There's A Fly In My Soup

I didn't really need to look at the menu but I had been taught impeccable manners so I still did. Then I ordered the same thing as always; creamy tomato soup, a fresh crayfish and avocado salad and strawberry and apricot compote, which you could taste before you ate it as the scent of the fruit was mouthwatering. Enrico is a two times Michelin starred chef and his food is to die for. I ordered for my fiancé Jeremy too as I knew what he liked so it was the tomato soup and a chateaubriand steak done blue. He didn't eat desserts.

Jeremy is always late so after two years of being in love with him I was used to sitting in restaurants all alone. At Viva he would always book the table by the window so I had a view to enjoy. For other people there was a very long waiting list but Jeremy and Enrico, were personal friends.

The view drew me in as always and I had a wonderful time imagining different scenarios. Having been born on a country estate it was such a pleasure, and so rare to see views like this. I missed country living but Jeremy could never leave his commitments in London. 

I'd moved here for Uni. After gaining my Master's Degree in History I went to a Swiss finishing school. My parents met Jeremy at a charity ball and his generous nature didn't go unnoticed. He bought many of the items at the auction that night. He was also very charming and good company. As they were currently looking for a suitable husband for me they took me to the next ball. I said I didn't want to feel like a prize cow and thought I'd probably make an excuse to leave but I was dazzled by how funny and good looking Jeremy was. We hit it off straight away and fell in love within months much to my parents' delight.

Jeremy's only fault is his timekeeping but I have learned to live with it as I know it is caused by his relentless charity work. He is so well respected and knows so many celebrities that we quite often end up on red carpets and shots of us together appear in the tabloids. We have also been interviewed by Hello magazine recently. They wanted to know all about our engagement and upcoming wedding.

A box was delivered to me earlier today. Inside the note read, "To My Dearest Sabrina. Please wear this dress tonight. I'm sure you'll look like a million dollars! xx " 

Jeremy did this each time he took me out just in case there were any paparazzi about, as he didn't want me to be seen wearing the same outfit twice. The contents of the box was always haute couture, Versace, Chanel, Dior. This dress is Chanel, midnight blue and very slim cut to show off my svelte figure. It came with a matching clutch bag, diamond necklace and killer heels. Jeremy has impeccable taste.  

He had bought me a big apartment. I protested and said I could buy it myself but I could see he was offended by this so I never brought up the subject of money again. He had the interior completely redesigned to my taste with a dozen walk-in wardrobes, all having specially built in shoe racks for my huge number of pairs of Jimmy Choos, and Manolo Blahniks. There was also a large safe in which to store all the very expensive jewellery he bought for me. 

Jeremy's generosity was completed by the huge diamond in the centre of my engagement ring. It was surrounded by many other diamonds and I loved it. It would however be a long engagement, due to Jeremy's work commitments. 

I was considered quite the catch by the newspapers. A tall size 8 with long blonde wavy hair and green eyes though I blushed when people referred to me as beautiful. We were considered to be the perfect couple.

I left the bright blue McLaren 720s Spider Convertible at home. Another present from Jeremy. He'd put it in my name, as he'd done with the apartment. He'd sent one of his many private cars with a chauffeur to collect me but this restaurant was a hidden gem that somehow the paparazzis had never found. 

Although I loved the place and its view, it was set into the hillside which meant many steep steps to climb. Once the car drove away I had made sure nobody was about before I removed my shoes and climbed the steps in bare feet. I really didn't want a broken ankle. The damn dress was an encumbrance too as the way it was cut meant I had to pull it right up and expose my legs in order to move. So unladylike. I slipped the shoes back on before I entered the restaurant. I would have really loved to have taken the horrendously uncomfortable things off again under the table but that too was improper.

Of course our table was ready and waiting. Wine had been brought at my request as soon as I was seated and I had drunk more than half of a very fine bottle of Chardonnay. I'm ashamed to say that whilst I was intent on appreciating the view I hadn't realised. I did continue to drink though.

I was so deep in thought it was only when I became aware that Francesco, the waiter, was hovering that I realised Jeremy was now more than half an hour late which usually meant he wasn't far away. Francesco was just as aware of Jeremy's timekeeping, hence him standing at my elbow. It was time to order.

