A Class Apart (27 page)

Linda put the phone down after speaking to Violet. She glanced out of the window and noticed it was beginning to get dark outside. It was Friday afternoon and Bob would be arriving home any time now. Her heart skipped a beat. As the weeks had gone by, since the phone call from Maureen Woodley, she had become increasingly nervous at seeing her husband. Her weeks began with a feeling of relief that he had gone back to London and that nothing had been said over the weekend, only to build, sometimes almost into a frenzy of terror, that the coming weekend would see it all come to a head, and he would tell her he was leaving.

At first she had wanted to find out who the other woman was, but she didn’t. It was the coward in her that stopped her, a side to her nature that she had never known, until now, had existed. But she was afraid of what she would find. Perhaps fighting against the unknown was not the way to do it, but if she knew who the other woman was, and if she could see why Bob loved her, and if she was beautiful and sophisticated and intelligent, and moved so easily in his London circle, Linda was afraid she would feel ordinary and dull in comparison, and unable to compete.

Her suitcase was sitting on the floor beside the bed, packed and ready to go. Her coat was lying on top of it, so she picked it up and put it on. She wasn’t running away exactly, at least that’s what she told herself, but she couldn’t face him this weekend. She didn’t know how much longer she was going to be able to hold on. He knew that something was wrong, that she had changed, and he wanted to know why, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell him. The only way she seemed to be able to cope was to pretend that this wasn’t happening, or at the very least that it would all go away. But for now, she was going away. Not far, at least not far from the bosom of the family. She was going to stay with Violet for the weekend. Violet had flu, and Linda would give that as the reason for not being here when he got home.

She had tried to ring him earlier at the mews house, but there was no reply. She hadn’t really expected there to be, but it hurt nevertheless. She wondered if he would join her at his mother’s, or if he would stay here, in the farmhouse, alone. There was always the chance, of course, that he would return to London, to her, but she didn’t want to think about that.

She picked up the wedding photograph that they kept on the windowsill of their bedroom. They had been so much younger then, so much in love, and full of what life had to offer. He had bought her this house as a wedding gift, where she could keep her own horses, and train others. In those days she had had almost to fight with him to get him on the train back to London at the end of the weekend. And it was never a surprise to see him at home on Thursday instead of Friday. He had invited people to the house then. Writers, producers, actors, art directors, all sorts of people had come for the weekend. But now he did all his business in London, and it was seldom that they had anyone to stay. She wondered if it was her who had driven them away, and she started to cry. They had shared so much together, and now this other woman, whoever she was, was going to take it all away.

She touched his face in the photograph, and a tear splashed onto her fingers. “Please don’t let it be too late,” she whispered. “Please don’t go away.”

Robert Blackwell’s parties were renowned for their wild, sometimes ostentatious extravagance, outlandish style, and several unmentionable things besides. Everyone came to have a good time, and Robert Blackwell did everything humanly possible to ensure they got it. No expense was spared, no fantasy left unfulfilled.

Ellamarie turned the car from the country lane into the drive that twisted through the trees and up to the big house. Lights had been rigged along the route, and the field at the side of the house had been given over to a car park. As the house came into view, all four of them gasped.

“Will you look at that!” Ellamarie cried.

“Isn’t it romantic!” said Kate, clasping her hands together.

Ashley was sitting in the back with Jenneen, who had said very little during the journey down and now seemed to have lost her tongue entirely. Ashley put her hand on her arm. “Are you all right, Jenn?”

Jenneen nodded and Ashley heard her swallow in the darkness.

A butler was waiting to greet them, very smart in his uniform of black tie and tails, and the austere, almost overpowering entrance hall was lined with footmen, who took their coats and overnight bags, then handed them champagne as they ushered them into the party.

“Wow!” said Joel, breaking free of the crowd and coming over to greet them. “You look terrific, all of you.”

Kate glowed as he put his arm round her and kissed her.

“How have you been?” he whispered.

