"He plays in porno, remember?" Elisabeth said warningly and went to Rob to help him with checking his photo-equipment.
Lydia spent the rest of the weekend in Mary's while Rob was going through the last stage of their plan. With Joanne's enthusiastic assistance, by the way.
On Monday Rob and his cameraman appeared again and for the last time in Lydia's flat, dismantled their stuff and promised that the girls would hear from them soon.
On Wednesday Kitty opening morning post found a thick envelope addressed to Mr and Mrs Hoare, that is to her and Lawrence. She knew perfectly well what was inside it as she recognised Elisabeth's hand, yet she was capable to perform a genuine surprise and curiosity.
"It's some photos by the look of it, darling," she said to her husband who was reading his paper and not interested at all. "Have you sent anything for printing? No? Maybe it's from your brother, from his birthday party. That's it! I'm sure, they're party's snapshots. Oh, I'm dying to see them!"
In reality she was dying to see his face when he would see the photos. Lawrence was still deep in his Guardian when she tore an envelope open and took its contents out.
"What's this?" she said after an appropriate pause. "Who are these people? Why are we being sent such filth?"
Her last phrase and particularly the shrillness of her voice finally drew her husband's attention. He stretched his hand, took the pictures and got the first one close to his eyes: he was a little short-sighted. Kitty watched him practically not breathing. All the photos were of the highest quality and showed Joanne with Rob in the positions both various and unequivocal. Rob tried his best indeed and even the author of Kama Sutra would turn enviously in his grave if he could see all the acrobatic exercises of the pair. At first when seeing the pictures Lawrence became red in face, then white, then he proceeded to change his countenance every three seconds going through all the basic colours of spectrum. At some point Kitty even began feeling sorry for him. It happened when he examined a photo of Joanne's blond head between Rob's manly thighs. Kitty decided that at the evening she would treat him for his stress with his favourite lamb and bacon.
Lawrence was getting more and more crimson and Kitty became afraid for his health but he managed to curb his temper.
"I don't know who send us these appalling pictures," he said at last, "but I'm going to find out. I'm taking this stuff with me. I will find out…I'll go to the post office…police…I'll write to our MP if I'll have to!"
With these words he stormed out of the house while triumphant Kitty telephoned all her friends. Joanne was a history!
The same evening Elisabeth had the expected visitor. There was no gymnastics this time but it took the whole night to reward quite insatiable Rob for his assistance in saving Kitty's marriage.
And although Elisabeth experienced at least six orgasms…
"…it was boring," she confessed to her friends later. "Even listening to PM Question Time gives me more thrills."
Next morning she called Maxim and explained him (untruthfully) why she couldn't come to work. The story with Superstar made her super famous. Now even the celebrities of the highest ranks who had their very own personal hairdressers queued to be styled in their salon. Everyone wanted to know the newest and the freshest gossip about the Superstar's affair. Nobody believed the truth. They didn't want to. What they did want was sassy details as much as possible. In a way they could be understood: nobody ever rejected Superstar before (or if somebody did newspapers weren't aware of that). Anyway the salon, as I said, became extremely popular for the time being and Maxim was so grateful to Elisabeth that if she asked him to shave his head he probably would.
Totally exhausted by 30 seconds' conversation Elisabeth relaxed in her bed when the telephone rung.
"You switched off your phone." Lydia said accusingly.
"So?"
In fact it was Rob who did it but she didn't feel like explaining anything to Lydia. All she wanted was to be left alone so she could sleep, sleep and sleep.
"He came yesterday!" Lydia said with the intonations of a tragic actress of the thirties.
"I know!" thought Elisabeth feeling her head spinning lightly as if she became weightless and was swinging gently with a soft breeze somewhere on Mediterranean coast. Or maybe even Caribbean.
Lydia's demanding voice dragged her pitilessly out of this bliss.
"Don't you hear me?" she shouted. "Pat was yesterday with me!"
"I'm finishing at four today," she continued, "come to Brighton for the full report."
"Oh no," said Elisabeth, "with all due respect I had enough of Brighton for the time being."
"OK. Then I come. To think about it I might take the rest of the day off and come by train to London right now."
"Don't do that! Or you'll spend all afternoon outside my front door," said Elisabeth quickly horrified with the prospect, "finish your work and then come if you have to."
"You're impossible!" Lydia said. "Alright. I stay until the end of my shift but I can call you with a brief recap during my break."
"Absolutely not. I'm switching my phone off. And Lydia? Bring some leek I want to make pancakes with filling for supper but I need leek and I don't have any at home."
Not waiting for an answer she unplugged the phone.
At the time when Lydia came Elisabeth was fully awaken. She was surprised to find out that she was eager to hear her story. Lydia has waited for too long and fully deserves to have a keen listener, she told to herself, but the real reason was that she was plain curious. "I'm getting old," she thought, "I become a terrible gossipmonger. Soon I won't be interested in love-making, only in stories about it." She tried to feel sorry for herself but then remembered how many men there were in the world with whom she hadn't slept yet and felt an elevation of spirits.
