Rivals

door, locking him in as she slammed it. By the time he’d managed to clamber out of the drawing-room window, she’d started up the Lotus and was on her way to Rupert’s.

Putting her hand up to her head where she’d hit the bookcase, she could feel her hair sticky with blood. Looking in the driving mirror she saw more blood pouring out of her right eye and nearly blacked out. She had got to make it to Rupert’s with the briefcase, or Tony would catch up and kill her. Somehow, in a daze of pain and sickness, constantly wiping the blood out of her eyes, she managed to reach Penscombe.

Rupert’s front door was unlocked. The hall was dimly lit. Tripping over the dogs she screamed for him.

‘Angel, how nice. Have you forgotten something?’ he said, coming down the stairs wearing only a pair of jeans and reading Horse and Hound.

Then she found and switched on the main hall light and he saw her properly. Her right eye had closed up now and her upper lip was cut and terribly swollen. Her face, hair and shirt were drenched in blood.

‘My Christ,’ he said, appalled. ‘What the fuck happened?’

‘Tony found out.’

‘My poor little baby.’ He raced down the stairs, drawing her into his arms, feeling the stickiness of her blood- soaked hair and the frantic racing of her heart. ‘The bastard, where is he? Let’s get you a doctor, then I’m going round to kill him.’

‘I’m OK,’ mumbled Cameron. ‘He had provocation. You’d probably have done the same thing under the circs.’ The next moment she passed out.

When she regained consciousness she was in Rupert’s double bed, dressed in one of his shirts, with most of the blood washed off. A Doctor Benson, who was rather smooth and glamorous, had rolled up in his dinner jacket, reeking of brandy and Gold Spot, and, after examining her, assured her that her face wouldn’t be marked. Having patched her up, saying she might have to have stitches in her head in the morning, he gave her a shot to sedate her.

‘I don’t want my head shaved,’ she muttered when Rupert came back.

‘Your hair’s so short it’s practically shaved already,’ said Rupert, sitting down on the bed and taking her hands. ‘I’m so desperately sorry, angel. I got you into it.’

It took all Cameron’s pleading to stop him going straight round to Hamilton Terrace or even to The Falconry to beat Tony to a pulp.

‘Think of the adverse publicity. It’ll only trivialize Venturer’s bid.’

‘Nothing trivial about those bruises,’ said Rupert, touching her swollen lip with his finger. ‘How did he rumble us?’

‘Saw the video of Valerie’s opening and Beaver’s crash-landing in the gladioli. And somehow he found out I was at the Venturer meeting yesterday.’

Very, very gently Rupert was stroking her cheek. Despite the pain in almost every part of her body, she had never felt safer or closer to him.

‘Hell knows no fury like a womanizer scorned,’ he said lightly. ‘Well, he had to know some time. You’d better move in here.’

Cameron utterly despised women who cried in front of men. It was taking an unfair advantage and outraged her feminist principles. But once the tears started spilling out of her bruised eyes, she found she couldn’t stop them.

‘Is it such a ghastly thought?’ said Rupert, taking her in his arms.

‘No, no it’s the nicest thought in the world. I guess I don’t want to railroad you.’

‘You’re not. You’ve no idea how I hated letting you go back every time, particularly to Tony. I’m sick of never seeing you. Don’t worry about your brilliant career. I’ll look after you. And tomorrow, as a symbol of your new dependence, I’m going to chuck that beastly briefcase into the lake.’

Cameron managed a weak smile. ‘You had better take the papers out first, or Tony’ll be dropping by, using the truth drug on your duck.’

She was drowsy with dope now, so he laid her back on the pillow.

‘I’ll try not to get under your feet,’ she muttered. ‘I d-do love you — so so much.’

‘I know you do.’ Rupert got to his feet. ‘Now go to sleep.’

‘Please don’t go.’ She was suddenly frantic. ‘You will sleep here, won’t you?’

‘’Course I will. I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just going to take the dogs out.’

Wandering mindlessly through the garden, Rupert found himself on the edge of the lake, breathing in the soapy smell of the meadowsweet, listening to the frogs croaking. There were no stars, and, glancing across the valley, he saw Taggie’s turret was in darkness.

35

Valerie Jones was absolutely furious when nothing about her Opening appeared on ‘Cotswold Round-Up’, but not nearly as angry as Declan when Rupert told him what had happened.

‘What the fock were you doing taking a dog you can’t control to Valerie’s opening?’

‘I control my dogs a bloody sight better than you.’

‘We’re not talking about me. Think of the adverse publicity.’

‘There won’t be any. I refrained from beating Tony to a pulp.’

Declan sighed. ‘And how the hell is Tony going to explain the overnight loss of his mistress and Programme Controller to his staff? Someone’s going to leak the story. Pirated tapes of Beaver’s flatfoot through the gladioli are no doubt circulating the network already, and it won’t be long before they reach the press and the IBA.’

‘It was terribly funny. I wish you’d seen Valerie’s face.’

‘It’s not funny,’ thundered Declan. ‘I suppose you’re used to having your character blackened but it won’t do Venturer any good. The IBA don’t like this kind of thing.’

He couldn’t understand how Rupert could be so unrattled by such a catastrophe. He supposed he’d always lived in the eye of the storm.

‘I don’t know who comes out worse,’ Declan went on, ‘you setting out coldly and deliberately to seduce Cameron so we had a mole on our side, or Tony who beat her up. A lot of people will feel Tony was justified. He was only acting in the heat of the moment.’

‘Oh, come off it,’ snapped Rupert. ‘Talk about making mountains out of moles. The story we leak is that Cameron and I were attracted to each other when we met, when you interviewed me in February. We resisted it because we were on opposing sides for as long as we could, but now she’s moved in with me and Venturer has the best Head of Drama in the country. Christ, we’re both free agents. It’s Tony who’s the adulterer and the mistress- basher. He won’t want to make a big thing of it because of Monica and the IBA.’

A story was duly leaked and appeared in the Mail the next day that Cameron Cook had changed sides, moved in with Rupert and that Tony was devastated to lose his star producer. No reference was made to Cameron being Tony’s mistress, or of her being beaten up by him.

Rumour, however, was rife and by Wednesday Corinium had leaked a counter-story accusing Venturer of poaching and cold-blooded enticement, and putting the blame firmly on Rupert.

‘A lonely, single woman nearing thirty, worried about missing the marital boat, is in a particularly vulnerable position,’ Tony was quoted as saying.

Rupert was furious. ‘All we have to do is give a photograph of Cameron’s bruises to the press.’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ said Declan crushingly. ‘You’ve no proof Tony did it and not you. It isn’t as though you’ve exactly got a blameless reputation when it comes to beating up.’

Tony, once he had cooled down, was absolutely shattered by Cameron’s defection. He’d had no idea how much both he and Corinium had come to depend on her, both as an inspiration and a sparring partner.

Discovering through his spies that Rupert would be in London opening a new sports stadium on Thursday, Tony drove over to Penscombe to see her. Surrounded by Rupert’s pack of dogs, with Mrs Bodkin in the kitchen and Mr Bodkin strimming the long grass round the lake, Cameron felt safe to let him in. Dressed in an orange bikini, she