Rivals

Rugborough and one lot of boys took some fifth formers up on the garage roof and they were all smoking and drinking and telling the teachers to fuck off, and Miss Lovett-Standing — think of being saddled with a name like that — the gym mistress, found three condoms in the rhododendrons next morning.

‘I came top in the exam on The Mayor of Casterbridge,’ went on Caitlin. Then, seeing Taggie struggling to understand a recipe for potatoes Lyonnaise, her lips moving slowly as she read, she added kindly, ‘but a sixth former who did the same paper last year told me all the answers beforehand. And two girls in the upper sixth are having abortions this holidays.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Taggie absent-mindedly.

‘Taggie, you’re not listening.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m so worried about Daddy.’

‘He’ll be OK. Someone will snap him up.’

‘I don’t know. He’s lost all his confidence. I’ve never known him so down.’

‘That’s hangover,’ said Caitlin.

Her ability to spread mess everywhere was even greater than Maud’s. Her open trunk lay in the hall and lacrosse sticks, tapes, posters, rolled-up art work, wet towels, coloured files, a teddy bear and a squashy bag, overflowing with underwear, were scattered in a trail all the way to the kitchen. She was wearing a very expensive pink T-shirt, pinched from Maud at half-term, over which all her friends had written messages in biro, a puffball skirt, laddered tights and black clumpy stompers, and was now eating muesli out of a cup with a teaspoon.

‘Christ, this house is cold.’

The telephone rang again for the hundredth time. The line was awful.

‘Can I speak to Declan?’ said a male voice.

‘He can’t talk to anyone,’ said Taggie hysterically.

‘Is that Taggie?’

‘Yes,’

‘It’s Rupert. How’s your father?’

‘Not great.’ Taggie felt herself going very red, and turned her back on Caitlin. ‘He walked out, you know.’

‘It was partly my fault. He was in an exocet mood. I should have stopped him storming in to see Tony, but he’s better out of it; it was killing him. Are you all right, sweetheart?’

The sudden gentleness in his voice made her want to burst into tears.

‘I’m fine,’ she mumbled.

‘Well, tell him I’ll be over later.’

Upstairs, Declan turned on the five forty-five news and found Tony Baddingham, with a red carnation in his buttonhole, giving a press conference.

‘The truth of the matter,’ he was saying, ‘is that Declan O’Hara tendered his resignation last night, and we accepted it.’

Stupid word ‘tendered’, thought Declan. There was nothing tender about it at all.

‘Naturally, we’re very sad to lose Declan,’ said Tony, looking absolutely delighted, ‘but, quite frankly, there have been a series of disagreements and there’s a general feeling at Corinium that when people get too big for their boots, we’d prefer them to go off and wear out other people’s carpets.’

Declan switched off and looked down at the floorboards. He hadn’t got any carpets to wear out, and probably now he never would have. The telephone rang again. It was one of the Corinium shop stewards.

‘Fuckin’ idiot,’ he chided Declan, ‘you should’ve hung in and let him fire you.’

‘I know,’ said Declan almost apologetically. ‘I felt I had to retain some shred of integrity.’

‘Wish you’d come to us. Look, the lads want to come out. You’ve only got to ask. We’ll black out the ‘ole network for you, Declan, and get you reinstated.’

Declan was so moved he couldn’t say anything for a minute. Then he said gruffly that there wouldn’t be any point.

‘I can’t work for Tony any more, but thanks very much all the same, and say goodbye and thanks to all the boys for me.’

It was dark outside now, but a robin was singing on the bare honeysuckle outside his window. It had turned up at exactly six-thirty for the last week now, as if to cheer him on.

‘Art thou the bird whom man loves best,’ he murmured to himself, ‘The pious bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English robin?’

Tears filled his eyes. Oh God, what was he going to do?

Taggie knocked on the door and, getting no answer, walked in. She found him looking so haggard and despairing that she ran across the room, stumbling over the piles of papers and books all over the floor, and put her arms round him.

‘Please don’t be so sad. It doesn’t matter if we go back to London. We were all happy there. You’ve just got to get your confidence back. Rupert rang, by the way. He’s coming round.’

Going upstairs to her bedroom, she was horrified by how awful she looked. She’d been so busy she hadn’t had a moment to wash or even clean her teeth all day. She knew she had no chance with Rupert, that it was appallingly presumptuous, but for once she wanted to look her best when she saw him. Caitlin’s welcome-home supper could wait, she decided. She was going to have a bath and wash her hair.

Caitlin wolf-whistled when Taggie came into the kitchen an hour later. She was wearing a red-and-black- striped polo-necked jersey which Patrick had given her for Christmas, tucked into black jeans which were in turn tucked into black boots. As her hair was still damp she’d tied it back with a black ribbon. She wore no make-up except smudged black eyeliner, which made her silver-grey eyes look huge and almost luminous. A hot bath and the hairdryer had given her pale cheeks quite enough colour.

‘Because you so seldom bother,’ said Caitlin critically, ‘one forgets how beautiful you are: much more so than anyone else I know.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ muttered Taggie in embarrassment, putting the chicken into the top-right oven of the Aga.

‘How soon will it be ready?’

‘About nine.’

‘Good, I can watch “Dynasty”. Who are you going out with?’

‘No one.’ Taggie busied herself with draining the parsnips. ‘You like parsnip puree, don’t you?’

‘Adore it. You haven’t answered my question.’

‘No one.’

‘Then why are you done up like Gertrude’s dinner?’

‘I just felt awful,’ muttered Taggie apologetically, as she threw the parsnips into the blender. ‘I didn’t have time to wash all day.’

‘Hum,’ said Caitlin beadily, as she watched Taggie add curry powder, then butter, then cream to the parsnips.

‘As I just got up into yesterday’s clothes, I felt I must change,’ went on Taggie, even more embarrassed.

‘Fee, fi, fo fumble,’ said Caitlin, ‘I smell the blood of Rupert Campbell.’

‘Oh shut up,’ said Taggie, turning on the blender.

Caitlin waited until she had turned it off.

‘I am Campbell-Black but comely,’ said Caitlin giggling. ‘Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away, For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the turtle-necked sweater is worn in our land.’

‘Oh shut up,’ screamed Taggie. Picking up Gertrude’s rubber ring, she hurled it at Caitlin, missed and nearly hit Rupert, who, finding the door open, had let himself in, followed by Freddie Jones. Taggie stood rooted to the spot with horror. Gertrude went into a frenzy of outraged barking that someone had entered the house without her knowing.

‘Hello, Gertrude,’ said Rupert. ‘How extraordinarily good you look today. Nice dog, Gertrude, well done, hurrah, what a beautiful curly tail you’ve got.’ Bending down, he stroked the bemused Gertrude over and over again.

Taggie giggled.