The Arrangement

"Oh yes," Christine enthusiastically replied.. "I've seen all the musicals - well, most of them. 'Phantom of the Opera', 'Chicago', 'Mary Poppins'...."

Brian exploded. "Good God! Musicals! 'Mary Poppins'. That's not real theatre."

"It is for me."

"What about straight plays?"

"Non-musical, do you mean?"

"Yes."

Christine shook her head. "I've rarely seen one. A couple of Shakespeare's when I was at school and - something else a few years ago. Can't remember what it was. I wasn't very impressed."

"Oh, Lord." With his elbows on the table, Brian buried his face in his hands.

The waiter chose that moment to return with the drinks. "Are you all right, sir?" He sounded concerned.

"Yes, yes, yes." Brian removed his hands from his face and elbows from the table. "A minor problem, that's all."

The waiter placed the drinks down and presented the bill, which Brian signed, writing his room number. He put a tip - surprisingly generous, Christine noted - on the waiter's tray.

"Thank you, sir."

It was a bad start to the evening, but Christine became an Oscar winning actress and pretended that she was unaffected by Brian's rotten mood. The play, a comedy, was most amusing and she enjoyed it far more than she would have expected. In fact, she laughed so much that the rest of the audience was affected and, after a slow beginning, the whole atmosphere brightened.

After the play they went for another drink: "Before you go home."

That put an end to Christine's worry about the outcome of the evening. Sex was not on the agenda unless she offered it, according to Margie. But what if the man was persistent. Was it a case of giving in to keep him quiet? She wasn't at all sure. Brian Warbrick had just put her mind at rest; he didn't want it anyway. Strangely enough, she felt a little hurt that he should so obviously spurn her.

They went to a crowded and noisy bar not far from the theatre. Shouting, trying to hear each other above the chatter of other punters, was not conducive to conversation, so little was said. After a quarter of an hour they left and Brian hailed a taxi for Christine.

He opened the door. "You enjoyed yourself tonight, I think."

"Yes, I did. The play was really quite funny."

"It was supposed to be. When George Bernard Shaw wrote it I expect he was hoping for a few laughs."

"I've heard of him."

"I should hope so. He wrote 'Pygmalion' as well." There was no reaction. "Perhaps you know it as 'My Fair Lady'."

Christine smiled. "Oh yes, of course."

She stepped into the taxi and Brian slammed the door. Settling back into the seat she gave her address to the driver. As the cab pulled away she looked back through the rear window; Brian was still standing where she'd left him. She thought he looked forlorn and lost.

*****

"We have a problem," Margie announced.

"We do?" queried Christine.

"I have a booking for tomorrow."

"Don't ask. I'm not going to stand in for you again."

"Was is that bad?"

Christine shook her head. "No, it wasn't bad at all. Quite pleasant, in fact. He was a bit quiet and a little off-hand, but not unattractive. A man of few words; at least to me. He did tell me he was a widower. His wife was killed in a road accident - and their unborn child. Two years ago."

"It seems to me that he can't have been as off-hand as you suggested if he told you all that."

"No, maybe not. After an uncertain start we seemed to get on quite well."

"That's good."

"But I'm still not doing it again. I hated the thought of being paid to be charming to a perfect stranger."

"It wouldn't be a stranger tomorrow," Margie informed her sister.

"What do you mean?"

"It's him again."

"You mean Brian?" Christine looked surprised.

"Obviously you made a good impression. He specifically asked for Maryann. Nobody else would do."

"Really?" Christine couldn't help feeling a little pleased.

"That's why we have a problem. As far as he's concerned, you're Maryann."

"Oh dear, whatever can we do?"

"What I suggest is that you keep the appointment and when you get the chance tell him the truth. In future he can book Maryann - me - or someone else."

"He'll be furious at being tricked."

Margie smiled. "I don't think so. You'll explain it all very nicely and he'll fully understand the last minute emergency and how self-sacrificing you were."

"I hope so."

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

"For his sake, not yours."

"Thank you, sis." Margie lightly kissed Christine's cheek.

*****

He was there. Same place, same time. But there was a difference. His greeting was warmer with a hint of a smile. For her part, Christine was glad to be seeing him again. For the past month her thoughts had frequently drifted to their evening together. How long was it? He'd paid for three hours; perhaps it had been a little longer. Even so, a ridiculously short time for him to occupy her mind so much.

