“Amber was very nice,” Leona says, when Vicky is firmly ensconced back at her desk, so happy to be back at work, to be with her colleagues who are more like family than even her friends. “But I have to be honest, she wasn’t you, and she was a bit like a fish out of water.”
They all huddle around her, all dying to know whether being in Highfield was like the television show, whether she was still desperate to get married, what the American housewives thought of her.
“It was great,” Vicky laughs, as a crowd gathers. “Sexy husband, gorgeous huge McMansion, sweet children, and a wardrobe you’d kill for. Three Birkin bags,” she turns to Stella with a grin.
“Three?” Stella attempts to hide her envy. “God, how gauche. Those Americans, can’t do anything by halves.”
“Jealous? Moi?” Leona puts a hand to her chest in affected fashion and shakes her head at Stella. “You fashion editors. You’re all the same. So come on, Vicky,” she turns back to her, “we’re all dying to know if you shagged the husband.”
“You’re a married woman, Leona! How can you ask with such glee?”
“Basically because it’s not my husband, although frankly you’re welcome to have sex with my husband if you want, would take some of the pressure off me.” She rolls her eyes as the others laugh. “I’m not joking,” she adds, with a serious expression as she looks around the room hopefully. “Anyone?”
“As it happens, no, I did not have sex with her husband, and why is that the first question everyone wants to ask?”
“Because he’s gorgeous?” Leona says. “We’ve all seen the pictures.”
“Well, he is gorgeous, but no, we didn’t have sex.”
“Not even a kiss?” Leona persists, and Vicky colors.
“You did! You brazen hussy! You snogged him!” But Leona’s eyes are wide with shock.
“No, I didn’t!” Vicky says.
“So why are you blushing?”
“Because I did quite fancy him, but trust me, he wasn’t interested in me. This is a man who loves his wife, and you’ve met her, she’s gorgeous, why would he even look at me?”
“Darling,” Janelle is standing on the outskirts of the group, listening with amusement, “just because a man has filet mignon at home, doesn’t mean he doesn’t fancy a McDonald’s every now and then.”
The group laughs, and immediately disperses to appear busy. Vicky whispers to a giggling Ruth, “Am I going completely crazy or did our editor just liken me to McDonald’s?”
“I know. I can’t actually believe she said that.” Ruth’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. “I’d never say you were a McDonald’s. Roast chicken, perhaps, but not McDonald’s.”
“Roast bloody chicken indeed. I’d forgotten what it was like here. Should have stayed in Highfield.”
But Vicky couldn’t be happier to be back. Her week is a whirlwind of catching up, meeting with journalists, checking the copy for the next issue. The following week, when she’s caught her breath and America is already beginning to feel like a distant memory, she picks up the phone and calls Amber, and is nevertheless surprised when Richard picks up the phone.
“Hi, Richard,” Vicky says. “It’s Vicky.”
“Vicky! How are you?” Richard’s voice is as jovial and warm as it has always been.
“I’m great. Happy to be home. How are you? I’ve been thinking about all of you so much. I miss the kids!” She wants to ask if he’s told Amber yet, but doesn’t dare.
“They miss you too, although they’re pretty happy to have their mom back.”
“How is Amber?”
“She’s doing great, although I have to tell you it’s been crazy since she got back. We’re listing the house, and we’ve found a new house to buy, and a business, and everything’s insanely busy.”
“You’ve found a house? And a business?” Vicky is in shock. “Already?”
“You know what? I’ll let Amber tell you all about it,” Richard says. “Hang on, I’ll just get her.”
“But that’s unbelievable!” Vicky says, as Amber finishes telling the story, of how they went to Appletree Orchard and it’s a little disorganized, needs quite a lot of work, but could be amazing. “Your life will be completely changed.”
“I know,” Amber smiles. “And I have to thank you for it. I’m obviously resigning from the League, and you know what? I can’t wait! I can’t wait to spend more time with my husband, with my kids, and get involved in a business again.”
“How is it, having Richard at home?”
Amber sighs. “Right now he’s driving me a bit crazy. He keeps coming in asking what’s for lunch, or asking where I’m going, or why is Deborah phoning again when I’ve already spoken to her three times today.”
Vicky laughs. “Are you sure you’re ready to go into business with him?”
“You know what? If it doesn’t work we can always do something else. Working at Poise! just made me miss working. It made me miss doing something other than organizing fashion shows and galas. And Vicky, you should see this place. We flew up there to see it, and even though it’s kind of overgrown and messy, it could be so beautiful, and I honestly don’t think I would have had the courage to change my life like this if I hadn’t done the piece, so thank you.”
