Bella (11 page)

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Authors: Jilly Cooper

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General

BOOK: Bella
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Chrissie, very white, and too fat for her scarlet bikini, sat down under an umbrella, and started the
Daily Mail
crossword.
Steve dived into the pool, his muscular arms coming out of the bright turquoise water as he did a leisurely crawl to the other side.
‘It’s lovely once you get in,’ he called to Chrissie.
And eventually, after a lot of badinage, he persuaded her to join him in the water, where he chased her round the pool, tickling her, diving for her ankles, making her shriek with laughter and fear.
Rupert edged away as a particularly violent piece of splashing soaked his shirt.
‘I detest horseplay,’ he said. ‘And I don’t feel much more kindly towards Mr Benedict.’
Giggling frantically, Chrissie clambered out of the pool and ran along the edge to take refuge under the umbrella. Steve picked up a towel and, catching up, began to dry her, laughing down at her, his eyelashes stuck together with water, his blue eyes rivalling the drained sapphire of the sky. Gradually, in his arms, she calmed down and stopped giggling.
‘I’m going to oil you,’ he said. ‘And you’re going to lie in the sun and stop hiding your very considerable lights under a bushel.’
‘I’ll oil her,’ said Rupert sharply, getting to his feet and almost snatching the bottle of Ambre Solaire from Steve.
Bella felt a stab of guilt as she saw the ecstasy in Chrissie’s face as Rupert rubbed it into her back.
She returned to her lines, little red spots leaping in front of her eyes.
‘
Oh nonsense
,’ she whispered. ‘
Your love touches me but I cannot return it
.’
‘What’s the largest organ in the body, five letters?’ said Chrissie.
‘Penis,’ said Angora, drifting towards them in her white silk dressing gown, carrying a photograph album, a cigarette dangling from her scarlet lips.
Chrissie giggled. ‘It can’t be. Did you sleep well?’
‘I didn’t do much sleeping, thank you, darling. But I had a lovely night.’
‘You made a bloody awful din,’ said Rupert.
‘Steve likes to hear the sound of his own vice,’ said Angora, dropping a kiss on Steve’s shoulder.
Steve’s eyes met Bella’s. See! his triumphant expression seemed to be saying.
Angora lay down on a lilo, stretching out her scarlet painted toes, admiring her sleek brown legs. Her almost Japanese slenderness always made Bella feel like a carthorse.
‘Hullo, Belladonna,’ she said. ‘You look a bit peaky, darling. Shouldn’t go to bed so early. What you need is a few late nights.’
Bella ignored her.
‘
I can’t go on
,’ she repeated in a whisper. ‘
I’m miserable, no-one knows how miserable. I love Konstantin
.’
‘Who?’ said Angora. ‘Oh, I see, you’re learning lines. You are virtuous. I haven’t had a script from Harry Backhaus yet, and we start shooting next week sometime. I gather the costumes are heaven. I do hope I’m not expected to take mine off. The set always gets so crowded.’
God, she’s hell! thought Bella. How can Chrissie look at her with such admiration.
‘Don’t you get tired of people asking you to be sexy all the time?’ said Chrissie.
‘They don’t have to ask,’ said Steve, lobbing a pebble on to Angora’s back.
‘Well it’s not something I mind,’ said Angora, ‘like being bitten by midges. Steve, darling, do light another fag and drive them away. Now I want you all to gather round and look at this photograph album.’
‘Is it yours?’ said Chrissie.
‘No – yours, but guess who keeps cropping up in it.’
She flicked a few pages.
‘There’s Rupert. Wasn’t he an adorable baby? And there’s Chrissie on a pony, and Gay at her first teenage party. It was the Hunter-Blake’s firework party. And look who’s over there.’
‘My God! It’s you,’ said Steve.
‘Wasn’t I awful? Only fourteen then and still a virgin. Look who couldn’t wait for it.’
Steve examined the photograph more closely:
‘You weren’t that bad. I wish I’d been around at the time. I’d have sorted you out.’
