and Fen had said earlier about Tory and not rocking the boat had only made her more desperate.
“Come here,” said Rupert.
It was not a voice to disobey. Rupert once again had that curiously dead expression on his face that always heralded trouble.
She removed her gold high heels, which would impede a quick getaway, and sank into the white warmth of Suzy’s sumptuous fake-fur sofa.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she said in a low voice. “I guess they had a celebration dinner for you when you won your bronze.”
“Hey, wait a minute. You’ve got very protective about Jake Lovell lately, haven’t you? Embracing him when he came out of the ring, sticking up for him this evening. What’s going on?”
Helen took a deep breath, aware that she was pushing a huge boulder towards the edge of a cliff and that any minute it might roll over, crushing innocent people in its path.
“What’s going on?” repeated Rupert.
One of Helen’s combs had fallen out of her hair, which flopped forward over her face. Looking at the golden tanned face and the shimmering gold body and the mass of shining hair, Rupert suddenly thought she had never looked so desirable — almost wanton — despite her terror.
“You’re looking very good. As I said earlier, you’re looking much too good. Don’t tell me you’ve got yourself a man at last?”
“Yes, I have,” said Helen, goaded.
“Who is it?”
“Jake,” whispered Helen, “Jake Lovell.”
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Jake Lovell!” Rupert began to laugh, totally without mirth. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve been having it off with that pathetic little cripple?”
“Don’t you dare call him that!”
“A cripple,” Rupert went on, “a warped gypsy cripple. Doing our bit for the disabled, are we? It figures, I suppose it made you feel good. A pound in the collection box on Sunday, a day a month for the NSPCC, hawking a slit tin up and down the high street once a year for the Distressed Gentlefolk, and leaping into bed with a cripple. Mrs. Campbell-Black does so much for charity. You bet she does!”
“You’re revolting,” screamed Helen. “Pulling everything down to your own disgusting level.”
“It appears to be you who’ve done the pulling.”
“Even at a time like this, all you can do is to make jokes.”
“Oh, believe me, baby, I don’t think this is funny.”
“I love him,” sobbed Helen, putting her face in her hands, “and he loves me.”
Rupert filled up his glass. Then in an almost calm voice that made Helen’s blood run cold, he said: “How long has this been going on?”
“Since February, when Marcus was hospitalized. I was worried stiff. Jake came in to see the consultant about his leg. He was very caring and supportive. I sure needed it after the Kenya trip.” She looked up at him. He stared back, as though daring her to go further. Helen dropped her eyes first.
“So that’s why you’ve been hanging around the circuit like a bitch on heat. How extraordinary. I was barking up quite the wrong tree, thinking you’d be turned on by Janey, wasn’t I? Never guessed your particular buzz would be a crippled dwarf.”
“Jake is not a dwarf,” screamed Helen. “He’s five foot seven.”
“You’ve measured him, have you — all over?”
For a few seconds he paced up and down the room, trying to calm the rage that kept boiling up inside him.
“And you had to pick the one man who’s always been out to get me. Remember when he tried to kill me before the World Championship? He doesn’t give a stuff about you. He just wants to score off me.”
“He doesn’t. He wants to marry me.”
The boulder was over the cliff now, crashing down, gathering force.
“Marry you?” said Rupert, genuinely amazed. “How?”
“As soon as he can get a divorce.”
“And he’s going to leave that fat, rich cow for you?”
“Yes,” sobbed Helen. If she said it, it must be true.
“And presumably that night when I came back from Dinard and he was there jawing about healing breaches and team solidarity, he’d merely come to fuck you — I beg your pardon — make love with you?”
Helen lost her temper. “Yes, he had. What about you and Podge, and Dizzy and Marion, and Samantha Freebody, and the one that gave me clap, not to mention all the others? You’ve never been faithful to me for one minute.”
“Oh, yes, I was,” said Rupert, “until you got involved with that sniveling child and refused to come abroad with me. He doesn’t give a stuff about you,” he went on. “Why did he nearly kill me at Disneyland for saying Tory was fat? Why was he on the telephone to her the moment he won that medal? You’re not going to break up that marriage. Anyway, what’s so special about him?”
“He’s a better rider,” screamed Helen, leaping to her feet, “and he’s much better in bed.”
The next moment Rupert had hit her across the room. Then he picked her up and hit her again, so that she collapsed sobbing across the glass table, spilling Rupert’s whisky over the white sofa.
“And what the fuck are you going to live on? He’s got no money. He can’t give you anything but Lovell, baby.”
“He’s got the Boyson sponsorship,” croaked Helen.
“He had,” said Rupert, gathering up his car keys. “That was on the condition he kept his nose clean. It’s pretty murky now.”
“Where are you going?” whispered Helen through lips which were already beginning to swell up.
“To find your lover and beat him up till he sees stars and stripes. Then I’m going to string him from the Hollywood sign by his precious medal ribbon.”
“No!” screamed Helen, “No, please!”
But Rupert had gone. Next moment she heard the crunch of his car roaring off towards Los Angeles.
Trembling like a palsied dog she ran to the telephone, and after several false starts managed to get through to the Olympic village. One of the security guards answered. No, they couldn’t possibly wake Jake in the middle of the night. He’d gone to bed and he was sharing a room with two weight lifters, both of whom had a competition tomorrow and needed their sleep. There was a “Do not disturb” sign on the door.
“Please,” sobbed Helen. “It’s his wife. I must talk with him. There’s been a terrible accident.”
The security man hummed and hawed. “Okay, I’ll go and wake him.”
It seemed an eternity as she stood watching the remains of the whisky drip onto the oyster carpet, before Jake picked up the telephone.
“Tory, darling, what’s the matter? Are you okay? Is it one of the kids?” Helen could hear the terrible anxiety in his voice, which made her cry all the more.
“No, it’s not Tory, it’s me, Helen. It was the only way I could have them fetch you.” She was so hysterical it was a minute before he could discover what she was trying to say.
“Steady, pet. Calm down. Tell me what’s the matter.”
“Rupert knows everything. He’s suspected us for ages.” That wasn’t true, but somehow it made a better story. “We gave ourselves away this evening. He’s on his way to the village.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No — yes — well a little. I’m okay, but he says he’s going to kill you.”
As though in a dream, Jake watched a group of English cyclists, drunk and stark naked except for their security chains, being humored very kindly along the passage by some security guards. For a wild second he wondered whether to seek asylum. There were enough guards on duty even in the middle of the night to protect him from a regiment of Ruperts. But then Rupert would probably go back to Arcadia and kill Helen.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to shop you. I was so frightened.”
