The Country Escape (37 page)

The
Gone With the Wind
dress was a lot more flattering than the one that Cyn had persuaded Kat to wear at the village show, although almost as tight. The formal blue velvet off-the-shoulder ballgown was just the sort that the Princess
of Wales would have worn to whirl around in the arms of world leaders in the eighties. It reeked of damp cupboard, its vast full-length skirt was dotted with cigarette burns from hunt balls thirty years ago, and it had a dubious brown stain on the neckline, but the bodice gave Kat a sensationally narrow waist and it certainly looked authentically war-torn. Insisting that it resembled a portrait
in the movie, Cyn had matched it with a cream lace piano shawl and had even bought Kat tinted hair mousse in Boots: ‘Scarlett has raven black hair and green eyes.’ If Kat hadn’t already possessed the latter, she was certain Cyn would have demanded that she borrow Dawn’s turquoise contact lenses.

She had no doubt that had Dawn been there she would have gone for the full Vivien Leigh movie
look, incorporating several costume changes and lots of ‘fiddle-de-dee’s. In their most recent conversation she’d sighed jealously at the idea of the fancy-dress screening. ‘I just
love
that film. The costumes! The romance! Eardisford is so much fun compared to here. I can’t believe I’m stuck doing mani-pedis for a hen party while you’re going to a masked movie night.’

Kat desperately needed
Dawn’s expertise that evening, and was aware of looking more than a little Calamity Jane when she stomped out of the house to meet Dougie, the blue velvet skirts lifted to reveal her sensible yard clogs, the end of the lace shawl gripped between her teeth to stop it slipping off her shoulders.

By contrast he looked sublime in a long grey military jacket with crocus yellow braiding, a high
collar and gold epaulettes that shimmered as he gallantly offered her his arm.

‘I’m fine, thanks.’ She hurried past him, wishing she’d been quicker at thinking up an excuse not to walk to the village with him. Riding made for a conveniently quick getaway if he dropped his voice to the predatory purr that made her pulse go bananas or looked at her in the way that sent her internal organs
spinning like dancers in a ballroom.

‘Amazing hair.’ He strode alongside her as she set off in a spirited jog.

The dark tinted mousse, which had proved wholly inadequate for Kat’s acres of mane, had only covered the top half before it ran out, leaving her two-tone. It was more Lady Gaga than Scarlett, but Dougie seemed enchanted. She sensed his eyes all over her as she raced along
as fast as her skirts allowed. Her
décolletage
was embarrassingly low, and she had no strapless bra so was relying upon the boned bodice to keep her in. She crammed her scarf ends down there and shooed away Trevor the peacock, who was intent on following them. Soon they were pounding along the track through Herne Covert like a pair of unlikely Victorian power joggers. Talking was next to impossible,
although Dougie made a few valiant attempts, mostly to compliment her Mo Farah speed in a ballgown and ask how exactly the ‘masked’ bit fitted.

‘A local printing company that supports the sanctuary is donating party face-masks of Scarlett and Rhett,’ Kat panted, tugging up the front of her dress. ‘It was Miriam’s idea.’

‘Just when I thought this evening couldn’t get any worse,’ he
muttered. ‘You must promise to sit next to me, Kat. You’re the only reason I’m here.’

By the time they arrived at the village hall, Kat was breathless and flustered, and incredibly relieved to see the familiar voluptuous figure of Miriam, who was dressed in an extraordinary frilly white meringue matched with a vast straw bonnet clamped to her head with a green pashmina. Her face was unrecognizable,
disguised by the pouting prettiness of Vivien Leigh printed on cardboard with cut-out eyes.

‘That’s quite scary,’ muttered Dougie, then glanced around to see lots more big frocks and Scarlett masks, his blue eyes widening. ‘In fact, this is all quite freaky. You might need to hold my hand, Kat.’

Miriam had spirited a tray of bright green iced drinks towards them sprigged with foliage.

‘What a beautiful pair you make!’ She shot Kat a very obvious wink of her painted, spike-lashed eye through one eyehole. ‘Have a mint julep – weaker than Pimm’s, so perfectly safe. Can you believe the bloody
Herefordshire Life
photographer hasn’t turned up? Doesn’t everyone look amazing?’

‘Amazing,’ Kat agreed, noticing a few Rhetts with black gambler hats and beer bellies trying
to navigate their way around their masks with drinking straws to get at their mint juleps.

