The Marrying Game (12 page)

‘Couldn’t we hire them?’ she asked wistfully.

‘No,’ Roshan snapped. ‘I’m not taking you to Sheringham House covered with someone else’s soup stains. If the hire shop is even halfway decent, the frocks will all be notorious. You can’t risk standing out in the wrong way – you have to look
divine
.’ He plucked the cup of peppermint tea from Rufa’s hand, and replaced it with a glass of red wine.

She smiled. ‘You’re right. There’s no point, unless we give it all we’ve got. I’ll try to think of it as an investment.’

‘I’m looking forward to the gatecrashing part,’ Nancy said. ‘I always did love breaking and entering.’

Rufa said, ‘I hope this isn’t going to be too difficult. I’m not going to bother with an expensive dress if I have to squeeze in through some lavatory window.’

‘We can’t afford to mess up our hair or ladder our tights,’ Nancy pointed out.

Roshan filled his own glass with wine, and sat down.
‘Don’t
worry. Once I’m inside, there’s bound to be a way I can let you in – a staff entrance, or a back door.’

‘This is as good as a bank heist,’ Max said, chuckling. ‘We should try to case the joint beforehand. Even from the outside, it should be possible to mark where doors and windows are.’ He leaned forward energetically. ‘Then – tell you what – I’ll ring the house from work, saying I’m something to do with the caterer, double-checking details of delivery. I’ll invent some immensely plausible reason for needing to know about all the doors and windows.’

‘That would be excellent,’ Rufa said. ‘And awfully nice of you –’

‘I’ve always wanted to play at being a gumshoe. I’m in the Marrying Game for the sport.’

Rufa thought, he’s after Nancy, he’s smart enough to sabotage the Game from the inside; and if she goes and falls in love with him, I’ll be left to do it all myself.

It was not a noble line of thought, and she knew she ought to have been ashamed – she wasn’t sure the Man would have approved of her standing in the way of Nancy’s happiness. Suppose Max turned out to be the great love of her life: the one Nancy was always going on about and never meeting?

But it had not happened yet, and, in the meantime, all this tiresome amatory energy could be channelled into something useful. Rufa smiled at Max. ‘I think we can promise you some reasonable sport.’ She smiled round at them all. ‘Do you know, I really think this might work?’

Max lifted his glass. ‘Watson, the Game’s afoot.’

Though she still smiled, Rufa was slightly annoyed.
Watson
, indeed. She was the one in the deerstalker, and he’d better not forget it.

Roshan said he would escort the girls to Harvey Nichols the following Saturday. On Thursday evening, Rufa made her usual call to Melismate. Either she or Nancy called every night, on Wendy’s phone to save the bill at home (Rufa kept a scrupulous record of what was owed to Wendy).

This call began, as they mostly did, with the breathless voice of Linnet. ‘Hello? Hello?’

Rufa settled comfortably against the kitchen counter, half-closing her eyes to summon a picture of Linnet in the kitchen at Melismate. Both sisters missed Linnet cruelly – a house without a five-year-old child seemed creepily still. Nearly every day, Nancy begged Rufa to squander some precious money on treats to send to Linnet. And more often than not, Rufa agreed – only that morning, she had found herself stuffing a furry Pikachu rucksack into a Jiffy bag.

‘Hi, darling. It’s Ru.’

‘Hello, Ru. What are you doing?’

‘I’m having a cup of tea. Nancy’s out, and Wendy’s watching
Animal Hospital
.’

Linnet had to know exactly where everyone was. She asked, ‘And where are those men?’

Regretfully, thinking it must be genetic, Rufa noted her niece’s intense interest in the opposite sex. ‘Well, Max and Roshan are out with Nancy. I didn’t feel like going with them. What about you? What are you doing?’

‘Oh, just standing here in some new pink slippers Daddy gave me.’

Rufa smiled. The picture this conjured up was delicious. She ached to hug the airy, wriggling, dignified little figure. ‘New slippers? They sound smart. Poor Nancy, she will be jealous.’

