Test of Character

V has her little routines. Even her return from work each day follows a pattern.

First, there is swearing from the hall downstairs as she grapples with the tricycle that belongs to the little boy who lives upstairs with the lesbians.

Then there is muttering from the other side of our door as she grapples with the dodgy lock that our disaster-zone of a landlord has been promising to fix since the day after we moved in, three years ago.

Next in the sequence comes a sarcasm-tinged cry of “HI HONEY, I'M HOME!” followed by the sound of the door rattling off its brass hinges as it is slammed triumphantly shut. Then a small shockwave ripples through the flat from the juddering door jamb heralding, finally, the woman herself.

“How was work?” she asks, striding into the kitchen and catapulting her big brown suede bag on to the table.

“Alright,” I say. “You?”

“Usual bollocks,” she says, pulling a bottle of wine out of the fridge and pouring herself a generous glass. “Some new guy called Michael started. Everyone fancies him but he seems like a bit of a goody-goody. How about you? How is the world of JOY! magazine? Got any hot make-up tips for me babes, any freebies?”

“Funnily enough Maria gave me Jody’s column to look after.”

“You're joking!” exclaims V, wide-eyed. She sits down at the kitchen table and leans back in her chair. “Come on then. Spill. Was it shit? Was it?”

“Um, not quite shit exactly, but I had to change a fair bit. Jody's problem is that she doesn’t know when she’s being amusing and when she’s actually just being offensive.”

“Ha, so true. She's not exactly a comic genius. Give me some examples.”

I fish a proof of the original column from my bag and read.

"I didn’t realise the League of Gentlemen was a documentary until I went into the village shop and tried to buy tapenade. As I browsed the shelves - chav-brand loo roll positioned next to out-of-date tins of Heinz Big Soup and marmalade jars that probably still had golliwogs on them, that sorta thing - the molten-faced hag behind the counter practically drew her blunderbuss on me because my mobile went off and I dared to talk to someone while in the shop. I wonder if Waitrose deliver this far out...''”

V laughs. “That's not bad actually. Sounds pretty accurate.”

“Yeah, but there’s a balance to be struck. Anyway I reckon the villagers will burn her, eventually. Probably within a year, depending on how many people out there read the magazine. On the subject of JOY!, there’s one other thing I should warn you about.”

“Oh yes? Sounds ominous.” 

I take a deep breath. V won’t like this.

“Well, there are these characters in her column…a couple who live in London. They sometimes come and stay with her and Ian in Dunwell. Jody uses them as sort of über-urban comedy characters who don’t ‘get’ the countryside.”

V leans closer. Her nostrils are showing early signs of significant flareage. Instinctively, I lean away to protect myself.

“The other thing about this couple is that, um, well their chief characteristic is that they bicker all the time about whether or not to have children. The guy is a bit, erm, indecisive, and his girlfriend is, well, quite bonkers actually. I think Jody’s hoping to use these characters so she can write about kids and  break into the lucrative world of baby journalism.”

“What, you mean ‘I’m a perfect mum...get me I’m a slutty mum except I’m not really...can you believe I sacrificed my journalism career for a kid, except for the crap I write about him...my baby bores me to death…we’ve got a Bulgarian nanny and a big pram and you don’t...I’m here to tell you in one thousand jaunty words truths about motherhood that have until now eluded civilisation’s greatest thinkers’ – that kind of thing?”

“You’ve pretty much nailed it there.”

“I see,” says V. She chugs down some wine and plays with the stem of her glass for a moment. She rests her chin on her hand and gazes above my head, deep in thought. After a moment she speaks.

“And what are these ‘characters’ called?”

“Well, one is called ‘D’ and the other is ‘P’.

“And do you reckon these characters are modelled on 'real people'? People Jody knows?”

“Well, listen. Don’t go mental, okay, but I grilled her on the phone and she admitted that they’re modelled on us.”

