Chapter 4

"I don't know when I'll be home," Doug said impatiently into the phone. "No, don't bother keeping dinner for me. I'll grab a bite at the canteen!"

He listened patiently as Betty tried to question him further, but after a few moments, he interrupted her.

"Look, I've got to go now. I'll see you as soon as I can!" He said goodbye, and with a sigh of relief, hung up the phone.

He dreaded calling his wife these days, but at least it was better than facing her in person. He found that he was running out of excuses, and he could hardly imagine that she believed him when he continually said he was working overtime. But she seemed to, and apart from her persistent questioning, she never mentioned the matter.

Just time for a quick drink before I pick up Selma, he decided, and ordered a brandy. The last couple of weeks had flown by for him. Never before were his days so filled. He could hardly wait for work to be over so that he could see Selma. His entire life centered around her now, and he knew that she felt the same way about him. He had never met anyone like her before, and for the first time in several years, he felt like a complete man. Of course, he'd been worried after he lost his temper that time with Betty and fucked her in the ass. He'd tried to make up with her, but she refused to have anything to do with him, so he'd given up trying. Things had sort of reached an impasse between them now, and they maintained an uneasy truce, but they were far from reconciled. But Doug didn't really care. He had Selma, and that was the important thing for the moment. Things would work out with Betty, he was sure, and now that he was having a hell of a good time with Selma, he wasn't too worried. Besides, Betty seemed to have cheered up of late. It was almost as if she had some secret that was sustaining her. She had made oblique references on several occasions to "a change" that was coming, and a "surprise" that he, Doug, was in for, but he hadn't paid too much attention to that. She'd get over that business of the ass-fucking in time... maybe it was the best thing after all to just ignore her and go his own way. And when someone like Selma was at the end of that way, it sure made everything worthwhile...

Betty could hardly believe it when she answered the doorbell and found Harvey and Jean there. She thought for a moment she must be dreaming.

"Oh Harvey! and Jean! I'm so glad to see you," she said effusively, and really meant it. She was sure she'd never see or hear anything of them again. Countless times during the past two weeks, she had gone over the whole event in her brain, wondering if she had imagined that Peterson had said he'd get in touch with her. For the first few days, she had waited optimistically by the phone, confident that at any moment, she'd lift the phone and hear Harvey. But after a few days had passed, and he hadn't called, she began to grow doubtful. And along with the doubt, came regret... regret that she had allowed herself to be fooled into believing that anything would come out of it, and regret for having posed naked for the photographs.

As time wore on, and Harvey hadn't called, she worked herself up into a frenzy of worry, thinking that somehow Peterson might use the photographs against her, or worse still, have them printed in some magazine where Doug might see them. What would she do then? Things were looking very bleak, and were compounded by the fact that Doug was never at home any more. Betty just didn't have a clue where he spent his time, but he always seemed to be in a hurry, and was never home before midnight. She didn't really care too much, it was true, because things were definitely not right between them. But still, it wasn't right that he should leave her alone so much. He just didn't seem to care about her anymore and this knowledge did nothing to improve her state of mind.

However, just when the future seemed very gray, Harvey and Jean had turned up again almost miraculously.

Betty ushered Peterson and Jean into the livingroom, glad that this time, she was wearing an ordinary dress, and at least looked presentable.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Betty," Jean smiled warmly, as she sat down on the sofa. They both accepted Betty's offer of gin and tonics, and happily, Betty went over to the liquor cabinet and poured the drinks.

"I'm sorry for not getting in touch with you sooner," Harvey apologized, "but when you own and run an agency like I do, you're kept going pretty much all the time!"

"Yes, both of us are. Although I have other staff, Jean is my right hand gal! I don't know what I'd do without her," he said genuinely. "And now, I'm sure you'd like to hear about your shots!"

"Well, I was wondering what became of them," Betty admitted excitedly.

"The first rushes came through, and believe me, Betty," Harvey emphasized, "they were fabulous, just like I knew they'd be!"

"Have you got any of them with you?" Betty asked, and was disappointed to hear that he hadn't.

"Jean and I went over them, and picked out the ones we thought were the best, and gave them over to the photographer who works with us to print."

"Will I have a portfolio soon?" Betty queried with interest.

"Sure. It won't be long now, but to tell the truth, you won't have to make the rounds. Jean here was a photographer's rep at one time and she knows the game inside out. So with her pushing the photographer's angle and me, as your agent, pushing you, it won't be long before you're in demand."

"But I thought it might be fun to make the rounds, for a little while, at least," Betty said, disappointment evident in her voice.

"So it might, honey," Harvey said, "but a busy woman like you, with a husband and home to look after, can't spend all day tramping around, lugging that God-almighty satchel around with you and maybe at the end of it, getting only a call-back or two--if you're lucky!"

