Blokebusters Read online

  ‘LARRY PINK FOUND!’ The headline screamed at her and underneath was a photo of her and Matt. On the front page! She put her hand to her mouth. It was a nice photo of them in evening clothes. It looked like the Bailey Martin Christmas party. It was the Bailey Martin Christmas party. Matt’s shirt collar was twisted and she wondered why she hadn’t flattened it. Her eyes wouldn’t focus to read the accompanying article but she skim read it picking out snippets such as, ‘alias used by Matthew Brown’, and ‘assisted by his glamorous wife Georgia’.

  “Glamorous!” she exclaimed before folding the paper shut and sprinting up the stairs.

  “Hey wench – where’s my breakfast?”

  “Look at this!” It dawned on her that the men outside were journalists.

  “Jesus Christ!” Matt exhaled as he read. “They know everything. It’s that bloody Leo! He’s sold us down the river – it’s his paper. Look – they even boast it’s an exclusive story.”

  “I’m phoning Fi, let her know exactly what I think of her boyfriend.” Georgia stormed into Matt’s office and sat heavily. She called Fiona.

  Leo was asleep on his stomach. Fiona watched him, worried that he’d fall out the bed. He was like a cat in that he slept draped on the edge of things. One arm hung down towards the floor. He looked very contented. The phone rang and fearing it might wake him, she ran to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Fi – my old friend Fi.” Georgia sounded arsey, Fiona knew her well enough to recognise her moods. “Had a nice time with loverboy last night? Is he there with you now?”

  “He’s asleep. What’s this about?” Fiona asked. Just because Georgia’s relationship was going through a rough patch she didn’t have to take it out on her.

  “I suppose he’s kept you too busy to read the papers – or rather paper, this morning?”

  “Spit it out – I’ve only just woken up. I can’t handle sarcasm.”

  “Your man, the bloke who you believed could be ‘the one’ has used us. I recommend you buy a copy of the newspaper he works for, roll it up very tight, and shove it somewhere he won’t forget it in a hurry.” Georgia slammed the phone down on her. Fiona wasn’t sure what she was on about. She picked her newspapers up from the doormat; since Blokebusters had become interesting to the media she had all the tabloids delivered every day. She flicked through until she reached the Mirror and suddenly understood why Georgia was so upset.

  “Oh no. No. Please no,” she whimpered. The story didn’t bear his name but who else could have put it together in such detail? Her limbs were numb. She’d truly believed Leo was going to be her partner for life. She’d never loved anyone so much before. It was like she had an iron bar sitting in her stomach. She went back into the bedroom; he was awake and grinning at her.

  “Wondered where you’d gone. If you think I’m letting you out of bed this early you’ve got another thought coming.” He noticed her ashen face. “What’s up? Are you all right?”

  “You’ve got ten minutes to get dressed and get out of my flat. If you’re not gone by then I’m calling the police.” She shook her head at him. “I trusted you.”

  “You’re serious?” He squinted at her. His eyes scanned the room in panic. “Why?”

  “Why? Like you don’t know? Don’t play me for a fool – you’re a bloody hack not an actor! Get out – I never want to see you again.” She turned on her heel and left the room.

  He jumped out of bed and pulled his clothes on before joining her in the kitchen.

  “Fi – I’m confused. I don’t understand. We had a terrific time last night – what’s happened that you’re threatening me with police? Explain?”

  She wouldn’t look at him and pointed to the newspaper. He picked it up and read it. He was a good actor. If she didn’t know better she’d reckon his shock was genuine.

  “Oh my God – you think I wrote this!”

  “At last he gets it!”

  “I didn’t write it – I swear. I knew nothing about it – they’ve taken me off the Blokebusters story because I couldn’t come up with anything – I’ve been researching a story about the minimum wage for the past week. I swear.” He held his hands up.

  “Get out.”

  “Fi… listen to me!”

  “Get out.” She pushed him towards the door.

  “You’re angry – you’re being irrational – I didn’t write it.” His eyes were wide, protesting his innocence.

