Pandora (49 page)

‘It’s worse than getting the place clean enough for the caterers, and it’s bleedin’ hot,’ grumbled Knightie when Jonathan rang in for a progress report. ‘Emerald and Zac are still in bed, your dad’s supervising the fireworks, and Robens has practically mowed the lawns bald.’

‘Where’s Anthea?’

‘Having her legs waxed in Searston.’

‘Hopey de-furred,’ said Jonathan joyfully.

‘Don’t forget your dinner jacket.’

‘Alizarin will have to wear a strait-jacket to stop him thumping Somerford. I cannot tell you how much I’m looking forward to this evening.’

Zac answered the next telephone call. A furious, tearful Dicky had broken up, and no-one had remembered to collect him. Scribbling a note for Anthea and Raymond, Zac borrowed Emerald’s new Golf and set off for Bagley Hall. Zac, typically American, was charming with children, and on the way home past sun-bleached stubble and bright pink clumps of willow herb, Dicky was soon confessing how fed up he was with life.

He loathed all the publicity about Emerald in the papers. He was very defensive about Anthea, because people took the piss out of her. Did Zac think she’d forgotten to collect him because she was still cross about him dying his hair blond, or because he’d bought Alizarin’s
Upside-Down Camels
?

‘That was a good buy,’ said Zac, overtaking an Aston Martin. ‘Hang on to that painting, it’ll be worth a fortune one day.’

Dicky became even more confiding, admitting he was teased at school because he was small, like Anthea.

‘There’s no such thing as equal rights. Why is it OK for women to be small and not men, and why do I have to go to boarding school and not Dora? I want to be at home like her and not miss things. All Dad and Mummy ever think about is Emerald. I wish she’d go away.’ (Or speak to me occasionally, thought Dicky wistfully.)

Stopping for petrol, Zac bought Dicky a family pack of wine gums and a computer game and, driving on, told him about a secret room in his great-grandfather’s house in Vienna.

‘That’s nothing,’ scoffed Dicky. ‘There’s a secret passage in Foxes Court going from the landing down a staircase out of the house into the garden, and’ – Dicky looked furtive, he really liked Zac – ‘promise not to tell anyone?’

‘Sure, sure, Scout’s honour.’

‘There’s a secret room, known as the Blue Tower, above Mum and Dad’s bedroom. There’s a staircase leads up to it. And I heard Knightie and Mum saying Dad’s first wife’ – Dicky blushed – ‘used to have lots of men there.’

‘How d’you get into this Blue Tower?’ asked Zac, ultra casually.

‘Dunno.’ Dicky went vague. ‘There’s a password, but I don’t know what it is. The room’s haunted by Dad’s first wife, so no-one wants to go up there.’

When Zac returned with Dicky, Raymond and Anthea, back from the beauty parlour, were effusive in their thanks. Dicky promptly dragged his father and Zac off to play tennis. In the kitchen, Anthea was icing Emerald’s cake and wrestling with tonight’s seating plan. She’d put herself opposite her two admirers, David and Zac, so they could marvel at her beauty in her ravishing new Lindka. The weather was getting very close, but if she got too hot, she could always whip off the little shrug and show off her pretty shoulders. Emerald’s replacement father, Ian, she supposed, had better go on her right – perhaps he’d give her a minicab discount next time she was in town – then she could have Si, who was the real guest of honour, on her left.

Si’s wife Ginny was much too busty and predatory to be put anywhere near Zac: she could go next to Jonathan; and Geraldine, the pretentious bitch, could go on Jonathan’s other side. Ghastly Casey Andrews, who had this terrible crush on Emerald, had been angling for an invite all week. Raymond had manfully resisted all his hints, then forgotten and instead invited that vindictive Somerford who was bound to bring Keithie the burglar. Alizarin must therefore be put as far away from Somerford as possible or he might chuck the sarcastic old pansy into the river.

It was such a long time since petfood billionaire, Kevin Coley, Mr Ditherer, had got out his cheque book at Alizarin’s first private view to buy a couple of oils, and Somerford had sidled up hissing that they were rubbish. Kevin, as was his wont, put his cheque book away and Alizarin had hit Somerford through Raymond’s glass door, as his mother had once hurled the Degas. With Somerford spewing poison, Alizarin’s career had ended before it began. Serve Alizarin right really.