‘Jesus.’ Dougie grimaced, as he sniffed it then held it at arm’s length. ‘What’s in that?’

Kat took a cautious sip. ‘Hopflask.’ She identified the familiar throat-burning, nose-numbing sensation. ‘Mixed with cheap Scotch, mint and lemonade, at a guess.’

They were quickly parted as Dougie’s
huge female fan club fluttered up like butterflies to a buddleia, all wearing Scarlett masks, demanding his attention and grumbling that he rarely came to the pub any more. Meanwhile Kat was cornered by Mags and Russ, both defiantly dressed in their Animal Magnetism costumes, and eager for insider information.

She hadn’t seen Russ since their big talk, although she knew he’d been to Lake
Farm several times to check on his charges, deliberately coming and going when she was out. A broken-winged buzzard and another of Mags’s RTA pheasant victims had appeared in the sanctuary’s ‘aviary wing’. He now gave an over-loud spiel about how busy he was, running between gigs, orchard-tending and badger-watching, which seemed to be more for the benefit of everyone else in the hall – most specifically
Calum, who was glowering nearby with a mint julep and two young daughters – than for Kat.

‘I’m only here for the free drink – I’m not staying for the film,’ he explained in an undertone, relieving her of her barely touched mint julep. ‘Everett looks a total prat in that outfit. It’s fantastic he trusts you so much now. What more have you found out?’

She looked across at him, still
cornered by Scarletts, holding up his hands politely to refuse a moustached Clark Gable face mask, explaining with a charming smile that he was the far more British and heroic Leslie Howard. ‘Wasn’t she in
Birds of a Feather
?’ asked one of his female admirers loudly. Catching Kat’s eye, he burst out laughing, his face so unspeakably handsome it deserved to stay unmasked, she decided. She now knew
when his smile was sincere and his laughter genuine, and when his regret was real too. For a moment, Kat could think of nothing but Dougie’s confessions of failed engagements.

Feeling horribly duplicitous, she mumbled to Russ about the Mumbai-slum manhunt joke and his comment that different laws applied. ‘I think he’s very strait-laced when it comes to foxhunting, though,’ she added quickly.
‘He knows it’s an old field sport with new goal posts, and it has to work with the law. He talks about the Act, and laying scent trails.’

‘It’s all an act and a false trail, trust me,’ Russ sneered, thick bear brows lowering. ‘The hounds are a side-show, a little bit of old England for the spectacle, as is Everett with his pretty face and old-school manners. Most likely they’ll hunt rare
game with guns. You can fast-track shotgun licences to shoot pretty much anything around here, apart from each other.

‘I found out today that Seth’s used his IT business base – and all that gaming development expertise – to move into flight simulators, most specifically military ones.’ He drew Kat to one side. ‘Now it makes sense why a vegetarian Sikh philanthropist – a self-confessed petrol-head
and city boy who gives millions to educate slum kids – has bought a very private sporting estate.’ He lowered his voice to little more than a breath, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Dougie was still under siege by girls in bonnets. ‘
Arms deals
. Yanks and Russkies chasing military franchises like killing things for fun before signing deals.’

Kat felt clammy-faced with shock and fear.
‘Are you saying they’ll be trading arms here?’

‘We’re not going to see crates of Kalashnikovs and ground-to-air missiles heading along the lime avenues.’ He polished off the last of her julep with a shudder. ‘The principle’s the same as business deals made on a golf course or squash court. Seth brings his associates here to hunt, shows them the best sport, and they give him the business.
It’s Dougie’s job to provide that sport, and it’s a pretty safe bet that no redneck magnate is going to want to come here and gallop around after a few hounds on a false scent trail. You must keep probing him for details while he’s still so hot on you.’ He glanced across at Dougie, whose cool blue eyes tracked Kat wherever she went.

‘He’s hot on all women,’ she scoffed.

‘That’s very
true.’ His dimples deepened. ‘It’s good you’ve figured him out, Kat. All those animal-behaviour lessons are sinking in, which is useful because that man
is
an animal.’

A small, round Scarlett O’Hara in an outrageously vampish, corseted red dress with red feather plumes in her hair handed Kat her mask as everybody found their seats, her own exquisite mask lifting briefly to bestow
a warm kiss on her cheeks.

