Jilly Cooper - Octavia

I was due to move out on the Saturday. The Thursday before, I sat, surrounded by suitcases, poring over the Evening Standard, trying not to cry, and wondering whether ‘Bed sitter in Muswell Hill with lively family, £15 a week, some baby sitting in return’ was worth investigation, when the telephone rang. I pounced on it like a cat. I still couldn’t cure myself of the blind hope it might be Gareth. But it was only Lorna asking if she could come and stay the night. It was the last thing I wanted, but I had a masochistic desire to find out what Gareth was up to.

‘You’ll have to camp,’ I said, ‘I’m moving out the day after tomorrow.’

‘Well, if it’s not too much bother, I’d so adore to see you again.’

She arrived about six o’clock in a flurry of parcels and suitcases.

‘I’ve gone mad buying sexy clothes,’ were her first words. ‘Gareth’s taking me out tonight.’

I couldn’t stand it, sitting in the flat and seeing her get all scented and beautiful for him.

I showed her to her room and then went into my bedroom and telephoned my ex-boyfriend, Charlie, and asked him to take me out.

He was enchanted. ‘God, it’s great to hear you baby. Mountain’s come to Mahomet at last. I won a monkey at poker last night so we can go anywhere you want. I’ll pick you up about nine.’

‘Can’t you get here any earlier?’

‘I’ll try, sweetheart.’

I wandered along to Lorna’s bedroom. She was trying on a new orange dress she’d just bought.

‘Do you think Gareth will like me in this?’ she said, craning her neck to see her back in the mirror.

‘Yes,’ I said truthfully. ‘You look ravishing. I’m going out too by the way, at about nine.’

‘Oh, Gareth’s coming at a quarter to, so you should see him.’

While she was in the bath, the telephone rang. Trembling, I picked up the receiver. Somehow I knew it was going to be Gareth.

‘Lorna’s in the bath,’ I said quickly. ‘Can I give her a message?’

‘Yeah, tell her I’ll be a bit late, around nine-thirty.’

‘All right,’ I said.

‘How are you?’ he asked brusquely.

‘I’m fine,’ I stammered. ‘And you?’

‘Tired, I’ve been working too hard. I’m off to the Middle East with your brother next week, which should be enlightening if nothing else. Have you found somewhere to live?’

‘Yes thanks,’ I said. ‘I’m moving out tomorrow.’

‘What about a job?’

‘That’s fine too. I must go,’ I went on, fighting back the tears. ‘I’ve got so much to do. Goodbye.’ And I put down the receiver.

I can’t stand it, I can’t stand it, I thought in agony.

Lorna walked in, wrapped in a towel, pink from her bath.

‘Oh I feel so much better. I used your Badedas. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘That was Gareth,’ I said. ‘He’s going to be late — about nine-thirty.’

‘Oh goodee, that’ll give me more time to tart myself up.’

Suddenly she looked at me.

‘Octavia, you look awfully pale. Are you all right?’

Tears, embarrassingly hot and prickly, rose to my eyes. I began to laugh, gasped hysterically, and then burst into tears.

‘Octavia! Oh poor love, what is it?’

‘N-nothing. Everything,’ I couldn’t stop now.

‘What’s wrong? Please tell me.’

‘Oh, the usual thing.’

‘You’re mad for someone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well you’re so stunning, he must be mad for you.’

‘He isn’t. He hardly knows I exist.’

‘He couldn’t know you properly then. Here, take my handkerchief.’

‘I’d better go and get ready,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to go out in a minute.’

I put on a black trouser suit with a high mandarin collar and huge floppy trousers. It hung off me. I tied my hair back with a black bow. Were those dry lips and red swollen eyes really mine? Charlie wouldn’t recognize me.

Lorna answered the door when he arrived. She came rushing into my bedroom.

‘He’s absolutely gorgeous. The campest thing I’ve ever seen,’ she said excitedly. ‘I’m not surprised you’re wild about him.’

It was too much effort to explain to her he wasn’t the one.

‘Can you give him a drink?’ I said. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

I hung around, fiddling with my make-up, trying to summon up enough courage to face him. I’d lost all my confidence. Finally I realized if I didn’t get a move on I’d go slap into Gareth.

Charlie looked exquisite, and, to me, absurd. He had already helped himself to a second whisky and was settling down on the sofa to chat up Lorna.

He got to his feet when I came in and pecked me on the cheek.

‘Hullo baby. Playing it in the minor key for a change,’ he said, taking in the black suit, the dark glasses, the drawn-back hair. ‘I like it, it’s great.’

‘Shall we go?’ I said, going towards the door.

‘Already?’ said Charlie. ‘I haven’t finished my drink.’

‘I want to go now,’ I snapped.

‘The lady seems to be in a hurry, so I’ll bid you goodnight,’ said Charlie, theatrically, bowing from the waist to Lorna. ‘I hope you’ll come into the shop one day now you’re in London.’

‘You’ve got a key, haven’t you?’ I said to her. ‘Have a good evening. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Hey, what’s bitten you?’ said Charlie, as we went down in the lift.

It was a hideous evening. In three short weeks I seemed to have grown a world apart from Charlie and his flash trendy friends, waiting round in Tramps all night for something to happen, only interested in being the first ones to latch on to the latest fad. Suddenly their values seemed completely dislocated.

We went to Annabel’s and I couldn’t stand it, then we moved on to the Dumbbells, then on to somewhere else and somewhere else. Finally Charlie took me back to his flat and we played records.

I have to hand it to Charlie; he seemed to realize instinctively that I was at suicide level and didn’t attempt to pounce on me in his usual fashion. Perhaps it had something to do with his having a new girlfriend who was off modelling in Stockholm for a couple of days. I looked at my watch. It was three o’clock.

‘What’s the matter baby?’ he asked. ‘Have you fallen for some bloke at last? I’ve never seen you so piano, you’re not even bitching how bored you are by everything this evening. You look different too.’

He took off my dark glasses.

‘Boy; you do look different. I must say I rather go for the Ave Maria look.’

It would have helped if I could have cried on his shoulder, but I’d gone beyond that stage now, I was just numb with misery.

‘Take me home, please Charlie,’ I said.

Next day, life picked up about half an inch. For an hour I endured the torture of listening to Lorna babbling on at breakfast about the marvellous time she’d had with Gareth.

‘After dinner, we went up to the top of the Hilton for a drink, and looked out over the whole of London, it was so romantic,’ she said, helping herself to a third piece of toast and marmalade. Her mascara was still smudged under her eyes. I hoped it wasn’t sex that had given her such an appetite.

Then she started to ask me awkward questions about the new job I’d lied to Gareth that I’d got.

‘It’s in Knightsbridge,’ I said.

‘Well you must give me the telephone number because you’ll be moving out of here.’

‘I’ll be travelling a lot,’ I said hastily. ‘And they’re always a bit dodgy about personal calls to start off with. I’ll write and tell you.’

‘It sounds marvellous,’ said Lorna, selecting a banana. ‘But if by chance it doesn’t work out, Gareth says there’s a marvellous new agency started up in Albemarle Street called Square Peg. They specialize in placing people who want to branch out in completely new fields.’