Having been told that his lunch guest had gone to the Ladies, he sat down at the table, ordered a glass of sherry and was soon engrossed in the racing pages, which described Lysander as Campbell-Black’s golden boy, and suggested people put their money on him and Mr Sparky the next day. Torn between pride, disapproval and sudden sharp envy of Rupert, he turned to the front pages and the war.
The land battle was about to start any minute, all Kuwait was aflame, burning the midnight and the midday oil.
David was so engrossed he didn’t notice a charming redhead sit down in an alcove round the corner, and then everything was forgotten because Georgie arrived with the price tag still on her T-shirt, but looking as beautiful, scented and shining as a woman in love.
‘How gorgeous!’ She took the daffodils from him.
‘Not as gorgeous as you.’ Cursing himself for being corny, David kissed her warm, scented, freckled cheek.
‘I’m manic. I’ve just finished
‘Oh Eastern Star, that calls for champagne.’ David waved to a waiter.
Although a place had been laid for her opposite him, Georgie wriggled between the tables so she could sit down on the bench-seat beside him. Sod being recognized.
‘Oh, it’s lovely to see you. Isn’t the war terrifying? Do you think the Israelis will retaliate?’
David shook his head. ‘The Americans have paid them too much money.’
‘Mother Courage was so funny this morning: “Oh, Mrs Seymour, the Iraqis are copulating.”’
David laughed, his face losing all its daunting sternness.
‘I liked Duck-billed Platitude best.’
‘You remembered!’
‘I remember everything about you. Look.’ He brought a little silver box out of his pocket, and for a worried moment Georgie thought he was about to inhale snuff. Instead she saw it was full of hair.
‘Do you remember the day I cut your fringe?’ Putting the box away, he broke a roll in half but didn’t eat it. ‘How’s Guy?’
‘Not great. We lie side by side at night not touching like apples in the attic because we’re so frightened of bruising.’
‘Sounds like Sappho.’
‘Did you finish Catullus?’
‘Yup. How’s Flora?’
‘Absolutely devastated,’ and she told him about the affair with Rannaldini. ‘He’s destroyed her,’ she said finally. ‘I wish you two could meet.’
‘We will soon.’
Flooded with happiness, Georgie felt they were talking in certainties.
‘Tell me about Mrs Rannaldini, I assume she was that plump little thing bouncing around like a rubber ball in a bra and pants last October?’
Georgie laughed. ‘She’s so sweet.’
David took her hand. ‘I’m so glad you sent me that Valentine card. It arrived during a staff meeting, I had to rush out and ring you.’
‘I was about to ring you at Christmas, but when I picked up the telephone Guy was talking to Julia.’
‘My poor darling.’
But as she leant sideways to kiss him, she suddenly heard a familiar voice saying: ‘Darling, I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic’s appalling,’ and as painful as electrolysis on the bikini line, she realized it was Guy and he was speaking to Julia, who had leapt out of the alcove as beautiful, scented and shining as herself to embrace him.
The proprietor, coming over to ask if they’d chosen yet, turned green, but was too late to warn Guy, as over Julia’s shoulder he caught sight of Georgie and the tender smile froze on his handsome face.
‘It’s Guy,’ whispered Georgie.
‘Rock Star in person,’ said David acidly, and with great presence of mind he downed his glass of sherry, gave the waiter a tenner and whisked Georgie down the road and took a room at the Mountbatten.
‘Guy said he was lunching at the Athenaeum with his father,’ sobbed Georgie as they entered the lift.
As David led them into a room that had framed photographs of Lord Mountbatten playing polo all over the walls, Georgie turned to face him.
Taking her hand, he pulled her down on to the bed. ‘I’m not going to assault you. It’s all right. Please don’t cry.’
Georgie felt buttons against her face. There was something comfortingly upright about a man who wore a waistcoat.
‘Now Guy knows about us it’s all in the open.’
‘Are we an “us”?’ asked Georgie.
‘I think so, don’t you?’
That night, because it was Friday, out of habit both Georgie and Guy returned to Paradise.
‘You took him to our favourite restaurant,’ said Guy furiously.
‘So did you,’ snapped Georgie. ‘And I’d just struggled to pay the poll tax and you go squandering money on Julia.’
‘You bought a new T-shirt.’
‘Out of my Relate money. Anyway it was the first time I’ve ever lunched with him,’ she lied.
‘It’s the first time I’ve had lunch with Julia since Christmas,’ lied Guy. ‘Who is he anyway?’
‘I’m not going to tell you,’ hissed Georgie.
Alas, there was a feature in the
Devastated how jealous he felt, Guy rushed off to play squash with Rannaldini, who was feeling very smug because he was behaving comparatively well at present.
‘What am I going to do? Georgie’s having an affair with Lysander’s father. He’s got two inches in
‘And presumably eight inches in Georgie,’ said Rannaldini evilly. ‘I thought she was looking good.’
‘But headmasters shouldn’t behave like that,’ spluttered Guy.
Rannaldini laughed. ‘Like father, like son. If Georgie can keep her Head, when all about her are losing theirs.’
‘Oh, shut up. Julia thinks that lets me off the hook, but I can’t afford to leave Georgie. Another backer went belly-up last week. Anyway I don’t want to.’
‘You should have thought of that before.’
‘Have you heard the latest Saddam Hussein story?’ Dizzy asked Lysander at the beginning of March as they drove home after another highly successful day at Sandown. ‘What do Saddam Hussein and nylon knickers have in common?’
‘I don’t care.’
‘They both rub Bush the wrong way. Ha, ha, ha. Have you totally lost your sense of humour?’
‘Totally. I don’t care if the war is over. Stormin’ Norman should have been allowed to go in and crucify Saddam Hussein for starving all the Kuwaiti bloodstock to death. A lot of them came from this yard. And if Allied prisoners of war are being released, why can’t Rannaldini release Kitty?’
Still pinching herself with joy at the prospect of being the future Lady Lockton, Marigold was also delighted to see Boris’s clapped-out Fiesta parked at an angle outside Rachel’s cottage. Perhaps, as was rumoured, they were getting together again. On the other hand, Marigold was getting increasingly worried about Kitty whom she’d just bumped into outside the village shop. Kitty had been wearing odd shoes and her coat was done up all wrong. She was also as white as a sheet, but explained it away as a tummy upset.
Kitty, in fact, was almost certain she was pregnant. Although she hadn’t dared go to James Benson, she had missed three periods. But the thing she had longed for most in the world had only brought her desperate worry and unhappiness because she had no idea if the baby was Lysander’s or Rannaldini’s. She felt overwhelmed with guilt. What would happen if the baby popped out in September, another little Virgo like herself, but with Lysander’s wide blue eyes? She couldn’t stop crying, and she was feeling appallingly sick. Thank goodness Rannaldini was too tied
