‘Near enough as the helicopter flies. I can land on the palm of your hand. I’ve got a wine bar in Cotchester High Street,’ he went on. ‘Most of my evil brother’s staff gather there to plot against him. No doubt your famous husband will shortly join them. You must get him to bring you in one day.’
‘Don’t be silly, Bas,’ said Monica briskly. ‘You haven’t met Paul Stratton, Maud, our MP for Cotchester, nor his wife Sarah.’
She looks more like his daughter, thought Maud. With his anxious, lined, somewhat petulant face, and his brushed-forward blue-grey hair, Paul looked like one of those once-famous television personalities who eke out a middle-aged existence advising housewives to buy soap powder in television commercials.
Even Maud, who had a dismissive attitude to the charms of her own sex, had to admit that the wife was ravishing.
‘Ah, the newly-weds,’ said Bas, kissing Sarah on the mouth. ‘When are you going to start being unfaithful to Paul? We’re in Beaufort country here, you know, high fences and low morals.’
‘
‘Oh my goodness, you are smashing,’ said Freddie in wonder. ‘I ’ear Rupert’s going to provide your ’usband with an ’orse.’
Maud felt marvellous. It was such a long time since she’d been admired by so many attractive men, so much more macho than all those wimps in London, and for once people were paying more attention to her than Declan. This dress always worked.
‘Come along, Mrs O’Hara,’ said Rupert, who, while Maud was busy fascinating, had loaded up two plates, acquired a bottle of white and two glasses, and put them on a tray. ‘D’you want to be indoors or out?’
‘Indoors,’ said Maud joyfully. ‘I freckle so easily.’
Rupert found them a window seat in the conservatory.
‘Monica’s done this rather well,’ he said, looking round. ‘I gather it’s cost Corinium even more than your husband’s first week’s salary. You want to avoid this house in winter; it’s the sort of place eskimos send their children as punishment.’
On cue, Simon Harris’s two hyperactive monsters roared past, sending an aspidistra flying. Ten seconds later they were followed by Simon Harris, with Coronation chicken all over his beard. The baby in the sling was bawling its head off.
‘Did they go this way?’ asked Simon frantically.
There was a crash from the drawing-room.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Rupert.
Maud wrinkled her nose as he rushed out.
‘That baby needs changing.’
Rupert laughed. ‘All his children do. I’d take the lot back to Harrods if I was him.’
Rushing almost as fast in the opposite direction came Paul Stratton searching for Sarah, who was sitting on a wall giggling with Bas.
‘Paul’s jeans appear to be castrating him even more than his new wife,’ said Rupert, forking up chicken at great speed. ‘If he bends over, his eyes will pop out.’
Maud admired the length of Rupert’s pale-brown corduroyed thighs. After four large glasses of wine, she suddenly had an irresistible urge to touch one of them.
‘She’s beautiful, his wife,’ said Maud.
‘She’s a tramp,’ said Rupert, ‘and Paul’s living in Cloud Cuckold Land.’
‘What’s Bas like?’ asked Maud, putting her chicken down on the floor untouched.
‘Divine,’ said Rupert. ‘One of my best mates. Runs a phenomenally successful wine bar, dabbles in property, hunts four days a week in winter, plays polo all summer, and screws all the prettiest girls in four counties. Can’t be bad.’
‘He doesn’t look like Tony,’ said Maud.
‘They had different fathers. After twenty-three years of utter fidelity to Lord Pop-Pop, Tony’s mother fell for an Argentinian polo player. The result to everyone’s amazement was Bas. Hence the name of the wine bar — the Bar Sinister.’
Maud laughed. Many men had told her that her laugh was beautiful — low, musical, joyous.
‘Tell me about your children,’ said Rupert, who’d finished his chicken.
‘I’ve got a son, Patrick.’
‘I’m not interested in him.’
‘And a daughter of just eighteen.’ Seeing Rupert’s eyes gleam, Maud added hastily, ‘But she’s shy and retiring; doesn’t go out much. And one of fourteen, who’s madly in love with you; she’s kept her binoculars trained on your house ever since we arrived.’
‘That’s nice. They’re adorable at that age.’
‘She’s got a brace on her teeth, and going through a very plain stage,’ said Maud even more hastily. ‘Tell me about Freddie Jones.’
‘He’s a saint.’
‘Because he buys your horses?’
‘Not entirely. I’ve offered Declan a horse if ever he wants a day’s hunting.’
‘Declan rides very well,’ said Maud. ‘He grew up on a farm. Who’s that little woman who’s bending his ear at the moment, who keeps making silly faces? He looks as though he needs rescuing.’
Rupert glanced round. ‘Not by me, he doesn’t. That’s Freddie’s wife, Valerie, the Lady of the Mannerism; won’t rest till she’s Queen of England. Freddie unfortunately thinks she is already. Keeping down with the Joneses is an eternal problem round here.’
‘You’re very black and white, aren’t you?’ said Maud, noticing his long fingers and wishing they were unbuttoning her silk dress.
‘I like people or I don’t.’
Looking up, Maud gave Rupert the benefit of her most bewitching smile. The great expanse of white eyeball and the beautiful teeth (unfairly even and white after so few visits to the dentist) really did light up her face. At the same time her hair escaped from its jewelled comb and cascaded down her back.
‘I hope you like me,’ she murmured.
‘I don’t know yet,’ said Rupert slowly, looking at her mouth and then her breasts. ‘I like your husband very much, but you’re certainly too disturbing to be living across the valley.’
Glancing through the conservatory window at Maud’s pale, rapt face, Declan thought she looked far more exotic than any of Monica’s orchids and felt a sick churning jealousy. Rupert had his back turned. Maud was weaving her spells again.
‘
Oh Christ, if only he could get away from this party, and spend a few hours on his Yeats book. And in three days he’d got to interview Johnny. He’d done his duty at this party. He’d talked to the appallingly pompous Paul Stratton, and asked Simon Harris about his wife, and answered questions from fearful bone-headed locals about the famous people he’d interviewed, and listened to at least three women who had daughters reading English at University, who wanted to go into television, and now he was trapped by this monstrous dwarf.
‘It’s so wonderful to be able to stand at the bottom of one’s drive,’ said Valerie Jones, ‘and not be able to see one’s house.’
She was wearing a cricket sweater and white flannels, and rabbited relentlessly on like an obnoxious player who wouldn’t stop bowling when the umpire said Over.
‘We couldn’t be happier with Green Lawns,’ she went on smugly. ‘We looked at The Priory, you know. It was on the market for ages, but it’s awfully cold, and I really couldn’t live in a property that didn’t get sun until the evening. I must have sunshine.’
She held her silly face up to the sun. Declan longed to clout a six into it. He could see Maud was running her hand through her hair now, shaking it out. Her body was arched towards Rupert. Unnoticed by either of them, the fatter of Monica’s labradors was busy gobbling up Maud’s chicken.
‘Even Freddie was nervous about meetin’ you,’ Valerie was saying. ‘Ay said, don’t be silly, Fred-Fred. Famous