And where could she put Rosemary Pulborough? She and Alizarin were very fond of one another – so Anthea wasn’t going to give them the pleasure of sitting together. It was stupid to waste heterosexuals on someone as plain as Rosemary. She could go between Keithie and Dicky – although from the way Dicky was gazing at Emerald . . . Anthea supposed it was a relief Dicky wasn’t going to turn out gay.

Oh good, here were Zac and the boys back from tennis, not long on the court, it was so stiflingly hot. Having arranged the damp tendrils on her forehead more becomingly, Anthea turned to the more caring pastime of icing Emerald’s cake.

‘Don’t mess up any of the lounges, Dicky,’ she called out.

Although the guests probably wouldn’t go inside at all. That was the maddening thing about summer, all that time wasted polishing and doing flowers people never saw. Perhaps she could lure Patience inside for a liqueur.

‘Dicky,’ bellowed Raymond from the study, ‘come and fix Sky, and we can watch the cricket.’

That was them sorted for three-quarters of an hour, thought Anthea. Obviously with the same idea, Zac slid into the kitchen. Even though he hadn’t removed his black tracksuit top to play tennis, he was hardly sweating.

‘Her first birthday at home,’ quavered Anthea, as she put a green four-leaf clover on the snow-white icing.

‘Beautiful.’ Zac was standing much too close behind her. ‘You’re a great mom.’

‘Can I get
you
anything?’

Zac wanted a glass of water. She loved the way he pronounced it: ‘Wot-urrr’.

‘Evian’s in the fridge, help yourself. It’s tricky putting in these clover stems.’

Hell, here was Sienna drifting in from working all night, yawning and flexing her aching shoulders. Her hair was in a plait and as usual she had got paint and clay everywhere. One of Jonathan’s discarded duck-egg-blue shirts, hardly buttoned up, showed off her long, pale legs. A stud gleamed like mercury in her belly button.

Noticing Zac taking out the Evian bottle, Sienna said, ‘Why not try tap water? We’re like not on the mains, so it comes straight from a spring up in the woods.’

Peering into the fridge, she was just about to grab a handful of prawns, when Anthea shrieked, ‘
Don’t
, they’re for tonight.’

Turning on the cold tap, Zac filled up a mug, then, distracted by the glimpse of a comma of pubic hair between Sienna’s thighs, took a huge gulp, and swore as boiling water scalded his tongue and throat.

‘Fuck, that’s the hot tap.’

‘You get like hot water out of both taps here,’ said Sienna evilly.

‘Very symbolic,’ snapped Zac.

‘That was wicked, Sienna,’ said Anthea in a shocked voice. ‘I’m so sorry, Zac, let the tap run for a minute, it’ll come out cold as the North Pole.’

‘Like someone else round here.’ Sienna pulled a face at Zac and, grabbing an orange, sauntered out.

‘I’d be grateful if you didn’t take any more towels out of the hot cupboard,’ Anthea shouted after her. ‘Knightie found seven in your bedroom this morning and we do have a lot of house guests. Little bitch,’ she stormed to Zac. ‘Galena’s children are so horrid to me. I tray so hard.’

‘The Jews have a legend that the serpent was Adam’s first wife,’ said Zac.

‘Oh, that’s priceless,’ giggled Anthea. ‘You understand everything.’

‘And that is such a beautiful cake,’ said Zac moving in behind her again.

‘I’m off,’ said an icily disapproving voice.

It was Emerald, who was driving all the way back to Shepherd’s Bush to put her parents and Sophy through a dress rehearsal.

What the hell was Zac doing deserting her to pick up Dicky and notch up Brownie points with Raymond and Anthea? she wondered furiously. She was their ewe lamb, not Zac.

It’s
my
birthday, she told herself. No-one’s allowed to be nasty to me all day. Why hadn’t Zac offered to drive her the sweltering 240 miles there and back? But she daren’t let her family arrive unsupervised. Patience had been known to make a scarecrow look like Beau Brummell.

Zac saw her off, but his goodbye kiss, in full view of the kitchen window, hardly grazed her cheek.

‘I’ll give you your birthday present when you get back. Safe journey,’ and, banging the flat of his hand on the top of her car, he loped back into the house.

