pounding through Luke’s skull. ‘Ricky’s thinking of buying that grey.’
It came fourth. Perdita switched it off.
‘I see you got the papers. Your bloody brother stole all our thunder. No-one even mentioned Dancer or me or Ricky and Chessie. The press were clinging to Red like burrs all last night. He got plastered and Seb and Dommie had a fight in the Taj Mahal because Seb was winding Dommie up saying Decorum loved him more than Dommie. I had a good morning though.’ She started eating the grapes she’d brought. ‘
‘That’s terrific,’ said Luke, wishing he felt more enthusiastic. She seemed to be slipping away from him. Christ, he mustn’t be possessive. He took her hand. ‘It’s really great.’
There was a hammering on the door and the twins and Red burst in all wearing dark glasses.
‘Hi, baby boy,’ said Seb.
‘We are
But even Red’s hangover and no sleep couldn’t dim his beauty. Luke noticed how Perdita had whipped away her hand when he came in. Now she was surreptitiously removing the mauve plastic clip from her hair and raking it out with her fingers.
‘We brought you some booze,’ said Seb, plonking three bottles of Moet and one of Lucozade down on Luke’s bedside table. ‘We didn’t think you’d have time to get any in.’
‘How’re you feeling?’ asked Dommie. ‘It was your fault, you know. You mustn’t go round pulling Charles Napier off his horses. If I hadn’t loathed him so much I’d have blown a foul on you.’
‘He’s a bastard. Have you seen my bruises?’ Perdita lifted her T-shirt to show ribs dappled black and blue.
‘Higher,’ clamoured Dommie. ‘But we’ve brought you some porn mags to cheer you up, Luke.’
‘Thanks, and congratulations.’ Luke turned to Red, who was opening a bottle. ‘I hear you played great.’
Red laughed. ‘I intend to make headlines with my mallet rather than my cock from now on.’
As usual he was miraculously dressed in off-white trousers, a cream shirt and a yellow blazer braided with pale grey silk to out-fox the young bloods in Palm Beach who were all now wearing pale blue blazers with green silk braiding. Luke winced as the champagne cork flew out.
‘Blimey,’ said Dommie, who was deep in a porn mag. ‘It’s wicked the things that girl’s doing to that horse.’
‘Horse seems to be rather enjoying it,’ drawled Red, peering over Dommie’s shoulder and handing him a glass.
‘Better than being ridden by Charles Napier,’ said Sebbie, holding out toothmugs for himself and Perdita. ‘All his ponies will be queueing up for auditions.’
‘When are they letting you out of here?’ asked Red, sitting down on Luke’s bed.
‘I won’t make the Royal Windsor on Thursday,’ said Luke, taking a sip of champagne and nearly throwing up.
‘Don’t give it a thought,’ said Red. ‘Kevin already knows. He left a message on my machine asking me to stand in for you until you’re OK.’
‘I’m not OK,’ said Dommie, fretfully putting down the porn mag and pressing the bell beside Luke’s head. ‘I feel awful.’
‘How’s Auriel?’ asked Luke. The cigarette smoke clouding the room was making him feel even sicker.
‘Making a movie near Deauville,’ said Red. ‘She gave me a lift over here. How about that stupid bitch Chessie marching up to Ricky just before the game?’
‘Didn’t help,’ said Luke.
‘I wish she’d stop spending Dad’s money and I wish he’d go back to work. They had to close another plant last week. And he’s going to get a lot of flak over the Pegasus. That’s the third crash in three months.’
‘How’s Bibi?’ asked Luke, who was watching Perdita watching Red, frightened yet excited by him like a mare with a stallion.
Red shrugged. ‘Spending too much time covering up for Dad, which pisses Angel off. Like all Argies he expects her to wait on him hand and clay foot.’
‘You wanted something, Mr Alderton?’ It was Nurse O’Grady answering the bell.
‘I’d like some Fernet-Brancat,’ said Dommie, then, taking in her charms, ‘and a large, secluded, pay bed for two if you’ve got a tea-break coming up.’
‘I’ll get you some Alka-Seltzer, but you ought to put those cigarettes out,’ said Nurse O’Grady and, turning to Luke with gentle reproof, ‘and you oughtn’t to be drinking.’
‘He’s not,’ said Red, draining Luke’s glass. ‘Christ, you’re good-looking. Come and take my pulse.’
Grinning, he, Seb and Dommie all held out their hands like dogs’ paws.
‘I’ll go and get you some Alka-Seltzer,’ said Nurse O’Grady, backing hastily out of the room.
‘I’ll help you carry it,’ said Dommie, belting after her.
‘Talk about Florence Night-in-the-Sack,’ said Seb. Having eaten all the grapes Perdita had brought, he started on his own.
Red was opening the second bottle of Moet when the door opened and Daisy walked in. She was looking incredibly pretty, thought Luke, with her dark hair shiny and loose, her rosy cheeks just beginning to break through the layers of Clinique’s Basic Beige and her mascara smudged under her eyes. She was wearing jeans and a man’s blue and white striped shirt and reeked of Je Reviens.
‘That’s all I bloody need,’ snarled Perdita.
Daisy blushed. ‘I’m sorry to barge in,’ she faltered. ‘I just came to see how Luke was. How are you?’ She handed him a bunch of roses as pink as her face. ‘They don’t smell much, I’m afraid. Violet’s doing her A levels, but she’s sent you a card and some poems by Kingsley Amis, and some Lucozade as a joke.’ She plonked them down on the bed.
‘Wow, that’s kind,’ said Luke, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. ‘You are an incredibly nice lady.’
My mother, thought Perdita furiously, has a thumping great crush on Luke.
‘What the fuck are you doing here anyway?’ she asked Daisy.
‘I went to London to see the Annual Exhibition of the Royal Society of Portrait Painters. Marvellous stuff,’ mumbled Daisy, then, changing the subject, she turned to Luke. ‘We were all so worried about you. Have you got a ghastly headache?’
‘Not nearly as bad as ours,’ said Seb, putting down the porn mag and pouring Daisy a glass of champagne. ‘You look stunning today, Mrs Macleod.’
‘This is my brother Red,’ said Luke.
Oh, what a beauty, thought Daisy in wonder – that staggering perfection of feature allied to that rain-soaked red setter colouring.
‘This is Perdita’s mother,’ added Luke.
‘Jesus!’ Red was shaken out of his habitual cool. ‘You kidding? She must be Perdita’s daughter.’
Strolling over to Daisy he idly zipped up her jeans and removed a buttercup petal from her hair. Then, grinning down at her, he murmured, ‘I always figure the best way to see paintings is lying down,’ as he poured her a toothmug of champagne.
‘I shouldn’t,’ said Daisy, who’d gone absolutely scarlet. ‘I’m driving.’
‘Why don’t you come to Paris with us?’ said Red, realizing in a trice that Perdita was wildly jealous of her mother and such an invitation would irritate the hell out of her. ‘If we leave in twenty minutes we can have an hour at the Louvre before it closes. My father’s lent a painting to the Renoir exhibition. We can book in to the Ritz, dine at Maxim’s and I’ll take you to Montmartre tomorrow.’
‘Come on, Mrs Macleod,’ urged Seb. ‘If we can’t show you a good time, no-one can. We’re coming back tomorrow lunchtime. We’ve got a four-thirty match at Cowdray.’
Seeing the two of them so brown, carefree and handsome, Daisy suddenly thought how heavenly it would be to take off.
‘I can’t leave Ethel and Gainsborough,’ she stammered.