He ordered drinks.

"Are we going to the theatre again?" Christine asked.

He nodded. "Marie and I always took advantage of this monthly visit to London. There was usually something we wanted to see."

Christine smiled. "But not a musical."

"No, never."

"You're really a cultural snob, aren't you?"

Brian looked at her. "Do you think so?"

"To dismiss a very popular form of entertainment as nothing but rubbish...."

"I didn't say that," Brian protested.

"As good as. You dismissed it out of hand as not being theatre."

"Yes. I suppose I did."

"Where are we going tonight? Another comedy?"

"Afraid not. This one's a rather serious, weighty play, I'm afraid. 'Death of a Salesman'. Arthur Miller."

"I'll try not to snore."

They looked at each other for a moment then burst out laughing. He put his hand on hers. It was such a simple, unthinking and natural gesture that neither of them thought anything of it.

"It's a long play, that's why I've booked you for four hours."

Christine was brought back to reality with a start. This was not a date; it was a business arrangement. Her time had been paid for and she was nothing more than an escort. Perhaps this was when she should tell him the truth.

On the other hand, it might be better to leave it until the end. This was his night and she didn't want to spoil it. Heaven knows what his reaction might be.

Yes. That was it. Wait until after the play.

*****

Brian was right. It was a long play. And weighty. Nevertheless, Christine was caught up in the power of it and couldn't stop discussing it until they were back at his hotel.

"Can I tempt you with a nightcap?" Brian looked at his watch. "Or maybe not. It seems even four hours wasn't long enough. It's almost half past ten. The witching hour."

"I thought it was midnight when Cinderella turned back into a drudge."

"Is that what you do? Turn into a drudge."

"Not really. I work. It's a nothing very much job in a bank, but it keeps me off the streets."

"Does it?" Brian quietly asked.

Christine realised this was the moment.

"I don't care about the time. I'll have the drink with pleasure."

They made themselves comfortable in the hotel bar and Christine steeled herself to explain the true situation. Before she could open her mouth Brian took away the opportunity.

"I've enjoyed our two evenings with each other. I was totally devastated by the death of Marie. Could barely hold myself together. I tried getting drunk a couple of times to blot everything out, but it didn't work. All I got for my pains were two mighty hangovers. My sister, Andrea urged me to find someone else, but I'm not ready. That's why this escort thing is just right. When I come to London I'm not on my own."

"What about the rest of the time?" Christine enquired.

"I manage. It's a struggle, but I manage. Full of self pity, you see."

"You are rather."

He looked surprised. "You needn't agree with me."

"It's the truth."

"The truth can hurt sometimes."

"Yes. It can." Christine felt her chance had completely slipped away.

"I can't cope with a proper relationship, but a paid escort is the perfect answer. We get on very well together. Extraordinarily well."

"Yes, we do."

"So I'd like to make this a permanent arrangement. I'll give you a list of my dates and you make yourself available. Perhaps - for five hours."

"Only as an escort. No sex."

"Of course. Understood."

Christine sat back in her chair. She should tell him. This was not what she wanted. She wasn't an escort, for heaven's sake. It was her sister who was the escort. This was not what she wanted.

But what did she want? She was totally confused. A few hours in his company and she - she what? She was jealous. Jealous of a dead woman who had claimed all his love for herself. All he had left to give was money.

She should tell him.

And lose him completely.

But what did that matter? Love at first sight was only for silly romantic stories. It didn't happen in real life. You had to get to know somebody; all their idiosyncrasies and quirky little ways; all their foibles, tempers and flaws. Love didn't come out of the blue, just like that.

And yet...

She should tell him.

"Are you still with me?" His voice cut into her thoughts.

"Yes."

"What do you say? Does it present a problem to you?"

"Problem? Yes."

"Maybe you don't want to see me again."

"Oh, that's not the problem."

She should tell him. But the words stuck in her throat. If this was all she could have, at least for now, then she would have to be content.

"I agree."

Brian breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad."

"But don't phone the agency. I'll give you my number." She reached into her bag which, typically, was crammed full. Needless to say, pen and pad were to be found if she dug around long enough. "And Maryann is only the name I use for - for business purposes. My real name is Christine."

