It was awful to think she wouldn’t be seeing Merlin more or less every day; it had been such an incredibly exciting element in the whole thing, just getting ready in the morning, wondering what to wear, whether he’d be there, what he’d say to her. She was still slightly baffled as to what his feelings about her were: nonexistent, she thought on her bad days, but then she would think, on the good ones… Why ask her to go for a drink so often after they’d finished for the day; why spend so much time with her; why make sure she was all right in Jazz’s house?
He’d even-once or twice-asked her to the cinema, to see some incredibly intellectual foreign films at what he called his local, the Hampstead Everyman, which she hadn’t understood at all, let alone enjoyed-although she’d pretended to, of course-and one wonderful Saturday he’d called her and said he was going to do some Christmas shopping in the Portobello, and if she was around, would she like to join him? She’d loved that, wandering along the stalls, and when they’d finished he asked her if she’d like to have lunch at Camden Lock-“I can’t believe you haven’t been there yet, all this time in London”-and she’d said, trying to sound totally cool, that she’d like that, and had sat in one of the bars alongside the canal, convinced this was really it, that he was going to say he really liked her. But he didn’t; he said he had to get back quite soon after lunch: “The parents are having a party tonight; I have to go back and help.”
“Will it… will it be a big party?” she said, trying to sound casual, half wondering if he might be going to ask her.
“About a hundred. Anyone else would have proper help, but Mummy won’t-against her principles, like not having a cleaner, so she’s run herself ragged cooking for weeks, and Pa just hides in his study and pretends he hasn’t noticed.”
“And lots of famous people there?” she said.
And, “Yeah, lot of Beeb types, Humphreys, Paxman, Benn, I imagine, the Millibands, possibly Charlie Falconer, but not the Blairs.”
“God,” she said, “I call that pretty impressive.”
“Not really. You’re so sweet, Georgia,” he added, smiling at her, “so totally unspoilt still. Stay like it, for goodness’ sake. Don’t get spoilt. I must dash; can you find your own way back?”
“Yes, of course. I want to look in some of those shops anyway,” she said quickly.
And that was how their relationship-or rather their non -relationship-proceeded: two steps forward, two steps back. Exasperating, frustrating, baffling.
Most of the time she managed to think it was just luvvie stuff, no more than that, along with the hugs and the brotherly kisses; but she still found grounds for thinking it was more.
She had never talked about him to anyone involved in the production-deliberately. There was no way she was going to risk being laughed at for having an unrequited crush on him. And in any case she wasn’t on those sorts of terms with any of them, except for Anna.
She tried to find out a bit about him from Linda, who always knew all the gossip about everybody, but she just said vaguely that she really didn’t know much about him except that he was incredibly talented and would soon be a first assistant, probably in the next production he worked on. “You don’t fancy him, darling, do you?”
“God, no,” said Georgia.
“Good. Because the words little and shit do come rather to mind.”
Georgia ignored this; it was such a typical Linda comment.
And then the mystery was solved-painfully.
The wrap party was taking place just a week before Christmas; Georgia had bought a sequinned dress that was virtually nonexistent, so short and low-cut it was, and some incredibly long, sequinned fake eyelashes to go with it.
The party was at Bryn’s house in Putney, a wonderful glass-fronted place on the river. He’d been incredibly generous, provided champagne by the crateful, and Mrs. Bryn, who was a glamorous actress called Jan Lloyd, provided fantastic food. Particularly generous, as she then went out for the evening: “She says no one should be at the wrap parties of other people’s productions,” Bryn said, laughing, when he made his little speech, and actually, as Anna said to Georgia, it really wasn’t very pleasant; you felt like a complete outsider, understood none of the in-jokes, and were deeply wary of discovering any illicit relationships.
Georgia could feel herself going over the top, flirting with everyone, including Bryn-and Merlin, of course-making people dance with her, but it was the last time she’d see most of them, and she was enjoying herself so much.
Merlin was a fantastic dancer, and he was looking absolutely amazing, all in black-black skinny jeans, black T-shirt, black leather jacket. She thought he must be rather hot in the jacket, and suggested he take it off more than once, but he said he liked it, and he liked being hot. She hoped he meant what she thought by that.
And then suddenly the front doorbell went off, and Georgia, who was in the hall, opened it. A girl stood there, a really beautiful girl, tall, with long blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes; she was wearing a short black dress and black knee boots with very high heels. She smiled at Georgia just slightly dismissively and looked her up and down and said, “Hi. Is Merlin here?”
Georgia said he was and that she’d go and find him-the girl was the sort who inspired such behaviour-and had just turned to go into the party when Bryn appeared and said, “Ticky! Darling! What a surprise. Merlin didn’t warn us.”
The girl kissed Bryn and said, “He didn’t know I was flying in today. I promise, Bryn, darling, I haven’t come to crash your wrap party. I just thought I might steal him away in a little while.”
“You can crash anything of mine, sweetie. Let me go and find the boy.”
Merlin, it seemed, and Ticky-whoever was called Ticky, and what was it short for? Georgia wondered-were an item. Had been since drama school. Only Ticky, who had a very rich daddy, was now attending the New York University film school. And came back to London only for the vacations.
Merlin clearly adored her; so did most of the cast. Davina threw her arms round her and told her she looked divine. Which she did, Georgia thought miserably; she was the sort of girl who was on the cover of Tatler, or even Vogue. Understated, superconfident, totally classy, she had become, briefly, the centre of the party.
And when she and Merlin left, after half an hour, looking like a Prada ad, Georgia sat down next to Anna and said, trying to sound cool, “What happened to not being at other people’s wrap parties?”
“I guess if you look like that, you can be anywhere you damn well like,” Anna said, and then, looking rather hard at Georgia: “Listen, sweetie, I’ve had enough. Want to come home with me? Lila’s on her own and she’d love to see you. And catch up on the concert. If there’s anything to catch up on…”
“That’d be great,” said Georgia. “Thank you.”
All she felt now was a consuming terror that the whole production had been laughing at her behind her back.
Anna, who had clearly put two and two together, and confronted the issue in the cab home, told her they hadn’t.
“I swear to you, nobody ever mentioned it. Listen, even I never guessed. You played it really cool, Georgia. Well done. And good riddance, I’d say. Leading you on like that, never mentioning her. Ticky! What a name.”
“No, no, not really,” said poor Georgia, the tears beginning to flow now, “and he didn’t lead me on; he was just… really kind. Oh, I’m sorry, Anna, I think I might change my mind, go home after all.”
“All right,” said Anna, “of course I understand. But please, please, sweetie, believe me. I never heard a whisper about you and Merlin. Honestly.”
It was comfort of a sort.
Linda had an incredible Christmas. She always enjoyed it; she loved the theatricality of it, spent many hours decorating her flat, went to endless parties, bought a mountain of presents for everyone, and went for the day to the home of Francis and his partner, who was an incredible cook. None of that was altered this year; except that Alex, who had spent the day with the children and his now ex-wife, came up for the evening and, as Linda put it, they fucked their way into Boxing Day.