You never know what’s in it.’
‘Natalie’s got it wrong,’ I say. ‘I’m going to be an escort not a hostess. There’s a world of difference. There’s nothing sleazy or unpleasant about what I’m going to do.’
‘What are you going to do?’ says Mum.
‘I don’t know all the details yet,’ I say. ‘Basically, the job consists of providing female companionship for businessmen or tourists who find themselves in London without a wife or loved one.’
‘“Loved one”?’ queries Mum.
‘I meant “loved one” in the loosest sense,’ I say.
Mum’s eyebrows shoot upwards again. ‘I don’t mean “loose” like that!’ I yelp.
Honestly! It is so difficult to explain, isn’t it? I could slap Natalie’s wrist for putting me in this spot – in fact I think I will when I get her alone upstairs.
Why Mum should be so worried I cannot understand. I have never made any secret of my moral standpoint, which is remarkably severe for these lax times we live in. Not for me the casual ‘easy come, easy go’ attitude which characterises Natalie’s approach to relationships. Every time I embark upon any form of contact with a member of the opposite sex I carry with me the realisation that I need to preserve the precious dowry of my virginity for my eventual ‘Mr Right’. How can any girl expect to be respected if she does less? – even more important, how can she respect herself?
But these are difficult times and it behoves one to develop a philosophy which, to those without a keen sense of moral values, might smack of compromise. It has always been my conviction that virginity is a state of mind, and this belief has carried me through many situations which might have placed an unbearable strain on those who had not selected their colours and pinned them to the masthead.
I can think of occasions on which I have lain powerless before the onslaught of some gigantic pussy pummeller and yet been able to endure the situation – nay, even draw some strange satisfaction from it – because my mind was pure from taint. I was able to perceive that I was in a situation not of my own making, or, alternatively, one that I had entered into for reasons other than those of personal gratification. In such circumstances, how could it be said that my virginity – my mental virginity – was affected? When the base Geoffrey plied me with drink, or I intervened between my sister and the greasers, my principle was never compromised. I was an agent of circumstance.
I am sorry to digress in this way but I think it important to get what you feel straight. I am certain that many girls would get much more out of life if they assessed their position and took a firm stand.
‘I don’t like the sound of it at all,’ says Mum.
‘Make up your mind when I get back from Chedworth Place,’ I say. I had expected the mention of such a posh spot to be received with a mild attack of drooling but Mum looks even more worried.
‘Where’s that?’ she says.
‘It’s in the Cotswolds,’ I say. ‘I’ve been invited to stay by my friend.’
Mum follows the trail ruthlessly. ‘Is she something to do with this escort business?’
‘Yes. She knows somebody who runs it.’
Mum wrings her hands. ‘Oh dear. I don’t like the sound of this at all. It’s difficult to know how to put it, but—’
‘White Slave Trade,’ interrupts Natalie, eagerly. ‘They’ll drug you and then you’ll wake up in a brothel in Port Said. Thousands of Arabs will be tasting the fruits of your body at knockdown prices.’
‘Natalie! That’s quite enough of that!’
‘It’s true, Mum. I read about it in the paper.’
‘Not in the Sunday Telegraph, you didn’t.’
‘You’re both jumping to conclusions,’ I say. ‘I’ve known Penny since we were nursing together. She’d never get involved in something like that.’
‘Well, let’s wait and see what your father says. I don’t think he’s going to like it.’ Natalie shakes her head in time with her mother and I could drag my nails down her cheek. The little baggage has always been the favourite, especially as far as Dad is concerned, and it is always me who gets the blame for everything. I waste no time in making my feelings clear and retire to my room in tears. Somebody has been using the perfume that Geoffrey gave me, which does not improve my mood.
Some of you may remember that Geoffrey Wilkes is my long-suffering boyfriend who has stuck with me through thin and thin. I know I treat him badly but he is so eager to please that he turns me right off. If you see a door mat it is difficult to avoid wiping your feet on it.
I don’t know whether it is telepathy or something like that but while I am lying on my bed, and thinking about Geoffrey’s funny little ways, and how sweet he is really, I hear the telephone ringing downstairs – it would be alarming if I heard it ringing anywhere else. Immediately, I have a strange feeling that it is Geoffrey. Amazing, isn’t it? It just goes to show that there are so many things in this life we can never understand. I wait with bated breath as I hear footsteps coming upstairs and prepare myself for the inevitable.
‘It’s your friend,’ says Natalie’s sulky voice from outside the door. Just as I thought! A new eagerness pushes my body from the bed and I trip downstairs rehearsing my greeting. The telephone is lying on the hall table and I pick it up and place it to my lips.
‘Hello! Rose here!’ I trill.
‘Hello. Did you get home without being raped?’
‘Yes,’ I say, bitterly.
‘You don’t sound very happy about it.’
‘It’s not that,’ I say. ‘I thought you were someone else.’ Of course, it is Penny, not Geoffrey. How typical of her.
‘If you’re expecting a call, I’ll get off the line.’
‘There’s no need. I just had a feeling, that’s all.’
‘Lucky you, old girl.’ Penny has a very crude streak which I try to ignore. ‘I was just ringing up to see if you’d like to come down this evening. There’s a train from Paddington at six. I could meet you at Oxford.’
I begin to cheer up. When Dad hears the news about my possible new job he will make Mum’s comments sound like hysterical enthusiasm. I don’t feel in the mood for a long inquest and a speedy departure to Chedworth Place will solve all my problems.
‘That’s very kind of you—’ I begin, trying to be polite.
‘Of course, if you’d rather spend a bit of time with your family, I’d quite understand. It’s just that I got invited to this party at St Peter’s Hall and I thought it might be fun if you came along. Shall I ring you in a few days and—’
‘I’d love to come,’ I say hurriedly. ‘Six o’clock, did you say? Right, I’ll be on it.’ It occurs to me that I am veering to the other extreme of enthusiasm but it doesn’t matter because Penny is already describing the delights that the evening has
