‘Botox!’ said Charlotte in disbelief. ‘You said you’d never dream of doing anything like that. I thought you hated the idea of poison in your body.’
‘That’s before it was free,’ I replied. ‘The doctor says it’s completely safe.’
‘Well, he would, wouldn’t he?’ said Charlotte. ‘At that price.’
‘And Cal says everybody does it these days,’ I went on. ‘He said it was completely up to me but I thought about it and I thought why not? It only lasts three months or so anyway. He’s very considerate of my feelings,’ I finished dreamily.
‘Probably wants to shag you,’ she said dismissively.
‘I should be so lucky.’
Charlotte looked at me with interest. ‘So you fancy him now, do you?’
I laughed a bit too loudly. ‘No I’m only joking. I’m old enough to be his mother.’
I looked at myself in her kitchen mirror. There was no doubt I didn’t look quite so old now the lines around my mouth had been filled out and while I still had to wait for the full effect of the Botox to take hold, my forehead was already looking smoother as well as feeling strangely stiff.
‘Hmm,’ said Charlotte.
She was still a bit scratchy. I presumed it was about Roger but I didn’t want to ask. He was here now, but I’d had no chance to speak to him alone – in fact, he seemed to be avoiding me. Which made me think he was still seeing this Hannah and listening to her tales of woe.
I was still wishing I could find a way to meet her myself but how on earth would I do that, short of waiting outside the office, where Roger would probably come out with her on the way to their evening sojourn?
I didn’t know her other name and I couldn’t even be sure I would recognise her again. So how could I ever get to speak to her?
In the end it was much easier than I thought.
‘Ugh,’ said Charlotte that weekend as she was tidying piles of paper on her kitchen table. She scanned the piece of card in her hand. ‘Another of Roger’s firm’s bloody ghastly social dos. God save us.’
‘What’s that, then?’ I said, casually.
Charlotte looked at the card again. ‘Senior partner’s retirement drinks. Yuck. Standing around for three hours, drinking mediocre wine, being forced to make polite chit-chat with people I’ve nothing in common with, while they count how many glasses I’ve had and exchange looks every time I go for a fag.’ She pulled a face. ‘And then tell Roger what a character I am.’
‘Could I come?’ I said.
Charlotte looked at me in astonishment. ‘Er – why?’
‘I don’t know. Just fancy it.’
Charlotte gave a disbelieving snort. ‘You fancy spending an evening with Jeremy who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and will try to chat you up, or Gordon who only ever talks about his composting club while his droopy wife – wears white cardigans, say no more – sits there simpering? Or you can be bored to death by Alan the other senior partner – short, fat, bald, halitosis – or his wife who’s built like a tank and wears very tight satin dresses and too much blue eye shadow?’ She reached for her cigarettes.
‘Then there’s the secretary who always, always drinks too much and ends up in the ladies’, sobbing, from which I am usually the one to retrieve her and tell her to buck up, as all the other wives are completely useless and just flap round her making sympathetic noises.’ Charlotte shook her head witheringly and lit up.
I wondered if this secretary could be Hannah. ‘Well, if I came, I could do that instead,’ I said helpfully.’
‘But why would you want to?’
‘Just sounds amusing. And,’ I said, inspiration hitting me at last, ‘because Mike wants me to put together a dummy in-house magazine for a big law firm in the city. It’s supposed to be something they can take home that will appeal to their families too. You know, a bit of corporate bonding – get the wife on side etc – and I need to know the sort of people I’m dealing with. This party could be really useful.’
Charlotte shrugged. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Of course you can come. I’ll tell Roger when he comes back.
‘Will he mind?’
‘He’ll be thrilled.’
Roger hid his feelings of delight well.
‘Really?’ he said, when he and Benson got back from their walk. He looked at me dubiously. ‘What do you want to do that for?’
‘She’s got to write an outline for a magazine for some big law firm,’ said Charlotte. ‘Thinks meeting your lot and all their old trouts will be good research.’
‘I can’t see how,’ said Roger, giving me a look. ‘We’re only a small provincial set-up.’
‘Well, she can come,’ said Charlotte decisively. ‘It will give me someone decent to talk to at least.’
‘Fine,’ said Roger, with what was clearly a forced smile. ‘Yes, of course you can.’
He sat at the end of the table, ostensibly reading the paper, but I could feel the tension radiating off him. Once I glanced down the table to find him looking up at me, a watchful expression on his face. Was he worried about me meeting Hannah?
Charlotte seemed oblivious, chatting on about the rigours of having to have Roger’s mother for Sunday lunch the following day. ‘And I can’t do pork because crackling plays havoc with her teeth; she still goes on about mad cow disease if I give her beef – bit late for her to worry – and then she says, “Oh it’s chicken again – we had this last time, dear.”’
She nodded down the table at Roger who was still reading. ‘And who goes down the pub the minute she arrives? Comes back just long enough to eat and then disappears in front of the television the moment we’ve finished? Ugh, Benson!’ Charlotte stepped backward as the Labrador shook himself vigorously, sending grains of sand in all directions.
‘And now the kids are bigger,’ she went on, ‘they’re as bad. I’m the one trapped here with her. Becky will talk to her for a little while but she soon gets fed up because of the way the old dragon argues about everything …’
There was a thump overhead. As if on cue, Becky burst into the kitchen.
‘Mum, those boys are so annoying. Can you go and tell them to keep out of my bedroom?’
Charlotte rolled her eyes. I stood up.
‘I’ll go and sort them out. Sorry Becky. I must take Stanley home now anyway – he’s got his friend Connor coming to stay.’
I felt Roger’s eyes on me as I walked past him to the door.