Polo (33 page)

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Authors: Jilly Cooper

Tags: #General & Literary Fiction, #Modern fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Fiction - General, #Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945)

BOOK: Polo
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    `Go round to the back,' snapped the larger one when he saw the pick-up truck. Then, recognizing Luke, `Oh sorry, Mr Alderton. Welcome home.'

    The reporters surged forward in excitement. `It's Luke, the brother. You got anything to say about Red and Auriel Kingham, Mr Alderton?'

    `Don't know anything,' said Luke grinning.

    `Knock it off, you guys,' said the guard, punching them back as his mate pressed the remote control to open the gates.

    Oh, my God, thought Perdita, I'm not ready for this.

    Instead of a lawn, the front garden was covered in periwinkle-blue slats like the deck of a ship which only stopped to take in the occasional massive mast-like tree. The lack of foliage outside, however, was more than compensated by the tropical plants inside. A drawing room, almost as big as a hockey pitch, was overflowing with scented orchids of all colours. Jungle flora rioted also over the wallpaper and the chintz on two vast sofas, thirty feet apart on either side of the green marble fireplace. Did Bart and Chessie occupy one each on cosy winter evenings, wondered Perdita. Like at Robinsgrove, the grand piano was covered with silver-framed photographs of members of the Alderton family, mostly on polo ponies. But Perdita only took in the one at the front, of an adorable blond, brown-eyed small boy, who was so like Ricky he could only be Will. She had never seen a picture of him before. No wonder losing him had broken Ricky's heart.

    Tearing her eyes away she was staggered by the paintings, including a Gauguin, two Dalis, a Jackson Pollock and three Andy Warhols, which covered two walls. Spotlit polo trophies like a great leaping silver shoal of fish covered a third. The fourth, all window and now open, looked on to a beautiful swimming-pool, flanked by high walls, entirely smothered in bougainvillaea, honeysuckle, stephanotis, jasmine and pale pink roses. Through a wrought-iron gate on the other side the ocean flashed as peacock-blue as Angel's eyes.

    `That's the best painting in the room,' said Luke, pointing to some massed pink water-lilies above the fireplace.

    `Everyone says I married Bart for his Monet,' drawled a voice.

    Perdita swung round. Hell, she thought, she's more stunning than ever. Even ferocious Leroy thumped his stubby black tail.

    `Luke, darling,' murmured Chessie, wafting the scent oflily of the valley into the room. Giving him the benefit of her body in a sopping-wet lime-green bikini, she weaved into Luke's embrace as voluptuously as the Siamese stable cat had earlier:

    `Thank God you've come home to bring some sanity to this dump.'

    `You look incredible, as usual,' said Luke, kissing her on both cheeks. `This is Perdita.'

    `Hi,' said Chessie. `I hear you've been in Argentina. Isn't it bliss, but aren't they lecherous? Juan and Miguel would have gang-banged me years ago if they weren't so terrified of losing Bart's custom.'

    Chessie must have lost a stone since Perdita last saw her, and was on the borderline that appears exquisite in clothes, but rather too thin uncovered. With her very short streaked hair, flawless golden skin, and shadowed eyes she now looked more like the new boy every prefect wants to take behind the squash court than a rather too-knowing Botticelli angel.

    You stupid cow, Perdita told herself. Her own hair hadn't been cut for four months. Not used to the heat, her face was still flushed from the hair dryer. Luke's red and white striped shirt belted with one of his few ties, which had looked so sexy and original when she had teetered on his bed to see into the tiny mirror, now just looked silly and her bloody brown leather trousers were too tight and punishingly hot. It was entirely Luke's fault for not being insistent enough that she shouldn't wear them. Beside Chessie, she felt like a carthorse let loose in the paddock at Ascot.

    Despite her cool exterior, Chessie was plainly in a foul mood. `I was going to make Bloodies, but the colour reminds me too much of your unspeakable brother, so I thought we'd have marguerites instead.'

    Pressing a bell, she led them out to the swimming-pool, where she and Luke sat in the sun, and Perdita took refuge under a blue and white striped umbrella.

