I gradually sank into the corner of the sofa, holding the cushion protectively against me, just daring to peep over the top of it, as a cold clammy horror crept up my back.
‘Laura,’ the voiceover chirpily informed us, ‘is fighting 40 all the way.’ And there was the first shot of me, leaning across the table, in the tight red dress, unflattering bulges under my arms, explaining how “horrified” I’d been at the big birthday and how I couldn’t even say the F word. I seemed to be having difficulty saying anything at all. I looked and sounded drunk.
Now here I was again, red-cheeked and sweaty, pounding up and down on the cross-trainer; and there with needles being stuck in my face. I watched numbly as I hauled myself into agonising-looking sit-ups, sat in Sally-Ann’s office with peculiarly dark lips and heavy eye make-up, looking stricken, and again as I twittered excitedly to the doctor over the idea of having my feet pumped up to look younger.
Any shots of me looking fit and fabulous had obviously hit the cutting room floor. When the presenter announced I’d just completed two weeks of my “rejuvenation régime”, I didn’t look glowing or youthful or even particularly thin – I just looked exhausted.
When we got to the dating scene, my whole body went into such a deep cringe it sent my back into spasm. I clutched the cushion ever more tightly, and as soon as I’d caught the first sight of myself leaning lecherously across the table at the bloke with his chest hair on display, I buried my face in it.
Too horrified too watch, too scared not to, I screwed up my eyes and my courage to raise my eyes again, just in time to see myself sashaying down the side of the pool in my bikini, cringing all over again as I wiggled my hips and droopy bottom as though I thought I were 17.
I sat frozen as frame after frame showed me alternately hyper and morose. One minute I was gushing in a strange, high, false voice that sounded nothing like me about facial treatments that might change my life, the next I was slurring across a table, droning on about how awful it was to be old.
I didn’t even remember saying half of it. My face burned as I heard myself talk about Charlotte. ‘She’s bigger than me,’ I announced, my face hard, lipstick too bright on my pursed mouth. Hadn’t I said how beautiful she was too? That wasn’t there.
It was one long, alcohol-fuelled whine. The only time I was seen showing any enthusiasm for anything was when Dr Carling got his needles out. It was so awful I felt numb. Perhaps it would turn out to be one of those weird dreams where it’s so realistic you wake up and think it really happened.
Perhaps this was a horrible figment of my imagination brought on by too much wine and not enough sleep and eating crisps instead of vegetables.
I stared unseeing as the credits went up. I’d worked on enough video scripts to know what a judicious edit can do. I should have remembered they had the power to take only the words they wanted. I recalled instead, that day I’d looked at myself in the mirror – in the soft light – in the wine bar with Cal, and had kidded myself I was still young and sexy.
And I remembered too all that Tanya’s Lenny had said in the green room at the very beginning. Lighting could turn the Madonna into a monster.
This film was my worst nightmare. I’d been stripped away, revealed for what I was – a sad, ageing woman, clawing at her receding youth, desperate to hang on to any last vestiges she could still grab. One who sounded unbalanced and looked totally mad. I pointed the remote control at the TV and snapped it off.
What was Cal going to say now? You were fantastic, babe? You looked great? He wasn’t going to say a word. My phone lay silent on the kitchen table. He’d known what he was doing all along.
I jumped as the land line rang out in the hall. But it wasn’t him. It was Charlotte’s number flashing up on the caller display. I backed away from it. She would be even more disappointed with me now. There’d be no point telling her they’d edited the nice bits out. I’d betrayed her all over again. I sat on the bottom stair and put my head in my hands. What a bloody mess.
I don’t know how long I sat there but when the doorbell rang, it made me jump all over again. Strangely, for a moment it was hope that jolted through my veins. Even though he’d made a fool of me, I still half wanted Cal to turn up after all. To bound in and make it OK again. To tell me that it was the disappointment of him not coming that had made me see the film with a jaundiced eye. That really, I’d been brilliant …
As I began to get up, there was a clatter as a small piece of card came through the letterbox and landed on the rug. I bent to pick it up – would it say sorry I’m late? Was it his idea of a surprise? I couldn’t decide if I’d fall into his arms or punch his lights out. The writing looked vaguely familiar.
Do you fancy a drink?
I opened the door, remembering too late I was in my dressing gown. It was Andrew. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I snapped.
He held up a bottle of red wine, unfazed. ‘Stanley happened to mention he was with his dad this weekend. And I thought you might need a glass of something.’
I glared at him. ‘Why’s that then?’
‘I just saw the programme,’ he said quietly.
I was immediately deflated. And dangerously close to tears. At the mention of Stanley I felt even worse. What would the boys at school say to him now? What had I done to him? I’d promised him I’d sort it but instead I’d failed him in the worst possible way. I tried to make my voice light and failed. ‘Was it that bad?’
‘It wasn’t very kind,’ Andrew said.
I stood back so he could come in, swallowing hard. ‘It’s a nightmare,’ I said. ‘I looked so horrific.’
‘They lit you badly. You don’t look anything like that.’
I looked at him, surprised.
‘I used to do a lot of photography,’ he said. ‘Had my own darkroom and all that caper. People say the camera never lies, but it does. If you take someone with a wide-angled lens, they look wide. If you take them in harsh light, they look harsh.’ He gave a small, rueful smile. ‘They didn’t do well by you.’
I had a rush of emotion at his words. A disturbing blend of anger and embarrassment and disappointment.
‘It’s my fault,’ I said. ‘I should have known.’
I should have known I’d already had enough to drink too, but I still went to the kitchen for clean glasses.
‘Oh,’ said Andrew, hesitating in the doorway, looking at the table with its two empty plates and trays of uneaten food.
