the correct piece of metal to put in her eyebrow. When she eventually does show, I realize that ‘respond’ is probably too kind a description.
‘Like can I do something?’ she asks with a tone that is somewhere between careless and gormless. She is in reality about twenty-two but looks about six, as she is anorexic-thin, wears her hair in bunchies and has a number of bruises on her legs. The bruises are not, however, the result of playground bullying but UBIs – unidentified beer injuries. Unrestrained partying is part of the job. In fact, she thinks it is the job. She’s paid a pittance but she’s worth less. I tell her to go directly to Darren and delay him.
‘Delay him?’ she drawls. Redefining the adjective non-comprehending.
‘Yes. He wants to leave.’
‘But he can’t, he’s filming this week and whatever.’
‘He doesn’t want to film,’ I explain with what absolutely must be my last ounce of patience.
‘That’s bad.’
I sigh, far too aware that incompetents surround me. Trixxie stumbles on an obstacle. ‘I can’t force him to stay against his will or whatever.’
‘I know that. You have to persuade him to stay by making it worth his while.’
‘Sleeping with him?’ she asks.
I look at the specimen in front of me. Darren wouldn’t. I think on my feet. I need Darren on the show. He’d make a great show and more urgently, because of Fi’s incompetence in securing a reserve, he’s our only chance at any show. I have to keep this lead, as tenuous as it is, warm until we’ve explored all other angles.
‘No, don’t offer to sleep with him. Appeal to his better side. Say that I’m cool with his decision and would like to take him to dinner later, to show there’s no hard feelings etc.’ I’m sure he’ll agree to dinner. He’s too polite not to.
‘That’s big of you,’ says Trixxie, beaming at me. ‘Really cool. Like you could be pissed off and whatever.’
I don’t bother explaining that in reality I’d like to dissect Darren into small pieces and feed him to the lions at London Zoo for inconveniencing me so. I don’t think Trixxie is up to the deception. In fact, I’m not sure she is up to delivering the message. And there’s something else that I don’t mention. As irritating as I obviously find Darren, I’m also absolutely fascinated. He said no to me. He said no to me. Not the type of no which really means ‘yes’ or ‘maybe’. A flat, final no. Try as I might, I can’t think of him as the moralistic tosspot loser that he so obviously is.
I interview the two women involved in the other liaison for next week’s show. It calms me somewhat. I predict that the guy being tested will fall. I always think that there is a better chance of unfaithfulness if the men are being tested. It’s not that women are fundamentally more faithful, it’s just that women are more involved in the wedding preparations and are less likely to jeopardize their big day. I check my watch. It’s 8.15 p.m. I call Fi and as I feared she’s not hopeful about finding a reserve at such short notice. I threaten, cajole and bribe her into working through the night. I tell her to use the overtime quota and call in any reserves from the research department that she thinks are necessary.
‘And what are you going to do?’ she asks.
‘I’m going to take Darren for dinner.’
There’s a silence. Eventually she comments, ‘Tough work, but someone’s got to do it.’
‘It really is work,’ I insist. ‘I expect he’s going to be fabulously dull.’ I’d like to mean this but my groin obviously disagrees, as my knickers think it’s 5 November. ‘I don’t want to spend any more time with him than I have to, but we do need a show,’ I insist. ‘I’m going to persuade him to see our point of view.’
‘Well, I could go instead of you,’ volunteers Fi, with an enthusiasm that has been notably lacking in the past.
‘You are not manipulative enough. You’d want to sleep with him.’
‘So do you.’
‘But you’d fall for him emotionally. I never do that.’ She can’t argue with this. I continue, ‘We need to understand where he’s coming from. He doesn’t want to do the show because he realizes that his actions will have consequences, people will be hurt and humiliated. Irritating as hell. I think all we can do is try to appeal to his disproportionate and displaced sense of