“Oh God, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad it all worked out, although I’m also glad that it’s been so life-changing for you—it will make wonderful copy. Speaking of the copy, do you have anything ready yet for me to read?”
“I do,” Amber smiles. “I just have to do one more read-through, but I did as you asked: a thousand words.”
“And you’ve put in the stuff about Richard losing his job, and buying a business and everything?”
“Well, I said he left his job. I didn’t want to put in about him being laid off six months ago. Do you mind? I just know his ego couldn’t take that, and in the future if he ever does decide to go back to Wall Street it would be terrible to have that in print. I haven’t lied, I just haven’t told the whole truth.”
“Okay, don’t worry. It will be fine, just get it over to me as soon as possible,” Vicky says, realizing she’ll have to adjust her own copy somewhat, remove the paragraphs about finding Richard at the aquarium, but it’s fine; it isn’t the crux of the story. “Give your delicious kids a big hug and kiss from me,” Vicky says. “And tell Jared I haven’t forgotten about the dalek. I’ve already sent one to him and he should get it any day.”
“A what?”
“It’s a British thing,” Vicky laughs. “I got him hooked on stories about a TV show called Dr. Who. It’s not quite as sophisticated as Star Wars, but close.”
“Is this why he keeps walking around jerkily saying, ‘Exterminate. Exterminate’?” Amber asks with a laugh.
“I’m afraid I’m guilty,” Vicky says. “Now get back to finishing the piece and I’ll put an advance copy in the post as soon as I have it.”
“Vicky?” Ruth calls out from her desk. “Huge Anus on the phone for you. Do you want to call him back?”
“What?” Leona splutters from the other side of the desk.
“I know. Poor bloke. He’ll tell you his name is Hugh Janus, but everyone calls him Huge Anus. Thanks, Ruth. I’ll take it.”
“So the queen of swapping lives returns,” Hugh’s voice comes down the phone. “How was it?”
“Lonely,” Vicky says, realizing that it was. That she missed this far more than she even knew at the time. “And it’s good to be home.”
“Has Janelle filled you in? That we’re going ahead with the documentary, but we’re doing another ad when your piece goes in, looking for two more people to swap lives, but this time both in England to keep the budget down.”
“That’s great, Hugh. And kind of a relief not to have my fifteen minutes of fame. Not sure I could deal with that.”
“Well, the reason I’m calling is to see if I can make a lunch date with you. I’ve got a meeting with the head of documentaries next week, and I need to make a presentation about the show, and for that I need to know more about your experience. I’ve already left a message for Amber in the States, and I’d love to meet up with you sooner rather than later.”
“Sounds great.” Vicky flicks through her diary, surprised to see how busy this week is. “Oh shit,” she says. “It looks like they’ve saved everything up for when I got back. This week looks crazy. I’m just not going to be able to do it. When’s your meeting? Maybe I could do next week.”
“Tuesday.”
Vicky shakes her head. “It’s not going to work.”
“Okay. Dinner, then? What about dinner?”
“Sure. Dinner would be fine.”
“Okay. How about Thursday?”
“Can’t. Got a preview I have to cover on Thursday.”
“Wednesday?”
“Nope.” Vicky is beginning to realize dinner doesn’t look quite so good either. “Actually, dinner isn’t that easy either, although…” she hesitates. “I know it’s short notice but I could do tonight…”
“Great!” Hugh enthuses. “Locanda Locatelli at eight o’clock?”
“You can get a table at Locanda Locatelli at eight o’clock on a few hours’ notice?” Vicky’s impressed.
“It’s not about what you know, it’s who you know.”
“And presumably, Hugh they know too,” Vicky quips.
“Exactly. I’ll see you there.”
“Great,” says Vicky, and puts down the phone.
Hugh stands up from the table and gives Vicky the obligatory double kiss. “You look great,” he tells her, and she shakes her head in denial, having come straight from the office and not having had time to change or even freshen up.
This morning she decided she was going for cute, mostly because she didn’t have time to wash her hair, so she pulled it into pigtails, which she knows women her age shouldn’t really do but Kylie Minogue does it and gets away with it, and frankly if it’s good enough for Kylie Minogue it’s good enough for her. She’s in a gray ruffled-edge cardigan with a soft pink gypsy skirt and tan ballet pumps. The perfect office uniform. Admittedly, had she known she’d be at such a smart restaurant this evening, she would have worn something more sophisticated, something more Amber-like, but the lovely thing about living in London is that she knows it doesn’t matter, that one table might be filled with men in suits, and another with people in jeans, no one caring that much what anyone else looks like.