  “I never want to see you again.” She shoved him out of the door and locked it behind him.

  “Shit!” he shouted as he stood in the corridor. How could he make her believe him? He’d get whoever did write that story to admit it to her. But how could he do that without revealing he could’ve written it weeks ago if he’d so desired? He was in a no-win situation. If he proved his innocence to Fi it would cost him his job; if he kept his job he’d never convince Fi.

  Fiona sat at her kitchen table and ate a packet of chocolate digestives without tasting any of them. Tears wouldn’t come. The end of another relationship was as inevitable as the sun rising.

  *

  “There’s more than before,” Matt noted, peering out of the window for the umpteenth time. “What are we going to do?”

  “We need to go to the supermarket – we’ve got to eat.” Georgia sat at her dressing table trying to put her hair into an elaborate up-do. Matt glanced at her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The paper called me glamorous. I can’t go out there looking a state.”

  Matt marvelled at her vanity. She put her sunglasses on and stood next to him. She looked stunning in a smart navy trouser suit with sparkly crystal drop earrings.

  “How do I look?”

  “You’ll be the best-dressed woman at the cheese counter.”

  By the time they left the house, the neighbours had complained about the commotion and there was a policeman standing on their drive making sure nothing untoward took place. Georgia had added a powder blue pashmina to her suit and swept out of the house looking like a film star. Matt ambled after her wearing his usual t-shirt, jeans, jacket and bemused expression.

  The noise of the cameras clicking and the journalists shouting questions at them was disorientating. Not that she realised it, but Georgia was the reason they were there. Yes, it was interesting to find out the truth about Larry Pink but Matt wasn’t the truth they’d hoped for. However, the fact he wasn’t gay and had a drop-dead gorgeous wife who had been the business’s arch-seductress was an interesting angle and her photo would be plastered across virtually every newspaper.

  “Georgia – is it true you’ve been offered a million pounds to pose nude for Playboy?”

  “No comment,” she said as if she was born to it. Matt frowned and hoped it wasn’t true.

  “Matthew – why did you let your wife seduce other men?”

  “Ehm… I… oh yes – no comment.”

  “Georgia – we’ve spoken a lot to Jeff Cole. He says that you’ve been after him for years. What’s your response?”

  Matt almost swallowed his tongue. Georgia moved close to the journalist and removed her sunglasses, pleased to hear the cameras up their rate of clicking, and smiled sweetly at him.

  “If Jeff Cole had slept with half the women he claims, Mick Jagger would be phoning him up and asking for tips. He’s a fantasist. But it’s understandable – he hasn’t ever been particularly successful with the opposite sex. Most of the office thought he was gay. Look at me, gentlemen.” Matt noticed that they were all keen to comply. “Do I look that desperate?” She smiled and returned to the car. He unlocked the car and they both got in.

  “You loved every minute of that.”

  “I’ve had my fifteen minutes of fame – I’m bored with it now,” she lied.

  They loaded their trolley with comfort food. Matt grew uncomfortable at the whispers and pointing they attracted. Georgia didn’t even seem to notice. He heard a few comments along the lines of, ‘What’s she doing wit
h a bloke like that?’ and felt many of his insecurities stepping to the fore. He fumbled to pick up a chocolate pudding dessert and pretended to read the label, his cheeks burning in shame. She took it from him and put it in trolley, before cupping his face and kissing him. Their audience withdrew to a discrete distance.

  “There isn’t one person here whose opinion I value – other than you of course.” She wiped her lipstick from his lips. “If you’re going to let this bunch of fools upset you then I’m disappointed in you to be honest.”

  He nodded. She pinched his bottom.

  “Go and pick some champagne – we’ve got some celebrating to do!”

  *

  Fiona curled up in a ball on her sofa and wanted everything to go away. The article focused on Matt and Georgia but she was mentioned too. It listed her name, her job, and her physical differences to Georgia. It was humiliating. Her phone rang and she ignored it; her answerphone clicked into life and Leo’s voice burst down the line.

