The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous (89 page)

    Natasha seemed so shattered that she walked out without even saying goodbye.

    'Look after yourself,' said Ferdie, hugging Kitty. Seriously worried, he hated leaving her.

    Natasha can't bear my having her father's child, thought Kitty hopelessly. Oh God, another dreadful complication.

    Rannaldini jumped up and rushed out as the telephone rang. He had been unbelievably edgy all morning. A long time talking, he met James Benson on his way out.

    'Not very happy about Kitty,' James told him. 'Not responding at all well, almost clinically depressed. I've put her on anti-depressants and some iron and vitamins to boost her up. But I cannot recommend TLC too strongly, Rannaldini. She needs a proper holiday.'

    'She has one,' said Rannaldini, who was quite incapable of controlling his orgasmic elation. 'That call confirm the New World Phil job. It is all I have dreamt of and worked

    for.' 'Well done, great,' said James, 'brilliant, but that's

    hardly a holiday for Kitty.'

    'It'll be a change of scenery.' Most uncharacteristically, Rannaldini kissed his doctor on both cheeks. 'If you'll forgeeve me, James, I must break the news to Kitty. That will be the best tonic.'

    What a victory! He wanted to shout to the rooftops as he bounded upstairs. How dare that little Russian upstart challenge his throne. The best man had won even

    if he had had to fax The Scorpion piece on Boris and Chloe anonymously to Graydon Gluckstein the moment it came

    off the press. 'It'll be a new 'eaven and a new earth, my kitten,' he

    told her joyfully.

    The early afternoon sun flooding his face made him look young and extraordinarily handsome.

    'We will leave our problems behind and start our marriage again. You will adore New York. It pulsates like an

    animal.'

    Cecilia lives in New York, thought Kitty bleakly, and once she's dumped this latest boyfriend she'll want Rannaldini back and me as a dogsbody. And if I go to the States and want to come back Lassie will have to go into quarantine for six months. And Hermione will come and stay for ages and little Cosmo will break the place up. At least in England they live in their own house.

    'They are so delighted to 'ave me,' Rannaldini was saying, 'they 'ave already release the news worldwide. Next week we can fly over and look at 'ouses. Oh, sheet,' as his mobile rang again. 'Why can't people leave us alone?

    'Allo, 'allo.' His face went utterly still, so instantly drained of colourand joy that for a second Kitty thought the job had been withdrawn. For a couple of minutes he listened, just interjecting the occasional 'si'. Then he said: 'It was good of you to let me know. We'll talk later, ciao.' He switched off the telephone.

    Only then did the rage erupt, as he launched into a stream of Latin expletives.

    'What's the matter?' Kitty clung to a cringing Lassie.

    'The stupid, stupid beetch,' screamed Rannaldini, 'driving over a fucking cliff and we've only recorded the first two movements of the Emperor.'

    'What are you talking about?'

    'Rachel. She kill herself driving off the road.'

    Kitty gave a moan. 'Oh my God! Poor Rachel. 'Ow terrible. What 'appened? Did the brakes fail? It couldn't have been suicide.'

    Rannaldini shrugged. 'She was found clutching a copy of The Scorpion. They'd run a piece about Boris going back to Chloe.'

    'Oh no, I can't bear it. Oh, the poor li-el kids.'

    'Rachel left them with Gretel. Stupid, selfish beetch.'

    'Oh, poor Boris. Does he know?'

    'Ees in Eesrael,' said Rannaldini contemptuously. That was Bob. He's trying to trace him.'

    'Oh, my God.' Kitty's face crumpled up with tears. 'She was probably just distracted by the 'orrible article and drove off the road.' Groping in her pocket for a handkerchief, she nearly pulled out Lysander's letter. 'She dropped me a line only this week sayin' 'ow 'appy she and Boris was.'

    Again the telephone went. The Telegraph, having been tipped off, was ringing to congratulate Rannaldini about New York and wanting a comment on Rachel's death.

