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Moodily, I begin packing away the dresses. “Look, I don’t really want to talk about this, okay? I don’t have time for relationships, especially not after what happened with Jack Parker, plus I’m too busy working. Like I said, we’re just friends, nothing more.”
“All right, if you say so.” Mum rolls her eyes and sensibly decides to drop the subject. “By the way, when am I going to see some of your photographs?”
“What photographs?”
“From your photo shoots, silly. My baby is a top model and I’ve yet to see any of your pictures in the magazines.”
“That’s because they haven’t been printed yet,” I say quickly. “Photo shoots often take place months before they are featured in a publication. You just need to give it time.”
“Yes, but you must have a portfolio that I can see, surely?”
“Yes, of course I’ve got one, but it’s kept at the modelling agency so I can’t show it to you right now. But I promise I will show you some pictures soon.”
“Great! Can’t wait.” Quietly, she returns to the sink, takes down a vase from the kitchen cupboard and proceeds to fill it with water. As she does so, the house phone starts ringing. “Darling, can you get that please? I’m a little tied up.”
“Sure, no problem,” I say, pleased for the diversion. Hurriedly, I race into the hall and pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“I just needed to hear your voice,” Alex drawls. “I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t hold out any longer. I’m missing you like crazy, my beauty.”
“Oh my God,” I hiss, looking furtively over my shoulder to make sure Cynthia is out of earshot. “Where are you? Are you outside?”
“No, I’m at home, waiting patiently for you. Hobbs is coming to pick you up tonight as arranged. Did you like the presents I sent?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer, nervously playing with the phone cord. “The shoes and dresses are beautiful. Thanks so much, I-I love them.”
“Which one did you like best?”
“Um, the one with the tiger print.”
“I thought you would. Wear it tonight. You’re going to look stunning. Youarestill coming tonight, aren’t you? My dick is throbbing for you and I’m just longing to taste the sweetness of your pussy.”
“Jess, who is it?” my mother calls from the kitchen. “Is it Erin?”
“No, it’s just a sales call,” I shout back. Then, lowering my voice I say, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can come tonight. Something’s come up and I don’t think I can make it.”
“What do you mean?” There’s a note of danger in Alex’s tone. “You’re not trying to cancel on me, are you?”
“I just…I’m not sure tonight is such a good idea.”
“Fine. Would you prefer it if I came to collect you myself instead of Hobbs? I’m more than happy to drive over there now and knock on your front door. Your mother and I can have a little chat about who bought those plane tickets.”
“No, wait! Please don’t do that. Okay, okay, I’ll come. But send Hobbs, please.” My back stiffens as I hear Freddie’s approaching footsteps. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.” Before Alex can respond, I hastily put the phone down. Shit! My heart is thudding like a Jack hammer.
Jesus Christ, that was intense. He’s such a bloody bastard. He’s got me like a cornered rat, and he knows it. This is such a tangled web; how the heck will I ever escape?
The next few hours drag on painfully as I count down the minutes until seven pm. It’s a struggle to behave normally around my family, and I find that I’m irritable and short-tempered with Freddie, which is totally out of character for me. I’m so nervous I’m constantly wiping away tears of frustration. Eventually, at just before five, Cynthia and Freddie leave the house to visit Erin at her flat in Balham and I tell them I will be going out clubbing tonight with Amina and not to wait up for me.
Once they’ve gone, I collapse on my bed, relieved I will finally have some peace for a couple of hours to try and sort out this madness. When Hobbs arrives, I would prefer my mother not to be here, so I don’t have to answer any awkward questions. I’m tired of telling lies and don’t even know what cover story I would give to explain why a chauffeur driven Rolls Royce is picking me up from home at this hour.
At six-thirty, I reluctantly begin to get ready. With a scowl, I slip into the Vivienne Westwood dress, put on a pair of heels and a little bit of make-up, then I throw on my shawl and wait anxiously in the living room for seven o’clock to arrive.
Right on cue, somebody rings on the buzzer, and my muscles tense.I really don’t want to do this.For long moments, I sit cross-legged on the living room floor, praying for Hobbs to go away and leave me alone. It’s like my body is frozen with indecision and I can’t move. Another two minutes pass, and the buzzer goes again, this time the person holding down for a prolonged length of time, indicating their frustration. Still, I don’t move. Perhaps if I pretend not to be here, Hobbs will eventually get the message and leave.
For fifteen long minutes, I sit silently in the darkness of the living room, not daring to move a muscle in case of discovery. Nobody rings the door again and as time passes, I stupidly think that perhaps Hobbs has gone and I’m off the hook.
Not a chance.
Out of nowhere, the house phone starts ringing and I almost jump out of my skin. On and on it goes, a shrill discordant sound that pierces the very core of my soul. God, whoever’s calling is a persistent sod who is not willing to take no for an answer. On and on the phone rings. Then abruptly it stops before starting up again.