This was a game Nancy had with Linnet. She would pretend to steal the child’s new clothes, and weep with chagrin when they did not fit her. Linnet giggled, then there was a long pause.

Rufa prompted: ‘How are Mummy and Daddy?’ She always had to check the state of Ran’s love life. ‘Are they well?’

‘Yes,’ Linnet said. She had to think about how they were. ‘Daddy comes to see us a lot. I think it’s because he can’t get another girlfriend.’

Good, Rufa thought; that means Liddy’s holding together. ‘How’s Trotsky?’

Trotsky was the guinea pig Ran had given Linnet for Christmas.

She giggled delightedly. ‘Granny let him run on the table, and – he – he –’ A storm of hilarity possessed her. Rufa laughed too; the sound was so beautiful. ‘He – he
did a pooh in the butter
!’

‘Oh, yuck. Poor Granny. Was she cross?’

‘Yes – she gave Trotsky a tiny smack on his bottom. She said next time it’s an ice pick, but she didn’t really mean it, she and Roger were laughing just as much as me. I’m going to write about it in my news book tomorrow.’

‘I can’t wait to read it,’ Rufa said. ‘Is Granny about?’

‘Yes. She wants to talk to you when I’ve finished.’

‘All right. Bye-bye, then.’

Linnet was annoyed. ‘I didn’t say I’d finished yet.’

‘Sorry.’ Rufa wondered uneasily why Rose wanted to talk to her. ‘Er – how are the Ressany Brothers?’

‘I really need Nancy to do the voices.’ Linnet was plaintive, and faintly accusing. ‘It’s not the same without her.’

The drama of the Ressany Brothers was the joint creation of Nancy and the Man. A few days after the Man’s death, unable to bear Linnet’s bewilderment, Nancy had gamely picked up the threads of the saga and carried it on alone. ‘It’s a way of keeping part of him,’ she had told Rufa later. ‘I couldn’t let them die too.’

Linnet went on, ‘When Roger does their voices, they’re never naughty and they never do anything interesting. What? What?’ In the background, Rufa heard Roger’s voice, saying something indistinct. ‘WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR!’

Roger came closer to the telephone, and could be heard saying, ‘– but you’ll have to come now if you want a piggyback.’

Linnet said, ‘I do! I’m going now – goodnight –’

A sound of scuffling, then Rose took the receiver. ‘Ru? Darling, I’m so sorry, but I won’t fart about – there’s been another slight disaster.’

The shock was like being doused in cold water. Another disaster, in the Melismate minefield of disasters. You could not turn your back on them for a minute. ‘Oh God – what’s happened now?’

Rose’s curt voice softened. ‘Nobody’s died, not that sort of disaster.’

‘It’s money, then,’ Rufa said resignedly. ‘What for and how much?’

‘I hate laying this on you, love, but I’m at my wits’ end. The council have unearthed some sort of irregularity with the rates. They’re demanding nearly five thousand pounds.’

Rufa’s knuckles whitened round the receiver. ‘Oh God almighty – what a time for them to discover one of the Man’s pathetic fiddles!’

‘He should have roped you in on it,’ Rose said drily. ‘I’m sure you would have fiddled the council far more efficiently.’

‘No, I didn’t mean— but what the hell are we going to do? Five thousand pounds!’ Rufa massaged her forehead, desperately trying to think. ‘Couldn’t you ask the bank to extend your overdraft till after the sale?’

‘You must be kidding,’ Rose said. ‘I light the fire with threatening letters from that bank.’

‘Oh. Well, you’ll have to do what the Man would have done, and let it ride until you get a summons.’

‘My darling, the summons came this morning.’

They were both silent. Then Rufa let out a shaky, defeated sigh. ‘There’s nothing else for it. We’ll have to ask Edward.’

‘I’ve asked him.’

‘What? And he refused?’

‘He hasn’t a penny to spare until after the harvest.’ Rose laughed, without mirth. ‘He had the decency to interrupt me before I went down on my knees, I’m grateful for that at least. And then he reminded me about the brooch he gave you, and said you’d have something left after you’d paid for your course.’

