“Some golfing friends of my parents have just gone there on safari. They’re called Dick and Fanny, can you imagine!”
Janey could always make Rupert laugh, thought Helen, with a stab of envy.
“Have you heard the latest Samantha Freebody story?” Janey went on, squeezing lemon on her smoked salmon. “What’s the difference between Samantha Freebody and a KitKat?”
“What?” asked Rupert.
“You can only get
Rupert howled with laughter, and Helen, although blushing furiously, joined in.
“Billy bumped into her at the opening of some sports center last night,” Janey went on. “He was going to cut her dead when she accosted him and said: “You’ve got a hole in your jersey!” and Billy replied quick as a flash, “You’ve got a hole between your legs, but the difference between us is I don’t write about my hole all over the papers.” She’s so publicity mad, the old slag heap, Billy says she’d turn up for the opening of an envelope.”
Somehow by bringing the whole awful business into the open, Janey was making things much better, thought Helen. Now she was attacking Rupert.
“You’re a monster to Helen. You treat her appallingly.”
“I don’t remember you treating Billy all that well in the past,” said Rupert coldly.
“That was only once. I just needed to prove that Billy was really the only man for me. I’m with him for keeps now.”
Janey was being real nice, thought Helen, so upfront and supportive. It was such a novelty to be talked about and defended and argued over that Helen drank more than usual.
While they were having coffee she went to the loo.
“All right?” they both said solicitously when she came back.
“Rupert’s just suggested that Billy and I fly out to join you in Kenya for one of the weeks,” said Janey.
“But, but, I thought it was supposed to be a honeymoon,” stammered Helen.
Rupert didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“All honeymoons should be spent in duplicate,” said Janey. “Helen and I’ll come if you and Billy promise not to talk about horses.”
49
Charlie Masters’s house, a few miles outside Nairobi, was perfect. Open balconied, it had papyrus walls, leopard skins on the floor, a vast sunken bath, comfortable beds, and a fleet of smiling African boys who could not only cook but didn’t turn a hair at any outlandish English antics.
The garden, lushly crowded with jacaranda, flame trees, and a sweet-smelling tangle of herbaceous plants, also contained a tennis court and a swimming pool ringed with palm trees. All around lay the bush, and Helen had the feeling that the house was only here by the courtesy of nature and that any minute the jungle might take over. From the start, the holiday was a disaster. With Billy and Janey around, she and Rupert never had a moment to themselves. Billy and Rupert tended to play tennis or swim all morning, followed by a large lunch and lots of alcohol. Then sleep or sunbathing, followed by more tennis and swimming, followed by a large dinner, more drinking, and a trip round the Nairobi nightclubs. Billy was drinking again, not to excess, but on holiday he reckoned he was justified in coming off the wagon.
Helen, exhausted and emotionally bankrupt, wanted to sleep, be cherished, and made love to in the gentlest way and to talk through her and Rupert’s problems. She tried to persuade Rupert to dine alone with her, but the others seemed always to come along too. She was deeply embarrassed, too, by the way Rupert and Billy wandered round the garden with no clothes on, their cocks wiggling like those rubber devils that hang from driving mirrors. She was sure Janey wore a bikini only because she was pregnant. Helen worried too about the children — well, mostly Marcus, and insisted on telephoning home every day from the local post office, which was extremely time- consuming and irritated the hell out of Rupert.
Finally, being Rupert, as soon as he and Billy hit Kenya, people discovered they were there and old friends started ringing up and inviting them to parties. Newspapers wanted to interview them, Kenyan television wanted to send down a crew. The alacrity with which Rupert welcomed every diversion made it obvious that he didn’t want to get away from it all in the least.
After one long, boozy lunch, when Rupert and Billy had gone out on safari, Helen unbuttoned slightly to Janey.
“I simply don’t know what to do. Our marriage is in smithereens. Rupert simply doesn’t want to spend time with me. I feel everything I do gets on his nerves.”
Janey poured herself another glass of wine. “Want one?”
Helen shook her head. “Oh, all right, just a small one.”
They took their glasses out onto the terrace. A shower of rain had rinsed the earth, and a rainbow arced over the jacaranda trees.
“I think you’re too subservient,” said Janey. “I mean Billy was lovely but pretty casual before I took off with Kev.”
“Billy was always very caring,” said Helen.
“But he was always happy to booze with his chums rather than come home to me. Why don’t you try making Rupert jealous? He was jolly broody over Dino Ferranti. Even talked to Billy about having your telephone tapped.”
Helen looked amazed. “He had no cause. There was nothing between Dino and me except a few lunches.”
“Ha,” said Janey. “Rupert is aware how fragile a thing possession is. He can’t imagine anyone having lunch with anyone else’s wife without evil intent. He thinks everyone is like himself.”
“But what can I do? We can’t go on like this.”
“Don’t shove off until you’ve found someone else. If you’re going to be virtually a single parent, why not get paid for it? If you left Rupe you wouldn’t be able to buy dresses like that, or do up the house every two years. It’s very cold outside the marital cage.”
It was so oppressively hot that they returned to Janey and Billy’s bedroom. Sitting on the bed, Helen appeared to let off a huge fart. Crimson, she jumped to her feet. “That wasn’t me.”
Janey laughed. “You’ve sat on my vibrator.”
Helen took a slug of wine.
“If your sex life’s so good,” she said, “why d’you need a vibrator?”
“Oh they’re lovely,” sighed Janey, “and they do jazz things up. Billy’s wonderful, but not absolutely infallible.”
Outside, the crickets were shrilling their permanent burglar alarm, the frogs croaked in lazy lechery.
Janey peered at her smooth brown face in the mirror. “God, I look like a hag. Look at all these wrinkles.”
“You haven’t got any,” said Helen, “and now you’ve given up smoking, you won’t get all those little lines around your mouth.”
“I’m bound to get them as punishment for all the men I’ve sucked off,” said Janey ruefully.
Helen turned away, shocked. What an appalling thing to say. She’d only sucked Rupert off once and been so revolted she’d never done it again. She realized in despair how many light-years sexually she was behind Janey. She must try and catch up. Blushing even further, taking another huge gulp of wine, and gazing at the eyeless African mask on the wall, she asked, “Do you — do you really enjoy doing that to men?”
Janey shrugged. “Well, it’s an acquired taste. Whisky and dry martinis don’t taste very nice the first time. It’s all right if you swallow it fast. I said to Billy the other day, ‘It’s a pity one can’t have it with tonic, or better still with ice and lemon!’ The trouble with sex is that all sorts of things are wildly exciting in fantasy, but no good when they happen. I get frightfully turned on by the thought of being buggered, even whipped. But when darling Billy tried it, I didn’t like it at all.”
