holding her tiny waist as though it were the stem of a glass of priceless brandy he was about to drink.
I must not make a scene, I must not make a scene, she told herself. In the looking glass she could see her black eye coming through the make-up. She looked like a battered fiancee.
She was saved by a roll of drums and the bandleader announcing that, as the rain had stopped, the fireworks would take place after all. But as everyone surged outside, her isolation seemed even more apparent. Kicking off her high heels she soothed her aching feet in the drenched grass. Nor did she care that her long white dress trailed along the ground snagging on twigs and rose thorns. Living with Red had accustomed her to throwing clothes out after one wearing if she didn’t like them.
Roman candles in silver, pink and yellow were lighting up the night. Spluttering like me, thought Perdita. She hoped there weren’t any dogs loose in the nearby streets who might be frightened by the bangs. For a second, after the brilliant light, it seemed almost dark in the dripping garden.
Then almost immediately the big Catherine wheels came alive, slowly at first, then faster and faster, accelerating into fiery revolving chrysanthemums like an affair taking off, like her and Red. Oh God, it hurt to think of that first night in Deauville.
Miserably she watched the Catherine wheels burn out until they were only dim red glows on their posts.
Rockets were now going up in swift succession with a whistling hiss, as though they were vying to touch the stars, then erupting into a cascade of rival stars. One went sideways and lodged in the heart of a huge oak trunk, writhing and jumping abortively. That’s even more like me, thought Perdita. Did everything have to burn out?
As rose-red and royal-blue flares exploded into the sky, to the smell of sulphur and brimstone was added an overpowering waft of Diorissimo. Glancing right, Perdita gasped as she saw Ricky and Chessie under a huge livid yellow catalpa, gazing at each other like souls in hell.
Frantically Perdita looked for Bart. He was coming towards her, clutching his telephone.
‘Seen Chessie?’ he asked curtly. ‘We gotta go.’
‘Oh look, isn’t that beautiful?’ Desperate to distract him,
Perdita pointed to the word ‘Polo’ written in red, white and blue shimmering and erupting against the russet night.
‘That’s neat,’ said Bart.
‘Chessie was dancing,’ said Perdita.
‘I’ll go find her,’ said Bart, plunging back into the house. The display was ending in a massive explosion of coloured stars. War must sound like this, thought Perdita.
Chessie and Ricky had gone, but in the shade of a large magnolia, Perdita imagined she caught a glimpse of Sharon and David Waterlane. For a second she thought that little Victor was rooted to the spot with wonder at the fireworks until she realized that his high-heeled boots were plugged into the wet lawn.
To her left stood Bibi, her face round with excitement, her lips parted, suddenly pretty. Fascinated, envious, Perdita watched Drew’s fingers sliding down the inside of Bibi’s arm, pausing to brush her breast with his knuckles, then sliding his fingers into hers as the garden went dark again. He must be doing it deliberately to wind Angel up.
Queuing for her coat five minutes later, Perdita listened to a rapturous Sukey.
‘D’you know, we made fifteen thousand on the auction. I was terrified that lovely Zandra Rhodes dress wouldn’t reach its reserve. But Dancer Maitland bought it – so sweet.’ Then, lowering her voice to Mrs Hughie, she confided, ‘He’s
‘Probably going to wear it himself,’ said Chessie.
Bart, who’d sold his London house to realize capital, was flying straight back to New York with Bibi to mastermind some take-over before the Gold Cup. Red, because he couldn’t be bothered to drive back to Bart’s house in Sussex, had booked himself and Perdita into the Savoy. Chessie had also booked a room there and to Red’s absolute fury came along to their suite for a drink.
‘I do not want to listen to her bitching all night about my father,’ he said, going off to bed and slamming the door behind him. So poor Perdita had to sit up until dawn listening to Chessie sobbing her heart out.
‘I can’t stand it any more. I know he loves me but he’s so appallingly uncompromising. Says I’ve got to leave Bart or nothing.’
It seemed unfair, too, that Perdita had to leave Red in bed, but she was determined to have her tooth capped before she drove down to meet Auriel.
Outside, London had recovered its youth, the rain had washed the dust off the plane trees and heightened the reticulated giraffe-patterning of their long, lanky trunks. Bronze workmen were stripping off in the sunshine. As Perdita came out of the dentist, however, a cloud blacker than her bruised eye hung over the west. Ringing the Royal Berkshire she discovered the match had been cancelled.
Bliss, thought Perdita, she could go back to the Savoy for a jolly lunch with Red. She hadn’t had a day off for ages. It was lovely to be in London. The girls looked so pretty in their summer dresses; people were drinking outside pubs; the flower shops were a riot of colour.
Stopping off at Harvie & Hudson, Perdita bought their latest shirt, lilac and pale blue stripes, as a present for Red. If it clashed with his hair she could always wear it.
Maids were clearing away breakfast as she got back to the Savoy. A ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hung on the door of their room. Red would sleep all day given the opportunity, thought Perdita fondly as she let herself in very quietly. Then she heard voices. He must be watching television.
‘I’m back,’ she barged into the bedroom. ‘The match was cancelled and I’ve bought you the most divine shirt.’ The words shrivelled on her lips, for, lying in bed, one light gold, the other darker gold, were Chessie and Red. Chessie was lying on her belly. Red was kissing her shoulders, caressing her bottom with one hand, the other was buried in her pubic hair. For a moment they all stared at each other.
Perdita was so shocked she could only think how beautiful they looked in that huge bed reflected in the mirrored fronts of the cupboards which lined the left side of the room. Then she screamed and was about to run out of the door when, quick as a lurcher on a hare, Red had seized her.
‘You’re not going anywhere!’ He shoved her into the bathroom and slammed the door, clinging on to the gold handle for grim death, as Perdita tugged, screamed and pummelled against the other side, which gave Chessie the chance to put on her pale blue dress and make a bolt for it.
Releasing her, Red expected a monumental scene, curious what she’d throw at him first; but she stumbled out as grey and subdued as a released hostage.
‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Why her? I don’t understand.’ Red never blushed; it didn’t go with red hair. Slowly, deliberately, his hands totally steady, he put a yellow Sobranie between his faintly smiling lips.
‘I wanted to prove what a little tramp she was.’
‘But she spent most of last night telling me how much she loved Ricky.’
‘Perhaps she does.’ Red’s lighter flared. ‘Perhaps she wanted to put you off the scent. Did she actually mention Ricky’s name? She’s such a bitch, she’s been trying to get me into bed for years. She may have been uptight because I’d been dancing with Auriel.’
Straightening a magazine that had been knocked crooked, he moved towards the fridge. ‘D’you want a drink?’
Perdita shook her head. ‘But you must have planned it deliberately, knowing I’d be away?’
‘I know.’ Red banged the steel ice-tray on the top of the fridge. ‘I wish to hell they’d use plastic. I was kinda curious what she’d be like. I guess one occasionally likes variety. It’s as simple as that.’
Like a lift whose cable has broken, Perdita sat down suddenly on the sofa.
‘Was this the first time?’
Red paused a fraction too long.
‘Sure. She called me this morning.’
‘Are you going to tell your father?’
Red laughed and emptied the whisky over his ice. ‘Not yet. I don’t want to be disinherited.’
‘How can you do that to him? You bastard!’ hissed Perdita. It was her sole outburst of reproof.
‘On the contrary,’ said Red mockingly. ‘Unlike you, I was regularly conceived.’ Drifting towards her, he examined her new tooth.
‘That’s better. D’you want to stay with me?’
Frantic he was going to chuck her, Perdita nodded.