‘Oh – shit.’

‘Yes, quite. Edward said you could pay the bill now, and he’d make up the money later. It was enormously generous of him – I had a terrible time dredging up the appreciation. I deserve an Oscar. I couldn’t remember what bloody course you were meant to be on.’

‘Prue Leith’s,’ Rufa said dully.

‘That’s it, I knew it was something to do with food. Anyway, I couldn’t possibly tell him you’d spent all his money on mantraps. I just mumbled something in the way of thanks, and buggered off.’

‘We haven’t spent it all,’ Rufa said. Through the fog of bleakness, she knew what had to be done. The Man’s enterprising fiddle (please God, the last to come to light) would have to be paid for out of Edward’s brooch money. And that would leave just enough for a virtuous student to starve on, until she finished her course and found herself a job. Evening dresses were laughably out of the question now. So was everything else.

Her eyes smarted with disappointment. Just when it had started to look promising, the Marrying Game was, apparently, stone dead.

‘So we won’t be going to Sheringham House. Once I’ve settled that bloody bill, we’ll have barely enough change to buy ourselves a couple of bin bags. It’s incredibly frustrating, and I should have expected it. When I made my plans, I didn’t allow for the Melismate Effect.’

Rufa leant back against the plush banquette, which was pocked with cigarette burns. She had taken the unprecedented step of coming to find the others at the Duke of Clarence, two streets away from Wendy’s house. She hated pubs, but she could not bear the death of hope without Nancy. The others listened to the bad news in sober silence.

Roshan squeezed her hand sympathetically. ‘What will you do?’

She tried to laugh. ‘I don’t know. Go out as a governess.’

‘You can’t give it up,’ he said, frowning. ‘I won’t allow it. You’ve invested far too much. There must be ways to scale it down.’

‘We’re already operating on a shoestring. If we scale down any more, we’ll disappear.’

Max stood up. ‘You need a drink.’

‘Yes, I think I do,’ Rufa said gratefully. ‘A white wine and soda, please.’

The Duke of Clarence was echoing and ashy, throbbing with self-pitying country and western music. The new style of London pub, all chalked menus and bentwood chairs, had not yet penetrated the side streets of Tufnell Park. The Clarence had an authentic seediness and air of defeat. Silent men in denim and jewellery squashed their enormous stomachs against the bar. A party of girls drinking vodka and Red Bull shrieked around a large table in one corner.

Max went to the bar. Nancy watched him for a moment, then jumped up. ‘You can’t drink wine in a place like this, darling – it’ll taste like Windolene. I’ll get you a proper drink.’

Nancy remembered that her sister had led a ridiculously sheltered life, and knew next to nothing about public drinking, but her motives were not entirely pure. Changing the order gave her a fine excuse to sidle up against Max at the crowded bar. Dear God, he was sexy – and he knew it. Ru was watching her like a hawk, or Nancy would have swooned into his arms ten minutes after meeting him. No matter how often she ordered herself to be strong, she was falling for him with a mighty great wallop.

She squeezed herself against Max’s shoulder. ‘Could you change Ru’s to a gin and tonic?’

Max laughed. ‘God, you’re expensive dates, you two.’

‘Didn’t you hear? We’ve had a shock.’

Max, with difficulty, turned to face Nancy, pressing his ribcage against her breasts. ‘You seem to be bearing up all right.’

She smiled up into his face. ‘I take a more relaxed view of the world.’

‘Yes, you do, don’t you? So why are you going along with this Marrying Game?’

‘Because,’ Nancy said firmly, ‘it’s a very good idea.’

Max lowered his voice. ‘No it’s not. It’s a crap idea. Good for a laugh – unless it gets in the way of the real thing.’ He was daring her to bring their mutual fascination into the open. They had been exchanging signals for days. The warmth and solidity of his body made Nancy weak with desire. She allowed herself one luxurious moment of inhaling his musky, spicy smell, then firmly prised herself away and took Rufa’s tumbler of gin and tonic back to the table.