    'One of the most tragic losses to the music world,' Kitty could hear him saying as he walked back to his study, 'Rachel Grant had. an individual talent which I personally…"

    Guessing he would be tied up for some time, frantically brushing away the tears, Kitty took the note out of her cardigan pocket. It was full of crossings out. A demented Lysander had clearly struggled over it himself without any help from Per die or Rupert.

    Darling kitty,

    I wonnted to proove I cud do sumthing, well arthur and I allmost did. I havent got a big howse or a jetset life but I give you my hart wych feals as if its been trarnsplamted withowt any annisetik. please wring I am dieing ofmissery. your luvving Lysander.

    Kitty felt as though the jagged teeth of a steel trap had closed into her leg, holding her back. Darling sweet Lysander. How could she ever even respect, let alone love Rannaldini, after he'd been so monstrously insensitive about Rachel?

    'Mrs Rannaldini?'

    Whatever was wrong with Miss Bates? She'd been so bossy and uppity yesterday, now she couldn't meet Kitty's eyes, as she handed her the second cordless telephone.

    'Mr Rannaldini's still on the other line, it's Natasha. She says it's desperately urgent.'

    ' 'Allo,' said Kitty, steeling herself for abuse.

    'Are you alone? Promise you won't leave Papa.' Natasha's Italian-American accent was coming in gasps. 'Wolfie won't come back to Valhalla because Dad took Flora off him and I'm living with Ferdie now. Papa'll be so lonely living on his own. I shouldn't be telling you this -Papa'll

    kill me. Promise you won't tell him.'

    'I promise,' said Kitty fearfully, 'but be quick, he'll be back in a second.'

    'Your baby isn't Papa's. It's Lysander's.'

    'How d'you know?' whispered Kitty. 'I slept with your dad the night before Lysander came out to France and the night I got back.' She shuddered as she remembered Rannaldini's ice-cold anger as he practically raped her. 'I only slept wiv Lysander twice.'

    'Papa has had a vasectomy.'

    'He what! When?''Just after he married you. He didn't want any more children, what with seven of us and buckets of illegits. He was fed up with the expense and the hassle. But there's a 28 per cent chance of reversing the operation, so you still could have babies together. Kitty, Kitty, are you still there?'

    'Yes -are

    you sure?'

    'Certain. He had the op in America. Not even James Benson knows.'

    'Oh my God.' Kitty gave a sob.

    'You will go on being my friend even if you leave him,' pleaded Natasha. 'But try not to. He loves you in his funny way, and he needs you. You're the best wife he's ever had.'

    'I've got to go,' mumbled Kitty, switching off the telephone and slumping back on the blue-and-yellow cushions, clutching Lassie, who stretched up, long pink tongue frantically trying to staunch her mistress's tears. Outside, Rannaldini's horses were lying down in a patch of sunlight close together to keep warm, folding up one after another like camels.

    Kitty couldn't stop crying as she remembered the way Rannaldini had complained so bitterly when she had all those horribly embarrassing and often painful tests -not

    to mention the devastating disappointment each time her period came. Now he was bullying her non-stop to have an abortion and all the time he'd made her bear the full guilt and humiliation of being the infertile one.

    'The stupid bitch drove off the road,' she muttered, 'an' we've only recorded two movements. Oh, poor Rachel, oh dear God.'

    Kitty had no idea how long she sat, her thoughts churning, but suddenly the door flew open and in bounced Hermione, smothered in leopard skin.

    'Come on, Brickie! We're off to the bird sanctuary at Slimbridge. We've always vowed we'd go. Such a lovely day and what better way of celebrating Rannaldini's wonderful new job.'

    He must have rung to tell her straight away, thought Kitty dully.

    'You must wrap up warm.'

    Marigold, following Hermione into the room, thought how really ill Kitty looked.

    'But what about Rachel?' said Kitty bewildered.

    'It's terrible. We're all devastated,' said Hermione briskly. 'Bob was crying when he rang from London to tell me, but crying won't bring her back. We'll all have to rally round Boris and the children. Gretel's being a tower of strength. Mind you, spare men are lucky, they get snapped up very

    fast.' 'We can't go on a jaunt,' said Kitty in horror, not

    when she's just passed away.'

