‘
Bitch, bitch,’ scolded
Roz lightly, eyeing with horror the
green
and blue cotton sweater which ended just below her
daughter’s young
breasts and the scarlet and silver stretch mini
skirt which scarcely covered her pelvis. ‘I hope you aren’t
thinking
of wearing this little get-up tonight.’
‘
Nico thinks I look
great,’ Natalie declared, as if that settled
it. She adored Nico.
‘
Of course he does,’
countered Roz. ‘He’s Italian. And I’m
telling you that you look like a
hooker. Go and change into something decent.’
‘
Zoë and Laszlo,’ said
Camilla with a low whistle when Natalie had flounced out of the room. ‘I didn’t
know about
that.’
‘
This place is like Noah’s
ark,’ grumbled Loulou, balancing
on
one leg as she struggled into a pair of Roz’s black leather
Nicole Farhi
trousers. ‘And I’m the old spinster left on her own. These are too small for
me, you skinny old witch. Where’s my dressing-gown? I’ll wear that.’
‘How about my sequinned dress?’ suggested Camilla nobly.
She had been planning to wear it herself
‘
Too flashy for the
cameras,’ advised Roz. ‘And everyone
will expect you to sing like
Shirley Bassey. Keep it simple and steer clear of stripes.’
‘
I told you. My dressing-gown.’
Roz raised
her eyebrows. ‘Now she thinks she’s Hugh Hefner. You want something plain and
stylish, Lou.’
‘
I want something strong, like a double gin,’ said Loulou,
her silver-grey eyes reflecting growing panic. ‘This stage-fright
is a
terrible thing, Roz. Next time your daughter has a brilliant idea just tell her
to get knotted, OK?’
By the time Roz, Loulou and Lili were ready to leave for
the television studios the party downstairs was already well on its way.
‘It’s rather like getting married,’ said Loulou, trying to
joke. ‘Just as the fun really starts, the bride and groom have to wave goodbye
and shoot off on their honeymoon, poor sods.’
‘Happy birthday,’ shouted Marty cheerfully, sensing that
this was an occasion for presents.
‘
Don’t panic,’ Nico
told her, kissing Loulou’s pale cheek.
‘You look terrific. And don’t
even
think
about all those millions and millions of viewers sitting at
home watching you –’
’Flawless,’ pronounced Zoë, stepping
back to admire her work.
‘I have to say this, Cami. When I first saw you in that hospital
bed I nearly died. The doctor who
sewed up your face deserves
a medal. If
you ever feel like trying a spot of modelling . .
‘
Don’t change the subject,’
said Camilla sternly. ‘I asked
what was going on between you and Laszlo.’
Colour rose afresh in Zoë’s cheeks and she gazed helplessly
at the
powder puff in her hands.
‘Loulou and I went over to Vampires the other week. He’s taken me out a
few times since then. It’s early days yet.’
‘But so far
. . .?’
‘
So far, so very good indeed,’ confessed Zoë with a shy
smile. ‘In
fact, perfect. But what about you?’ she added, turning
the tables and surveying Camilla with calculated shrewdness.
‘You
do realize, don’t you, that we’re all churning with curiosity wondering what’s
going on between you and Nico.’
Stepping into the shimmering dress of petrol blue sequins,
Camilla turned away and lifted her hair from
her neck so that
Zoë could zip her up.
‘
Nothing much.’
‘
Oh, of
course not,’ said Zoë with heavy sarcasm. With
characteristic bluntness she paused halfway up the zip. ‘Are
you
sleeping together?’
‘
No!’
She shrugged. ‘OK, no need to sound
so appalled by the
idea.
He isn’t exactly Quasimodo, after all. So what is going
on?’
‘Nothing,’ repeated Camilla with stubbornness and the very
faintest trace of pique. Since that last day
at the hospital Nico
had made no further mention of the future. His
habitual teasing
continued as it always had,
but she was under the distinct
impression
that it was just that: a habit. He was drawing
discreetly away, backing
off in such a manner that her own
confused
feelings would be spared. He was letting her down
gently, she had decided, in the hope that she
wouldn’t realize
why.
It was a
cold, sad, unhappy sensation and Camilla hated it.
‘
I thought
Roz said he wanted to marry you as soon as his divorce came through,’ persisted
Zoë, adjusting the combs which held up her own hair and glancing at Camilla’s
reflection in the mirror.
‘Maybe he went off the idea.’ Camilla was trying
desperately hard now to sound unconcerned. ‘We never did seem to get our timing
right, after all.’
Her hands, she realized as she reached for her dark blue
high-heeled shoes, were shaking.
‘
Well, perhaps the time
has come to synchronize your
watches,’
declared Zoë. Trained to be observant, she wasn’t
missing a trick. ‘I know these things, darling. You
and Nico are
so bloody
English
sometimes I could shake the pair
of you.’
‘He’s Italian,’ protested Camilla weakly, and received a
dark, meaningful stare in return.
‘
Exactly.’
Downstairs Natalie was teaching Marty to hand-jive, Nico
was setting up the video recorder and Sebastian was deep in conver
sation with Christo and Laura. Charlotte and Toby,
together
with Zoë’s two daughters, were dancing through the kitchen.