Suddenly Emerald hated leaving him with Anthea. No-one warned you in the adoption manuals about your natural mother getting off with your boyfriend.

Returning to the kitchen, hearing bat on ball and clapping from the study, Zac’s long fingers met round Anthea’s minute waist. Anthea’s heart started to thump, and she found difficulty saying, ‘Sorry Emerald’s being so temperamental. She’s very smitten with you, Zac,’ and when his fingers climbed her ribs and his thumbs began caressing and lifting her little breasts, the four-leaf clover suddenly acquired a fifth leaf.

‘Oh Zac,’ sighed Anthea. She tried to move away, but he held tightly on to her. ‘I hoped you were going to marry my Charlene.’

‘Not when I’ve got the screaming hots for her mom.’ Zac buried his lips in the back of Anthea’s very clean neck.

‘We can’t hurt Charlene,’ gasped Anthea.

‘I guess not.’ Zac’s voice was so husky, his breath so warm, his stroking hands creeping inside her shirt. ‘If only we could carve out time and find a secret love nest for an hour of heaven.’

Anthea made only half-hearted attempts to finish icing the word ‘Happy’.

‘I know somewhere,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll tell Raymond and Dicky I’ve got a migraine coming on. I’ll meet you on the top landing in five minutes.’

Hearing the drone of an electric toothbrush, Zac hovered impatiently in the shadows until Anthea beckoned him into her ravishing crimson and white bedroom. She reeked of Shalimar and was still wet from the shower. A white frilly négligé clung to her body.

‘Ay can trust you, Zac.’

‘Sure you can.’

‘You must promise never to tell anyone where you’ve been or what you’ve seen.’

‘I promise, I won’t notice anything but you anyway.’

Anthea wavered. ‘I still feel awful about Emerald.’

‘Emerald’s a kid,’ urged Zac, ‘you’re a woman.’ How the clichés tripped off his forked tongue. ‘You’re what Emerald would have been if you’d reared her.’

How Anthea loved that.

‘Kiss me, Zac.’

Zac pressed his lips hard but briefly against hers.

‘Hurry please, I want you so badly.’ (Come on, you bitch, he thought.)

With a shaking hand Anthea punched out a series of numbers beside a door next to her dressing table. Nothing happened.

‘Sugar,’ she squeaked, ‘I’ve forgotten the password.’

‘What is it?’ Just keeping himself from throttling her, Zac put warm, steadying hands on her bare arms.

‘
Parsifal
– some stupid opera Raymond likes.’ Anthea punched again. ‘P-A-S-S—’ They could hear someone running down the landing.

‘Hurry,’ hissed Zac. ‘It’s spelt ‘P-A-R.’

This time she got it right. The door swung open. Softly closing it behind them, Anthea led Zac upstairs through a door with a mirror set into it. Inside was a bower of bliss, a heavenly little turret room with a blue vaulted ceiling scattered with stars, a faded crimson-curtained four-poster and pictures crowding the walls.

‘Ay’m afraid it smells musty.’ Anthea wrinkled her nose as she locked the door behind them. ‘But Knightie might get the wrong ideas if she cleaned up here.’

The pictures were faint making, all of naked or scantily clad men and women. Zac clocked a Watteau, a breathtaking little Titian, a wonderfully curvaceous white bottom by Boucher, and a Beardsley rake examining a naked nymph through a spy-glass.

‘Omigod,’ he said slowly.

‘Raymond believes some old Italian theory, that if you have paintings of beautiful people on the bedroom wall, you’ll produce beautiful kiddies.’

‘And you’re the loveliest of them all.’

As he buried his lips in Anthea’s, she closed her eyes in ecstasy. Zac’s, however, remained open, roving round the room, until there on the right of the bed, wham, bang, thanks at least $10 million, ma’am, he saw the Raphael, and felt ecstasy shuddering through his body at such shining beauty. He started to tremble.

How he quivers with excitement, thought Anthea, he truly cares for me.

‘Undress me, Zac,’ she whispered in Emerald’s little girl voice.

He was getting so adept at taking clothes off childlike women, he’d better get a job as a nanny. The white négligé slid to the floor like an avalanche, followed by the gingham toggle holding back her hair. She did indeed have the lovely body of a thirteen-year-old. He could hang a baseball cap on her nipples.