Angora turned over another page. ‘There’s Lazlo; not so hot in those days was he? Bit thin and beaky-nosed. And look, there’s Constance getting her OBE.
‘And there I am at fifteen, at the Bullingdon Point to Point, not a virgin any more. Look a lot happier, don’t I? I was wearing falsies, although you wouldn’t know it under all that heather-mixture tweed. And there’s the guy who did it, Jamie Milbank. He’s married with three children now.’
‘Jamie Milbank!’ said Chrissie, ‘but he’s so respectable.’
‘I was his final fling. And there I am again, at Gay’s coming-out dance. Isn’t it amazing how one crops up in other people’s photograph albums?’
I never do, thought Bella wistfully. Once more she felt miserably conscious of being out of it.
‘There’s Lazlo again,’ said Angora. ‘Looking much more glamorous now, and there he is with a bird. And there’s Rupert making a duck in the Eton and Harrow match. You look disgustingly pleased, Rupe darling. I suppose you were dying to get back to the bar.
‘There’s Lazlo with yet another bird. What’s so extraordinary is he and I never met until this year.’
Steve looked at the photograph and whistled. ‘Some chick. How does he manage to get all those broads?’
Angora giggled. ‘Well, I’m only going by hearsay darling, but they tell me he’s the fastest tongue in the West.’
Everyone howled with laughter until a dry voice behind them said, ‘You talk too much, Angora.’
It was Lazlo, wearing dark glasses and black bathing trunks. He was carrying the morning papers and a large drink.
‘What are you drinking?’ said Chrissie.
‘It says whisky on the bottle.’
‘At this hour?’ said Angora in mock horror.
‘It says so all the time,’ said Lazlo.
‘You’ll ruin your looks that way,’ said Angora.
‘Very probably,’ said Lazlo. And sitting down on the edge of the pool, he turned to the racing pages.
Bella had to admit, reluctantly, that he was in extremely good shape.
She was pouring with sweat. She longed to swim, but it would make her hair even more fluffy than ever, and she was damned if she was going to ask Chrissie or Angora if she could borrow their rollers.
‘How many horses have you got running this afternoon?’ said Steve.
‘Two,’ said Lazlo. ‘
The Times
seems to think one of them’s going to win.’
‘You know Isidore, who fixes everyone’s divorces,’ said Angora. ‘He’s sold all his horses, he’s so terrified of the wealth tax.’
‘Any minute now,’ said Lazlo, ‘the man in the street’s going to go into the betting shop and find there aren’t any horses to bet on.’
It was too hot – to hell with her hair. She got up and walked to the edge of the pool.
Conscious suddenly of the highly charged atmosphere, she tried to dive in gracefully, but promptly did a belly flop.
As she swam up and down, she was aware of Lazlo’s sardonic, appraising eyes watching her, looking for chinks in her armour, presumably wondering, like the chief torturer in the Spanish Inquisition, what refinement to try next.
I’ll end up with my feet in cement at the bottom of this pool if I stay here much longer, she thought.
She got out and dried herself and looked round for her script. Lazlo was reading it.
‘
Your love touches me, but I can’t reciprocate it. Help me, or I shall do something silly
.’ He read softly, so only she could hear.
‘Can I have it back, please?’ snapped Bella.
‘Of course. Do you realize now how much better you’ll play Masha than Nina?’
Bella’s yellow eyes narrowed.
‘So you
were
behind that little chess move,’ she said.
‘Naturally,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you admit you’ve had enough?’
‘I bloody well won’t.’
‘That’s a nice ring,’ he said, admiring the gold band studded with seed pearls on her little finger. ‘Where did you get it from?’
‘Rupert gave it to me,’ she said.
‘I might have known it,’ he sighed. ‘It’s the only jewellery in remotely decent taste I’ve ever seen you wear. Although,’ his eyes travelled over her body, ‘I must confess in a bikini you look more chic than I’ve ever seen you.’