"So," said Lydia when Elisabeth gave her requested "Bloody Mary", "are you ready to listen about my extraordinary adventure yesterday?"
There was nothing extraordinary in it but Elisabeth wasn't going to argue with her. To cut a long story short Patrick appeared on the Lydia's doorstep when after watching her favourite TV programme she was busy with the dilemma: to take a shower or to have a nice herbal bath. Bath almost won, as it always had in past, when the doorbell rung. She opened the door.
"And he was there! Can you imagine?"
Elisabeth easily could but didn't say that. Anyway the question was purely rhetorical and Lydia continued:
"I invited him in, took him into the drawing room, offered him a drink and while he was making himself comfortable went to my room and do you want to know what I did there?"
Took your knickers off, Elisabeth was itching to say but she restrained herself and expressed an appropriate inquisitiveness on her face.
"I poured half a bottle of Shalimar over my head. It took me out of stupor."
"A bit drastic and a terribly smelly method, wasn't it?" Elisabeth was ready to say but as earlier she controlled her tongue.
"What happened?" she asked instead because Lydia made a dramatic pause.
"After my perfumery shower I returned to the drawing room thinking feverishly about something worth talking about. But I didn't have to worry. He was standing near the mantelpiece when I came in and studied my photos around it. He told me that I looked sweet and funny when I was a child. He asked me how they called me at home when I was little."
"Cut the crap, Lydia." Elisabeth broke. "Did you sleep with him or not?"
"Of course I slept with him. Do you think I would allow him to go away without it?
Again? No way! Oh, Elisabeth! He is so great! You were right: he's the best. But you know," she laughed coquettishly, "I had a feeling that he tried really hard to show me everything he could do. These men! Sometimes they behave just like teenagers having their first coitus."
"I do hope he will come tomorrow again," she said and she sounded pretty confident that he would, "then I'll be able to show him what I'm capable of. To tell you the truth I wasn't in my best yesterday, I confess, I was a trifle overexcited."
"By the way," she said when Elisabeth filled their plates with appetisingly smelling pancakes," I asked my mum about that recipe you were interested in and she wrote it down for you. It's in my purse. You see, how good I am? And unselfish? Somebody else in my place wouldn't remember about such things during the major events in their lives but I did!"
"Well, it was great talking to you." Lydia said in the morning as she spent the night in Elizabeth's. "I'd love to stay for longer but I have to go back home. Pat didn't promise anything but I wouldn't be surprised if he would materialise today. He knows that I'm free today. I also called my cleaner to make everything spick and span. What do you think I have to wear? When he came the day before yesterday I was wearing my pyjamas! And if he would come a bit later he could see me in the bathrobe! Oh my God! I just thought that I could be in the bathroom not hearing him ringing the bell, can you imagine that?"
She made a pause to contemplate such a horror while Elisabeth looked at her watch for the tenth time in a row and said firmly:
"Lydia, I have to go. My shift starts in an hour time and I'm not going to be late!"
"On the other hand I guess it looks very sexy: all silvery white, silky and smooth."
"What on Earth are you talking about?"
"My pyjamas. Unlike some people I have standards: I will never go around my house even in the evening in something like that terrible worn-out flowery monstrosity Mary's usually wearing or in some outsized T-shirt like you. And your habit of sleeping in your knickers and vest is disgusting!"
"I don't."
"Don't what?"
"I don't sleep in my knickers and vest."
"But I saw you with my own eyes!"
"Yes, I put them on because of you. Normally I sleep in raw."
"You're kidding?"
"No, I like my body to have a complete rest and you can only have it when you don't wear anything."
"I think it's sick. And what if somebody will come unexpectedly."
"In the middle of the night? I don't have many visitors at that time."
"Anybody can come, something urgent may happen, your neighbours might want something or one of your numerous boyfriends will feel like that."
"If something really critical will need my attention, I can always ask my visitors to wait for a moment or two. My neighbours are an old Korean couple who go to bed after children TV programmes are finished and I can't visualise them waking me up at two or three in the morning to borrow an iron or to ask to help them with some Korean crossword. And if one of my boyfriends would come without previous agreement most likely I wouldn't open the door at all. But if I would do that I don't think they would feel very disappointed that I don't wear a new Gucci piece at that particular moment. And now, Lydia, out! Or if you want you can stay but get off my way because I'm not wasting one more second on you!"
Elisabeth had a rather uneventful day in the salon. Uneventful but exhausting as she had a huge amount of the clients. But then it became quite habitual in these days because everyone wanted to have their hair done by her and by her only. Crafty Maxim gave her two girls to help instead of one regular shampooist whom she normally shared with two other stylists. He also arranged her shifts in such a way that she did the most important and eminent customers while less significant and fortunate had to content themselves with overheard pieces of her polite conversation with the clients. Most of them were impertinent enough to ask her direct questions about Superstar or even demand some facts of her nonexistent affair but she was good-natured enough to just smile, deny everything prettily or change skilfully the subject. However the last tactics didn't work well, especially when now and again a deliveryman from the local florist stepped into the salon bringing her baskets of flowers. All the clients livened up each time while Maxim shook his head in the most displeased manner, shrugged his shoulders and sent her dark glances. Elisabeth tried to look a bit guilty but defiant at the same time or at least not to forget to show some reaction. Superstar was back to Hollywood and had no intention to pursue her as she made her point only too clear when she saw him last time. The flowers were ordered by Maxim who was also the director of the show or rather farce and Elisabeth wasn't going to risk their good relationship by refusing to play her part. Also she didn't mind her enormous tips and her increased salary as clever Maxim revised his prices the very next day after Superstar's furious spouse threw a public scandal during the preview.
