Funny Girl(64)

Mr Magic dug out his receipt and called Sophie’s number while she was drinking tea with Diane, the journalist from Crush. She had come to do a piece on Sophie’s flat. Diane’s editor had liked the story of the TV star with no telephone and no boyfriend, and Barbara (and Jim) was the most popular comedy series on television. The girls who read the magazine, all of whom wanted to be Sophie, would enjoy regular updates, the editor said. So Diane sat and listened while Sophie made monosyllabic plans for Saturday night, with as much mystery and obfuscation as politeness and her ingenuity would allow.

She put the receiver down, smiled, and tried to continue the conversation about the Habitat furniture and the poster she had just bought, of a big red sun setting over a deep blue sea.

‘Out with it,’ said Diane.

‘I’m not telling you my plans for Saturday night.’

‘You don’t have to tell Crush readers. You just have to tell me.’

‘It’s nobody you know.’

‘I know it wasn’t Clive.’

‘How do you know it wasn’t Clive?’

‘Because you said, “Hello, Maurice.” ’

Sophie opened her mouth, shrugged, laughed.

‘It was Maurice,’ she said.

‘There was some gossip about you and Clive. People keep seeing you out and about.’

‘If I was with Clive, I wouldn’t be going out with Maurice, would I?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t.’

‘The only Maurice I know is Mr Magic from Sunday Night at the London Palladium.’

Sophie blushed, and she saw Diane’s eyes widen. She wouldn’t just surrender the information, though. She would plough on.

‘What do you mean, the only Maurice you know? You were never at school with anyone called Maurice? You haven’t got a relative called Maurice? Why does it have to be a famous Maurice?’

‘You didn’t want me to know. You kept saying yes and no and thank you. And also, my Uncle Maurice is happily married to my Auntie Janet and living in Redcar.’

‘That’s what you think.’

‘He’s not your sort. You’re going out on Saturday night with Maurice Beck!’

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ said Sophie. ‘Why did he have to call when you were here?’

‘He’s probably tried a thousand times when you were out.’

‘If you say anything to anyone I’ll kill you. We haven’t been on a date before.’

‘Mr Magic!’

‘Do you think I’m mad?’

‘No,’ said Diane thoughtfully. ‘He’s younger than he looks. And he’s better-looking than you think.’

‘Better-looking than I think?’ And Sophie groaned in mock-despair.

‘Where are you going to go?’

‘I don’t know. He’s picking me up. He said he wanted to go somewhere fun.’

‘Go to a discotheque.’

‘Ooh, I’d love to go somewhere like that,’ said Sophie. ‘Do you know any?’

‘I like the Scotch,’ said Diane.

‘I don’t know what that is,’ said Sophie.

‘The Scotch of St James. It’s quite classy.’

‘Not too with-it?’

‘Not for you. And he’s famous. People forgive you a lot if you’re famous.’

Sophie used the same groan.

‘Will you call me afterwards? I’ll be dying to know how it goes.’

Sophie told her that she would, and she meant it too. It hadn’t really occurred to her before that, while she had a lot of things she hadn’t ever anticipated getting her hands on, she didn’t have any friends.

At first they were told that Maurice – or Sophie, she supposed, but the man on the door was working on the presumption that this was the gentleman’s business – had to pay three guineas for a temporary membership of the Scotch of St James, but then a couple of girls queuing up behind them asked for their autographs and suddenly they were both made honorary members. This immediate recognition made them both nervous, but once they were inside they were ignored. There was something almost studiedly self-conscious about this lack of attention, Sophie felt, as if they were being told that they weren’t famous enough, or were famous for the wrong kind of thing. All the girls looked like Diane, skinny and dark, short skirts, panda eye make-up, and all the men looked like guitarists or maybe even singers in a pop group. Sophie had dressed up, but Maurice, bless him, was wearing a suit and tie. Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that she was dating Diane’s Uncle Maurice from Redcar, although it was a very nice suit that Maurice was wearing.