“Lovejoy. Don’t look murder. It shows.”
“Ta, Bill. It’s er, all that grub.”
“Hungry? We get ours during the Game.”
“Will it be long?” I noticed Blanche undulating past, mingling merrily with a tray of edibles. I love seafood, as long as the poor creature’s unrecognizable. I mean, shrimps that need beheading and lobsters looking like they’ve just clawed over the gunwale make me run a mile. To eat, something has to die even if it’s only a plate of chips.
“An hour or two.”
God, would I survive? I served Mr Brandau while he talked with the dark Simon Bolivar lookalike who’d exchanged secret glances with Sophie at Nicko’s. They talked of percentages, cut-ins and shut-outs. Was this the yacht’s secret, a clandestine investment company? Or was there simply no secret, except a bit of body-rodding? La dolce vita was hardly tomorrow’s news.
“Who needs cut-ins, Charlie?” Brandau was saying. “I can be bored in the Senate!”
The swarthy Charlie laughed, joked his way out of some dilemma. Sophie Brandau’s face tightened and she floated over, lovely as a dream.
“Mr Sarpi shouldn’t think that politics bores you, Denzie. Think of the effect on the electorate!”
I caught Bill’s glance warning me not to listen. I whistled, being busy.
“Hell, Sophie,” her husband joshed. “I’m gonna
Moira Hawkins was being introduced to Jim Bethune. The podgy man would have fondled, except Jennie did a neat interception. I noticed Gina Aquilina watching me. I raised my eyebrows in mute appeal, and asked Bill if I could cadge some of the buffet food on account.
“No, Lovejoy.” He had a marvellous delivery, not a decibel misdirected. He should have been a spy.
“Okay, okay.” I carried on serving, smiling, giving out pleasantries.
Charlie Sarpi and Denzie Brandau drifted away, mingling with Nicko’s group. Sophie Brandau hesitated by the bar, then did a simulated start of surprise to notice a restless young blonde who was definitely on the toxic twitch. She had the look of a luscious plumpster who’d slid the snake to become skeletal in a matter of months.
“Why, Kelly Palumba! I didn’t even see —!”
“Hey, Sophie —!”
The party was so glad the jittery lass and Sophie were glad that even I felt glad, and served Miss Palumba her brandy sour with a beaming heart. Gladness is contagious, I find, even where something murderous is beginning to scratch your spine.
“Beg your pardon, miss.” I was baffled. The blonde had leant close and asked for something. “Bill?”
He was cool. “Sorry, Miss Palumba. We’re right out.”
“Sheet,” she said distinctly, swigging her drink and replacing the glass with a commanding tap. I poured. And encore. And twice more, to the brim.
She had said “to lift my drink”. Lift where? To her lips? Or was it Americanese for strengthen? But with what? It was already as potent as distillers could make it. I shrugged as Sophie Brandau edged the girl away into the socialite press with the “How’s the family, Kelly… ?” kind of prattle. I tried not to look at the blonde, but when you see somebody screaming so silently it’s difficult. Tap on my shoulder. I turned. Prod. “Hi, Orly.”
“Mrs. Aquilina wants you, Lovejoy. Main cabin.” I heard Bill’s warning, nodded, wiped my hands and went.
THEY were setting out a long table. I would have called it lovely but for its newness. Gina was supervising flowers and suchlike. Blanche was scurrying, two other serfs placing chairs. Somebody was changing a picture, a Philip Steer painted in a milliard divisionistic dots, two girls running on a waterside pier. I smiled, then frowned to show Orly and Mrs. Aquilina I was all attention.
“Blanche. A tray of hors d’oeuvres in the anteroom. This way, Lovejoy.”
An archway led through half-drawn curtains to a slender cabin, more of an alcove. She reclined on a chaise longue and gestured me to sit opposite.
“That’s all, Orly. Go check the arena.”
He gave me a lethal glance and left me to be dissected by this smiling lady. She said nothing. My feet shuffled as usual under this treatment. I found myself reddening slowly. I cleared my throat, tried to look offhandedly through to see how the other kulaks were managing. Surely not laying for another nosh? But the table was bare, almost. Just small boxes of playing cards. And a couple of computer screens coming to life with that irritating come-hither bleep they make. Like a boardroom. Who cared?
“Thank you, Blanche.”
A silver tray of food. My mouth watered. Blanche returned to her task. I dragged my eyes from her receding form, tried not to ogle the grub, failed on both counts.
“I’m not usually taken in, Lovejoy,” Mrs. Aquilina said.
Now what? I was suddenly so homesick. In a new country I find I return home a lot more than I arrive, if you follow.
“I’m sure you’re not, missus.”
“Gina, please. Do have something…”
I fell on the tiny things. There’s not much in one, so I had to take a few at a time. You get famished in sea air. “Sorry, er, Gina. But it’s been hours since breakfast.”
“Of course it has,” she said. She was carefully not laughing, the way they do, but really rolling in the
