‘Bloody Maud and Declan,’ he howled as he went into the kitchen.
‘What on earth have they done now? Don’t turn it off, it’s Vivaldi,’ protested Cameron. ‘Did you get the squid?’ Then, as Rupert handed her the pilchards, ‘These won’t do, dumbass. And where’s the Parmesan and the saffron?’
‘They forgot Taggie’s birthday,’ said Rupert bleakly.
‘Well, that’s not such a big thing.’ Then, seeing the rage on Rupert’s face, ‘Haven’t you forgotten your kids’ birthdays?’
‘No — yes, I suppose so, but Helen always remembers.’
When he told Cameron what had happened, and that they were taking Taggie out to dinner, she hit the roof. ‘But it was our last night on our own. This was to be a celebration I was cooking specially for us.’
‘There’ll be plenty of time for that in the future.’
The telephone rang. It was Declan. Fuelled by indignation, and also because Declan had been so censorious about him and Cameron, Rupert let him have it. ‘You fucking hypocrite, always banging on about tyranny and exploitation. The worst case I’ve seen is going on under your roof.’
‘What the fock are you talking about?’
‘Taggie. She works like a slave for the bloody lot of you, and all you can do is leave her alone in a huge house, with the fuses blown, and then forget her birthday.’
‘Oh, my Christ,’ said Declan, appalled. ‘Have we really?’
‘You get on the telephone the moment I ring off and say how sorry you are.’
‘We ought to come back.’
‘No. Cameron and I’ll look after her tonight. You come home first thing tomorrow and bring her a decent present, not a crappy book of Wordsworth’s poems she can’t read.’
‘God, I feel terrible,’ said Declan. ‘Now, what was this urgent thing about the franchise?’
‘That was it,’ said Rupert furiously. ‘If she hadn’t worked her ass off trailing around the area, rounding up names for your bloody franchise, we wouldn’t be ahead in the race now.’
Crashing down the telephone, he poured himself a huge whisky. He was absolutely shaking with rage.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Cameron, chucking the wooden spoon on to the drying rice and switching off the hot plate. ‘What gives with Taggie O’Hara?’
‘She doesn’t deserve parents like that. She’s only a baby.’
‘Nineteen today, to be exact. Well beyond the age of consent.’
She knew it was madness to bitch, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘You’ve got a very soft spot — or is it a hard spot — for her, haven’t you? Are you nurturing some secret passion? What I want to know is where does that put me?’
Rupert looked her up and down. There wasn’t a trace of tenderness in his face now.
‘You’re living here, aren’t you?’
‘At the moment.’
‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ he said softly. ‘If you want to go on living here, stop being such a fucking bitch.’
Draining his whisky, he picked up his car keys. ‘I’m going to get her a present. You can ring up the White Elephant in Painswick and book a table for three at nine o’clock.’
Henry Hampshire’s Springer spaniel had recently had six puppies. They’d all gone to new homes except the runt whose paw, broken when someone stepped on it, was still in plaster. The puppy had a freckled face, a bright pink mouth, crossed eyes that looked as though he’d been on the booze all night, and a stumpy tail which agitated his whole body.
‘He’s a great character,’ said Henry. ‘You can have him for a hundred pounds.’
‘With a broken paw? Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Plaster comes off next week. Then he’ll be as right as rain. Won’t stop him going all day in the field.’
‘Fifty,’ said Rupert.
‘You’ve got to be joking. The others went for two hundred and fifty each. Mother was best of breed at Crufts, father won every field trial in the country.’
‘Fifty,’ said Rupert. ‘He’ll always be slightly lame.’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Henry. ‘I had lunch with Daysee Butler today.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ snapped Rupert. ‘You’re bound to give away trade secrets.’
‘Well, you still haven’t laid on Joanna Lumley,’ grumbled Henry. ‘Daysee said Tony’s flown to LA to search for a new Programme Controller.’
When Rupert got back to Penscombe, Cameron had washed her hair, and changed into the clinging kingfisher-blue dress she’d worn to get her award in Madrid; it had slits to sunburnt mid-thigh on both sides. She looked apprehensive, very beautiful, and came straight up and put her arms round Rupert’s neck.
‘I was jealous. I’m sorry.’
He breathed in Fracas, the dry bitter sexy scent she always wore; it made his senses reel.
‘I’m sorry too,’ he said. ‘I over-reacted, but I feel so sorry for her.’
Under the blue dress he could feel Cameron’s nipples stiffening. Glancing at the kitchen clock he saw that it was a quarter to eight.
‘We haven’t got time. It’d muss you up.’
‘
Dropping to her knees, she unzipped his flies. This was one skill she knew she was better at than Taggie O’Hara.
A battered dark-green GTI was parked outside The Priory as they drove up. The front door was open; the hall was filled with clothes, books and suitcases.
‘Perhaps she won’t want to come out to dinner,’ murmured Cameron hopefully.
‘’Course she will,’ said Rupert.
It was debatable who got the worse shock, Cameron or Rupert, when they went into the kitchen and found Taggie sobbing in the arms of a tall black-haired, incredibly beautiful young man. The only difference was that Cameron instantly recognized Patrick, whereas Rupert did not. Patrick looked round, still with his arms round Taggie.
‘Well?’ he said icily.
Taggie glanced up, gave a gasp, then tugging herself away from Patrick, blindly snatched at some kitchen roll, frantically wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Hullo, Rupert, hullo, Cameron. How are you?’
She was amazed to see Rupert glaring at Patrick with such hostility. Perhaps he resented him as Cameron’s ex.
‘I don’t think you’ve met my brother Patrick, have you?’ she said quickly.
‘Your brother!’ Instantly the hostility was gone. ‘I didn’t twig. It was your party on New Year’s Eve, wasn’t it? How did your finals go?’
‘Perfectly all right,’ said Patrick shortly.
Turning back to Taggie, Rupert dumped two bottles of Dom Perignon on the table beside Patrick’s white carrier bag of duty free.
‘Happy birthday, angel. They’re just out of the fridge. Open them,’ he added to Patrick, totally unaware of the look of utter loathing that Patrick was shooting in his direction.
Oh hell, thought Cameron, poor Patrick. Taggie must have told him about me moving in with Rupert.
Cutting short Taggie’s stammering thanks for the champagne, Rupert seized her hand and led her out to the car. ‘Come and see your proper present.’
‘You d-don’t have to bother,’ stammered Taggie in the hall. ‘I’m having a lovely birthday. Mummy and Daddy have just rung. They’re bringing my present back tomorrow afternoon. They couldn’t pick it up until today, and Patrick brought me back the most gorgeous Arran sweater. He’s just got back. He had so much stuff to bring after three years.’ She was rattling now, on the verge of tears again.
‘Sweetheart, what’s the matter?’
‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she said. How could she possibly explain to him that the blown fuses, the night in the dark, and the forgotten birthday, were mere irrelevancies, that it was Cameron finally moving in with him that had