    `All because of him,' rattled on Chessie, `we've been bombarded by the paparazzi. One of the guards found a photographer up in that traveller's palm yesterday afternoon. Bart's had to double the security. It's like Colditz! "Ready gelded" indeed!'

    Auriel Kingham was such a big star that Perdita couldn't resist asking, `Is she as beautiful in the flesh?'

    `What flesh?' said Chess scornfully. `There isn't an inch of cellulite that hasn't been sucked out. She's so lifted she could wear her pubes as a moustache.'

    `Ouch,' said Luke, half-laughing. `Where's Dad?'

    `Talking on four telephones, reading faxes, dictating letters, playing with his computer, thinking about polo. Why do I always end up with obsessives? He'll be out soon to give you his divided attention. What took you so long?' she snapped as a maid came out with the margueritas.

    Grabbing one, she drained half in one gulp.

    `Hi, Conchita,' Luke smiled up at the maid. `I'd honestly rather have a beer, please.'

    `I'll have yours as well then.' Chessie grabbed Luke's marguerita. `And hurry up with that beer,' she shouted at the maid's retreating back, then, turning to Luke, `Have you seen that piece in
People?'

    Luke nodded.

    `How dare he call me a bimbo? He's the bloody bimbo selling himself to any man, woman or Rottweiler as long as they pick up his bills.'

    `Oh, c'mon,' said Luke. `He was probably looped when he gave the interview. He doesn't mean it.'

    `Course he does.' Chessie lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. `Your kid brother was born with a wooden spoon in his mouth for stirring things.'

    `He's only jealous because you're prettier than him,' said Luke, feeding potato chips to a slavering Leroy.

    `Well, he shouldn't expose his jealousy in public along with everything else. And how your bloody father can play with him in the Fathers and Sons tomorrow after all those things he's said about me?'

    Luke shrugged. `That's polo. I know it hurts. I'm sorry.'

    Having finished her marguerita, Chessie reached for the second one.

    `Bart's secretly delighted,' she said bitterly, `because
People
said he ran the best barn in Palm Beach, and was the only high-goal patron who fully carried his weight on the team. He'll need to be tomorrow. Red'll be coked up to the eyeballs, and Bibi's so busy working all hours she'scompletely out of practice - and out of shape,' she added maliciously, as a girl wandered out of the sitting room.

    `Unlike you,' said the girl furiously, `I don't spend all day having my body and my ego massaged. Hi, Lukie,' she added, kissing him. `You look great.'

    `This is my sister Bibi,' Luke said to Perdita.

    Amid all this paradise and effortless access to wealth, Perdita was amazed how aggressively plain Bibi was. Admittedly her face wasn't helped by Bart's heavy jaw and a sallow skin. But her hair, the colour of marmalade and scraped back in a bun, and huge horn-rimmed spectacles only emphasized a big nose and hazel eyes that were unmade-up and bloodshot from the overnight flight from LA. Her figure was also totally disguised by a severely cut, lightweight, pin-striped suit. The only thing she couldn't hide were long, beautiful, coltish legs. She was obviously trying to look much older than her twenty-two years.

    Totally ignoring Chessie, she accepted a glass of Perrier from the maid and, sharing the shade of another blue and white striped umbrella with a panting Leroy, started questioning Luke about Argentina.

    Perdita was getting sauna-ed in her leather trousers. She must make some contribution to the conversation, but a mixture of jet lag and Chessie's utterly haunting beauty had knocked her for six. Bart, joining them a few minutes later, made her feel even more shy. A few more grey hairs had been added to his wolf s pelt and a few more crows' feet to his angry aggressive eyes, but he was suntanned and lean from frantic dieting and had kept his movie-star looks.

    Putting a brief hand on Luke's arm but ignoring Perdita, he turned to Bibi. `Hi, sweetheart, what did the Saudis say?'

    `If they don't get those twenty Lightnings before Christmas they're going to cancel the order. I've shouted myself hoarse at the factory, but they won't take any notice,' said Bibi furiously.

    Bart turned back towards the house. `I'll talk to them.'
`After
lunch,' said Chessie, so icily that Bart stopped in his tracks. `This is Perdita,' she added.

    Bart nodded unenthusiastically in Perdita's direction, then, anxious to conciliate Chessie: `New bikini? Nice, suits you.'

