The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous

rub it into people’s wounds.

The dandelion salad was even more disgusting. Lysander found the only answer was to drink as much as possible and even Rachel mellowed a bit after two glasses and allowed the children to watch a Donald Duck video.

‘I identified with Donald like mad,’ Lysander told Rachel as he loaded the machine. ‘When I was a child no- one could understand what I said, like him.’

But Rachel was gazing across at Valhalla.

‘There’s that bastard Rannaldini’s place. He was the one who wrecked our marriage, persuading Boris it was de rigueur to have something on the side. He introduced Boris to Chloe.’

‘How does she get on with the children?’

‘Chloe? They adore her. Not surprising. She’s filthy rich and fills them up with sweets and junk food and battery-operated toys every time they visit her and Boris. How can they ever learn to reject consumerism with that going on? And she lets them watch television all day.’

‘They’re sweet children.’

‘I know. I just go crackers not being able to practise.’

To distract Rachel from the fact that both Jack and Maggie had climbed on to the children’s laps, Lysander took her outside. The sun was setting; tobacco plants and stocks, fighting a losing battle with nettles, scented the evening. Owls were hooting in the wood. Not daring to risk mosquito spray, Lysander lit a cigarette.

After a long pause, Rachel stammered: ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been bloody all evening. I’ve had to nag and nag Boris for maintenance. This morning a cheque arrived for the right money but signed by Chloe. It’s so humiliating but I can’t afford to tear it up.’

Lysander was shocked. ‘You poor thing. I’ll give you the money, then you can. I’m quite flush at the moment.’

But Rachel was too proud. ‘I’ve got teaching jobs, and Hermione pays when she’s around. God, she’s awful! She never opens her mouth except for dollars and all her conversation is about money.’

‘What’s the point of those balls outside her house?’

‘Self-aggrandizement,’ said Rachel sourly. ‘Rannaldini has griffins, Georgie Maguire has angels, Marigold has lions. Now Hermione has balls — probably Bob’s. She emasculates him enough.’

‘He’s a seriously nice guy,’ said Lysander. ‘Good cricketer, too.’

‘He’s the most attractive man in Paradise,’ said Rachel.

She looks beautiful again now, thought Lysander, with her sad foxy face warmed by the falling sun and her beautiful fox’s ankles beneath that shapeless dress.

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I discovered what Hermione’s mega-crisis was.’

‘How?’

‘From Gretel, her hairy-legged nanny.’

‘Why on earth should she shave her legs?’

‘No reason at all, but if she wants me to be her Hansel, she better start waxing. Anyway, she told me that Rannaldini is making this film called Fidelio — should be called Infidelio — about some woman called Nora who dresses up as a boy and springs her husband from jug.’

‘She’s called Leonore — I know the story,’ said Rachel crushingly.

‘Of course you would. Sorry. Anyway, Hermione automatically expected to get the part, but Rannaldini told her: “You could hardly pass for a faithful wife, my dear, and with those outsize boobs no self-respecting gaoler would ever mistake you for a boy,” so he’s given the part to Cecilia.’

Rachel whistled. ‘But I suppose it figures. Rannaldini would far rather put Catchitune’s vast fee into the pocket of Cecilia, who’s always pestering him for more alimony, than into Hermione’s. No wonder Hermione’s livid.’

‘D’you think he’ll make Cecilia strip off again?’

‘Fidelio’s quite a different opera,’ said Rachel patronizingly. ‘On the one hand it’s about an individual living in chains being rescued by a loving woman, but Beethoven raises the story to a universal level in which the human race is saved by the female sex.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Lysander. ‘Rannaldini should love it. He’s turned on by chains. Pity some loving man can’t rescue poor darling Kitty.’

‘Kitty could walk out if she wanted to,’ said Rachel dismissively.

Yawning, surreptitiously looking at his watch, Lysander wondered how soon he could take her home. He looked longingly across at Angel’s Reach, blank now the sun had set, straining his eyes to see Georgie and Guy sitting on the terrace and Dinsdale snapping at flies.

‘If you never got to that interview,’ asked Rachel, ‘what are you doing for a living now?’

‘Playing a lot of polo,’ said Lysander evasively, ‘and hoping to get Arthur fit for the Rutminster next year.’

‘Lucky to have a private income. Are you in a relationship?’

‘No, well yes.’ Suddenly he desperately needed to tell someone. ‘Basically I’m mad about Georgie Maguire, she and I, well, we’re sort of an item.’

Rachel went rigid with disapproval.

‘But what about her wildly uxorious husband?’

‘He’s been screwing around.’

‘So, all that “Rock Star” rubbish is for commercial profit. United front for the world, screw like rabbits in private. I always thought Georgie was phoney.’

‘She didn’t know about the screwing around when she wrote “Rock Star”. She was devastated,’ said Lysander icily. ‘She’s the loveliest woman I’ve ever met.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. She’s old enough to be your mother!’

‘That’s probably why I love her. The video’s finished.’ Lysander picked up his car keys. ‘I’ll take you home.’

Rachel was horrified. Why had she been such an utter bitch? How could she explain that she’d been celibate for six months, that she felt like a fun-fair in winter, endlessly wondering if summer would ever come again, that it was desire that made her so cantankerous and the only thing she wanted was for Lysander to take her to bed?

35

Hermione’s hysterics echoed round Paradise. She wasn’t placated by the letters — fanny mail the Ideal Homo called it — that poured in after the release of Don Giovanni, nor even by offers to star in a musical of Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

Being Hermione, however, within twenty-four hours she was telling everyone, including Kitty, that the only thing that shocked her was Rannaldini’s appalling in-sensitivity to Kitty in casting an ex-wife as Leonore. Hermione had not forgiven Kitty for being the recipient of Georgie’s and Marigold’s confidences about their marriage problems. She might put down Georgie by praising Brickie’s dignity, but she still wanted to exceed Kitty in everything, even in being more of a brick.

But she was not prepared to concede defeat. As Rannaldini had inconveniently buzzed off to Madrid and Flora, Hermione’s first chance to confront him would be at the camera rehearsal for the Verdi Requiem which was already being trailed as the prom of the year.

Knowing Rannaldini would be stymied if she refused to go on, Hermione was determined to use this as a bargaining point to get herself the part of Leonore.

As usual Rannaldini rolled up at the Albert Hall when the rehearsal was nearly over, having left it to Heinz, the colourless Swiss, who didn’t even have one variety, who had replaced Boris Levitsky as assistant conductor. Three of the soloists, a tenor, a bass and Monalisa Wilson, a vast black mezzo-soprano with a vast voice, were well