“Fine. I’ve missed you though.”

“And I’ve missed you too. We’ll make up for it later, eh?”

She smiled into his eyes, and nodded. Just seeing him standing there made her knees turn to jelly. Any thought of Nicholas Gough, and letting him down yet again, was wiped from her mind.

Joel had rung her the night before to invite her to this party, and had insisted that she bring her friends along too. It had been the first time in weeks that she had heard from him – since the night of Jenneen’s dinner party, to be exact.

“Sorry I couldn’t bring you down myself,” he said. “But I’ve been here all day. There’s been so much to do, besides this party. Where’s Bob?” he added, looking past Kate to Ellamarie.

“Too much work,” Ellamarie answered, a little too quickly. She wasn’t about to tell him about the fight she had had with Bob because he had refused to come. But what she hadn’t known, because Bob had been unable to tell her, was that he couldn’t go to the party with her, as he had already been invited, with his wife. When he found out that Ellamarie was going, he heaved a sigh of relief that Linda had already sent their excuses.

Kate nudged Ellamarie and nodded towards a couple who were passing. “Prince Dimitri of Yugoslavia,” she whispered. “Isn’t he simply divine?”

Ellamarie’s eyes came out on stalks.

Indeed, the rich and famous were out in force: aristocrats, pop stars, actors, businessmen. The champagne corks were popping all over the room, the lights were low, and the music floated through from the ballroom.

Ashley soon became in grave danger of finding herself on the wrong side of Robert Blackwell’s girlfriend, as Robert Blackwell was doing very little to hide his desire for Ashley. But the more champagne Ashley consumed, the more reckless she became, until she knew it wouldn’t be long before she succumbed to his desire.

Ellamarie was whisked off her feet by a “Greek God”, making the others laugh as, disappearing into the ballroom, she threw a look of pure lust over her shoulder.

Jenneen stood on one side, hardly daring to move. Her eyes flicked over the many faces, designer gowns, glitter and jewels. There was so much noise in the room she could harldy hear anything anyone was saying. She looked at the curtain beside her, and was tempted to disappear behind it. She hadn’t wanted to come, and now she was here she regretted giving in. She was afraid of what she might do. She was afraid that at any moment Mrs Green might take over, and disgrace her. She had no control over her now, she could emerge at any moment. She looked around again and half expected to see Matthew’s face in among the crowd. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since that terrible scene they had had, and his silence frightened her even more than his threats.

Shrieks of laughter from the other side of the room made her look up. A fountain had sprung to life in the corner. It was a fountain of champagne. She looked at her empty glass. Well, why not? She couldn’t stand there all night, after all.

As she weaved her way through the crowd, she listened to the little snippets of conversation as she passed by.

“. . . the photographs from Cannes, darling,” said one, “they were . . .”

“. . . we had the car stolen, and all the luggage was gone, haw! haw! haw!” laughed another. Jenneen glanced at him in surprise.

“. . . they float in July. Buy! I’m telling you. Buy!”

As she approached the fountain, Jenneen felt very alone. She looked at the crowd that was grouped around the fountain and was unsure of what to do. Feeling that someone was staring at her she looked up. A pair of blue eyes were regarding her with a lazy interest. She recognized him immediately. It was Paul Deane. She didn’t actually know him, of course, but that he played cricket for England, she did know.

She smiled.

“That’s better,” he said, taking her glass. “Allow me.”

She waited while he filled the glass from the fountain.

“Let me introduce myself,” he said.

“I know who you are,” she answered. “Though I have to admit I’ve never seen you play.”

“I should be hurt,” he smiled. “And don’t I know you from somewhere too? Your face seems familiar.”

“Jenneen Grey,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Of course. My wife watches you every week.”

Jenneen raised an eyebrow, and looked around.

“She’s not here. At least, not yet.” He lifted his glass and tapped it against hers. “Here’s to you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her eyes beginning to dance. “And to you.”

