‘Very pleased with Gertrude’s Valentine.’
‘Oh, she got it?’ said Rupert. ‘Ironic that the first Valentine I ever sent in my life should be to a dog.’
They talked about politics, horses and sport, and then Rupert filled Declan in on local gossip, and some of the early history of Penscombe.
‘I hope Penscombe waits for me,’ sighed Declan. ‘I’ve been so busy since we’ve lived here, I’ve never had a chance to explore it. I haven’t even been into the local pub yet.’
It was not until they’d both got pretty drunk, and Gerald had gone to bed, that Rupert asked how things were at Corinium.
‘Bloody awful,’ said Declan.
‘Tony?’
Declan nodded wearily. ‘I seem to go from Baddingham to worse.’
‘He didn’t look very happy after the programme.’
‘He wasn’t. He wanted me to carve you up.’
Rupert grinned. ‘You had a bloody good try. I know why Tony was out for my blood, but why you? Just because I’m a Tory?’
‘No, for screwing up Tag at Valerie Jones’s dinner party.’
‘Ah.’
‘And I thought you were after her at Patrick’s birthday party.’
Suddenly Declan didn’t want to mention Maud.
Rupert inhaled deeply on his cigar. ‘Would that have been so bad?’
‘She’s eighteen and desperately insecure,’ said Declan roughly. ‘She’s simply not equipped to cope. You’d break her like a moth caught in the typewriter keys.’
‘Ouch,’ said Rupert wincing.
‘I saw them all slavering this evening,’ went on Declan, ‘Sarah, Cameron, that imbecile Daysee. You could have had any of them. Just spare Taggie.’
Rupert, however, was reluctant to drop the subject.
‘But she seems incredibly competent. She cooked brilliantly for Valerie and she coped with your party on New Year’s Eve virtually single-handed.’
‘Oh, she’s competent enough,’ said Declan. ‘You mustn’t assume people with dyslexia are thick, just because they have difficulty reading and writing. Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci and Thomas Edison were all dyslexic. So was General Patton. He could never learn the alphabet or his tables by heart.’
‘Good God,’ said Rupert in alarm. ‘So we can expect to see Taggie commanding the Third Army at any minute.’
Declan grinned.
Rupert filled up their glasses with brandy.
‘Is Tony really giving you a hard time?’
‘Septic tankwise, I’m up to here.’ Declan drew a finger across his throat.
He got up and wandered slightly unsteadily towards the window.
‘Beautiful house this. Where’s The Priory from here?’
Rupert pointed to the left, where, through a spiky fuzz of trees, a light was burning. ‘Taggie’s still awake, that’s her bedroom,’ he added without thinking. Then, when Declan instantly looked bootfaced, ‘It’s all right. I had to bodily remove some drunk from her room the night of your party because Taggie wanted to go to bed — alone.’
As Rupert joined Declan beside the window, dogs, sprawled all over the floor, sleepily thumped their tails.
‘D’you know what I’ve always wanted to do?’ said Rupert idly. ‘Buy that wood below your house.’
‘Pretty useless piece of land,’ said Declan.
‘Fifty yards to the right of the stream you could make the most perfect dry ski slope. You wouldn’t see it from the road. It’d be hidden by trees on both sides.’
‘How much d’you reckon it’s worth?’
‘About thirty-five grand,’ lied Rupert.
‘Seems a helluva lot,’ said Declan, stroking Jack Russells with both hands.
‘You could still walk through the rest of the wood if you wanted to,’ said Rupert.
But Declan wasn’t listening. Thirty-five grand would get me off the hook for the moment with the tax man, he thought, and pay the electricity bill and Caitlin’s school fees.
‘Think about it, anyway,’ said Rupert. ‘You also need a day off. Come out hunting on Saturday week. I’ll lend vou a horse.’
When Declan finally got back to The Priory, he left all the car lights on, flattened several purple crocuses on the edge of the lawn and drove slap through a flower bed.
Waiting for him on the stairs, both looking equally disapproving, were Taggie and Gertrude.
‘Why,’ said Taggie, ‘were you so g-g-gratuitously beastly to Rupert?’
23
On the third Monday in March Cameron Cook had the sadistic idea of summoning the entire Corinium staff to a power breakfast in Studio I at eight o’clock in the morning. While they blearily consumed croissants and muesli, and orange juice (scrambled egg was considered to contain too much cholesterol), Tony gave them a rousing pep talk on how each one of them could personally help retain the franchise.
‘This is a very exciting time,’ said Tony heartily. ‘“Dorothy Dove” and “Four Men went to Mow” have yet again been nominated for BAFTA Awards. Our new series on the elderly, “Young as You Feel”, starts next week. And we’re delighted to announce that our new presenter is going to be Naomi Hargreaves, who, as you know, climbed Everest last year at the age of sixty-five.
‘Our new networked quiz, “Master Dog”, to find the canine brain of Britain, starts recording on Wednesday. The new series of “Four Men went to Mow” starts at the end of April and a performance of Michael Tippett’s
‘Finally,
To put Declan down, Tony had deliberately not mentioned his programme, but now, looking round the packed studio, he discovered to his fury that Declan didn’t appear to be present.
Declan, in fact, was at home, having got up at five to wrestle with his Yeats biography. Looking at the pile of scribbled notes and typed pages on his desk, he felt like Vidal Sassoon confronted by the wild woman of the West with fifty years of burrs and tangles in her hair. He wished he had Vidal Sassoon’s skills. He was so tired, he hadn’t had an original thought for weeks. Matters had not been helped by Grace finally walking out at the weekend because Declan had bawled her out for drinking all his whisky. Maud, furious at losing her ally and sparring partner, blamed Declan for the whole thing and was refusing to talk to him.
His black gloom was interrupted by Ursula ringing up to say she had flu.
‘Poor thing. Stay in bed,’ said Declan. ‘Can I bring you anything?’
‘No, but I’m terribly sorry, I forgot to remind you about Cameron’s power breakfast,’ said Ursula.
At Corinium Tony was winding up his peroration: ‘I have no doubt that Corinium will retain the franchise, but I cannot remind you too strongly that this year we are on show. The IBA will not only be monitoring our programmes more closely, and examining our finances and our staff relations, but they will be looking to see how we conduct ourselves both as individuals and as a company. Any complaints from a local body, pressure group or a