"I prefer it."

"Do you?"

"I'm not sure what a Maryann should be like, but somehow, not like you."

"Ah. Here it is." She finally found the pad. "Now all I need is a pen."

"Here." Brian offered her one.

"Thank you." She wrote out her name and telephone number. "I've put my mobile, too."

"I'll give you my card in case you want to get in touch. If I'm not to contact you through the agency what about payment?"

Damn. She hadn't thought of that. She didn't want paying anyway. Could she say this one's on me? No, that would be no good. The whole point was that he needed to pay for her company. It was his policy of non-emotional involvement.

"Give me a cheque."

"Right." He raised his glass. "To a successful arrangement."

Christine gave a weak smile. This was not what she wanted.

*****

"Feeling a little better, are you?" Christine asked.

The small boy, still heavily bandaged but sitting up in bed, managed a slight nod. "A little, Auntie."

She patted his hand. "That's good. Your mummy tells me you should be out of here next week."

"I'll be glad to go home."

"I'm sure you will." Christine bent over and gave Toby a brief kiss on the forehead. "I'll come again tomorrow. Mummy will be in later."

"Right."

Margie was waiting at home with the kettle boiled ready to make a cup of tea.

"I imagine he's looking better." Christine made herself comfortable on a settee. "It's a bit difficult to be certain with all those bandages. It's certainly been a long job."

"Nearly six months." Margie sighed. "I thought I'd lost him a number of times."

"Um. Very worrying."

There was a silence between the two women.

"How is it going?" Margie eventually asked.

"What?"

"You know what. Your punter, Mr. Brian Warbrick."

"He's not my punter."

"The only escort in the business with only one client."

"Leave off, won't you."

"That bad, is it?"

"I love him. He doesn't love me. The oldest story in the world. He thinks he has to pay me to keep him company."

"Tell him the truth."

"I can't. He only wants me as an escort once a month. It's not much, but I don't want to lose even that."

"That sounds pretty pathetic."

Christine sniffed. "I suppose it does."

"Have you taken it further?"

"Made love, you mean? No. We've been to the theatre, had dinner some drinks, but nothing more."

"Have you any idea what to charge if he asks?"

Christine shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not doing it for money."

"You're taking it for escort services. That's only one step up."

"I suppose that's the grey area you talk about."

"Something like that."

"I'm not taking any money at all."

Margie looked surprised. "I thought you were pretending to be a paid escort. How do you do that without taking money?"

"He gives me a cheque, but I don't cash it."

Margie sighed. "What a waste of good money. You could always give it to me if you have a conscience about it."

"No, I couldn't. He would really be paying me for my company then."

"What's the difference? He thinks he's paying anyway."

"But I know he's not."

Margie shook her head in bewilderment. "You've got me, dear sis. Logic goes out of the window."

"Take my word for it; it's different."

"Whatever you say."

All the same, whenever Margie looked at her slim bank balance and thought of the money she could have been earning from Brian Warbrick she felt more than a little annoyed.

*****

Over the months the sessions had become longer. Brian now booked Christine from 6 until midnight.

"Less pressure on time. We can relax more." They were sitting in an up-market restaurant in Soho. "Did you enjoy the play tonight?"

"I found it a little confusing."

"It was a mystery, after all."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you come away from it still mystified by the plot and characters."

"True. Perhaps we should see a musical next time."

Christine smiled. "Are you going slumming?"

Brian shook his head. "Not quite. 'Sunday In the Park With George' is on. I've seen it before, but would like to compare this new production."

"I don't know it. But, I'll look forward to it."

"It's a Stephen Sondheim piece. I consider him to be a very literate writer and perhaps it's unfair to label his works in the musicals genre. Some of them, anyway."

"You really are a cultural snob, aren't you," said Christine laughing.

"If you say so."

"But I love you all the same."

It was a throwaway line, but as soon as the words came out Christine was shocked to realise the truth of them.

Brian hesitated, his gaze fixed on a wine glass which he slowly twisted. "Forgive me if I've got this wrong, but I always thought that an escort was prepared to offer further services."

"At an agreed extra charge." Christine felt a tight knot of tension in the pit of her stomach. The moment had finally come.

"Naturally. So far you haven't offered. Does that mean you find me too repulsive?"