He was even more good-looking than he appeared in his whites. His blond hair curled round his collar, and his lean tanned face smiled in an ironical sort of way.

“Why so sad?” he said, leading her away from the fountain.

Jenneen looked at him in surprise.

“You looked so unhappy, alone in a crowd, so to speak. You brought out all the protective male instinct in me.”

“Do men still get that?”

“Of course. I’m surprised you doubt it.”

She shrugged.

“You know, you reminded me of a daisy, you could so easily have been crushed. Are you ephemeral, Jenneen?”

“Are you sure you’re a cricketer?”

“So they tell me. But being a sportsman, you know, doesn’t make one immune to the nicer things in life. The special things in life. I suspect, Jenneen Grey, that you are very special.”

“And I suspect, Paul Deane, that you are flirting ourtrageously with me.”

His look was one of mock surprise. “Do you blame me?”

She laughed. “Now I can hardly answer that, can I?”

“Did you come alone?” he asked, running his fingers across her hair.

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Does that mean you’ve mislaid your escort for the moment? Or does it mean you came by taxi?”

“It means I came with some friends, who are all dancing at the moment.”

“Paul! Darling!” Jenneen turned to see a beautiful woman, the same blonde curls as Paul’s, and dark humorous eyes, bearing down upon them. She was obviously delighted to see him.

“Vicky!” Paul’s face lit up.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t tell you everything I do.” He looked at Jenneen, and saw that she was watching them curiously.

“Jenneen, allow me to introduce Victoria Deane, my cousin. Vicky, meet Jenneen Grey.”

“Hello,” said Vicky, taking Jenneen’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“And to meet you.” said Jenneen.

“You are a little bit of a surprise,” said Vicky. “You are so much smaller than you seem on TV. Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, covering her mouth, “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

Jenneen smiled. “Not at all.”

For no accountable reason she liked this woman on sight. Her blonde hair was a little chaotic, and she had an air about her that made her appear to be in a rush. But her smile was soft, and genuine, and her eyes sparkled with interest.

She took Paul by the arm. “I expect he’s been trying to sweep you off your feet, hasn’t he?”

“I hadn’t got that far yet,” he said.

“Oh look!” cried Vicky. “A champagne fountain! Be right back,” and she went off to fill a glass for herself.

“Completely nuts!” said Paul. “And I adore her.” He reached out to take Jenneen’s glass. “Would you like to dance?”

A surge of panic almost overwhelmed her, and her fingers tightened round the stem of her glass as she opened her mouth to say no. But at the last minute she managed to pull herself together, and straining to keep her smile in place she followed him into the ballroom. Inside she was aching with fear as she told herself that no matter what happened she must not try to seduce this man, not now, not ever.

As they started to dance, Jenneen saw Ashley go floating by in the arms of Robert Blackwell. And there was Ellamarie, still swaying from side to side in the arms of the Adonis, listening to what he was saying, and giggling.

Robert Blackwell looked down into Ashley’s eyes, and ran the backs of his fingers across her breast. It was the third time he had done it and her nipple was straining hard against the flimsy material of her dress. She looked up into his face, her lips moist and slightly parted.

“I am going to make love to you this evening, Ashley, you know that, don’t you?” he whispered.

She closed her eyes as his mouth pressed gently against hers. She knew she had had too much to drink, but she was past caring. His sexuality was overpowering, and she moulded her body closer to his feeling the thrill of his hardening penis as it pressed against her.

As he pulled away she looked up at him, waiting for him to speak, but he was looking past her.

“Sean!” he cried. “I thought you were in the States.”

“Flew over earlier than we intended.”

Ashley turned round in disbelief. She would recognize that voice anywhere. She almost melted as she looked into those laughing eyes, and Sean Connery chuckled.

Kate was watching her with envy. What she wouldn’t give to meet Sean Connery. Joel found this amusing, but was in no position to make the introduction, so he led her back into the next room, and fetched her another glass of champagne.