Jump. Part 48

'I still hate her as a character. "Richly left" sounds like Harriet Harman.'

'Seth's doing Antony in the spring,' said Etta, sensing tension, 'and Corinna's playing Cleopatra. Isn't that exciting?'

'Not particularly,' said Trixie, 'Antony and Cleopatra is sooo boring. Antony's going through the male menopause like my dad and Uncle Martin, and Cleopatra's a silly old tart like Dora Belvedon's mother. Dora won the Most Embarra.s.sing Mother compet.i.tion at Bagley on Speech Day, she laced her mother's breakfast orange juice with neat vodka. All the Lower Sixths went to sleep during a production of is sooo boring. Antony's going through the male menopause like my dad and Uncle Martin, and Cleopatra's a silly old tart like Dora Belvedon's mother. Dora won the Most Embarra.s.sing Mother compet.i.tion at Bagley on Speech Day, she laced her mother's breakfast orange juice with neat vodka. All the Lower Sixths went to sleep during a production of Antony and Cleopatra Antony and Cleopatra at the National.' at the National.'

'That would never happen if Seth was on stage,' said Etta warmly.

'The boys only woke up when Cleopatra bared her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to plug in the asp,' added Trixie.

'Plenty of asps living in Mrs Travis-Lockjaw's compost heap, according to Poc.o.c.k,' said Seth.

'Yuck,' said Trixie, 'Mrs T-L pees on it every night.'

'Comp.i.s.sed heap,' murmured Seth.

Trixie's mouth lifted a quarter of a centimetre at one corner. 'Josh took a photograph of her which they refused to print in the parish mag. She'll probably get stung on the b.u.m.'

'Bolton's got a crush on her,' said Seth. 'He roves around Willowwood with a camera at the dead of night. Better draw your curtains, Etta, he likes pretty ladies.'

Etta blushed.

Gwenny came in mewing. Trixie got up her dark hair so long it reached the top of her legs and gave Gwenny some cat sweets.

Seth picked up the packet.

'They always tell you to provide drinking water. Ought to insist you provide drinking water and whisky.' He drained his gla.s.s.

Unable to bear him going, Etta suggested she pop up to the pub and get another bottle.

'I've got to go,' said Trixie.

'I'll see you home,' said Seth. 'Come on, Priceless.'

Priceless raised his tail a centimetre off the sofa, but showed no inclination, unlike Etta, to follow his master.

It was very hot outside, the sky crowded with stars, the air heavy with the scent of honeysuckle. The stream gleamed silver in the moonlight.

'"The moon s.h.i.+nes bright: in such a night as this," ' said Seth. 'Let's take a detour through Valent's garden, they're both away.'

'How do we get out of the locked gates on the other side?'

'I'll lift you over the wall.'

Her face was expressionless.

'How's Josh?' he asked.

'"He doth nothing but talk of his horse,"' said Trixie lightly.

'Good girl, you've read the play,' said Seth approvingly.

Valent's house reared sombre in front of them. With satisfaction, they admired their two black shadows, hers so willowy, his broad of shoulder, svelte of hip. Seth, who seemed to know all the paths, took her arm. She froze for a second but didn't shake him off.

'"In such a night/Stood Dido with a willow in her hand," ' murmured Seth. 'Ker-ist!' He leapt behind Trixie as a great white face loomed over the half-door. 'It's the ghost of Beau Regard.'

'It's darling Wilkie.' Showing tenderness and animation for the first time, Trixie rushed up and patted her.

'Oh lucky horse to bear the weight of Trixie,' sighed Seth.

To her surprise, given he had such a terrible reputation, Seth didn't try to kiss her.

Once home, she texted Dora. 'Granny's got a thumping great crush on Mr Bulging Crotchester.'

Feeling rather flat, Etta made herself a cup of tomato soup and a piece of toast and decided to watch Much Ado, but she couldn't find the DVD anywhere. Perhaps Priceless had stolen it.

Aware of Seth's lethal charm, Alan didn't want his mother-in-law to get hurt. The following evening, glad to have an excuse to stop writing, he gathered up a couple of bottles and wandered down to the bungalow. Here he found a shattered Etta trying to referee a squawking match between Drummond and Poppy on whether they should watch Shrek or Harry Potter Shrek or Harry Potter.

'You stupid b.u.mhole,' yelled Drummond, hurling a green gla.s.s paperweight at his sister.

'Out!' roared Alan, 'O-U-T.' Then, getting four pound coins out of his pocket: 'You can each have two of these if you b.u.g.g.e.r off until I tell you to come in.'

'Go and see Mrs Wilkinson,' said Etta, giving them her last two carrots.

