LONDON ALERT (16 page)

Holt was only
half listening, for he was taking in how great Consuela looked. It was not only
her looks that were remarkable, but her gaze – the way she looked at you with
those bright eyes as if for a moment she were entranced by what you were
saying. Perhaps the look was not reserved for him and was turned on at the
numerous receptions she held and attended, and was the asset H appreciated most.
He was still lost in those thoughts when she turned to address him.

‘Jeremy?’

‘Yes,’ he
replied, finding an excuse to feast his eyes on her directly.

‘I am sorry. I should
have warned you. The hotel we are going to is one of the most exclusive hotels
in the world, and this is the high season. They only had one room available. In
fact, we only got it because someone cancelled and we – that is,
H
and I – know the manager.

That means we
shall have to share the room and, I’m afraid, the bed. It won’t be too horrendous,
as the bed will be enormous and the bathrooms all have two washbasins, which is
normal for people like us. We women like to have our own basin with essentials
at hand, and above all, everything kept spotless, something real men seem
incapable of.’

The boat eased
alongside the Hotel du Cap jetty, allowing Holt and Consuela to jump off onto
the close-set wooden planks. With staff from the hotel arriving to greet
them, Holt wondered then and later whether an essential part of their role was
ensuring undesirables did not importune the well-healed guests.

The bellboy took
them up to their
Superior Room
in the main building. It was elegant in a traditional style,
with a view of the Mediterranean and the park surrounding the hotel, with its
graceful pine trees. It was an oasis of calm, cut off from the rough and tumble
of the normal world. Truly a place for film stars and those able to pay for
graceful tranquillity.

‘As I said, look
how large the bed is,’ said Consuela before adding that Holt could sleep on the
far side should he wish.

‘I’m not sure…’

‘You did sign up
for a Trophy Wife.’

‘Yes. But…’

‘Let’s play it
by ear, though I am not sure that is quite the right expression in the
circumstances.’

‘You mean, play
it by—’

‘By how we feel
when the situation arises. But remember what goes up always comes down in the
end, as if it never went up. So don’t worry. Let’s forget about those little
things for now. As soon as you are ready, we can go down and have a relaxed
dinner on the terrace.’

The
Grill and Lounge Bar
,
where Consuela had reserved a table right at the front
,
overlooking the sea towards
Cannes
,
was a wonderful
,
relaxed
locale, with the
setting sun
adding to the romantic feeling
.
They started with
a
cocktail
recommended
by Consuela
. Holt ordered crab with Japanese wasabi dressing, followed
by a superb roast from the trolley, while Consuela opted for a summer vegetable
dish followed by turbot m
eunière
with young leeks and caviar,
amongst
other things. All accompanied by fine red and white wines.
They could not resist the great des
s
erts brought to them on a trolley.

Though the service was impeccable, key to
the whole setup was how relaxed, unpretentious, and laid-back everything was.
Holt pointed this out to Consuela, who told him that in the highest circles,
where everybody is somebody, there is no need for pretensions.

After some exceptional champagne in the
Eden Roc Champagne Bar, overlooking the sea, they made their way to their
bedroom, with Holt feeling very merry but not weak-kneed as he had been at The Loughty.
Consuela was the first to go to the bathroom and to bed.

 ‘It’s your turn in the bathroom now. Don’t
take too long. I don’t want to fall asleep waiting – for what, I am not sure.’

Holt did not
take long – just a quick shower and so on and he was soon out, bedecked in the elegant
bathrobe supplied by the hotel. Not knowing what to do, he stood hesitatingly at
the side of the enormous bed, which seemed to have grown even larger, leaving ample
room for him to sleep on his own. She had told him she was thirty-two, an age at
which, according to some, women are reaching their prime.

‘What are you
waiting for?’

‘Maybe I should
take off my bathrobe.’

‘That would be a
start.’

‘Right then,’
replied Holt in a hesitant voice.

‘This is
beginning to sound like
The Graduate
,
with you the eighteen-year-old virgin son of
H
’s
best friend rather than a twenty-four-year-old. This is not meant to be an
initiation test. That’s for later, and nothing to do with me.’

‘You hit the
nail on the head. To be honest I
am
worried
about that initiation test. Will I have to parachute out of a plane – I can’t
stand heights – or worse still, harm someone?’

‘Your only hope,
Jeremy, is to keep me sweet so I put in a good report. Unfortunately, it won’t be
just what happens tonight. The people you will be meeting on the mega-yacht in
two days’ time may be reporting on you too. The Owl might even be there, who
knows?’

