‘Of course. I never dreamed such happiness existed. But you’ve totally fucked Ricky up. You never wrote to him when Will died, never forgave him.’
‘Why should I? It was all his fault.’ Chessie was getting hysterical. ‘He was dead drunk.’
‘Having been deliberately wound up by you. Then you abandon him to the most ghastly prison sentence, then to coming back to the loneliness of Robinsgrove. I was there when he came out. It was crucifixion. I know what it was like being on my own at Penscombe.’
‘You had women coming out of your ears.’
‘I hadn’t met Taggie then. Ricky’s a one-woman man, and did you know he’s never worn anything but a black tie since Will died? Not a week passes without him putting flowers on Will’s grave, or getting Daisy Macleod to do it.’
‘That frump,’ said Chessie sharply.
‘She’s sweet,’ said Rupert, ‘and that’s a typical reaction. Bloody bitch in the manger. You want to carry on shored up by Bart’s billions and at the same time dangle Ricky on a string. All this stupid business about the Gold Cup and winning the Westchester is carving him up. Let him go. He’ll never be rich enough for you.’
‘You’ve never been poor,’ said Chessie furiously. ‘You get used to living in a gilded cage.’
‘You could fly out, but you’re too fucking spoilt, so you go on prick-teasing.’
Chessie burst into tears. Suddenly realizing that everyone was listening to them, Rupert put an arm round her shoulder.
‘Ha, I like that,’ said Red, who’d just come out of the roulette room. Tapping the
But even as the photographer sidled up and surreptitiously started snapping away, some sixth sense made Rupert turn and reach out a long arm. Practically garrotting the photographer, he removed the film from the camera and pocketed it.
The photographer was livid.
‘I ’ad some nice pix of Lady Shar and Pouf the Magic Dragon on that roll. Give it back. He put me up to it,’ he added sulkily, nodding at Red.
‘I’m sure,’ said Rupert. ‘You can still fuck off.’
Wiping her eyes on her flowing green sleeves, Chessie pulled herself together.
‘This is my stepson, Red,’ she said bleakly.
‘A step in the wrong direction,’ said Rupert witheringly. ‘What were you going to do with that film?’ he asked Red. ‘Brandish it in front of your father or my wife? With stepchildren that evil, Chessie, I’m even more amazed you stay with Bart. This one’s more anxious to make a fast buck than a gay rabbit. I’m staggered he’s allowed himself to be prised away from Auriel’s bank balance for a second.’
Red, who was seldom lost for words, was frantically thinking up a devastating reply when suddenly Rupert’s face lost all its animosity and contempt. In the doorway, moving from foot to foot with shy pleasure like an Irish wolfhound, stood a very tall, slim girl with dark hair and huge, grey eyes.
‘Taggie – I must go,’ said Rupert, dropping a kiss on Chessie’s cheek. ‘Sorry I gave you a hard time, angel. I just don’t want Ricky screwed up any more.’
Leaving a spitting Red, desperate for reassurance Chessie sought out Luke.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes, no. Where the hell’s Ricky? Isn’t he coming?’
‘I guess not. Chessie, Dancer didn’t tell me about your bet with Ricky. I’d never have played for him, if I’d known. I wouldn’t do that to Dad.’
‘I know you wouldn’t,’ said Chessie softly. ‘Doesn’t your arm ache from holding a torch for Perdita?’
‘I guess I’ve got strong arms.’
Chessie smoothed a blob of grey-green paint on his chest. ‘You’re strong everywhere. Has anyone ever told you quite how attractive you are? I could get you over Perdita.’
Luke laughed. ‘That would really complicate things. But thanks for the offer.’
‘I love complications,’ sighed Chessie. ‘They make everything so much more exciting.’
The party roared on. A huge amount of champagne was drunk. Soon the best costume would be judged and it would be time for dinner.
Sharon, having got no change out of Drew, was nose to nose on a window seat with Jose the Mexican, whose whale of a wife had been left at his hotel and whose English had improved dramatically in the last month.
Seb Carlisle, high as a kite now, was also sitting on the window seat, pretending to read
‘Ay’m not prepared to be serious, Hose,’ he mouthed to his audience. ‘Ay’m so muddled, you must gave me tame. Yes, I would adore to live in Mehico.’ Seb grinned wickedly, ‘But not all the year round.’
The others were in hysterics. Rosie, as Robert the Bruce’s spider, was wearing a black body stocking and hood. Out of her blacked-up face, her white teeth sparkled and her green eyes gleamed.
‘I love you,’ she told Dommie softly.
‘I love you,’ said Dommie fingering the square box with the emerald, which had cost every penny from the sale of Tiger Lily’s putative half-brother.
‘I don’t know what got into you this afternoon.’ Rosie ran her hand over his chest. ‘It must have been because I was half-asleep and not expecting you that I was so relaxed. Being a good Catholic girl, I suppose I’ve always felt guilty about sex before marriage. But I never dreamed it could be as wonderful as it was this afternoon.’ Lifting his hand, she kissed all Dommie’s fake rings. ‘I have to confess, I lied to you about coming before, just hoped it would get all right. I’m so glad you missed me, and couldn’t keep away. You were so in control and yet so sensitive, and your cock.’
But she didn’t get any further. Dommie had pulled Seb off the bench beside Sharon and Jose and hit him across the room.
‘You bastard,’ he yelled. ‘You didn’t go near any bloodstock sale this afternoon.’
‘I bloody did, too,’ yelled back Seb. ‘I bought a grey three year old.’
‘You bloody didn’t. You went to bed with Rosie and pretended to be me.’
‘Ouch,’ yelled Seb, stubbing his toe on David Waterlane’s armoured foot, as he scrambled to his feet. ‘I’m not dancing with him later.’
‘Don’t send me up,’ roared Dommie. ‘She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved.’
‘I can understand why,’ said Seb.
Dommie was about to hit him again, when suddenly Seb said, ‘Kerist, look at that.’
‘Don’t change the subject, bloody John Thomas a Becket.’ Dommie grabbed Seb’s cassock.
‘No really, it’s worth a break,’ protested Seb.
For a second Dommie swung round.
‘Jesus.’ He let go of Seb.
A clatter of hooves was greeted with whoops of excitement, laughter and shrieks of joy and horror as, ducking her head to avoid the top of the door, Perdita rode side-saddle into the room on Spotty. Dressed – or rather undressed – as Lady Godiva, her flowing blond hair concealed very little.
‘Christ, what a body,’ said Bas in wonder. ‘No wonder Ricky kept it under wraps.’
‘Disgraceful,’ spluttered Sukey.
‘I always suspected she was a natural blonde,’ said Seb, sidling away from Dommie.
Miss Marple, eyes on stalks, stalked across the room, spyglass poised.
‘I think Lady Godiva was a relation of mine,’ said David Waterlane.
‘The dollar has absolutely no defence against the controlled yen,’ said Victor, still encased inside his dragon’s head.
I have an uncontrolled yen for that girl, thought Red.
‘Thank you,’ said Perdita, accepting a glass of champagne from a drooling waiter.
Spotty, incurably greedy, buried his red-and-white nose in a large plate of sausage rolls, raising his upper lip like a camel when he encountered the sausage. The photographers were going berserk.
‘Whatever you do, keep them rolling,’ screamed Cameron Cook to the Venturer cameramen.
