Page 36 of Bad Influence
‘Can I trust you, Amber?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’
‘I’m in here to kickstart my ovaries.’ I looked at her puzzled. ‘My list is simple,’ she continued. ‘One: getpregnant. Two: have a baby. I’m running out of time, biology is not on my side. I need a baby, Amber. My management wants one, Jose wants one, I want one, but it’s the one thing I can’t deliver.’ She stopped and looked at me with a new intensity. I wondered for a moment if frostbite had set in. ‘I need a baby to retain my fame,’ she continued. ‘No one wants a stagnant celebrity. I’m trying to shock my system into making one.’ She paused to breathe in and out quickly. The cold was really uncomfortable now, and I feared that if I stopped moving for a second, I’d become a human ice sculpture. ‘If I can’t get pregnant, I’ll settle for a baby any way I can. I’m desperate. Infertility is not fashionable, Amber.’
She shouted this statement even louder, over the sound of Freddie singing, ‘Two hundred degrees, that’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit …’
Is Jody having a laugh at our expense?
Outside the tank, on the warm side, Jody was jumping around too, in a show of solidarity. She waved her thumbs-up in the air, encouraging us to give her a sign back. As Blair held the phone up to the glass to capture us, I raised one thumb, indicating that I was still alive.
‘Thirty seconds to go. You’re doing amazing!’ she informed us through the speaker.
The opening bars of ‘Stayin’ Alive’began to play. The temperature was biting now, and I had to focus hard on not letting my joints seize up. I kept my body and mind active by pointing my fingers and throwing some vigorous John Travolta–esque disco moves to the music, while I thoughtabout what Mandy had told me. How could fertility be perceived as in or out of fashion? In my limited knowledge of fertility issues, I knew that having a baby generally wasn’t related to keeping yourself in the news, as Blair had alluded to earlier. The desperation in Mandy’s voice had been very clear, and I wondered about her motivation for telling me this personal information, in a place where she could be sure that no one else could hear.What does she want me to do with this?
I was midway through a jive routine when she spoke again. ‘Tell no one about this, Amber,’ she commanded. ‘It’s really important.’
‘Of course,’ I agreed. ‘Promise.’
So now it wasn’t just knowledge, but a secret – about one of the biggest stars in the world.
This was turning into the longest half a minute of my life.
Our eyes trained on Jody, and finally, we heard news we were waiting for. ‘Ten seconds to go!’ Jody announced, and both she and Blair held up both of their hands, plastic smiles spread across their faces, counting down the remaining time on their digits as Mandy and I found a reserve of energy and called out in unison, ‘Eight, seven, six, five …’
Blair raised their phone again to capture our faces, barely able to smile back because our cheeks were so numb from the penetrating cold.
Jody was really enjoying this part. She was grinning broadly on the opposite side of the human freezer.
The second it was over, a siren sounded loudly and although I could barely feel them, my legs propelled metowards the exit at warp speed. Mandy flung open the first door into the adjoining chamber and then the second was opened by Jody. As we emerged, she handed us each a warm dressing gown, which we slung over our raw-cold bodies. I felt an adrenalin rush which I imagine is akin to what a marathon runner feels at the finish line. Relief swept over me, but I was still frozen to the bone, my teeth chattering.
‘Wow, that was intense!’ I said to Blair’s phone, which they thrust in my face. They captured me pulling the thermal headband off my hair and uncovering my ears. My eyelashes felt crispy.
‘Do you feel amazing?’ asked Jody, beaming enthusiastically. ‘The whites of your eyes look so clear, Amber. Take a look.’ She encouraged me to survey myself in the mirror on one side of the dressing room, all the while Blair trailed me. ‘Don’t be surprised if you feel euphoric as the blood rushes back to your extremities.’
‘My lip is still bruised,’ I commented, checking myself in the mirror.
‘The ice will have helped,’ Jody informed me. ‘Highly oxygenated blood will be flowing to that area right now, believe me, it will speed up your recovery.’
‘What about you, Mandy?’ Jody looked at my boss.
Mandy moved her arms through the sleeves of the warm dressing gown and pulled the belt tight at her waist. With her hair pulled back and minimal make-up she looked different – even more beautiful. I wondered whether the forty-five years she claimed to be her age on Wikipedia was correct.
I hadn’t really thought about children in relation to Mandy until now. There had been rumoured pregnancies over the years and speculation in the media, but nothing ever confirmed. She seemed to be nailing superstardom, a permanent smile across her face, her success and achievements plastered almost everywhere you looked online, so I never imagined she might be struggling in any way. I felt a softening towards her after learning her intimate secret. As an observer, it would be easy to assume that Mandy had it all – the luxury lifestyle, wealthy husband, house, cars, and a wardrobe far beyond the wildest dreams of most normal people, but the one thing she really wanted – the top of her list – was to be a mother. I felt for her on that level, although it was the other part that intrigued me the most, the way Mandy spoke of a baby as if it was a commodity or the latest fashion trend.Was it ethical to see a baby as something to give a celebrity currency – a spread inHELLO!magazine? What exactly did she mean by that?
‘I feel fantastic – energised.’ She smiled. ‘And lighter, even. Like I shed a tonne off my mind as well as my body in there.’ She turned to look at me intensely. ‘Do you, Amber?’
‘I definitely feel invigorated,’ I replied.
It felt as though Mandy was holding secrets and I wasn’t quite sure whether I was being manipulated by her, or if she was just being honest.
After the session, when my fingertips had thawed, Blair and I accompanied Mandy to a nearby café. She was back to her usual chirpy self, chatting easily about the merits of oat milk over almond in hot coffee, but how she preferred soyain Frappuccinos. For a whole thirty minutes I experienced no double takes or unwanted comments from anyone about my top lip, which I took as a positive sign that it was returning to a normal size and colour.
‘So, what have you got me for the shoot tomorrow?’ Mandy quizzed as I sipped my coffee, grateful for the warmth in every sip. Before I could tell her about the natural hair and make-up and country pursuits theme I had in mind, Blair spoke. They had been reading a message on their phone:
‘Tatlerwon’t commit,’ Blair said, reading it out. ‘“We are interested in following Mandy’s career in the UK … blah blah … but … blah blah … Let’s talk again in a few months.”’
‘Cruel,’ sneered Mandy.
