Chapter 19
Helen signed the letter with a flourish (finishing a letter was still a triumph, after all). She read the page back to herself.
Dear Aunt Betty,
I am so sorry, but I will not be able to come home to Ballymore this summer as I had thought. I have so much coursework to do and just cannot spare the time. I do hope you understand. I will try and get home in October, at the half-term break. Hope this letter finds you as well as it leaves me.
Your niece, Helen
She folded it in three and stuck it in the envelope. It was not the most expansive work of penmanship, but it would suffice. She didn’t need to explain her actions to anybody, as Tony had taught her.
Tony . . . Tony . . . Helen stared dreamily out of her window.
Since college had broken up ten days ago, they had spent a great deal of time together, mostly in bed.
The thought of leaving him in a week’s time to visit Aunt Betty in Ballymore was not one she could even contemplate.
Besides which, she would be back shortly.
There was only another two and a half weeks left to make Tony forget the woman completely, if he hadn’t already . . .
Helen checked her watch. Tony was due round in an hour. Just enough time to run out to the postbox, then come back and slip into something a little more comfortable. Helen giggled at the thought of the new black silk undies and suspender belt she’d bought that morning.
As she left the flat and walked down the street, she thought how much she had learnt about men in the past ten days.
The way to their heart was not through their stomach, as her Aunt Betty had always indicated.
Oh no, it was through a very different part of their anatomy.
She compared her feelings for Tony Bryant to those she once harboured for Con Daly.
Her connection with Tony was deep, meaningful.
Perhaps most importantly, her affection was reciprocated.
Helen understood now that Con had been no more than a teenage infatuation. How silly she had been.
Helen popped the letter in the box and turned back the way she had come.
Surely, surely, although Tony had said in the beginning that this was only a bit of fun between two consenting adults, he must have changed his mind by now?
Why, only the other night she’d sat astride him, refusing to move until he uttered the three magic words.
‘I love you,’ he’d said.
Then she’d made him say them louder and louder until he’d screamed in pleasure.
Back at the flat, Helen put the champagne on ice in the freezer box of the Frigidaire. She’d also bought strawberries and cream to eat in bed as a post-coital snack.
Helen studied her figure in the mirror. Love and a considerable amount of physical exercise had meant she’d lost nearly ten pounds in as many days.
Although still shapely, for the first time she could actually now see her hip bones.
The new black bra supported her breasts so they spilled out over the lace edge.
Helen slipped on a black mini-dress, poured herself a glass of champagne and sat down to wait for her lover.
‘You really are incredible.’
‘Thank you. Want a drink?’
‘Yeah. That was thirsty work.’
Helen reached over to the table beside the bed and topped up the two glasses with champagne. She handed one to Tony.
‘Cheers.’
‘Yes, cheers.’ He raised his glass and took a sip. ‘Well, who would have thought that you and I would end up spending most of July in bed together.’
‘I know. It’s amazing.’
‘And I think it’s made more special because we both know there’s a time limit.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘With my lady coming back soon, that’s all.’ Tony looked a little sheepish.
‘Oh. I see.’
‘Don’t look like that, Helen. You’re making me feel guilty, and you promised you wouldn’t.’
‘Sorry. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?’
‘Course. I was thinking the other day that you need to get some work experience in the outside world.’
Helen frowned. ‘You mean, a holiday job?’
‘I suppose, yes. I’ve actually got a friend who’s looking for a temporary receptionist.’
‘A receptionist? What on earth would I learn from answering the telephone?’ She was a little offended.
‘More about a company than most of the directors probably know.’ He smiled.
‘I’m enjoying doing nothing. Apart from you.’
‘Ah, but this is a fun place to work,’ Tony grinned. ‘It’s a small record company just off Carnaby Street, right where the action is. Plus, it’s only for August. Their usual receptionist is going to Australia for a family wedding.’
‘You know I don’t need the money.’
‘No, I know you don’t, Helen. I just thought it might give you some experience while you have some fun and widen your circle of friends in London. Look, forget about it now,’ he shrugged.
‘Okay. Would you like some strawberries?’
Tony put down his empty glass on the bedside table and pulled her roughly towards him. ‘Later.’
Three days later, Helen was sitting in the small reception area of Metropolitan Records. She was only here because Tony had seemed so keen on the idea.
She studied the present receptionist, who looked like a Barbie doll, and comforted herself with the fact that if they wanted long blonde hair and needle-thin thighs, she wouldn’t get the job anyway.
‘Brad’ll see you now. Go up the stairs to the first floor. His office is the first on the right.’
‘Thanks.’ Helen stood up and followed the girl’s instructions. She knocked on the door five times before it was opened. Brad was on the telephone. He signalled to her to sit down and indicated two minutes with his fingers.
Helen studied him as he talked. He was short, dark-haired and attractive in a Mediterranean kind of way.
‘All right, Freddy, my boy. I’ll see you on Friday at one, usual place. Toodle-oo.’
Brad put the receiver down and sat on the edge of the desk, arms folded.
‘Helen, nice to meet you, kid. Tony’s spoken very highly of you. You shagging him or what?’ Brad sniggered, then noticed Helen had gone bright red. He cleared his throat and went to sit down behind his cluttered desk.
‘Tony has probably told you the role’s only for a month.
Jilly downstairs is off to the land of koalas for her brother’s wedding.
There’s nothing to the job really, just a busy phone line.
You pick up the receiver, answer it, press a button to divert it to one of us four that works up here and Bob’s your uncle.
Dead boring really, except for the fact you get to meet the odd rock star or two. ’
Brad spoke at a hundred miles an hour. Helen managed an ‘I see’ before he was off again.
‘Money’s a bit crap as well. We’re only a small company, been going for a couple of years now and we’re just starting to edge in on the big guns.
It means we’re running on a shoestring. But you’ll get to know a lot of people.
We’re expanding all the time and if you do a good job, there might be an opening for you in the future.
’ Brad threw his arms out. ‘So what do you think? Want it or not?’
‘I—’
‘Listen, give me a call tomorrow morning. You’re the only girl I’ve seen so far.
You look good and Tony says you’re a little brain box underneath that quiet exterior.
’ The telephone rang. ‘Sorry, love, can you see yourself out? This call’s from the States.
Speak to you tomorrow, okay?’ He gestured towards the door.
Helen nodded, stood up and made her way out into the narrow alleyway just off Carnaby Street. The afternoon was hot, the sun still high in a cornflower-blue sky. When she reached the main road itself, the energy was incredible. Everyone around her seemed to be smiling, exuding youth and vibrancy.
Helen suddenly experienced a surge of happiness unlike any she had ever known before. She had just been offered a job in the heart of the most exciting city in the world. New experiences, new friends. She’d be mad to turn it down.
Turning abruptly, Helen retraced her footsteps. She pushed open the door of Metropolitan Records. The Barbie doll looked up at her questioningly.
‘Did you forget something?’
‘No. I . . . Could you leave a message for Brad? Tell him I will take the job. I’ll see him a week on Monday.’
The Barbie doll smiled. ‘Right, I’ll tell him.’
‘Thanks.’
Helen returned the smile and left the building.