Later in the day Lydia called her workplace although Elisabeth had warned all her friends that they could do that only in cases of an extreme emergency. What Maxim really hated were the telephone conversations during the shifts.
"What do you think I have to cook?" Lydia asked. "Do you know what he really likes?"
"Moroccan veal," whispered Elisabeth into the receiver nervously, "and don't you ever call me here again!"
Elisabeth felt Maxim's eyes fixing on her back which made her double angry with Lydia and her unnecessary call. That's why she couldn't control her temper and said the last words much louder than she was intended to. The reaction of Maxim at whom she looked guiltily was unexpected: instead of being cross he grinned. Maxim grinned because he knew his customers well. He had no doubts that it wasn't Superstar who was calling but his clientele and even Elisabeth's co-workers were of different opinion and they all looked at her with a revived hope.
Elisabeth sighed and thought that the world went mad. Meanwhile her archenemy Leo whispered "bitch" under his breath. Leo now added to his list of grievances another reason to hate her: he was a great fan of the Superstar and deep in the heart of his hearts believed that one day his idol would come out of the closet and tell everyone that all his wives and women were nothing but a chain of stupid and tragic mistakes.
Elisabeth heard the phone ringing while opening the door of her flat. A few seconds later her mobile which she forgot at home buzzed as well. For the first time Elisabeth noticed how irritating the ringtone was and decided to change the tune as soon as she would find time for that. She said: "One moment, please" into her landline telephone and pressed the green button on the mobile.
"There would be no need to pick up your mobile if you gave me an opportunity to say a word after your "one moment"." Lydia said grumpily.
"Why the hell are you calling on both lines?"
"Because I wasn't sure on which I would catch you faster. Because I left you three messages and you didn't answer a single one. Because your mobile was switched off and because you forbade me to call you into the salon."
"I've just come in and didn't have an opportunity to check my answering machine and also I've left my mobile at home today."
"Why are you so late? I thought you were finishing at seven tonight."
"Yes, but then I went shopping. I have this stupid habit of eating sometimes, you know. And my fridge was quite empty, thanks for you."
"Are you grudging me a couple of sandwiches?"
"No. Just two stones of other foodstuff."
"I couldn't help it. When I'm nervous I eat, eat and eat not even becoming aware of that. When I was at the Medical School I put on at least eight pounds during each exam session. Anyway, I'm not calling you for an idle chat, I want your advice: what do you think is more attractive red or black?"
"Are you re-decorating?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I have two gorgeous long evening dresses and I can't decide which one to wear tonight."
"Where do you go?" Elisabeth asked trying to balance her phone between her ear and shoulder while washing her favourite saucepan off the remains of the soup she cooked around three o'clock at the morning for hungry Lydia."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm expecting Pat this evening, remember?"
"Try be practical, Lydia," said Elisabeth who was dying for a cup of tea and wanted to get rid of her tiresome friend as soon as it was possible, "for how long are you going to keep your clothes on? Let's say last time: what did he do when you returned to the lounge wearing a gallon of Shalimar in an addition to your pyjamas? Did he make himself comfortable in an armchair and began to ask your views on the situation in the Middle East? Or perhaps he was interested in the discussion on whether or not we have to accept more countries in the European Union even if they're very poor which would mean that our tax-payers would have to feed them not mentioning that they all would be here in no time looking for the jobs and better life?"
"What are you talking about?" asked Lydia after a pause.
"Relax, I only read you a paragraph from the newspaper's article. I'm still just a pretty face and am interested in the fate of Europe to the same degree as in who will win the next general elections in Albania."
"Do they have general elections out there?"
"I don't know. My point is: Pat saw you in your clothes for exactly how much time? Fifteen minutes? Ten?"
"Five more like it, maybe even less." Lydia answered rather proudly. "When
I came to the mantelpiece where he was admiring me in my Red Riding Hood costume at the age of three he pulled me closer to him with his left hand as if he wanted me to look at the picture too. Then, when I was side by side with him he simply turned to me and without further words took my top off. Then he said: "You've got a beautiful neck" and kissed me into it. And then we kissed like mad and he was sort of pushing me towards the couch but we didn't make it there that time. We both were too impatient!"
"Lydia, mercy! I've heard that story twice during yesterday evening and three times during the night! I'm hungry and dead tired."
"You're impossible and I hate you. I'm going through crisis, I'm in love and you don't want to share my worries."
"What worries? Red or black?"
"That's too! It's very important to me how I look. Always was. And I'm happy to note that you've begun to work on your appearance as well. No offence, but at school you looked like a pile of garbage."