When my soup arrived there was still no sign of Jeremy. Francesco asked what to do with his soup and I said to bring it anyway, sure that he would appear soon. As I picked up my soup spoon I looked down into the bowl. There was a fly in my soup. Enrico would have been horrified and so so apologetic but instead of sending the soup back I watched the fly swimming round and round in circles making me dizzy. It was when it started to do the backstroke that I became fascinated with it but that was probably because I was feeling very drunk now. I couldn't eat the soup anyway. There was no room for food in the stupid dress which I had struggled to even sit down in.

Just at that moment I heard Jeremy arrive behind me. He was talking to Ricardo, the maitre d'. With quick thinking and dexterity, despite my drunkenness, I managed to swap the two bowls of soup without spilling any. By now the fly had sunk and was, I assumed, deceased.

Then Jeremy was there beside me. His arrival was heralded by a huge cloud of Clive Christian aftershave which was more than £2000 a bottle. He was done up like James Bond, full of apologies and kissing the side of my neck. 

"My darling Sabrina. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so long. Business matters. You know how it is." 

He sat down, thanked me for ordering and began to eat his soup as if he was ravenous. Mind you, it was nearly ten o'clock. Jeremy quickly cleared the bowl declaring the soup delicious as always though quite soon after he started to cough uncontrollably.

The wine had taken away all my inhibitions. I had been waiting for the right moment to get some things off my chest. I had never imagined having an audience. Bonus! Standing up with difficulty, I clutched the table as the room was spinning.

"I've had enough of this Jeremy. It's worse than being stood up. Your lateness is deplorable." 

My lips struggled to form round that last word but I was determined to have my say even though I could see Jeremy squirming in his seat with embarrassment, whilst still coughing. The restaurant was packed to the gills with the idle rich.

"What gives you the right to treat me like this?' I asked, my voice becoming louder and my posh accent slipping away as the anger surged through my body. Behind me I heard the loud clatter of cutlery being put down and lots of oohs and ahs.

"You're a boring old fart, nearly twice my age. You can only get a gorgeous young woman like me on your arm because you pay for my services!" The oohs and ahs continued but there was lots of muttering going on too. 

"Even high-class hookers like me have feelings. Sleeping with you for two years has been hell on earth. Yes, I know that's what you pay hookers for but regardless of the money you've lavished on me it was nowhere near enough to compensate for you slobbering all over me and worse!" Jeremy's coughing was getting worse too.

I was really getting into my stride now albeit only verbally. I was struggling to stand up in the dress and the heels.  

"Handcuffing me to the bed. All the other kinky stuff. And Sabrina? Really? Who the hell is called Sabrina?" 

I could tell I was slurring my words but I was on a roll and you could have heard a pin drop in the restaurant since I'd said the word hooker. By now Jeremy's face had turned purple and he was clutching his throat. 

"Oh, and by the way, if you're wondering why you're choking, you've just eaten a fly so consider tonight a freebie!"

With this I picked up my bag, whirled around and staggered across the room in the too tight dress and killer heels through a sea of Jeremy's friends, all with their mouths open in disbelief. Behind me I could hear Jeremy coughing and spitting, probably into his napkin, as he was so genteel. Francesco even offered to do the Heimlich Manoeuvre but it would seem that the fly had been well and truly ingested.

Laughing and being drunk whilst trying to walk wearing such unsuitable footwear I caught my heel in the back of the dress, fell onto the hard parquet floor and passed out. 

I awoke the next morning, hidden miles away from London in a private hospital. No way would Jeremy want the press to find me now. My right leg and right arm were in full casts. The same side of my face looked like I'd done ten rounds with Mike Tyson. I was swollen and bruised beyond recognition and probably needed some dental work too. My call girl days were well and truly over. I had the headache from hell but as I suddenly remembered Jeremy eating the fly I began to laugh uncontrollably and painfully but it had all been worth it. 

………….

My name is Britney O'Brien. I have never spent so much as a single day in the country. I come from a working class family. I was born on a Liverpool housing estate in Toxteth. It was rough. You needed to keep your wits about you at all times and your fists ready to fly. That applied to girls as well as boys. I did very badly at school. I didn't pass any exams and I didn't go to University in London or anywhere else. l hated History, still do. 