"But wouldn't clients prefer to see me in person?" she persisted, twirling her glass around in her hand.

"Sure, they would," Harvey agreed, "but believe me, the best way is to get them excited over your book first, and then see you in person. That way, they're bound to be sold on you!"

Betty didn't really understand Harvey's reasoning, but she decided not to question him further. She'd just accept his edicts without question. After all, he knew best, in this business anyway, and she was just a raw beginner.

"When do you think I'll go out on my first job?" she asked tentatively. Now that things were looking more definite, she decided she wouldn't tell Doug anything until she had come back from her first job, maybe even with her fee as well. She couldn't wait to see his reaction when she sprung that one on him.

"Well, you may have to go out on a couple of go-sees first," Harvey said cautiously. "You never can tell how things will happen. But one thing's for sure, it won't be long before you're in the swing of things!"

"I'd like to have some sort of idea, though, if I could," Betty said again, hating to push the subject, but wanting something more definite.

"You're right in wanting to be prepared," Harvey approved, and then turned to Jean.

"Run out to the car, will you honey, and get my "Coming-Up" book?"

Jean hurried out to the car, but in a few moments, she was back.

"It's not there, Harvey!" she said worriedly.

"Goddamn it, I must have left it at Villiers' Studio. Now what am I going to do?"

"Don't worry, Harvey," Jean soothed, "I'll drive over there and get it!"

"I don't mean to put you to so much trouble," Betty said timidly, "It's all right, really. You can phone me and let me know!"

"No, I've gotta have that book," Harvey insisted, and shot a grateful look at his assistant. "I'd really appreciate it, Jean, honey!"

"I won't be long," Jean promised, and let herself out the front door.

"How about another drink?" Betty offered, breaking the long silence.

"Sure, as long as you'll join me," Harvey countered. Betty, shrugging her shoulders, agreed. She didn't really want it, but it wouldn't do any harm, especially as she had stopped taking brandy with her morning coffee.

She sat down beside Peterson on the sofa when she handed him his drink.

"Well, Betty, how do you feel about your new career?" he asked amiably looking directly into her eyes.

"It's wonderful," Betty assured him wholeheartedly. "It'll mean a new way of life for me!"

"And what does your husband think of all this?" Harvey queried.

"I... I haven't told him about it, yet," Betty admitted with embarrassment.

"Why not?" Harvey wondered, idly sipping his drink.

Betty didn't quite know what to say. She could make up something, like she wanted to surprise him, but she didn't think she'd sound convincing enough. Maybe the truth was the best thing.

"Well, we haven't been getting on too well of late," Betty said in a low voice. "In fact," she said in a rush of confidence, "we're barely on speaking terms. I hardly see him from one end of the week to the other. It's terrible..."

"Why, where does he spend his time?" Peterson asked.

"Oh, I don't know, working overtime, out with the boys, something like that. I suppose to avoid coming home!"

"What kind of husband is he anyway?" Harvey said briskly. "That's no way to treat a woman, especially a beautiful, desirable one like you!"

Betty didn't know what happened next; she only knew that she was suddenly crying helplessly. Something in Peterson's sympathetic words struck a chord deep within her an loosened the tight clutch she had on her emotions.

"Hey, what's the matter? Was it something I said?" Harvey asked solicitously, placing a paternal arm around her shoulder.

"No, it wasn't... I mean, yes..." she blubbered, leaning against his shoulder, finding relief in his consoling voice and comforting arm.

"Take it easy, honey..." he continued to soothe, stroking her as tenderly as if she was a child. "Why don't you tell me all about it?"

Peterson suppressed a secret smile. He had guessed that Betty had some kind of problem with her husband. Now, the way things are going, she'll play right into my hands...

"I can't..." Betty sobbed, "it's too terrible..."

"But it might help if you talk about it, honey..." Harvey said calmly. "These things have a way of working out if you bring them out in the open!"

"I know," Betty sniffed, "but I'm too embarrassed."

"It can't be as bad as all that," Harvey assured her, "and don't forget, I'm not exactly an adolescent!"

Betty considered his last remark. It was true that he was an older man, with probably a lot of experience of human problems, and he was also right when he said that things often looked better if discussed openly. But could she tell her secrets to an almost stranger?

"In fact, sometimes it's even better to tell your problems to a stranger," Harvey commented, as if he had read her mind. "Because a stranger has a totally different outlook and is not emotionally involved."

Betty suddenly felt that she couldn't battle on by herself any longer. She got absolutely no support from Doug and she felt tense and exhausted from the strain of trying to weather the storm alone.

"The whole problem is that we're not compatible!" she blurted, "sexually, that is!"