‘I was expecting a friend,’ I said, embarrassed to expand any further. ‘He couldn’t come.’
‘Right.’ Andrew looked uncomfortable. I felt him glance again at my attire but couldn’t bring myself to explain.
‘Are you hungry?’ I said instead, trying not to sound bitter. ‘There’s lots to eat.’
Andrew shook his head, taking the corkscrew from me and opening the wine. ‘I should have phoned first,’ he said. ‘But I thought you’d either not answer or say you were all right even if you weren’t.’ He looked at me. ‘And I thought you might need someone to talk to.’
I nodded. ‘That was kind of you,’ I said stiffly. He was being very kind but I still wanted to curl up and disappear. I sat down at the table, taking the glass he held out to me.
‘Things any better with Charlotte?’ he asked.
I shook my head and took a large mouthful of wine. ‘They’ll be even worse now,’ I said miserably. ‘I didn’t just say she was big, I said she was really attractive, but they cut that bit out.’
‘She’ll understand if you explain.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’ I felt my chin wobble.
‘How’s Stanley?’ said Andrew brightly, obviously trying to divert me.
It didn’t work. At the thought of my son I dissolved into tears. ‘He’s going to be so embarrassed – now they’ll all tease him even more. He’s already having a terrible time.’ I stumbled out what he’d told me about Robbie.
Andrew brought his chair close to mine and put a hand on my arm. ‘It will be OK. I’ll make sure he’s OK.’
‘How can you?’ I sniffed, fumbling in my dressing gown pocket for an ancient tissue. ‘He says they do it when you’re not there.’
‘I’ll have a word,’ he said. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
‘I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool,’ I wailed. ‘I got carried away. I believed all their hype. I thought I was going to look fabulous.’
‘You usually do,’ Andrew said matter-of-factly.
I jerked away from him. ‘No I don’t. I’ve been deluding myself – I am the wrong side of 40, with wrinkles and too much body fat. And all I’ve done is made myself look ridiculous trying to be something else.’
‘It will soon be forgotten,’ he said soothingly.
‘No, no, it won’t. I won’t forget it. Every time I think about that film I’ll remember how old and decrepit I am.’
‘Come off it – you’re not 80.’
‘I’m middle-aged. It’s all Daniel’s fault,’ I burst out. ‘He made me feel old and past it and then the film people –’ I couldn’t bring myself to say Cal’s name ‘ made me feel young and attractive again.’
‘You are.’
‘Not like I was in my 20s,’ I cried, anguished.
‘Well, no, none of us are.’
‘They made me think I could turn the clock back and I fell for it.’
‘We have to be realistic.’
He had put his hand back on my arm and now he rubbed it up and down through the towelling of my robe. It felt warm and comforting. Suddenly I felt child-like and pathetic and wished he’d give me a really big hug. I looked into his face. His eyes were a dark green colour I’d never noticed before and they were fixed on mine, full of concern.
‘Seriously,’ he said quietly, ‘you’re a very attractive woman. You don’t look old. You look sexy and curvaceous, and if I might say so –’ He stopped and laughed. ‘Still crumpet!’
I smiled in spite of myself.
‘Haven’t heard that word for a long time.’
He pulled a face and gave my arm a squeeze. ‘It’s a great expression, I think. Sums up the situation perfectly. Although if my wife, Elaine, could hear me, she’d be furious at me for being so un-PC –’
At the mention of his wife, I jerked away from him again and stood up, knocking a foil container of noodles onto the floor. For a moment, in my upset, wine-befuddled state, I’d forgotten he was married. I felt as though I’d been slapped for the second time that night.
‘You shouldn’t be talking to me like that,’ I said, agitated. ‘You’ve got to go.’
‘Sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ve gathered you’ve got someone already. I wasn’t trying to …’
‘It’s not about me ,’ I squawked. ‘It’s you – you’re married. What are you doing here when you’ve got a wife? What would she think if she could hear you?’
‘She wouldn’t much care. I’ve tried to tell you …’
‘Don’t!’ I shrieked. ‘Don’t start doing that stuff. You’ll be telling me she doesn’t understand you next.’
He gave a grin. ‘She doesn’t.’
‘Get out!’ Enraged, I pushed him away from me across the kitchen, just stopping myself from delivering a hard slap while I was about it.
He put his hands up. ‘Let me explain.’
‘Just go!’ I stalked past him down the hall and yanked the front door open. ‘Now.’
He picked up his jacket from the banister and turned to look at me.
‘My wife and I have been having problems for some time,’ he said calmly, ‘and now –’
‘I don’t want to know!’ I yelled. ‘I am so sick of men never being satisfied with what they’ve got. First sign of things not being absolutely perfect and they think it’s fine to come on to some other woman. Well, not this one. I don’t do that stuff.’
Even as I said it, the heat flooded my face. Hadn’t I, just moments ago, been thinking how nice it would feel if Andrew put his arms round me?
Guilt made me angrier than ever. ‘If you’re looking for a bit on the side, you’re looking in the wrong place. So sod off.’
I slammed the door after him. The letterbox opened. ‘I am not trying to have an affair with you,’ he called.
‘Go away.’
I sank back down onto the bottom stair where I’d started. Bloody men. All the bloody same. You couldn’t rely on any of them. Roger, Cal, Daniel, now even kind, reliable Andrew wasn’t the loyal, faithful sort I’d imagined. I’d make sure my lovely Stanley didn’t grow up like that.
At the thought of Stanley and how I’d let him down, the sickness and anxiety swept through my body again, from my solar plexus, right down to my fingertips. I curled up, clutching myself, engulfed in a dark, bottomless, miserable despair.
I was never, ever going to recover from this.