    `Cost enough,' said Bibi spitefully. `I saw the bill. If

    Red moves in with Auriel, you can fill his house with all your clothes.'

    They had lunch by the pool. Tuna-fish open sandwiches and a taco salad, so delicious that despite the heat Perdita wanted to wolf the lot. Chessie, who hardly ate anything, moved on to white wine. When Bart wasn't obsessively taking telephone calls, he and Luke and Bibi discussed tactics and what ponies they would ride tomorrow. Bart would mount Red and Bibi; Luke would bring his own. Every time Luke tried to draw Perdita into the conversa- tion, Bart rode her off.

    He looked really cheerful, however, when he heard that Victor had been fleeced by Alejandro.

    `I saw Lando Medici at the Players Club last night,' he told Luke. `He was boasting about this wonder pony he bought from Alejandro, Fanfare or something, the grey responsible for the Mendozas taking out the O'Briens in the Copa de Republic. I told Miguel he was slipping to let her go.'

    `Is that a fact?' Luke grinned. `That's three people

    Alejandro's sold Fantasma to,' he murmured to Perdita. `I really liked that piece in
People,'
said Bibi loudly. `Shut up,' Luke said to her softly. `Is it serious, him

    and Auriel?'

    `With her it is. I cannot understand how Red can fall for such an awful polo player,' said Bibi. `I played against her in a charity match in Palm Springs. She simply cannot control her horses.'

    `What's in it for Red?'

    Bibi shrugged. `He just says, "I want that", and she buys it for him.'

    `Like what?'

    `Four ponies last week.'

    `Shit,' said Luke.

    Chessie was so fed up with Bibi and Bart that she suddenly rolled over to brown her back and started asking Perdita all about Argentina.

    `You're probably too jet lagged today, but next week I'll show you Worth Avenue and we can go shopping.' `I'd love a haircut,' said Perdita ruefully.

    `I'll take you to Xavier's. He won't chop it all off. It's gorgeous hair.'

    She's my rival, thought Perdita in confusion, and suddenly she's being so nice to me. If Ricky saw her again now, how could he possibly fail to be a million times more in love with her?

    Luke, who was acquiring even more freckles in the sunshine, was having his work cut out trying to persuade Bart to give Angel a year's contract.

`Is
he as idle and conniving as the rest of them?' asked Bart.

    `He's lovely,' butted in Perdita. `You'll really like him.'

    `I'm not gonna socialize with him,' said Bart rudely. `I just want to know if the guy's any good.'

    `My husband has so much charm,' said Chessie lightly.

    Having refused the fruit salad, she lit a cigarette and, as Bart was now jabbering on the telephone to some Jap, turned to Bibi: `How's your love life?'

    `Fine,' said Bibi, picking only lychees and guavas out of the fruit salad, then adding to Luke, `I sure appreciate you telling Ricky to look me up in LA.'

    Then, smiling evilly, almost toadlike, she turned back to Chessie, `I know Dad's cute, but how could you dump Ricky? He is to die for. We spent a lot of time together.'

    `Really?' Chessie drew slightly faster on her cigarette.

    `He's being such a wow with all the movie stars he's coaching,' went on Bibi, slowly pouring too much cream over her fruit salad. `Being Ricky, he hasn't a clue who any of them are and keeps yelling "Come here, you" to Stacy Keach and Pamela Sue Martin and Stefanie Powers. They just adore him.'

    Luke put a hand over Perdita's.

    `Don't rise,' he murmured. `She's only winding Chessie up.'

    `Of course the women are spectacular in LA,' went on Bibi. `Everyone's beautiful there.'

    `You must be the exception,' said Chessie sweetly, but she was balling her napkin.

    `How's Ricky's elbow?' asked Luke.

    `Holding up pretty good,' said Bibi. `In fact he seems to be spending a lot of time on both elbows, screwing his brains out. There are women coming out of his ears.'

    `Oh, c'mon,' said Luke sharply.

    Chessie didn't react. Perdita had less restraint.

    `I don't believe it,' she stormed. `Ricky's not like that.' `How d'you know?' said Chessie sharply.

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