Polo

Next minute, a ravishingly pretty girl came out of the kitchen in skin-tight jeans, a skimpy pink top to show off a midriff browner than Perdita’s face and a long blonde plait falling through the hole in the back of her baseball cap. She had an incredible air of self-importance, was wearing a badge which said: ‘Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’ and was carrying a tray of baked potatoes.

‘Ees good?’ she asked the catatonically watching men.

‘Ees excellent,’ said Juan, reaching out for a baked potato with the hand that had been fondling the brunette, but not taking his eyes off the screen.

In the corner two lurcher puppies were having a tug of war with a silk cushion embroidered with the words: ‘It’s hard being a Princess’.

‘Oh, how adorable,’ said Perdita. ‘Let’s get a dog.’

‘No,’ said Red sharply. ‘Dogs get too dependent.’

He was fixing a whisky and soda for himself and a vodka and tonic for Perdita. Suddenly noticing him, the blonde stopped in her tracks.

‘Ay, yay, yay,’ she said in wonder, ‘I am Innocenta.’

‘And I am usually guilty,’ grinned Red. ‘Red Alderton,’ he introduced himself, ‘and this is Perdita.’

‘Oof,’ cried the blonde in amazement. ‘Bibi’s brozzer, you are not like ’er.’

Once the video was finished the Argentines came back to earth, shook Red by the hand and embraced Perdita and congratulated her on her new beauty.

‘What’s the gossip?’ said Red.

‘Your father is spending twice as much on ’orses,’ said Juan, ‘because he’s not spending so much on me and Miguel.’

‘Jesus is playing for Cartier, BMW and Revlon all at zee same time.’

‘Juan’s now wearing a face guard on and off the field, so he doesn’t have to kees ees wife.’

Juan grinned and all the others screamed with laughter and helped themselves to more wine. They were all so merry, flip and funny that, after a couple of drinks, Perdita recovered from the shock of Angel’s disapproval and showed everyone her ring.

Only Angel, who was smoking and not eating or drinking, was still in a black mood. He filled the house with Argentines because he was fed up with being married to a wife who was never at home before nine, then worked long into the night on reports, and was taking telephone calls at five in the morning from all over the world. In the three months he’d just spent in Argentina Bibi had only flown down to join him for a couple of weekends. His resentment was fuelled by his friends who all pointed out that Angel was numero uno in the marriage and Bibi was neglecting him. Argentine wives looked beautiful and after their husbands.

His temper had not been improved that morning by an advance issue of Chief Executive magazine which had just voted Bibi businesswoman of the year. Inside was a full-page picture of his wife showing off her long, long legs and with her auburn hair spilling over the shoulders of her pin- stripe suit. A paragraph towards the end of the copy claimed that Bibi had ‘every designer toy in her Palm Beach mansion, including a devastatingly handsome Argentine polo player husband’.

‘Nice picture,’ said Red, throwing the magazine down on the table. ‘I dropped by the Palm Beach office this afternoon. Two of Dad’s secretaries were still at lunch, and Miss Leditsky was painting her toenails, and making long-distance personal calls about the long weekend she was about to take. When secretaries start goofing off, you’re in the shit.’

Then, to cheer Angel up, he persuaded him to play the best of three at backgammon to see which of them was going to ride Glitz – Bart’s legendary black pony on which Juan had scored so many goals – next season.

‘Things seem to be getting a bit out of hand,’ said Red about nine-thirty, when no Bibi had turned up and he and Perdita had admired all Angel’s new ponies and a new forty-thousand-dollar aluminium trailer, and all the other Argentines were either drunk or shacked up. ‘Let’s go and eat, and leave a note to Bibi to join us later.’

Charley’s Crab, the best fish and shellfood restaurant in Wellington, was much frequented by the polo community. With each new arrival the waiters pinned sheets of clean white paper over the table tops so polo plays and tactics could be drawn on them.

‘How’s Tero?’ asked Angel, relenting slightly.