  “Fi – I’ve read the story – I didn’t write it. Surely you believe me? I’d never describe you as boyish and flat-chested. I think you’re gorgeous. You’re not flat-chested. It only proves someone other than me wrote it. I love your beautiful breasts – they’re like pears cut in half. Perfect. Please pick up – talk to me.” He paused, waiting to hear whether she would. After a few seconds of silence he sighed, “I love you Fi. I was hoping you did me. I was going to suggest we move in together – I was going to ask you over dinner tonight, I —” The answerphone reached its capacity and cut him off. She deleted all messages.

  When Matt and Georgia arrived home, the press had gone. They had their photos and quotes and had moved on to haunt the next people on their list. As Georgia opened the front door the phone rang.

  “Hello? Mum! Yes – it was a nice photo of him wasn’t it! You wouldn’t recognise him now – he’s had a lovely haircut – he looks like Cary Grant!” Matt, unloading the boot, shook his head at the compliment. He looked about as much like Cary Grant as Donald Duck did. Georgia twirled the phone wire around her fingers.

  “Yes – we couldn’t tell you… we wanted to… we’re going to sell – we’ve been made an offer.” Matt carried the bags into the kitchen trying to affect an ‘I’m not eavesdropping’ air but he was glued to every word, desperate for a clue as to which contract she’d sign. Georgia finished her call and went upstairs to change out of her best suit.

  *

  “Do you want help putting this away?” he asked.

  Whenever he asked like that, she knew he had something else he’d rather be doing.

  “I can do it,” she said.

  “Only I’ve some broccoli that might be ready for eating. And the ground could do with a good digging over after the recent rain.”

  “You go and do that then.” She smiled to herself as he bolted for the door. Gyp jumped up onto the worktop and she stroked him. He rubbed his face against her hand and she picked him up, cuddling him close.

  “Your mummy and daddy are going to be very rich. All because your daddy’s a clever man.”

  Until she said it out loud she hadn’t realised it was that simple. She became engrossed watching Matt dig, fascinated by how much physical effort and mental concentration he dedicated to it. Gyp wriggled to get free and she absent-mindedly put him on the worktop. Matt held a fat crown of broccoli, admiring it. She drank in the tender way he held it, the gentleness in his fingers. Funny how some men seemed born nurturers while others could only destroy. The doorbell forced her to break her vigil and she went to the front door.

  “Joshua!” He looked beyond handsome in a dark suit and pale blue shirt. She could only see half of him, the rest hidden by the enormous bouquet of roses he held. Each rose was a different colour. It created a striking display.

  “Thought I’d come and see if you’d made a decision yet.”

  “You’d better come in,” she said, unsure whether it was a good idea.

  “Is Matthew home?”

  “In the garden.” She walked back to the kitchen and heard him follow.

  “These are for you. I wasn’t sure which colour you liked so picked one of each.” He held them out like a matinee idol, confident that Matt hadn’t told her about their discussion; she wouldn’t have let him in the house if he had.

  “Thanks.” She put them on the worktop.

  “You’re looking more beautiful than I remembered.” His honeyed accent made compliments sound ten times better than they should.

  “Thanks.”

  Joshua’s gaze travelled out to Matt in the garden.

  “Beats me how anyone can find that fun.”

  Georgia followed his eye line to Matt turning the earth, his face red from the effort.

  “Have you seen the paper?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you forgive me?”

  “It was you?” she gasped and hoped Fiona hadn’t done anything silly.

  “Well, not really. I didn’t speak to the press. But I kinda let a couple of things slip to your colleague, Jeff Cole. Maybe he spoke to them?” He shrugged. Even though she wanted to strangle him she had to admit that he could’ve taught master classes in sexy shrugging. “Thought it might focus your mind a little.” He stroked her arm lightly. “Y’see I’m not like Matthew. If I want something I make it happen. I don’t sit back and hope it falls into my lap. Or my bed.”