‘You look delightful.’ Cyn squeezed her hand, watery eyes admiring the ballgown with an indulgent sigh. ‘Such a pretty dress, and a perfect length now we’ve unpicked the hem. I received my last proposal wearing it. This is
so much
fun that we’re going to make it a regular event. Pru wants us to show
Lawrence of Arabia
next.’ She nodded towards a tall, waspish
figure in a long-tailed suit and waistcoat selling raffle tickets, dark grey hair slicked back, by far the best Rhett of the evening. ‘No doubt that means we’ll be the camel, but I’m planning my revenge with
Dr Zhivago
.’ She replaced her mask, rejoining the cloned faces all around them. ‘It’s about to begin!’

The capacity audience meant that Kat’s skirts had to be confined to just one plastic-backed
chair in her row. She was crammed next to Tireless Tina, who was still wearing her yard clothes and whose husband was babysitting for once so that she could enjoy a ‘girly night out’ and who complained that Cyn had refused to give her a mask because she hadn’t dressed up.

‘Here, have mine.’ Kat handed it across gratefully.

As soon as the lights dimmed and the opening titles came
on, Tina fell asleep with her head tipped back and Vivien Leigh’s black-eyed face staring at the ceiling.

On Kat’s other side Dougie was watching her as much as he was watching the action on screen. It was impossibly stuffy in the hall, the scent of damp wardrobe overwhelming as her dress warmed up. Sweat was soon trickling between her breasts and beading on her forehead. She was paranoid
her hair tint might start dripping out with it, like Dirk Bogarde’s in
Death in Venice
. She was equally worried that her hand was undergoing an almost out-of-body urge to creep towards Dougie’s, lying relaxed and long-fingered on his thigh.

Kat was acutely aware of him beside her, his every tiny movement, his breathing, the delicious scent of his aftershave that occasionally drifted across
and over her mildewy dress. She almost jumped through the roof when she felt a firm pressure on her shoulder, thinking he was putting his arm around her, but it was just Tireless Tina’s head lolling sideways as she snuggled against one puffy velvet-capped sleeve.

Kat tried to concentrate on what was happening on screen, but it was impossible to take in much. How could Scarlett’s crushes
and tantrums and Rhett’s amused, passionate despair compare to Dougie reaching up to rake back his mop of hair, or to his long, muscular thigh shifting closer to hers, or his deep sighs and occasional fidgets, or to his gaze, warm and exploring, constantly moving around her face and body? Her own eyes stayed facing front, but she saw almost nothing, acutely aware of him at all times.

Rhett
and Scarlett were on screen together, tension simmering. ‘No, I don’t think I will kiss you,’ Rhett drawled, ‘although you need kissing badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed often and by someone who knows how…’

Kat closed her eyes briefly and imagined being kissed by Dougie, those wise-cracking, curling lips so sensual and expert against hers. He certainly knew how:
she’d seen the evidence on screen in this very hall. The way he kissed was the stuff of blogs and fan sites, those strong fingers so gentle on her neck, drawing her up and into his mouth, tasting it like it was the sweetest delicacy on earth. But within moments of her fantasy starting, the warm, explorative mouth in her imagination was drawn away as the ritual began: the thick-breathed excitement
of selecting the viewing. And it definitely wasn’t
Gone With the Wind
or even
High Noon
. Her eyes snapped open and she glanced sideways in a panic to reassure herself that he wasn’t Nick. But he was definitely Dougie, blond hair swept back off his forehead, a familiar half-smile on his face, which dropped away as he saw the frightened expression on Kat’s.

In the half-dark those dark-lashed
blue eyes gazed back at her and she felt the jolt right through her, the unmistakable quickening of breath, heart and hope that seemed to flip her solar plexus over, desire kicking in. Now she couldn’t look at the screen at all. She was staring straight into Dougie Everett’s eyes in the half-dark and thinking about kissing him.

When the lights went up, she looked away, her face flaming.

‘That was shorter than I remember,’ Dougie murmured, gazing around as though the walls of their private tent had just been ripped from around them.

‘It’s only halfway through,’ yawned Tina, stretching indulgently and pushing her Scarlett mask on top of her head like a coolie hat. ‘There’s an old-fashioned intermission now for refreshments, the raffle draw and the fancy-dress prize.
How’s Sri going, Kat? Have you tried that new bit I lent you?’

While Kat talked to Tina about horses, she was aware of Dougie being besieged again, called away to judge the fancy dress. His eyes kept finding hers. Now they’d started looking at one another so much, it seemed they couldn’t stop.