Perfect on Paper by Gillian Harvey (top 20 books to read txt) 📕

one of the stage crew shouted, holding a phone aloft. ‘Martha B.?’

‘Here!’ she said, raising her hand. The runner appeared at her side. ‘Call for you,’ she said, shoving an enormous phone into Clare’s hand, then added, ‘loved the act by the way,’ before disappearing on her next errand.

Who would actually call her at the theatre? Who would know how to call her here? And who would actually ask for her by her stage name? As Clare put the phone to her ear, she couldn’t imagine who it might be.

‘Hello? This is, erm, Martha speaking …’ she said, nervously.

‘Hello Mrs B.? Or may I call you Martha?’ The voice on the other end of the line sounded formal, but was somehow familiar.

‘Martha’s fine,’ she said. ‘Who is this?’

‘It’s Toby Bailey. From Woman’s World.’

‘Toby!’ she gasped.

‘Er, yes. I … well, usually my producer makes these calls. But we’ve been having some trouble getting hold of you so I thought perhaps I would … I knew you’d be at the theatre so …’

He doesn’t realise, she thought. He really thinks he’s talking to Martha.

‘So, you’re calling me, why?’ she said, cautiously, changing her tone a little to sound less like herself. Was this a joke? Had he seen through her cover and was trying to reel her in to some sort of confession?

‘Yes. I wanted to … well, arrange a meeting – an interview, perhaps?’ he continued.

‘An interview?’

‘Yes, you know, on Woman’s World? I’d love to, eh, pick your brain about the whole hashtag MehToo movement.’

‘Oh, I’m not sure I could …’

‘We’d … it’d be so great for the show,’ he said, almost pleadingly.

She felt her sympathy well up. ‘Well, yeah, OK,’ she said, wondering what on earth she was getting herself into.

‘Great. Great. May I take a number? I’ll get my secretary to …’

‘Sure.’ Clare gave him Nadia’s number. ‘That’s Nadia, she’s, um, my stylist I suppose. Well, you can get a message to me through her.’

‘Right. Don’t want to expose your secret identity!’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Well, you know. The mysterious Martha B. Who is she? Where does she come from?’ Toby said.

‘Yeah, ha!’ Had Toby always been this abysmal on the phone? Or was it just when he was speaking to inspirational feminist middle-aged rap sensations? It was an unanswerable question.

‘Right. Bye then,’ she said, feeling slightly sick.

‘Bye – and thank you.’

Chapter Thirty-Four

As Clare walked up to the front door late that evening, she felt a little like a teenage version of herself coming home too late from the pub on a Friday – nervous about inserting the key then finding her mother with a face like thunder on the other side of the door.

The curtain upstairs flickered as she opened the door and she heard Katie call Toby. ‘Mum’s here!’

Then Toby was standing there in the hall, not looking as different from her mother as she might have liked, hands on hips, mouth in a straight line. All he needed was an apron, a pair of slippers and a roll-up to complete the picture. ‘Hi, Clare,’ he said, as if he had caught her out, instead of simply found her arriving home at more or less exactly the time she’d said she would be there.

‘Hi!’ she said.

‘Hi, Mum!’ Katie said, bouncing into the hall like a puppy and giving Clare a squeeze.

‘What’s that in aid of?’ Clare said, grinning at the unusual level of attention. ‘And what are you doing up?’

‘She couldn’t sleep,’ Toby said. ‘Thought it wouldn’t hurt if she waited up.’

‘Aww, that’s sweet,’ Clare said, giving Katie a squeeze.

‘She’s been online. Reading that hashtag MehToo stuff,’ Toby said.

‘Yeah, do you feel like that, Mum?’ Katie asked, head tilted to one side. ‘You know, like we take you for granted?’

‘Maybe a bit,’ Clare admitted. ‘Sometimes.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Katie said, hugging her again. ‘Because, you know, we do all appreciate you, Mum.’

‘Of course we do,’ Toby said, joining in after his daughter gave him a look.

‘Good,’ she said, frowning.

‘Come on, put your mother down and I’ll make her a cup of tea,’ Toby said, taking Clare’s bag as if caring for someone who was completely incapable of looking after herself. ‘And get yourself to bed.’

‘OK,’ Katie said, working hard to appear reluctant. She was clearly exhausted.

‘So,’ Clare said, as Toby set down a cup of steaming tea in front of her on the breakfast bar.

They sipped in silence, before he spoke.

‘How was it?’ he asked, guardedly.

‘What? Oh! The lecture? Pretty boring,’ she lied.

‘Pretty long too?’

‘Well … yeah …’ she felt a shiver of nausea. It was pretty obvious she was lying about something.

‘You know, I do miss you,’ he said.

‘You do?’

‘Yeah. We’re barely in the same room for five minutes these days.’

‘I know.’

He moved his hand along the counter to cover hers for a second. ‘Things are a bit … well, things seem a bit weird at the moment, don’t they?’

‘Maybe just a bit.’

‘I’ve got … I dunno. My head, it’s all over the place,’ he said. ‘I am trying you know. Katie’s been lecturing me about hashtag MehToo and it’s clear she thinks I’m pretty crap.’

‘She said that?’

‘Well, not in so many words … I guess we’ve both been a bit preoccupied recently.’

‘I know,’ Clare said. She thought about the applause she and the troupe had received when the confetti had rained down. The flash of the cameras. The fact that the footage would be aired on ITV in the week leading up to the live final.

So, tell him! her mind urged. After all, Steph and Ann had taken it well. And he was her husband; they’d drifted a bit recently but he still had her back. But it wasn’t so much what she was doing, but how much she’d already hidden from him. How could he trust her once she revealed all of this was going on? And how could she explain why she hadn’t confided in him in the first place?

She felt almost sick with nerves as they climbed into bed and Toby switched out the light.