Outside the back door, she had been sorting out her indoor bulbs, seven white ones in one blue bowl, pink in another, dark blue, pale blue and more white in others. Like making sloe gin, it was one of the rituals of late summer to ward off the cold and darkness of the coming winter. Poc.o.c.k had very kindly given her the bulbs for looking after Gwenny, but she was not sure she'd be able to afford the gin to go with the sloes.

After pouring two large gla.s.ses of red, Alan handed Etta some cuttings. 'Your boyfriend's all over the newspapers today.'

Etta went crimson, had she been rumbled? Then, glancing at them, her face softened. 'Oh Valent, how lovely.'

Valent had been very busy launching a robot made in his Chinese factory called the Iron Man, which ironed everything from s.h.i.+rts to sheets and would forever transform the lives of women.

'And men too,' said Alan, perching on the tenth of the sofa not occupied by Priceless. 'My wife, your daughter, has never liked ironing.'

'How is she?'

'Eruptive. When both the women in my family are at the wrong time of the month, I make myself scarce.'

'How's Depression Depression going?' going?'

'Nearly finished,' lied Alan. 'I wish Mrs Wilkinson would get off her a.r.s.e so I could get on with her life story.'

'I'm so sorry,' said Etta guiltily. Across the valley, she could see Marius's horses relis.h.i.+ng the sun on their backs, lying flat out on the gra.s.s with just the occasional flick of their tails. When the sun went down they would all gallop round to show how much horses enjoy racing each other.

'I'm sure Wilkie will be fit soon. Gosh, these cuttings are lovely. The interviewers really like him.'

Previously the press had emphasized Valent's ruthlessness and killer instinct, dubbing him the 'Tin Man without a Heart'.

'Of course he's got a heart,' protested Etta. 'No matter how busy he is he sends postcards from all over the world asking after Wilkie. More than Bonny does. Do you know Seth can't stand Bonny?' she couldn't resist saying. 'I thought he adored her.'

So did Alan, but he didn't say so.

'He doesn't like Valent either.'

'Seth doesn't like compet.i.tion. Valent's a heavyweight.'

Alan was full of gossip: 'Lester, another would-be heavyweight, is due to start filming any moment. He's determined to use Furious, so Amber is booked as a stand-in for Cindy in the riding scenes. Cindy told me, "Amber's b.o.o.bs aren't as good as mine, but on an 'orse, her 'air will cover them." Lester's still interviewing Peeping Toms, the queue went round the village this morning. He even asked Trixie to play G.o.diva's handmaiden.'

Etta shuddered. 'Loathsome little man, I hope she refused.'

'She did, but only because the money was lousy. As Mrs Wilkinson is off games, Bolton wants his horse, Furious, led up by Mich.e.l.le, natch, to give pony rides at the fete.'

'He's mad,' cried Etta in horror. 'Furious would savage all the children.'

'Then Drummond must have the first ride.'

'Hush,' smiled Etta, 'Drummond can be a sweetheart.'

As they heard a crash from outside, Etta ran to the window.

'You little beast,' she screamed.

Drummond had tipped all her bulbs on to the tarmac, mixing and scattering pink, white, dark blue, light blue and dark red underneath his father's Range Rover.

'Such a sweetheart,' said Alan. a sweetheart,' said Alan.

78.

Desperate for events to hold the syndicate together, Etta was relieved so many members were going to meet at the village fete and flower show held in Farmer Fred's big field next to the cricket pitch at the end of August.

Although Poc.o.c.k, Craig Green, Ione and Debbie were expected to win most of the cups, the morning of the fete saw many Willowwood residents sloping off to the local farm shop to buy vegetables, fruit and flowers to pa.s.s off as their own in the various cla.s.ses. The Major, as president of the fete, was very much in command, and finding no water in his rain gauge, had rightly forecast a fine sunny day.

Lester Bolton had donated half a dozen of Cindy's steamiest DVDs to the tombola. The Major had hastily confiscated them and was looking forward to a good watch in his den later. His most exciting duty of the day, however, was to look after Corinna, who had returned briefly from a triumphant tour in The Deep Blue C-word The Deep Blue C-word (as Seth called it) to open the fete and remind everyone how beautiful she was. (as Seth called it) to open the fete and remind everyone how beautiful she was.

Wearing a huge, shocking-pink picture hat and a scarlet suit, which showed off her splendid bosom and the still slender legs that had captivated audiences in the stalls for so many years, she allowed the Major gallantly to lead her on to the platform and urge the big crowds and stallholders to 'gather round'.

Corinna's speech, written by Seth and Alan, was meant to be a witty take-off of an Oscars acceptance speech, in order to make the inevitable list of thank-yous less tedious.

Corinna's voice could carry to Larkminster but had to compete with a screeching, ear-splittingly loud loudspeaker and the local bra.s.s band tuning up. She also made the mistake of ending by quoting lengthily from 'The Land' by Vita Sackville-West, from 'The country habit has me by the heart', to its lovely last line: 'only here/Lies peace after uneasy truancy.' She then ruined the peace by screaming at the band to 'b.l.o.o.d.y well SHUT UP!'