V pushes her glass away and stands up. She balls her hands into fists and thumps the table.

“How DARE she?” she shouts. "Oh, the BETRAYAL! My OLDEST FRIEND!"

“It’s not a big deal, really -"

"I. Am. FURIOUS. The NERVE!"

"Look V, it's fine, it’s fine. I changed the copy a bit so it wasn’t so obviously us, you know, because I knew you would throw an eppy about all this.”

V sits down and collects herself.

“Listen. No amount of pissy little changes to her bile-scented words of mockery will ever make me forgive that conniving witch. And I’ll tell you another thing, right here, right now. Next time we’re summoned to that bastarding hellhole in East Anglia...that dismal glade of unsolved murders and hedgerow-dwelling paedos...that...that...curtain-twitching rustic twilight zone they call home, I am going to take that mofo bitch down. I am gonna take her down to Ipswich town."

V slaps her palms on the table to signify the end of her rant. She sits down and stares at her wine glass, shaking her head in disbelief, snorting like an exercised pony, red of chops. I try for mollification.

"Well - "

"And may I remind you," she starts up again, "that I suffer from petit mal, so saying I’m going to ‘throw an eppy’ means reverse brownie points. What did you change in her copy, out of interest?”

“Well, I changed the name of my character to Duke.”

“Duke?”

“Yes. Duke. As in - ”

V is unable to hear the rest of my sentence as she is cackling, roaring and hooting with laughter. At points, she throws back her head and actually howls. I allow myself a small smile, as I appear to have cooled her temper. I’m like the Siegfried and Roy of our relationship, if you discount the fact that Roy got mauled by the tiger. What a fun rollercoaster ride this evening is turning out to be.

“Glad to see you've cheered up a bit,” I say once V has returned to Earth.

“Oh, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever  heard,” she says, wiping tears away with her cardigan sleeve, while struggling to control her breathing and occasionally letting small chuckles splutter forth.

“So, you’re not too annoyed about the column thing?” I ask.

“That?” she says, swatting the idea over her shoulder. “Oh, I knew all about that. Jody called me this afternoon to tell me. All that stuff about 'taking her down' was a wind-up. I thought the column was quite funny, as it happens.”

“Wind-up? Funny?”

“Yeah, it was funny. For Jody. Obviously I pretended I was furious with her for a good 10 minutes or so, made her beg and promise me things in perpetuity and so on. But eventually I gave her my blessing. I've done worse to her in the past."

For a moment, I am rendered speechless. I think my brain has shut down my speech function as it tries to process everything that has just happened, while attempting to comprehend the beguiling enigma that is Women's Friendship.

“One day you'll understand,” chuckles V, obviously pleased to have overturned my expectations. “What is more, my chickadee, is that I suggested to Jody that it might be an idea for her to amplify somewhat the inherent procrastinating hopelessness of the character based on you, in the hope that it would shame you into action on the having-a-kid front.”

I inadvertantly let out a slightly girlish gasp. “You’re kidding, right?” V grins at me.

“Read it and weep.”

“Well, if that’s your game, I’m going to ‘amplify somewhat’ the pushy, bolshy, absurdly competitive, manipulative nature of your character when I come to edit the column. An adjective here, an adverb there…I can do a lot with a few words.”

“You say all those characteristics like they’re bad. Amplify for your life. We'll see who the readers sympathise with the most, eh Duke?"

"I very much look forward to finding out. And what's more, I'm going to be ultra super decisive in real life, especially when Jody's around, in order to to prove how utterly flawed her characterisation skills are and show how different I am from this 'Duke' character."

Quietly beaming, V leans back in her chair, puts her boots on the table and raises her glass to me. If she had a cheroot in her top pocket, she would pull it out and spark it up now.

Suddenly, I remember why I never play poker with her.

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When is the next installment coming.

This sounded like me last year - My wife's now 24 weeks pregnant. Resistance is futile...