Prudence

‘Here they are,’ said Pendle. He’d gone as white as a sheet. We went into the hall. The front door was thrown open. A very beautiful woman stood in the doorway. She was as slim as a blade.

‘Darlings,’ she cried, rushing towards us. ‘How awful you must think us. We didn’t think you’d be here for hours.’

Jack’s wife? Pendle’s sister?

‘This is my mother,’ said Pendle.

My jaw clanged like a visor.

‘But you can’t be!’ I said. ‘You’re too young.’

Fatuous remark, but she was delighted.

‘This is Pru,’ said Pendle.

‘You must call me Rose,’ she said taking my hand. ‘Oh, look. Naughty Coleridge has moulted all over you.’

She probably hadn’t altered her style of dressing for twenty years, but she was bang in fashion now, with rippling blonde waves, round eyes and a tiny scarlet mouth. She’d have set them by the ears in the King’s Road too, in that marvellous fifties crepe-de-Chine dress. I felt absurdly self-conscious in my twinset and tweeds.

She didn’t look so young in the drawing-room, but she quickly switched off the overhead light and put on two side lights.

‘How are you, Pen, darling? You look tired. Have you been overworking? Such a good party — Maggie and Jack are still there.’

‘I thought I heard voices outside,’ said Pendle.

Rose looked sheepish. ‘James Copeland dropped me off.’

‘Linn’s James Copeland?’

Rose nodded.

‘Oh God,’ said Pendle. ‘Is he after you, too?’

‘Well, a bit. Too embarrassing really. My daughter Linn gets so cross when her young men run after me,’ she added to me.

I stared at her, fascinated. I’d never known a mother like this — skipping around in raver kit, pinching her daughter’s boyfriends.

‘Do get Primrose and me a drink, darling,’ she said to Pendle.

‘Her name’s Prudence,’ said Pendle acidly. ‘And she’s got a drink. When’s Ace coming back?’

Rose turned her eyes to the ceiling.

‘Oh, don’t remind me — the day after tomorrow. No, don’t glare at me like that, Pen. You know I’m fond of Ace. But he makes me feel so hopeless and he’s bound to nag about money.’

‘How is money?’

‘Oh, disastrous as ever. Look how shabby everything is.’ She picked at a piece of cotton wool oozing out of the yellow sofa. ‘Jack and Maggie’s house is costing the earth.’

Another car drew up outside, more doors slammed and we heard voices in the hall. Pendle’s face was expressionless, but once again that muscle was twitching in his cheek.

‘Don’t spend all night,’ said an irritable male voice. The door was pushed open and a man walked in. His face creased into an incredulous smile.

‘You’re here! Already! You must have blown a gasket on the motorway.’

Pendle looked rather ostentatiously at his watch.

‘It’s already eleven o’clock,’ he said.

‘God, is it that late? I am sorry.’ He turned to me.

‘This is my brother Jack,’ said Pendle.

Jack Mulholland was outstandingly good-looking and already going to seed. He had terrific bags under his eyes and was beginning to put on weight under the chin. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had those blue, sexy bloodshot eyes that looked as if he’d been swimming under water too long; and he knew how to use them. He looked into my face for a minute, then very slowly ran his eyes over my body, then back to my face again, as though he had to memorize every detail. A smile spread over his face. ‘At least 1,000 ships. But then you always had excellent taste, Pen.’

I squirmed with embarrassment and pleasure.

‘Where’s Maggie?’ said Rose.

‘Re-doing her face.’

‘Darling, do get us drink,’ said Rose.

Jack filled up our glasses, and poured two more for Rose and himself.

Pendle raised his eyebrows. ‘Pru’s not a great drinker.’

‘Don’t be a spoilsport,’ said Rose. ‘Well, here’s to you, darlings, and a happy weekend.’

‘That was bloody good, you getting Bobby Canfield off,’ said Jack. ‘Everyone’s talking about it round here.’

‘Mrs Braddock’s started a scrapbook of your cuttings,’ said Rose.

I took a sip of my drink and nearly choked. Through streaming eyes I caught Jack laughing at me. He is attractive, I thought. The moment he comes into the room the temperature goes up. At that moment a girl came in, and the temperature shot even higher. She was everything fashion magazines say you shouldn’t be. Her brilliant red hair looked as though it had been cut with garden shears. She wore so much eyeliner her eyes slanted into her ears, and she was falling out of a dress two sizes too small for her and jacked-in at the waist with a green leather belt.

But she was gorgeous. Any man confronted with that glowing vitality would want to tear those terrible clothes off her and tumble her into bed.

She stood in the doorway staring at Pendle. All of a sudden the room became very still. The colour drained out of Pendle’s face.

‘Hello, Maggie.’ His voice was curiously dry. ‘You look well. This is Pru.’

She turned and smiled at me. Her eyes were like headlights. I wanted to blink.

‘How odd,’ she said slowly. ‘She looks rather like me.’

I blushed. I looked like a ghost beside this buxom radiant creature.

‘Not odd at all,’ said Jack with a slightly twisted smile. ‘Mulhollands always go for redheads.’

Maggie sat on the arm of Pendle’s chair.

‘Get me a drink, Jack,’ she said, and, as Jack went over to the drinks tray, added quite audibly, ‘You shouldn’t have stayed away so long, Pen.’

Something funny was going on, but I was too tired to work it out. The brandy was sending me to sleep. I hardly listened as they swapped family gossip. I was only conscious that, beneath the superficial banter, there was an underlying tension. It was Jack who noticed I was falling off my chair.

‘Poor little Pru’s half dead. For goodness’ sake take her up to her room, Pen.’

I staggered to my feet. ‘Don’t bother, I can easily find my own way.’

‘Will you be all right?’ said Pendle.

‘Of course she won’t,’ said Jack, leaping up and taking my arm. ‘Come on, lovie, say goodnight to everyone.’

It was arctic in the hall.

‘You go on up,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll try and dig you out a hot-water bottle.’

After a few false starts, I found my room. I hardly had the energy to undress and take off my make-up.

I laughed as I remembered Jane’s instructions about folding my clothes up neatly. That lot downstairs wouldn’t care if I strewed them all over the landing. By the time Jack came upstairs, I was sitting in bed in my new black nightdress.

‘I’m afraid I’ve drawn a blank on the hot-water bottle,’ he said. ‘Will you be warm enough?’ he added, standing by the bed and looking down at me.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. I was coming out in goose pimples, but it wasn’t because of the cold.

‘You look very fit for human consumption,’ he said, examining my back. ‘You’re still brown.’

‘It’s always the bits that don’t show that last longest,’ I said slowly.

Jack Mulholland undoubtedly had a way with women, like some people have with animals. He made them