‘You’re dead
right.’

‘Forget about him.
We only live once. To tell you the truth, I really like you. You’re a breath of
fresh air, and I should thank the Owl for giving me the chance to meet someone
like you, outside my normal circle yet intelligent. So get in before I have
second thoughts and get bored with this
Mrs
Robinson routine.’

Feeling
embarrassed, Holt divested himself of his bathrobe, slipped into the bed with
his pyjama bottoms still on, took a deep breath, and moved over towards her.

‘Hey, you’ve got
nothing on.’

‘What did you
expect? I’m a recently married woman.’

Feeling more like
a meek six-year-old boy climbing into his mother’s bed after a bad dream – except
his mother would surely have had her nightie on – he wondered whether
Blackwell’s stunt at The Loughty had not permanently emasculated him. So much
so that like then, he remained transfixed as Consuela undid his pyjama bottoms and
pulled them down and off. It should have been the other way round, with him
doing the undressing using the secrets he had gleaned as a teenager from a book
which said women liked order, and that if you managed to get one stocking off, she
would take off the other one herself. Admittedly that book must have been
written before the horrible invention of tights.

‘I haven’t taken
any precautions,’ he stuttered.

‘Don’t worry that
big head of yours about that. I won’t be seeking child support – you do not
have that kind of money and never will.’

Holt felt the
delicate touch of her hand in the place where at his medical the doctor had
checked his reflexes by asking him to cough, but unlike then, desire started
coursing through him. His feelings ran wild. Clutching her breasts, he rolled her
over and ended up right on top. Pausing for a fraction of a second as if to
savour the moment, he penetrated deep within her without any foreplay. Indeed,
none was needed, as she was already as wet as could be.

‘I was wondering,’
gasped Consuela afterwards, ‘whether you might even be a virgin. Evidently not
– or rather, not quite.’

 ‘I might just
as well have been. I’ve never experienced anything like it. The way you…’

‘It was a new
experience for me – I suppose like being with a teenager, not that I have ever
been with one.’

Holt took her
hand and held it until it was time for another joust, with him bringing more to
the party the second time.

Too tired after
the flight from London for a third tryst, they fell asleep in each other’s
arms.

Holt woke
up thinking of Michael Douglas’s frenzy with the bunny-boiler in
Fatal Attraction
, though he was
sure Consuela represented no danger in that respect. He had, though, a twinge
of guilt regarding Celia but told himself that if pressed, he could tell her it
had been for queen and country.

To his surprise, Consuela
did not want to get up for breakfast and seemed to be content to just lie there
propped up on the luxurious soft pillows. Perhaps she was accustomed to lying
in and having breakfast brought to her. It would have been nice, though, to
have breakfast on the terrace overlooking the sea where they had eaten the
night before.

‘I’ve booked a cabana,’
Consuela announced as he came beside the bed.

‘What’s that?’

‘A kind of fenced-off beach
hut and private space amongst the trees beyond the swimming pool. The great
thing about them is the privacy they afford. We need to talk a lot more if I am
to write a proper report. Maybe it would be good if you knew more about me too.
Everything is not always as it seems. From there we can go to the swimming pool
from time to time. It’s only a few yards away.’

As Consuela had said, the great feature of the
cabanas was the seclusion they provided. Holt could well understand how a film
star could languish there for much of the day and, on venturing to the pool, be
protected from pesterers by the hotel staff; not that there would be many importuners
at such an exclusive establishment. There was the gentlest of breezes. Ideal
conditions for talking.

‘I am not,’ said Holt,
‘used to such simple luxury, nor ostentatious luxury for that matter.

‘Neither was I.’

‘Really? I thought you
were to the manor born.’

‘What do you mean by
that?’

‘Something like being born
with a golden spoon in your mouth.’

‘Quite the opposite. I was adopted and brought up in
the Deep South by a poor and very strict Baptist couple, who already had a boy much
younger than I. They lived frugally out in the sticks, miles from anywhere. They
were actually quite loving and nice people, except where discipline was
concerned.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘If we seriously misbehaved, they ordered us to go
and cut a switch. That meant undressing and going out to the yard in just our underpants,
making sure to select a nasty enough one. Of course we would take our time removing
the twigs and leaves to delay matters, but the wife did not seem to mind, for
she reckoned touching the implement before it touched us helped us reflect on
our misdeed and was a key part of the punishment.’

‘How could they be so mean?’

‘They claimed they were doing it in God’s name.’

‘Good excuse if you ask me.’