“I keep expecting everyone in the restaurant to turn around and look me up and down to check out what I’m wearing.” She grins at Hugh as she sits down.
“Why would they do that?”
“That’s what they do in Highfield. When you walk into a restaurant for lunch, all the women turn around just to make sure they’re wearing more expensive clothes.”
“But I thought Highfield was in the country.”
“No. It’s the suburbs,” Vicky emphasizes the word. “It’s limbo-land, neither the city nor the country. Very strange.”
“Not like the suburbs here?”
“No, not at all. Everyone’s very stressed and busy and rushing their children around to make sure they fulfill their genius potential…”
“I take it all the children have genius potential?” Hugh grins.
“But of course. There are no average children in the suburbs.” Vicky grins back. “Who ever heard of anything so ridiculous! So it ought to be peaceful and countrylike, because there are trees and meadows, and lovely winding country lanes, but everyone’s always rushing and honking their horns and trying to keep up with everyone else, so it’s all rather exhausting.”
“Sounds like a nightmare. Actually, it sounds like London.”
“No. Not like London. Probably more like Manhattan.”
“I love Manhattan,” Hugh says. “Haven’t been there for years. One of the reasons why I was hoping we’d be able to do Swapping Lives with you was to go back to Manhattan.”
“Have you spent much time there?”
Hugh nods. “I had an American girlfriend when I was at university. She was a true New Yorker, from the Village, went to Stuyvesant High School, and I used to fly out and see her all the time.”
“What happened to her?”
“We lost touch,” he says sadly. “I do Google her from time to time, but Lara was incredibly jealous of previous girlfriends, couldn’t handle me being friends with them, so I lost touch with all of them, which was a shame because some of them became real friends.”
“I’ve never understood that,” Vicky says.
“What?”
“That whole jealousy insecurity thing. I mean, if you didn’t want to be with them, you wouldn’t be. How can someone in the past threaten what you have now?”
“I agree,” Hugh says. “Just one of the many reasons why it wasn’t meant to be.”
“This is your long-term girlfriend?”
“Was,” Hugh corrects her.
“So when did you break up?”
“I moved out about three weeks ago. Probably just about the time you went off to America. We’re still supposed to be seeing each other, trying to make it work, but I can’t see the point. Maybe this is naive, but when it’s right it’s right, and after seven years together if it isn’t right, why keep trying?”
“I’m sorry,” Vicky says. “It must be hard after seven years.”
“It is hard, but I’ve known for a while we were never going to get married. I knew she wanted to, and she was desperate for a child, but I could never see myself having a child with her. I still don’t know exactly why, because I did love her. I suppose a part of me will always love her, but I just could never see us spending the rest of our lives together, and I couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing that. Oh God, will you listen to me? I should just shut up. Tell me about you. What’s going on in your love life?”
Vicky smiles ruefully. “Nothing to tell,” she says. “The guy I was seeing who I thought I really liked is now shagging a major Hollywood star and I had to find out from a girl while I was in America. Bastard didn’t even have the decency to tell me himself.”
“Jamie Donnelly,” Hugh says.
Vicky stares at him, her mouth open. “How did you know?”
“I saw all that chemistry between the two of you when we ran into him that day we were having lunch, remember?”
“Yes, well, said chemistry didn’t amount to very much. Other than that I have a hot date coming up with Bill-the-chicken-man, and that’s it.”
“Bill-the-chicken-man?” Hugh cracks up.
“Yes. Bill-the-chicken-man, and I don’t see why you’re laughing, Huge An—”
“Oh all right, all right.” Hugh raises his hands in defeat. “No need to get nasty. But who on earth is Bill-the-chicken-man?”
“He’s a divorced father of two who lives in Somerset near my brother and sister-in-law.”
“Are you interested?”
Vicky shrugs and blushes slightly. “He’s got a sexy bum,” she says eventually with a grin. “And he seems like a nice guy. He’s got a great smile,” she adds, wondering what else to say.
“Well, that’s a good start,” says Hugh, smiling, and Vicky suddenly notices that Hugh’s smile is not so bad either. In fact, why had she not noticed before how attractive Hugh is? She sits a little straighter, and brushes her hair behind her ears. Not that he’s interested. He’s just split up with his girlfriend of seven years. Stop it, she tells herself. He’s got to have a rebound relationship first, and he’s not even ready for that.
“What are you having?” Hugh asks, as the waiter hovers over them.
“Hmmm? Oh, sorry.” Vicky blushes, lost in thought as she gazes at Hugh Janus. “Can you give me a couple more minutes? I was miles away.”