  “I think you should go – I don’t want Matt to know you’re here.” Her blood was cold in her veins at the depth of betrayal she felt. He claimed to love her. What a joke.

  “What’s a poofter?” he asked and she was momentarily wrong-footed by the unpredictability of the question. He smiled, “Only Jeff asked me if I was one.”

  She told him with great relish. He shrugged it off.

  “Both contracts are with Brown-Thorpe lawyers. The contracts are at their Chancery Lane office and the lawyer who is waiting for you to pay him a visit is Andrew Hopkins.”

  “I want the contracts amended.”

  “How?”

  “Seven million or eleven million.”

  “Sure.” His eyes bored into her. “May I ask why?”

  “You may.” She held his gaze.

  His face spread into a wide grin.

  “Why?”

  “I want Emily to receive a million – we couldn’t have kept going without her help.”

  “I’ll contact him first thing Monday morning and get the amendment made.”

  “You do that.” She glanced at Matt; he was stretching his back. “Now leave.”

  “I love it when you treat me mean.” He kissed her softly on the mouth and left. She closed the front door after him and frantically wiped her lips, furious that she’d let him do it. He must’ve realised the chaos he’d bring to her life, shopping her to the press like that. It wasn’t the action of a loving man. He’d thrown her to the lions to get what he wanted. Nurturer or destroyer was what it boiled down to. Matt was in the kitchen when she went back, staring at the bouquet.

  “Who are these from?”

  “Joshua Daniels. Friendly reminder that he wants the contract signed.”

  Matt studied her face then looked back sadly at the flowers. However much he tried he’d never have Joshua’s style. What woman’s head wouldn’t be turned at being pursued by someone like that?

  “I could probably grow you some roses if you wanted,” he said quietly. “If I cut back on the number of marrows I grew I’d have space. I’d grow you more than are in that bunch.”

  “I’m sure you could – only you’d grow them better.” She stroked his back. “Is that your broccoli?”

  He nodded and handed her the spears. She held it like her bridal bouquet.

  “It’s great,” she said stroking the florets. Matt sensed she might be on the brink of a decision.

  “What a loser.” He tapped the cellophane of the bouquet. “Doesn’t he know that the way to a girl’s heart is to present her with a pot of earth or a bunch of b
roccoli? Any fool can buy flowers – where’s the romance or imagination in that?”

  “Quite right,” she nodded. “Christ – I forgot!” She dashed to the phone, still holding the broccoli and called Fiona.

  “Fi – it’s me – pick up, this is urgent.”

  Fiona moved sluggishly to the phone and answered.

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t Leo who exposed us. It was Joshua Daniels – he gave all the info to Jeff at work and he grassed us up to the press. You haven’t done anything rash to Leo have you?”

  “I’ve dumped him,” Fiona wailed.

  “Well make it up with him. He’s an innocent man.”

  Georgia finished the call and felt Matt’s arms snake around her stomach. It was a long time since he’d held her like that. His chin rubbed against her neck.

  “Are you going to keep hold of my broccoli all day or can I have it back?” His tongue was hot on her neck and her knees buckled enough for him to gain confidence from it. He turned her round.

  “We’re going to be OK, aren’t we?”

  She nodded, more out of hope than certainty.

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Fiona realised she had some serious apologising to do and prayed it wasn’t too late. A phone call wasn’t acceptable. She had to do it in person. She drove to Leo’s flat but he wasn’t home. She sat in her car waiting for him. After five minutes she grew impatient and decided to text him.

  Am waiting outside your flat with large spoon to eat humble pie. I’m so sorry.

  It started to rain and the noise of the drops hitting the windscreen irritated her. Five minutes later her phone beeped.

  You assume I’ll forgive? You hurt me.

  She couldn’t blame him for being frosty.

  Almost six hours since I’ve seen you. Missing you. Am sitting in cold car. Could really fancy a nice kiss and cuddle.

  She didn’t get to send the message as someone tapped on her window. Opening the window cautiously, she saw a drenched Leo peering in at her.