    'Rachel was mad about conservation,' said Marigold gently. 'It's a sort of memorial to her if we go. Come on, Kitty, it'll do you good.'So off they went in two cars: Marigold and Larry, Georgie and Guy rode in the first. Hermione, reluctantly accompanied by Meredith, because Bob was still in London coping with the ramifications of Rachel's death, drove with Kitty and Rannaldini, who was resplendent in a new, long pale-fawn cashmere coat from Ralph Lauren.

    The clouds had rolled away. Primroses, violets and blue hazes of speedwell crowded the hedgerows from which the first green flames of hawthorn and wild rose were flickering brightly.

    'Dark glasses and head scarves, chaps,' said Hermione, tying a rust silk square over her dark hair. 'We don't want to be mobbed by autograph hunters.'

    There was hassle even before they got inside Slimbridge when, ignoring a sign saying no entry for furs made from spotted cats or tigers, Hermione tried to force her way through the turnstile.

    'Is that coat fake leopardskin?' asked the girl on the till.

    'Certainly not,' said Hermione in outrage.

    'I'm afraid you can't come in.'

    So Hermione threw a moody and as Rannaldini showed no signs of relinquishing his splendid new cashmere, kind Guy had to lend her his old army greatcoat.

    'It looks better on a man,' joked Guy as he did up the brass buttons. 'D'you remember that advertisement, Brickie?'

    Kitty didn't. She was thinking of the contrast between the noisy, self-confident sophistication of the Paradise party excluding

    herself of course and

    the scruffy excited crowds, mostly parents and children in anoraks, retired couples or earnest men in shorts and hung with cameras and binoculars.

    'Dreadfully suburban,' shuddered Meredith, as he whisked Kitty past bright pink double cherries, weeping willows, little concrete ponds and pebble-dash islands crowded with birds.

    'I fink it's beautiful,' said Kitty, admiring the little teals with their glossy blue, green and chestnut heads and the black swans whose necks unfurled like ferns.

    ' 'Ooo, 'ow sweet.' She bent down to stroke the little brown striped Hawaiian geese who wandered round soliciting bread and rubbing against people's legs, tame as

    Lassie. 'That bird with a white collar looks just like Percy,'

    said Meredith.

    'It's called the common shoveller.' Marigold was eager to show off her ornithological knowledge.

    Guy, who'd been a keen birdwatcher during the walking tours of his youth, was equally eager.

    'The courtship of the ruddy duck is absolutely fascinating,' he was telling Larry.

    Seeing a notice which said go quietly, tread gently, Kitty thought it sounded like a prayer. There must be a god to produce such a marvellous variety of different coloured birds, and what a wonderful quacking and honking and hooting they make. From every bush came scuffling like a teenage party.

    'Interior designers could pick up a few tips.' Meredith was studying the black, rust and white plumage of a passing eider duck.

    'Listen to what it says about the courtship pattern of the great whistler,' cried Marigold putting on her spectacles to read another notice: 'The male arches his body and neck, flinging up droplets followed by head up, tail up. Usually several males frantically display before one female.' 'Sounds like the husbands of Paradise showing off toRachel,' said Georgie sourly. 'Oh my God, I forgot she was dead.'

    Noticing Kitty's glazed eyes suddenly spilling over with tears, Meredith mouthed to Marigold, 'Is she OK?'

    'I don't think so,' mouthed back Marigold.

    Picking up this exchange, Hermione turned to Rannaldini: 'Wouldn't it be wonderful if Kitty could adopt a Canada goose? They've got a scheme here. It would give her an interest. I'll go and jolly her up.'

    Showing off her deeply caring nature and her charmingly curved legs, she moved forward putting her arm through Kitty's.

    'I'm so delighted about Rannaldini's new job. I know he's been a naughty boy, but when you think of stags, stallions and male dogs, and how much more glamorously the male birds are kitted out than the females, it's no wonder men are different. Bitches, does and female birds are gentle, sit on their nests and stay at home. Sex really isn't that important.'