support for the Venturer bid.’
‘You can’t,’ said Freddie, aghast. ‘The meeting’s tomorrow morning. Your not being there will really tip the scales. I fort the Church of England were supposed to forgive sinners.’
‘I have to set a good example to my flock,’ said the Bishop and rang off.
‘Lily-livered bastard,’ said Freddie furiously. ‘We’re well shot of ’im.’
‘He’d have impressed the IBA,’ said Declan bleakly, who couldn’t look Rupert in the eye. Was it because of Taggie or the memoirs?
‘Then I must resign,’ said Rupert. ‘It’s the only honourable thing to do.’
‘No, you won’t,’ said Freddie. ‘It don’t add up. Beattie Johnson was a slut, but she ’ad a good ’eart. I don’t fink she’d ’ave written those rings wivout considerable financial inducement. Seb Burrows has got nuffink to do at the moment. I’m going to put him on to the story and see what he can dig up. And can’t we slap an injunction on the
Rupert shook his head wearily. ‘I wish we could, but I’m afraid it’s all true. Although, it’s appallingly slanted. The only wrong thing is that Billy and I aren’t gay. Seven-eighths of it was never, never meant for publication, but she was such a fucking good listener, and you know I can never resist making people laugh. We were together for two years, for Christ’s sake.’
‘How’s Cameron taken it?’ asked Declan harshly. ‘She was in a terrible state last night. Thinks you and she are kaput.’
Rupert slumped on the sofa, putting his head in his hands.
‘We are. I’ve just told her.’
Declan lost his temper. It was like an earthquake and a volcano erupting at the same time.
‘Can’t you ever keep your fucking trap shut? First you tell everything to Beattie Johnson, then you have to give Cameron the boot. Don’t you realize this’ll screw up any final chance we have of getting the franchise? No Bishop, no professor, no financial backing, no Cameron — she’ll bolt straight back to Tony and tell him everything she hasn’t told him already.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Rupert looked up, the bloodshot eyes suddenly alert.
‘Haven’t you read
‘Bas muttered something about it last night, but I forgot to read it.’
‘Cameron leaked all our plans to Tony on Tuesday.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘We put a private detective on to Tony. They spent an hour and a half together in the Royal Garden. ‘
‘So?’ said Rupert. ‘They were having a bunk-up. Cameron’s straight, I swear it.’
‘So do I,’ said Freddie.
‘Well, it’s purely academic now, since Rupert has seen fit to kick her out.’
‘I’m sorry, Declan.’
‘It’s not bloody good enough.’
Unshaven, putty-coloured, his shirt on its second day, his suit crumpled, Rupert looked so desolate and so ill, slumped on the sofa, that Freddie went over and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Could ’appen to anyone. You’ll come out of it.’
‘Venturer won’t. I’ve done for the lot of you.’
At that moment Valerie marched in.
‘I’ve read every word of your disgusting memoirs,’ she screeched. ‘I don’t want you in the house. You might give Wayne or even Fred-Fred some horrid disease.’
‘Shut up,’ snapped Freddie. ‘He’s ’ad enough punishment. Now just bugger off and bring us some black coffee.’
Feeling he was such an irritant to Declan, Rupert left soon after that. Holing up in Bas’s flat, he spent the rest of a nightmare day on the telephone, trying to resign from the party, from his constituency and from the International Olympics Committee. To his frustration no one would accept. The Leader of the Opposition, for example, was amazingly sanguine:
‘Wait until the franchises have been awarded,’ she said. ‘That tramp Beattie Johnson took me to the cleaners just before I became leader — slanted the whole interview. Jolly nearly cost me the job. The Amanda Hamilton business is unfortunate, I grant you, but Rollo’s only Shadow Foreign Secretary at the moment, and you haven’t done anything illegal. There’s been absolutely no security leak, and it isn’t as though you were married when you were in office. Just hang on a bit.’
Amanda Hamilton, on the other hand, was absolutely gibbering with anger when Rupert rang her. Rollo was intending to sue, she said.
Malise Gordon, by contrast, was icy cold with rage that Helen’s name had been dragged into it.
‘I’m not excusing what’s happened,’ said Rupert, ‘but I was very raw when Helen left me. Beattie lived with me for two years. Naturally I confided in her about my marriage, it never entered my head she’d shop me. None of the stuff that’s been printed was intended for the memoirs. Will you tell Helen how desperately sorry I am? I did tell Beattie hundreds of good things about her, which she conveniently forgot to put in.’
‘I’m sure that’ll be a great comfort to Helen,’ said Malise acidly.
‘Look, I’m going abroad immediately after the IBA meeting tomorrow,’ said Rupert. ‘I won’t be back for Christmas. I must see the children before I go.’
‘I don’t think that’s at all a good idea,’ said Malise crushingly, ‘and I know Helen won’t either. Tab’s far too young to understand, and I doubt if Marcus will ever speak to you again after the things you said about his mother. The press are howling round the place; your presence would only exacerbate things. Just bugger off and leave us all alone.’
‘I must explain —’ just for a second Rupert’s voice faltered — ‘that whatever’s happened, I still love them. For Christ’s sake, Malise.’
‘You can always write,’ said Malise, and hung up.
Rupert sat slumped for a long time. Then he borrowed two hundred pounds in cash from Basil’s till, a piece of writing paper and an envelope.
‘
Shoving the cash and the letter in an envelope, he gave it to Bas to deliver to The Priory.
Towards nightfall, over at Green Lawns, Freddie and Declan were just trying to prevent another backer pulling out when the private detective rang on another line. He had something too important to tell them over the telephone. He’d be straight round. He turned out, to Declan’s surprise, not to be some seedy unfrocked cop in a dirty mac, but a delightfully understated, mouse-haired young Wykehamist with an innocent pink and white face. Nor did he beat about anyone’s bush.
‘Tony Baddingham spent yesterday afternoon in a Stow-in-the-Wold motel with a woman. I’ve got pictures of them arriving separately and then leaving together, and exchanging kisses in the car park.’
He threw the pictures down on the table. Fascinated, Freddie and Declan got up to have a look. In the first photograph the woman had her black coat collar turned up and was wearing a black beret, dark glasses and her hair tied back. In the second, coming out of the motel, her coat was unbuttoned, she was laughing, holding the dark glasses and the beret in one hand, with her glorious red hair trailing down her back. In the third, she was kissing Tony in front of Taggie’s car.
‘Is this some kind of a joke?’ hissed Declan.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the private detective. ‘I’m awfully sorry, Mr O’Hara. After they’d gone I talked to the receptionist. After I’d bunged her, she admitted they’d been there several times before. She showed me the register — they’d signed in as Mr and Mrs Jones. The girl remembered Mrs O’Hara because she was so beautiful.’
Declan started to shake. It was like seeing the first stroke of the woodcutter’s axe going into a great oak tree, thought Freddie.
‘But it was Bas, not Tony,’ muttered Declan.
‘Bas must have been a front,’ said Freddie.
‘Look how upset she was the other night when Taggie turned up with Bas,’ said Declan, frantically trying to