'She didn't thank anyone,' stormed Debbie, 'or exhort everyone to spend, spend, spend and dig deep in their pockets.'

'She completely forgot to say that it costs ninety-five pounds a day for the upkeep of St James's, that's thirty-five thousand a year,' snorted Ione.

'We first asked darling Bonny Richards to open the fete,' Romy was telling everyone, 'but tragically she's filming.'

Fortunately the Larkminster Echo, Larkminster Echo, which had got stuck behind one of Farmer Fred's combines, arrived after Corinna had finished and were terribly grateful when she gave them the original typescript. which had got stuck behind one of Farmer Fred's combines, arrived after Corinna had finished and were terribly grateful when she gave them the original typescript.

'Keep it, my dear, I always write a new speech.'

'How are you enjoying being a member of the Willowwood syndicate?' asked the reporter.

'Alas, I'm hardly ever able to see Mrs Wilkinson run because I'm always working. I so envy Bonny Richards, who's been free to lead her in several times.'

The Major was hovering. 'Are you ready to do a tour of the stalls? Your public awaits you.'

What a beautiful setting, thought Etta, the trees dark, dark green against the parched, cracked yellow of the gra.s.s, the pale green leaves of the willows already turning gold, blending in with their gold stems, curling black and yellow leaves already littering the ground. Children shrieked with joy on the bouncy castle, steam engines chooed, and Chris and Chrissie from the Fox were doing a roaring trade in Pimm's laced with cuc.u.mber and strawberries.

Mrs Wilkinson was still confined to barracks, but Chisolm, like a carer freed for the afternoon, left an even longer trail of shrieking children as she slyly nicked one ice cream or candy floss after another. She was now eyeing up the fancy cake stall.

'I've seen Seth Bainton, I've seen Corinna, I haven't seen Bonny,' cried the crowd.

Etta, so broke she had no money to spend, was helping Alban on the plant stall, which gave him the excuse to touch her hand and exchange meaningful glances over the delphiniums.

Etta sidled off, however, to watch the dog show judged by Corinna and Charlie Radcliffe. Drummond had shown no interest in walking Priceless, who had been bathed, polished and buffed to gleaming ebony by Tommy and Etta, and who so sweetly matched his steps to Poppy's that the judges had absolutely no doubt about awarding them Best in Show. There was a box of Smarties for Poppy and a huge red rosette and Bonios for Priceless whereupon Drummond erupted into the ring to punch his sister and kick Priceless's long, delicate legs.

'Stop it, you little b.u.g.g.e.r,' screamed Etta, dragging him off and shaking him. 'Don't you dare hurt Poppy and Priceless,' and was awarded the biggest round of applause of the day.

Thank G.o.d Drummond's parents had been temporarily hijacked by Ione, manning the Green stall, who urged them to share a bath every night, wash their clothes in the water and syphon it off afterwards to use on their plants.

'Did you know,' she told Martin sternly, 'dripping taps waste four litres a day and sprinklers use a thousand litres an hour? Why not invest in this lavatory hippo which saves three litres a day?'

Martin didn't seem keen, so Ione tried to persuade Romy to buy some of the scent she'd made from olive, jasmine and lavender oils.

'Do buy a bottle, Rosie.'

'A beautiful woman never has to buy her own perfume,' said Martin roguishly. 'Come on, dear, I'm pulling in the tug-of-war soon.'

Scuttling back to the plant stall, Etta pa.s.sed books, cards and bric-a-brac, where she was amused to see a large yellow teapot hadn't yet sold.

'How,' fulminated Debbie, 'did the vicar get a first in sweet peas when he hasn't got a garden?'

Convinced by Woody that he had a great body, Niall was winning back his spurs in Willowwood by sitting in the stocks flas.h.i.+ng his six-pack and having wet sponges hurled at him by the village children.

'I'll share a bath with you any time,' murmured Woody, as he dried Niall with a big blue towel.

'Thought he was wet enough already,' sneered s.h.a.gger, who'd been away murdering wildlife in Scotland with Toby and Phoebe. He was not the only person to notice a tendresse between Niall and Woody. s.h.a.gger was consequently in a belligerent mood, stirring up trouble.

Mrs Wilkinson had been confined to box rest for two and a half months now. Even if she recovered it would take three or four months to get her match-fit. All round the fete field, little pools of discontent were bubbling. Why should they go on forking out 185 a month for Mrs Wilkinson to eat gra.s.s?

'Surely Mrs Bancroft isn't the answer for getting a horse right?' grumbled Bolton to Charlie Radcliffe, who shrugged his shoulders.

'These things take time, you can't hurry horses.'