"Oh no. Not at all."

"Was that going too far? I must admit, I don't consider myself repulsive, but then I'm biased. Perhaps I'm not attractive enough. I lack emotion. Too withdrawn. Even, perhaps, a little cold?"

"Do such things count when sex is exchanged for money?"

"I would have thought not, but you tell me."

Christine knew her face was red with embarrassment. "It isn't that I don't want to. It's just...."

"You were waiting for me to suggest it. After all, I'm doing the paying and maybe one hundred and fifty pounds an hour is my limit. For instance, tonight will have cost me over one thousand pounds if you include theatre tickets, drinks and dinner."

"A lot of money," Christine murmured.

"It would be if I was actually paying."

"Pardon?" Christine was startled.

Brian put his hand over hers. "I've been checking my bank statements."

"Oh?"

"You haven't cashed the cheques."

"Er - no. No, I haven't"

"Not very business-like. Especially for someone who works in a bank. The first one will soon become useless."

"I...I didn't realise it had been so long."

"Don't you need the money?"

"I... Christine struggled to get out the words. This couldn't go on any longer. She had to put a stop to it. "I'm a fake," she finally blurted out.

He looked surprised. "Fake?"

"I'm not - actually - an escort."

There.

It was out.

"I don't understand."

"My sister is the escort. It was her you booked the first time, but her little boy was run over and badly hurt that same day. She didn't want to lose the money so I stood in for her. It was only supposed to be the once. When you asked for her again it became awkward."

"I'm sorry."

"What about?"

"Your sister's little boy. I know what it's like. I'm sorry for putting you in a difficult situation. Probably for making you feel cheap when I paid you for your company."

Christine managed a smile. "Actually, I thought I was pretty expensive."

"There are more pricey escorts." Brian looked and sounded distracted. "I...I didn't want involvement. That's why I paid."

"I know. You told me."

Christine picked up her bag, opened it and took out the cheques. She put them on the table in front of him.

"You'd better have them back. Tear them up yourself." She rose from her chair. "It's me who owes you an apology for deceiving you all this time. I'll be going now. Thank you for - everything."

She left the restaurant, glancing back as she stood in the doorway. Brian was sitting as if frozen to his seat, staring at the cheques in his hand. In the taxi she was barely able to hold back her tears. When she got home the floodgates opened.

She had lost him.

*****

"What's wrong, love?"

Andrea had noticed the change in her brother when he returned from his recent trip to London. For the last few months he had been a new man with a spring in his step and a sparkle in his eyes. He had given no reason for the metamorphosis, but Andrea guessed there was a woman behind it and she was pleased. Now, suddenly, he had reverted to being morose and withdrawn. His shoulders were hunched, his face grey and pinched.

He knew that he was behaving like a callow, love-sick young fool. Unable to concentrate on anything, even work, he found his thoughts constantly returning to Christine. Her deception was perfectly understandable and, anyway, what did it really matter? She said she loved him. Of course, it was spoken in a light-hearted way with no depth of feeling. Still, perhaps she did.

As for him, it was quite clear that he had been more affected by Christine than he cared to admit. Despite only being a paid escort she had got under his skin. His plan to shut himself down and wallow in the memory of his lost love and wife had badly backfired. He didn't quite know how to react to the revelation of Christine's true status. It should be a relief. He should feel happy, but instead he felt profoundly disturbed. He thought his emotions were under control and he had got the balance right; a little feminine company, but no expected commitment. He had been faithful to Marie.

"You got caught, didn't you?"

"Pardon?" Andrea startled him out of his reverie.

"You wanted to shut the world out and wallow in self-pity, but you've met someone, haven't you?"

"Can you tell?"

"All the signs are there. What's happened? Has she turned you down?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It wasn't that kind of relationship."

"What then?"

"I hired an escort."

"You paid a woman for her company?"

"Yes."

"And anything else?"

"No. We haven't had sex."

Andrea was puzzled. "If she's only an escort why so much gloom?"

"I've fallen in love with her."

"Oh."

"And she's not an escort."

"You've lost me."

So Brian explained.

"Let me get this straight. You thought Christine was an escort and looked upon you purely as a meal ticket. It upset you to find you were falling in love with her and then you got even more upset when you found out she isn't an escort at all. She may even love you back."