Two bottles of wine later Hugh and Vicky are still talking animatedly, each one constantly interrupting the other, each with a funnier story to tell. Neither of them is able to stop smiling, and Vicky realizes that she hasn’t had this nice a time in months.
Hugh walks Vicky home, weaving their way through the back streets toward her flat, both of them still talking until the awkward silence descends as they reach Vicky’s front door.
I fancy him, she thinks with a start, as they stand there, both ever so slightly drunk, both smiling at the other, but I shouldn’t ask him in. It’s too soon. He’s just come out of a relationship. I’m not going to do this. And I’m definitely not going to sleep with him. I’m going to play hard to get.
“Do you want to come in?” Vicky hears the words come out of her mouth before she can stop them.
There’s a silence. “I’d love to,” Hugh says eventually. “But I’d better not.”
Vicky starts fumbling awkwardly in her bag for her key to hide her disappointment, and Hugh places a hand on her arm to still her.
“I really would love to,” he says, looking into her eyes with a smile. “I’ve had a fantastic time tonight. Look, I’m going to be up to my eyes this weekend doing the presentation, but can we do this again?”
“Sure,” Vicky says, still embarrassed by her perceived rejection, turning to go inside. “Call me.”
“Wait. How about next Thursday night? I’ll pick you up here? Eight o’clock?”
“Sounds great!” The smile on her face is both relieved and real.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Hugh says, and he leans forward and gives her a quick, but soft, kiss on the lips, and pulling back with a regretful smile he waves and walks away.
“Guess what?” Kate is on the phone first thing the next morning, her voice full of excitement.
“What? More chickens laying more eggs? You’ve added a cow so the children can get their own milk?”
“Hmm, not a bad idea, but no, that’s not why I’m calling. Guess who I bumped into just now at the post office.”
“Bill-the-chicken-man?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Oh Kate, don’t be so silly. Who else would it be?”
“Well anyway, he was asking after you, and whether you were coming down this weekend, and I said I didn’t know, so he asked for your number. Do you mind that I gave it to him? It’s just that he seemed really interested, and I had to tell you.”
“I don’t mind at all. And yes, I probably will come down this weekend. But…I also had kind of a date last night.” Vicky smiles at the memory.
“You can’t have a date!” Kate says firmly. “You have to marry Bill-the-chicken-man.”
“First of all I don’t have to marry anyone,” Vicky laughs. “And second, it wasn’t exactly a date, but he kissed me good-bye on the lips, and we’re going out next Thursday.”
“With or without tongues?” Kate asks suspiciously.
“Without!” Vicky exclaims in horror. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“I know exactly what kind of girl you are,” Kate laughs. “That’s why I asked.”
“Well anyway. He’s really nice.”
“Oh but please don’t fall in love with him. I bet his bum’s not nearly as sexy as Bill’s.”
“Actually it’s not, but I’m not in love with anyone at the moment. I’m just having fun, and it’s lovely to have so much attention, particularly given that I’ve wasted the last few months with that bastard Jamie Donnelly.”
“Oh you’re making me miss being single,” Kate moans. “It’s so exciting, having all these lovely men.”
“You don’t know that they’re all lovely. The bastard Jamie Donnelly definitely wasn’t. But I agree,” Vicky smiles, “right now I love being single, and I wouldn’t change places with anyone for all the money in the world.”
“The piece is wonderful!” Janelle calls Vicky into her office and pushes a preview issue of the magazine at her.
“Swapping Lives: Could you step into another person’s life? Wear her clothes, live with her husband, go out with her friends? We sent single Vicky Townsley, features editor of Poise!, over to the country that spawned the hit show Desperate Housewives to see if she could live the life of a married woman. And Desperate Housewife Amber Winslow flew over to Vicky’s hip London flat to try and live the life of a single girl. Who was happier? Is the grass greener on the other side? Read on and find out.”
On one side is a photograph of Vicky, Eartha on her lap, glass of wine in hand, curled up on the sofa in her stylish flat. On the other side is Amber sitting next to the swimming pool, Richard grinning behind her, Gracie and Jared on her lap, Ginger lying at her feet, all of them looking like the perfect American family.
Looking at the picture, Vicky feels a pang. Even now, even knowing what she knows, the grass still looks just a little bit greener, but as she starts to read the article, she realizes that just because the grass looks greener doesn’t necessarily mean that it is, and although her garden may be small, her flowers not yet blooming, her lawn just getting ready to renew itself after a drought, her grass isn’t so bad.
And who knows, with a little bit of fertilizer and some tender loving care, from Bill-the-chicken-man or Hugh Janus, or perhaps someone entirely new she has yet to meet, her grass may turn out to be on the very best side of all.