If they deemed the switch too flimsy, the culprit had
to go and cut another and receive five extra licks.’

‘Must have been terrible.’

‘Yes, it was. Besides the pain there was the humiliation
– being bent right over with panties pulled down below the knees, showing everything
not only to them but also to the gawking brat.’

‘But you watched him
getting his comeuppance.’

‘Yes, and thoroughly enjoyed
it, I’m ashamed to say. That was when he had been nasty to me and I, being
the oldest, I was not to be next. But it’s different for a girl.’

Was Consuela making it
all up to unearth what the French call the English vice? He would try not to
sound too curious about her spankings, lest it gave the wrong impression.

‘How long did that – the
beatings – go on for?’

‘Until I was fifteen or
so. They stopped when I threatened to do the same to their dog if they did it
again. As they loved the mongrel more than me, that put an end to it. Instead, I
was grounded, which in many ways was far worse.’

‘Why didn’t you leave
them?’

‘Not so easy, for it
seemed I would be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, which is what I eventually
did. They actually meant well, now I think back.’

Anyway, with the
support of a counsellor who took to me at high school, I managed to get a
scholarship to university and did psychology in the hope it would help me sort
myself out and help others in similar predicaments. Being attractive meant the
male, and even some female, students started coming on to me in what to the innocent
me at the time seemed a vile way.’

‘There must have been
some that were okay.’

‘Perhaps, but I was too
scared to lower my defences. Finally, it was the psychology and my wanting to
help people that was my undoing. I met the fiend I told you about. He got
through my defences by getting me to take pity on him. He snared me by saying
he had never been given a chance in life, but once he had taken my virginity he
started to knock me around, saying it was for my own good. I suppose I put up
with it at the beginning because he was punishing me for being bad, just like
my step-parents did.’

Holt sensed she was
being honest but still feared she was putting it all on so that he would
eventually have to open up himself. He would have to play the game, whatever it
was. He had better not try on the self-pitying card – she would see
right through it.

Their conversation was
interrupted by the hotel waiter, who had appeared at the entrance to their cabana
plot, asking what they would like for lunch. Holt could hardly tell one member
of staff from the other. They were all fit and trim and seemed in their
thirties or early forties.

 They ordered a couple
of salads and some mineral water, and while waiting for it to arrive, went over
to the infinity pool for a swim. There they found themselves in the presence of
a famous American film star, to whom no one was paying any attention.

After lunch and a nap, it
was his turn to reveal details about himself. He started with his upbringing,
which in fact was the easy part, though he had to be wary of sounding as though
he was to be pitied regarding the premature death of his parents. This was interspersed
with the occasional swim following which they went for a walk around the
grounds, enjoying the shade of the beautiful trees and the tread of the carefully
tended paths.

On returning to their
room, they readied themselves to go down to the landing stage to be picked up
by Amanda and Jonathan, who arrived precisely on time, there being no traffic
jams out to sea.

Consuela said she
needed to spend some time on her own in the cabin, perhaps to send in a report
to the Owl, so Holt stayed up topside with Jonathan.

‘How was the hotel? Get
a good night’s sleep, Jeremy?’

‘Yes, thanks, like a child.’

Jonathan would not have
been duped by this understatement, particularly as Holt had a swaggering gait,
suggesting the night at the Cap had given him a considerable lift. Also, he
must have overheard Consuela the day before saying they would have to share
that large bed.

‘You were pasty-faced,’
continued Jonathan, smiling, ‘and somewhat downtrodden when you arrived, as if
you had been under a lot of strain. I am sure this break will have done you
good.’

‘I feel a new man. The
hotel was out of this world, but it’s your boat and relaxing in your company
that is the icing on the cake. You are making us so welcome. By the way, how
did you get to know Consuela?’

‘She’s like our
daughter. We don’t have children, and have known her from way back – although,
sadly, when she needed us most, we had temporarily lost touch, due to my being
so wrapped up in the business. But in the end it was we who introduced her to
her liberator, now her husband. That, in one way or another, solved a lot of her
problems.’

‘She did tell me how
she had a hard time with her step-parents as a young girl, and later with some dreadful
man.’

‘Yes, but her success,
if one can put it that way, was not only thanks to her looks but to her
genuinely nice character. Beautiful women who have found themselves in the
money through no merit of their own can be horrible – like that American hotel
heiress who said taxes are only for the little people. Unfortunately, she was partly
right. Just look at all these luxury yachts registered in tax havens. You can
see Georgetown – that’s the one in the Cayman Islands, not Malaysia or
Washington DC – on many of the sterns.’