she seems to be getting later and later.’
‘There’s no one at home,’ said Archie. ‘I’ll get them to get us a taxi.’
It was only when she got up to walk out of the restaurant that Caitlin realized how drunk she was. It’s like InterCity all over again, she told Archie. Only by grabbing her arm did he prevent her cannoning off every table.
He kissed her all the way back to The Falconry. Caitlin, who’d spent three days practising kissing the palm of her hand, found Archie’s mouth a great deal more exciting.
And when they were ensconced on Monica’s huge flowered chintz sofa, having both carefully removed each other’s earrings, Archie discovered that Caitlin’s small, incredibly springy white breasts were far more thrilling than Tracey Makepiece’s. It was just a question of preferring nectarines to melons. And her waist was so tiny, once he’d removed the black corset belt, that he was terrified he might snap her in two. But nothing could exceed her enthusiasm.
‘I do hope I’m not too pissed to remember every minute of this tomorrow,’ she said.
‘Have you ever been to bed with anyone before?’ Archie mumbled into the gel-stiffened straw of her hair.
‘Never. Have you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Lots?’
‘About two and three-quarters.’
‘A man of experience,’ sighed Caitlin in ecstasy.
Undoing a few more buttons, Archie, who was down to his Sisters of Mercy T-shirt now, kissed his way down her shoulder until he was sucking her right nipple. He was also wrestling with his conscience as to whether he ought to take her to bed. He wanted to like mad, but he was pissed enough to botch it, and she was certainly so pissed she might easily regret it in the morning. He had a condom in the breast pocket of his dinner jacket, which was hanging over the chair. But if he got up to get it, it might destroy the mood. But again it was unlikely they’d have an empty house to themselves for months.
As her little hands slid inside his T-shirt, he found his hand, as if magnetized, creeping up her legs.
‘I’m climbing your ladders to paradise,’ he whispered.
The next minute he jumped out of his skin as a great white light shone in at the window.
‘Holy shit,’ said Archie.
‘Ooh,’ squeaked Caitlin in excitement, ‘it’s a close encounter.’
‘Bloody sight too close!’ said Archie. ‘It’s my father flying in from Edinburgh.’
It was too late to make a bolt for it. With lightning presence of mind, Archie turned on a side light, plugged a tape in the video, pressed twelve on the remote control and did up Caitlin’s buttons.
‘I’ll ring for a taxi as soon as I can and take you home. We’ll just have to try and bluff it out.’
The next minute James Vereker’s new pilot on ‘Keeping Fit for the Elderly’ burst on to the screen.
Tony, fortunately, had been hosting a very successful dinner for the IBA and, after several belts of brandy on the way home, was in a mellow mood. It soon became even mellower when he found his favourite son in the drawing-room with an enchantingly pretty little brunette. She looked vaguely familiar, but Tony was too vain to put on his spectacles, and by no stretch of the imagination could she be called Tracey Makepiece.
‘This is Caitie,’ said Archie heartily. ‘I was just going to ring for a taxi to take her home.’
‘Where does she live?’ said Tony.
‘Chalford,’ lied Archie.
‘I’ll take her,’ said Tony expansively. ‘No distance at all.
Let’s all have a drink.’
‘Caitie’s tired,’ said Archie desperately.
‘She doesn’t look it,’ said Tony, admiring Caitlin’s flushed cheeks and glittering green eyes. ‘There’s a bottle of Moet in the fridge.’
Shoving Caitlin’s corset belt under a pink-and-white-striped cushion, Archie reluctantly left the room.
‘Why are you watching this tape?’ asked Tony as a lot of geriatrics with purple faces started doing press- ups.
‘I love Corinium’s programmes,’ said Caitlin dreamily. ‘I adore “Master Dog”. We’ve got two dogs, one’s very thick, one’s brilliant. I’m sure she’d win.’
‘You’d better give me a ring in the office next week,’ said Tony. ‘We’re always looking for bright dogs.’
‘I’m going back to school.’
‘Where d’you go?’
‘Upland House.’
Better and better, thought Tony in delight; the girl was a lady.
‘D’you know my niece, Tonia Martin?’
‘Frightful slag,’ said Caitlin. ‘She nearly got sacked last term for having boys in her room. She’s got a terrible reputation at Stowe, too.’
Tony was enchanted. His sister’s daughter was always being held up as a paragon of virtue.
‘And d’you by any chance know Caro McKay? Teaches Biology, I think.’
‘Of course. She teaches me.’ Caitlin beamed. ‘Ghastly old dyke. She and Miss Reading live in a two-bedroom house with a spare room.’ She screamed with laughter. Tony joined in.
Once Caitlin got an audience, there was no stopping her. Archie was torn between hysterical laughter and total panic as she regaled Tony with one scurrilous story after another about the daughters of his friends and colleagues.
After the bottle was finished, Tony insisted on driving her home. The only way Tracey would have got out of the house, reflected Archie, would have been in a hearse. Bitterly ashamed of himself, he funked going with them; he couldn’t face the return journey.
It was a lovely night. A butter-coloured moon was gliding in and out of threatening blue-black clouds, gilding their edges. Mist was rising. There was a smell of dying bonfires and wet leaves.
‘What a heavenly car,’ said Caitlin, playing with the electric windows.
‘How long have you known Archie?’ asked Tony.
‘About nine months. I don’t mean to suck up, but I do think you’ve brought him up well. He’s so considerate.’
Tony purred. ‘He is a nice boy. Wish he’d work a bit harder. Have you taken your O-levels yet?’
‘Last term.’
‘Get a few?’
‘Eleven,’ said Caitlin simply. ‘You seem more pleased than my mother,’ she added bitterly a minute later.
Archie’s father, she decided, was really, really nice. Extraordinary how her father and Tag got everything wrong. He was soon saying she might like to come to the Hunt Ball if she could get off school, and even suggested skiing in the Christmas holidays.
‘Oh, I’d love to,’ said Caitlin.
As they neared Penscombe, she noticed the car telephone. ‘Oh, how lovely, you are lucky. Can I use it?’
‘Of course,’ said Tony.
The length of Caitlin’s slender white thighs on the black leather seat reminded him almost unbearably of Cameron. He’d been hoping he’d bump into her at Edinburgh, but she hadn’t shown up. Without thinking, Caitlin rang The Priory. It was two o’clock in the morning and no one answered for ages.
‘Hullo,’ murmured a sleepy voice.
‘Taggie, darling,’ said Caitlin, ‘did I wake you?’
Tony nearly ran into a wild rose bush. Suddenly the temperature in the car dropped below zero.
‘What did you say your surname was?’ said Tony as Caitlin put back the receiver.
‘O’Hara,’ said Caitlin in a small voice.
‘Declan’s daughter?’
‘Yes.’
‘What the fuck are you playing at? Did your father put you up to this?’
‘Oh, please don’t tell him,’ gasped Caitlin. ‘He’d be furious.’