‘Getting better,’ said Perdita. ‘I don’t have to feed everything to her by hand now, and I rode her for a quarter of an hour yesterday, admittedly only walking.’

‘How is Luke?’ Perdita was unable to resist asking, although she knew it would irritate Red.

‘Who can tell?’ said Angel. ‘Always he smile, always he listen to zee moans of zee other players. But last week his groom tell me he was so drunk he miss zee toll bucket three times.’

Oh God, thought Perdita miserably. She wanted to ask more but the waiter came over for their order.

‘For Chrissake, don’t spend all night making up your mind,’ snapped Red.

Flustered, Perdita chose Cajun prawns, which were delicious but took the roof off her mouth. As they talked polo, Angel noticed she knew everything about Red’s ponies and was passionately interested in his game. She was also quite unable to keep her hands off Red. Angel thought darkly of Bibi’s distancing. They hadn’t slept together for a week because she was always so tired. She arrived as they were having coffee, white with anger and exhaustion.

‘I’ve just had to throw a dozen Argies out of the house, Angel, and only just dissuaded Jaime and Carmen from giving in their notice,’ she said furiously. ‘Carmen says she can’t call her kitchen her own. You know how hard it is to get help. And why the hell was Innocenta hosting the party?’

‘Because you weren’t there,’ snarled Angel.

‘Someone’s got to earn the fucking money,’ hissed Bibi. Then, seeing Angel’s face, regretted it. ‘I’m sorry, darling. It’s been a hell of a day.’

‘And a night,’ said Angel, pointedly looking at his watch.

Bibi visibly pulled herself together and turned to Red and Perdita.

‘Hi, congratulations. How are you?’

‘Distract Angel for a second,’ Red whispered to Perdita.

‘Things bad?’ he murmured to Bibi, pouring her a glass of Sancerre. ‘We must get you something to eat.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Bibi was shaking.

‘What’s up now?’

‘This,’ said Bibi, producing a cutting from the Daily News out of her bag.

It was a piece about Chessie flying Bart’s private jet to Paris and spending half a million on clothes for the forthcoming Palm Beach season, not to mention buying one of the Duchess of Windsor’s favourite brooches for ?50,000 and a Poussin at Sotheby’s.

‘So what else is new?’ said Red coolly, although his eyes were narrowed with rage and his fingers drummed on the white paper tablecloth. ‘No wonder Dad wouldn’t advance me any money last week.’

‘She’s done all that,’ said Bibi despairingly, ‘when Dad’s had to lay off seven hundred people this week because he can’t pay their wages. The guys are putting her photograph on the factory walls instead of pin-ups so they can throw darts at it.’

‘Chessie-Antoinette,’ said Red. ‘Can’t someone assassinate her?’

‘Hardly,’ said Bibi with a hollow laugh. ‘The same piece reports her as attending a fashion show for bullet- proof clothes last week. Red, we are running out of money.’

‘I know,’ said Red. ‘Can’t Dad talk to her?’

‘Not when he’s spending so much on ponies. They’re as bad as each other. I don’t know who’s spending the most – Dad, Chessie or Angel,’ Bibi added bitterly. Then, lowering her voice, ‘Angel just adores the grand gesture. He gave a friend of his a $20,000 pony last week because his wife had just quit.’

‘Shit!’ Red shook his head. ‘What triggered off Chessie’s recent spate of extravagance?’

‘You did,’ said Bibi. ‘You know how she hates Mom ringing Dad, but Mom’s been in such a state about you and Perdita, she’s been calling him a lot lately. She was bad enough about me and Angel.’

Angel looked round. ‘Grace put a private detective on to my family,’ he said haughtily. ‘All she found was that my side of the family were poor, but not at all non-U.’

‘And anyway, you’re her ewe lamb, the light of her life,’ said Bibi bitterly to Red, then added to Perdita, ‘I don’t mean it personally. It’s nothing to do with you. Mom’d be the same whoever Red married; she’s positively oedipal about him. And even when Dad and Chessie are fighting like cats Chessie can’t stand him having any