‘Oh God,’ moaned Taggie.
Rupert laughed. ‘I’m half-tempted to stop the car and see how much you’re blushing. Were you terribly shocked when you saw us?’
‘Yes, no, yes,’ mumbled Taggie. ‘More for Gertrude, really. She’s led such a sheltered life. It must have been awful all those fire engines turning up.’
‘We were bloody lucky,’ said Rupert. ‘Cameron tells me that the Corinium newsroom give the Cotchester Fire Brigade so much booze at Christmas that invariably the firemen tip them off and keep their hoses running until the television crew arrive. Sarah and I in the buff would have been a sensation on “Cotswold Round-Up”.’
Taggie giggled. She didn’t like to tell him how much in the last few months the memory of his oiled, mahogany-tanned, wonderfully constructed body had haunted her dreams.
The White Elephant at Painswick was packed and taking last orders, but still managed to find a corner for Rupert. Taggie fled to the loo. All she had in her bag was a defunct mascara wand, a comb, some scent and a picture of Claudius. If only she could clean her teeth. She made do with soaking the roller towel, rubbing some soap on it, rubbing her teeth, then rinsing her mouth out with water. Then she de-tangled her hair and put it back in its ponytail.
When she got back to the table, Rupert, realizing she would be totally floored by the French menu, had ordered a bottle of Pouilly Fume and smoked salmon and scrambled eggs for both of them.
‘And you’re going to eat the lot.’
At first they discussed the children.
‘I wish they got on better with Cameron,’ sighed Rupert, ‘but, being totally unused to children, she makes neither extra beds nor allowances.’
It was good that they could talk about Cameron naturally now, thought Taggie, suddenly longing to touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of Rupert’s eyes. Perhaps she could become his long-term confidante, and even when he was eighty, he’d come roaring over to The Priory and tell her he’d met some marvellous new fifty-year-old. At least it’d be better than not seeing him.
‘Does it still upset you going to the Horse of the Year Show when you’re not winning all the cups any more?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s why I wanted you to come along last week — ’ he took her hand — ‘to hold
Still holding her hand, he looked into her loving, infinitely understanding and sympathetic eyes. Christ, he’d never admitted things like this to anyone, not even Billy. Then she asked the same question: ‘Does it still hurt seeing Helen?’
Rupert shrugged. ‘I got bored with hating her, I guess. The only thing that really irks me is that Malise succeeded where I failed. I can’t honestly say I’ve ever made any woman happy, or not for very long.’
‘You make me very happy,’ said Taggie gruffly.
For a second they gazed at each other and he watched the colour mounting in her cheeks.
‘I’d like to try,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll just pay the bill and we’ll go.’
As he drove her slowly back to Penscombe, Chris de Burgh was singing ‘Lady in Red’ on the car radio. It was such a beautiful night. The moon was hiding behind a vast ebony cloud shaped like a yew tree, tipping its edges with silver; the rest of the pearly grey sky was threaded with stars. A few windows were still lit up in the village like cardboard cut-outs.
Just before he reached the right turn up the long chestnut avenue to Penscombe Court, Rupert slowed the car down almost to a standstill and raised a finger to Taggie’s cheek.
‘Are you quite sure, angel?’
He could feel her cheekbone rubbing frantically against his finger as she nodded. Totally adrift with love, she had no thought of refusing.
‘Fucking hell,’ howled Rupert, as they drew up outside the house. Parked outside, beside Taggie’s car, was a Lotus. In the moonlight it could have been any dark colour.
Cameron, thought Taggie in horror.
But the girl who came out of the front door had thick lustrous hair, as golden yellow as the sycamore leaves swirling across the gravel. It was Sarah Stratton. Sobbing, she threw herself into Rupert’s arms.
‘I must talk to you.’
‘I must go,’ said Taggie.
‘No, don’t,’ said Rupert sharply. Then, realizing what he was saying, added, ‘Well, it is a bit late. We’ll check through the rest of those names tomorrow, and we’ll tackle the southern part of the region later in the week.’
‘Oh, the fucking franchise,’ screamed Sarah.
Leaving time only to squeeze Taggie’s hand and say he’d ring her tomorrow, Rupert took Sarah into the drawing-room, where she collapsed sobbing on the sofa. The temperature suddenly seemed to have dropped several degrees. The house felt horribly cold and empty without Taggie and the children.
It was a few minutes before he could get any sense out of Sarah. Evidently James Vereker had given her the bullet.
‘Tony ordered him to. He said everyone was gossiping about me and James, and it doesn’t do Corinium’s reputation any good in a franchise year. Jesus, and when you think of the way he was carrying on with Cameron.’
‘
‘I know James loves me,’ sobbed Sarah hysterically, ‘but that shit Tony offered him the carrot of his own thirteen-part series on staying married, and ordered him to front it with Lizzie. Tony’s convinced the IBA will adore the idea, what with all this panic about AIDS.’
Rupert whistled. ‘That’s quite shrewd.’
‘So James and the podgy frump have to present a lovey-dovey united front until the franchise is in the bag, and James is going to go along with it.’
‘Ambition should be made of sterner stuffing,’ said Rupert idly. ‘And how’s Lizzie taking it?’
‘Oh, lapping it up, I should think,’ said Sarah viciously. ‘Must be the first time anyone’s slept with her in yonks.’
Hum, thought Rupert. ‘Well, you’ll just have to be a bit more discreet until after 15th December,’ he said.
‘That’s what I said, but James is refusing even to have a drink with me. If I talk to him in the passage at Corinium, he scuttles off like a daddy longlegs. He won’t even gossip during the break in “Round-Up”. I know he’s vain and ambitious, but I love him. I can’t live without him.’ Her voice rose to a shriek.
Slumped on the sofa, in a rucked-up amber mini-skirt, and a saffron yellow jersey, with her tousled tawny hair and her tear-streaked face, Sarah should have been the epitome of desirability. But, comparing her hard, petulant, demanding little face to Taggie’s, so sweet, so infinitely kind and gentle, Rupert wondered how the hell he’d ever fancied her.
‘I can’t live without him,’ Sarah repeated shrilly. ‘I’ll never get over it.’
‘I hate to point it out,’ said Rupert, ‘but you said exactly the same thing to me after Christmas, and you’ve got over me pretty thoroughly, and no doubt when Paul thought he ought to do his duty and stay with Winifred you said the same thing to him.’
‘You can’t compare the two,’ said Sarah furiously. ‘I’ve just spent a whole weekend with Paul,’ she added with a shudder.
‘Paul’s palled, has he?’ said Rupert, topping up her glass.
‘I can’t stand living with him a moment longer. He won’t stop pawing me,’ wailed Sarah. ‘And he’s so old. I mean he’s nineteen years older than me. It was all right when I started working for him. I was twenty and he was