Rocky, tied to the leg of a settee in the
sitting-room, was whining
piteously in the hope that someone would set
him free.
Just as Camilla finished pouring a fresh round of drinks,
the doorbell rang.
‘
Grandmother!’
exclaimed Natalie joyfully, and bolted out
into the hall.
‘So shy, so retiring,’ sighed Zoë, exchanging glances with
Camilla.
‘Granny, Granny, Granny!’ shouted Marty, racing out in hot
pursuit of Natalie.
Loulou’s nerves had miraculously
vanished. To her amaze
ment she
was enjoying herself. The rumbustuous crowd from
Vampires, complete with darling Tommy in his boxer shorts,
were
providing just the right touch of informality and their
good-natured heckling had put her so much at ease that
she couldn’t imagine why she’d ever felt nervous
in the first
place. Even under the
sizzling heat from the studio lights
she felt calm and unfazed,
answering questions easily and
contributing
lines which had the entire audience in fits of
laughter.
‘So do you ever miss those days when you were running
Vampires?’ asked Roz, and Loulou shrugged.
‘
Sometimes. We had a
lot of fun. I miss seeing all the
customers.’ Inclining her head, she
glanced momentarily in the
direction of the
audience. ‘Well, maybe not
these
customers,
but some of the
others were OK . .
Loulou was looking better than ever, thought Mac. In a
plain
yellow vest, belted at the hips over
white leggings tucked
into low-heeled
yellow boots, she looked so blonde and .. . golden . . . that the pull in his
chest was almost unbearable.
And she was being so bright and funny, and
at the same time
compassionate, that his
sense of loss was heightened to an
intolerable degree. Loulou should
have been his, should be his now, and he had blown it.
So engrossed was he in the programme
that he didn’t hear
the front door open
and quietly close again. Cecilia, standing in
the
doorway of the sitting-room, watched him in silence for
several seconds.
The video recorder beneath the television was taping the same programme he was
watching. But even if that
didn’t give the
game away completely, the expression on his
face could leave no-one in
any doubt.
When a floorboard creaked beneath her feet he twisted
round,
looking so guilty that Cecilia didn’t
know whether to laugh or
cry. Her modelling skills leaping to the fore,
she composed her
face into a blank ‘catwalk’
smile and sat down in the grey
leather chair opposite him.
‘We could watch something else . . .?’ he said dutifully,
and Cecilia shook her head.
‘It looks interesting. Keep it on.’
‘I thought you were staying down in Cornwall tonight.’
‘
The shoot was cancelled.
Half the crew went down with
food poisoning.’
‘
That’s nice,’ said Mac
absently, his attention riveted help
lessly to the screen.
‘Mmm,’ said Cecilia, taking two bottles of nail varnish
from her bag. Russian Red or Pretty Flamingo? Damn, she was going to need an
emery board to tidy up that thumbnail, too.
Several minutes later when she looked up and glanced at
the TV screen she saw the little coloured girl, Loulou’s daughter, romping on
the sofa with a distinguished, rather sinister looking man with a black eye
patch who was holding her by her scarlet braces.
‘That’s Lili, isn’t it?’ she said quietly, and Mac nodded.
That
was Lili all right. The child he had
spent so much time with
right up until the moment of her birth.
‘
She’s beautiful,’ said
Cecilia, and turned her attention back
to the second coat of polish. The
second coat was always the trickiest.
’You’ve been married three times,’ said
Roz, settling back in
her chair and ignoring the autocue. The hard part, the brief
discussion with the president of the
Foundation for research
into cot
deaths, was over and he and Laszlo had departed the set to tumultuous applause,
taking Lili with them. Now she could properly relax. Discussing men was
something she and Loulou
had done a thousand times. ‘What do you think
was the worst mistake you ever made?’
‘
Getting married, obviously,’ replied Loulou promptly,
winking at
the audience. ‘I don’t seem to be very good at it.’
From the audience, Tommy shouted:
"That’s not what I’ve
heard,’ and
everyone collapsed with laughter. When they finally began to quieten down, Roz
said, ‘Seriously.’
‘
Seriously,’ echoed
Loulou, her silvery eyes betraying
genuine sadness, ‘I haven’t always
behaved very well. I’m not talking about infidelity – I have never been
unfaithful to
any
of my husbands – but I suppose I tend to act first and
think later.
Some of my decisions turned out
to be embarrassingly bad
ones,
although at the time they seemed right. I’m too impulsive,
I suppose.’
Glancing distractedly at her hands, bare of rings, she lowered her voice and
added, ‘I know I deserve them, but I do have regrets. Real regrets . .
‘Such as the occasion when you threw your husband’s only
change of clothes out of a hotel window and into a
pond?’
suggested Roz gently. Loulou,
startled, hesitated for only a
moment. A faint smile hovered on her
lips, but there was infinite sadness in her voice as she replied quietly, ‘That
was
the worst
mistake of my life.
More than anything else I wish I hadn’t
done that. Who knows, if only I’d exercised a bit of self-control
in those few moments instead of behaving like a
spoilt bitch,
the rest of my life might have been quite different.’
Mac felt his insides disappear. The
blood was pounding in
his
fingertips and in his ears. He couldn’t move.