Angora, who disliked anyone’s attention to be off her for very long, started reading out the horoscopes in the paper. ‘What are you, Lazlo?’ she said.
‘Scorpio,’ said Chrissie.
‘Oh very passionate,’ said Angora. ‘Ruled by the privates.’
Everyone laughed. ‘It says you’re going to have a tricky weekend, so play things close to the chest. What’s Bella?’
‘Taurus,’ said Rupert.
‘Um,’ Angora’s eyes ran down the page. ‘People around you just aren’t too co-operative, but be prepared to stick to your guns and argue things out.’
Bella looked up, met Lazlo’s eyes, flushed and looked away again.
‘And now Rupert, what’s he?’
‘Aquarius,’ said Chrissie promptly. She knew at once, thought Bella, and I haven’t a clue.
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Angora. ‘What a pity you’ve decided to marry Bella. Taurus and Aquarius are terrible together. You’ve got an awfully stormy marriage ahead, darling. You’d better think twice about it.’
‘So you keep telling us, Angora,’ said Rupert angrily. ‘Would you bloody well mind getting off our backs?’
‘Go and get ready, Angora,’ said Lazlo. ‘I know you’re governed by double summer time, but unless you get moving, we’ll be two hours late for the first race.’
He got up and dived into the water. Bella experienced the same surprise that she would have felt seeing a big cat allowing itself to get wet.
Chapter Eleven
Bella was not on any sort of terms with Chrissie or Angora to ask them what was worn at Goodwood. It was far too hot to wear stockings, and her legs weren’t brown enough to go without, but it seemed stupid to waste the sun, so she put on a pair of dungarees in dark blue denim, superbly cut to show off her long legs. She wore nothing else on top. The straps and bib made a pretty good job of covering her breasts if she didn’t leap about too much.
Of course, she was the last out. They were all standing beside the Mercedes, like some magnificent five: Chrissie and Angora both in pretty flowery dresses, Rupert and Steve in lightweight suits. Lazlo, however, in an impeccably cut pinstripe suit with a dark red carnation in the buttonhole, made everyone else look sloppy by comparison.
He laughed when he saw Bella. ‘Have you come to mend the boiler?’ he said.
Steve and Angora sat in the front beside Lazlo. To make more room, Steve sat slightly sideways, his arm along the back of the seat, his elbow resting against Angora’s hair. His hand lay just in front of Bella and she had to resist a constant temptation to touch it.
Angora adjusted her hat in the driving mirror. ‘Do you think I ought to cut my hair, Lazlo?’ she said.
‘No,’ said Lazlo. ‘I hate short hair.’
Life is just a bowl of cherries, Bella sighed, until you break your teeth on the stones.
She was turned on by the whole ambience of the racecourse, the heavy smell of hot horse, leather and dung, the shrill neighing from the stables.
She was surprised how done up everyone was. The women, very upper class, displaying thoroughbred ankles. The men were even better looking. The members’ enclosure was crammed with Yock Yocks in light checked suits, with the kind of curly brimmed hats you put in rollers every night.
Bella found she got some pretty odd glances, and some wolf whistles too. It gave her considerable satisfaction that people were gazing at her more than Angora, and that two people came up and asked her for her autograph.
‘We saw you on television the other day. We thought you were so good.’
That annoyed Angora too.
In the paddock, the horses were circling for the first race.
Bella admired their scarlet nostrils, rolling eyes and impossibly fragile legs, and realized how exactly right the artists had drawn them in those old sporting prints.
‘That’s Lazlo’s horse, Chaperone, over there,’ said Rupert, pointing to a chestnut, gleaming like a furniture polish advertisement. ‘She looks well, doesn’t she?’
‘Beautiful,’ sighed Bella, as the filly walked by, nuzzling at her groom, proudly flaunting the green and black rug, with the initials L.C.H. on the corner.
‘She’s the only one who’s walking out,’ said Steve approvingly.
Who with? wondered Bella.
Out came the jockeys. How tiny they looked with their shrill voices and Jack Russell jauntiness.

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