Imogen

‘I don’t smoke,’ said Imogen.

‘Go on. I’m a great believer in first times. There may not be another opportunity.’

He lit the cigarette, inhaled deeply two or three times, then handed it to her. She took a nervous puff and choked, then took another one; then she put the joint in the snarling mouth of the stone lion at the end of the seat, and she and Larry both laughed immoderately. Then she took another drag.

‘Nice?’ asked Larry.

‘Yes,’ sighed Imogen. ‘It makes the flamingos so pink and the water so green.’

Three-quarters down the cigarette, by which time they were both cackling with laughter over anything, she turned and looked at him. He was really very attractive in a hawk-like ravaged way. And quite old enough to be her father — so that made everything quite safe.

‘Larry.’

‘Yes, angel.’

‘Do you think I’m pretty?’

‘Exquisitely so,’ and he bent over and kissed her very slowly and with velvet artistry.

‘And now you’re even prettier.’ He took a deep drag on the cigarette, then kissed her again, and this time it took much longer.

Imogen got to her feet and went to the edge of the pool. The flamingos seemed to be floating above the water, the turning beam of the lighthouse revolving most erratically. The huge stars were so near she could have reached up and plucked them.

‘Don’t go away,’ said Larry. ‘The way to heaven is paved with bad intentions.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ She could hear the throb of drums and the carnival howls of the party. ‘When love comes in and takes you for a spin, Oh la la la, c’est magnifique’, played the band.

The night was so warm and beautiful, yet she felt a terrible stab of longing. If only Matt were here. Then suddenly she was filled with passion and resolve and 86 per cent proof courage.

‘Larry darling,’ she turned to him. ‘People keep telling me I’ve got to grow up and live a little and get some experience with men, and catch up with Cable and Yvonne and Tracey and things. You wouldn’t help me, would you, and teach me about sex?’

‘Wouldn’t I just? What an offer! Christ, if you want experience, I’m your man, sweetheart. Je suis le professeur. Now stay here and finish the joint, and I’ll go and get another bottle and we’ll take it down to the beach.’

Imogen collapsed back on the seat. ‘When love comes in and takes you for a spin,’ she sang to the flamingos. She was feeling very light-headed.

From where she was sitting, she could see some planes parked in a field. Perhaps one was waiting to whisk the screen’s greatest lover off to Rome. Beyond the planes were a row of cars, mostly Rolls-Royces and Bentleys, but standing there, cleaner than any other, was James and Yvonne’s pale blue Cortina. Suddenly Imogen felt an overwhelming urge. She opened her bag, scrabbling inside for a lipstick. She found one that Gloria had given her for her birthday that she’d never used. It was dark maroon and called Plum Dynasty — to make you more sophisticated, Gloria had said.

‘Jolly soppy name,’ said Imogen, giggling hysterically to herself as she ran through the trees towards the cars. ‘Fancy founding a dynasty of plums. Anyway, your hour has come, Plum,’ and she repeated ‘Come Plum’ several times to herself, giggling some more.

And there was the pale blue boot door of Yvonne’s car, just asking to be scribbled on. She unscrewed the lipstick and wrote ‘Yvonne Edgworth’ in a large maroon scrawl. Then she added ‘is a stroppy cow’, then crossed out ‘cow’ and put ‘bitch’ and ‘hen-pecker’. Then she wrote ‘bugger’ three times on the top of the car, and ‘fuck’ twice on the windscreen. Then she rushed round to the other side and wrote ‘Yvonne Bismarck — the Iron Duke’, but that wasn’t quite right, so she crossed out the D and changed Duke to Puke, and laughed immoderately at her own joke. She’d just started to write ‘Go Home Carrot Top’ when the lipstick broke in half, so she ran shrieking back to Larry, who had returned and was swaying dangerously as he tried to balance along the top of the stone seat with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other.

He jumped down, spilling some of the champagne, and said, ‘I’ve just seen Yvonne Edgworth asking Omar Sharif if he’d ever bought a whole flower stall for anyone.’

The path down to the sea was quite steep and they were both very drunk, but somehow they managed to support each other.

‘I want to get my organ into Morgan,’ chanted Larry, and they both roared with laughter.

‘I seem to be going from one bad end to another,’ said Imogen. ‘I do love you, Larry. Is it possible to love two people at once?’

‘I think so,’ said Larry, ‘but it’s rather expensive.’

His drawl was more exaggerated than ever. His hair was all over the place.

They reached the beach. Imogen could feel the sand cool and separating beneath her feet. Somewhere on the way down she’d lost her shoes.

‘When love comes in and takes you for a spin,’ sang Larry. ‘I want to get my organ into Morgan. So do a lot of other guys at the party. I found several men in white dinner jackets looking for you when I went back to the house.’

‘There was only one,’ said Imogen. ‘You must have been seeing quadruple.’

And they both shrieked with laughter again. Pot on a lot of drink makes the stupidest things funny.

The whole beach and the distant lights of Port-les-Pins and the lighthouse seemed to hang in a rosy glow. The waves were hissing like little white snakes on the sand. A half grapefruit moon lay on its back in the dark sky — waiting to submit like me, thought Imogen. She felt weightless like an astronaut.

Larry picked up a stick and tried to write with it, but the sand was too dry.

‘Tell the sea to come nearer,’ he said.

They ran whooping hand in hand down to the water’s edge where he wrote Larry Loves Imogen in huge letters in the wet sand. Then he kissed her, and she could feel the warm sea washing over her feet.

‘I’ll give you a crash course in experience,’ he muttered into her hair, ‘you lovely warm thing.’

‘You do realise I haven’t been to bed with anyone before?’

‘I said I was a great believer in first times,’ said Larry, gently pulling her sweater over her head. ‘Shall we swim first? One should always have a bath before sex.’

Perhaps I’m not too fat to bathe in the nude after all, thought Imogen hazily, as she ripped off the trousers and pants and threw them down on the sand. There was no shock as, shrieking with joy, she paddled ecstatically into the waves. It was almost as warm in the water as out.

‘It’s heavenly,’ she shouted to Larry.

Next minute he was chasing after her, and she felt his hands round her waist.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said looking down at her. ‘You look like Venus coming out of the waves.’

‘Bottichilly,’ giggled Imogen. ‘Though actually it’s not chilly at all, quite the reverse.’

‘That’s enough overture,’ said Larry. ‘Let’s get down to Act One.’ As he kissed her his lips tasted of salt, and Imogen was glad he was holding her; she doubted she could have stood up alone. She really felt very hazy. She asked Larry if he thought there was any point in having a crash course if she wasn’t going to remember the finer points afterwards.

Larry laughed and said two of her finest points were sticking into his chest at the moment and he certainly wasn’t going to forget them, and began to kiss her in the hollow of her throat.

In the distance she could still hear the sound of revellers, and shrieks from the swimming pool. Then she heard voices much nearer, angry voices, and she was gradually aware that Larry had stopped kissing her and was gazing over her shoulder.

There was a long pause, then Larry muttered, ‘My God, it can’t be.’

Then she heard an all too familiar voice saying, ‘For Christ’s sake, Gilmore.’

Imogen buried her face in Larry’s neck, then slowly swivelled round. A man and a woman were standing on the sands only a few yards away from them. Both their faces were in shadow, but she could see the girl had short streaked blonde hair and was very slim, and no one could miss that height and the width of the man’s shoulders.

Larry swallowed nervously. ‘Hi, Matt,’ he said brightly.