Mine was a big family, with too many children and nowhere near enough money. We were bickering all the time, because that's what people did where I'm from, so it seemed a perfectly logical step to leave Toxteth as soon as I could.

I did move to London but I hitchhiked the whole way in fits and starts, stealing food where I could. More than once I had to jump from a moving vehicle when the driver got frisky. I was always pretty, (according to all the guys who wanted to grope me), but I have no idea where my looks came from. I had two sisters and they looked nothing like me. Maybe I wasn't their sister. That was another thing about where I lived. Loose morals were commonplace. I never saw my family again.

I moved to London for a better life but ended up sinking deeper and deeper into the mire. I slept on the streets for the first six months, stealing for food. Although I was only sixteen, I soon realised how to make money. Turning tricks. It was okay. I could turn my mind off what was happening by thinking of a hot meal. A good-looking girl like me was worth more money to the men who were kerb crawling for prostitutes and after a while I was able to get a bedsit in a rough area, but I was used to rough.

One of the men who picked me up was looking for new girls for his escort agency. Marco was very good to me. He saw something in me that no-one else in my life ever had. Potential. He saw past the cheap clothes and the straggly hair. In his words I was beautiful and I had a really great figure. Over two years of eating out of bins will do that to you! With hair dye, grooming and some decent clothes he transformed me into someone I didn't recognise. He did however insist on elocution lessons to get rid of my appalling Liverpool accent.  

He told me we could both make money and he was true to his word. I worked for him for five years before he said I was ready for the big league. I really didn't want to leave Marco but he introduced me to Lucy, who ran a really high class agency. Her training took my earning abilities to a whole new level and yes, part of it did include History! I had to learn all kinds of subjects so that I could participate in high brow conversations without giving the game away. I had to appear like an upper class girlfriend.

I met Jeremy after he saw my portfolio at the agency. I will admit to being put off by his age and the fact that he was so damn boring, but the financial compensation made up for those things. I had to pay the agency a commission on my fee but all gifts were mine to keep.

I couldn't give a stuff about Jeremy's relentless charity work. Only the monetary gains made me put up with him but everyone has their breaking point. 

After many months in hospital, where I'd reverted to my real name, I moved into a flat that Marco had found for me, nothing too flashy. We'd remained friends and he'd said I could always rely on him for help for as long as necessary if the need arose.

Jeremy's face and mine had been splashed all over the tabloids and the news for weeks. I was named as: "Sabrina Chartwood, the mystery blonde hooker", although I didn't look anything like that now. I'd dyed my hair back to its original brown and had it cut. Another headline was "Jeremy Finn's bride to be was a call girl." His reputation was in tatters.

A year later I am fully recovered. I sold the apartment and I also sold my dress, shoe and jewellery collection. I did keep a few choice items but not the midnight blue taffeta dress I wore that night with the bag and the shoes. Now I could finally live my dream.

I kept the engagement ring as security in lieu of a pension. Escort agencies aren't big on providing pensions. Its current value is well over a million pounds and it lives in my safety deposit box.

I may never have been to a Swiss finishing school but I live in Switzerland now with the most beautiful view I've ever seen, overlooking the shores of Lake Geneva. Now I'm here I'm finally enjoying the peace and quiet I'd always dreamed of. I can easily live off my earnings and everything I'd sold from the two appalling years with Jeremy, for the rest of my life. I may have been a rubbish History student but I was a damn fine escort. Even though I'd signed an exclusivity agreement with Jeremy I still continued to see my other clients, albeit in secret. They liked that. It made it more exciting for them and as they were all good looking guys my age with fine looking bodies it meant I could tolerate sleeping with Jeremy for so long.

Most days I take the McLaren out for a zoom round these glorious mountain roads. I love the danger of driving at speed round all the hairpin bends. The McLaren can handle it. I turn the music up loud and scream for joy, the wind billowing through my now red, curly hair, especially on the straight roads where I can make use of its top speed of 212mph. 

I kept the posh accent and I have lots of posh but genuine friends. I'm not looking for a man and probably never will. Britney O'Brien didn't seem the right name for someone of my status so now I'm Kate Cavendish and every day I give thanks to the fly in my soup that changed my life.