Polo. Part 57

'You'd enjoy Palm Beach, Drew,' said Sharon, joining them. 'You wouldn't have to bring your waife and kiddies if you didn't want to.'

Drew ignored the innuendo. He wished he could take Daisy. In a minute he'd make some excuse and go and ring her, but as he'd promised to keep an eye on Perdita, he'd better wait until she arrived. He didn't trust Red an inch. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had just rolled up looking very pleased with himself in a floppy white silk s.h.i.+rt, brown tights to emphasize his long legs, and brown suede thigh boots.

'Who are you supposed to be, Doublet and Pantihose?' Chessie, suddenly rigid with hostility, asked him.

'Iago, I thought.'

Chessie s.h.i.+vered. 'Inspired casting. Just keep away from me.'

'Try and keep me near!' Red drifted off towards the gambling tables. He had just bought $100,000 worth of chips and was planning to put the lot on noire deux, noire deux, which was Perdita's normal place in the Apocalypse team. If it came up he would make a play for her. It would irritate so many people: Ricky, Luke, his mother, his father, Auriel. He watched the colours merging as the wheel spun round. He'd always been turned on by stiff opposition, he'd make a play for her anyway. which was Perdita's normal place in the Apocalypse team. If it came up he would make a play for her. It would irritate so many people: Ricky, Luke, his mother, his father, Auriel. He watched the colours merging as the wheel spun round. He'd always been turned on by stiff opposition, he'd make a play for her anyway.

Rien ne va plus,' said the croupier. said the croupier.

Looking at his watch for the hundredth time, Luke was distracted by a spectacularly good-looking man, who'd just come in wearing a dark suit, and was talking to Cameron Cook, who was hovering with a film crew.

It had to be Rupert Campbell-Black. Luke, in his humility, was a pa.s.sionate admirer of beauty, particularly in humans. Looking at Red had always given him intense pleasure, but there was something about the angles of Rupert's face, the long, dark blue eyes, the casual elegance of the body, the exquisite shape of the sleek, blond head and wide, smooth forehead, that set him apart from everyone else. Unlike Red, he was also totally unselfconscious. Luke felt his eyes drawn like a magnet.

'How's it going?' Rupert asked Cameron.

'Hairy. Sending Red off yesterday, getting into a clinch with him this afternoon. Christ knows what she'll do next. The material's G.o.d-given, but the press are getting all of it. She is under contract. We need something exclusive. I'm supposed to be interviewing her at dawn tomorrow.'

'I'll speak to her,' said Rupert. 'We're not standing any s.h.i.+t.'

'Having said that,' admitted Cameron, 'she does look superb in the rushes, and so natural, particularly when she's mad.'

'What about Red? Is he going to ditch Auriel for Perdita? He's such a little s.h.i.+t.'

Cameron laughed. 'He rather reminds me of you.' 'Don't be ridiculous,' said Rupert coldly.

'I'd better go and see what's happened to her,' said Cameron, going towards the door.

Immediately her place was taken by Chessie, but as she kissed Rupert, his face was even colder and he almost flinched away.

'It's been so long,' Chessie flushed slightly. 'I never see any of Ricky's old friends these days. Drew, Bas, you, Billy, Ronnie Ferguson. None of you ask us to dinner any more. You might have asked us to your wedding. I haven't even met Taggie yet. No-one could be as divine as everyone says she is. Bart's due tomorrow. Why don't you and Taggie have dinner with us?'

'No, thanks,' said Rupert curtly. Then, lowering his voice: 'Chessie darling, have you no idea of the animosity you aroused when you ran out on Ricky?'

'For Christ's sake,' hissed Chessie, 'you ran out on enough people.'

'Not wives I didn't. Helen walked out on me.' 'Aren't you glad she did?'

'Of course. I never dreamed such happiness existed. But you've totally f.u.c.ked Ricky up. You never wrote to him when Will died, never forgave him.'

'Why should I? It was all his fault.' Chessie was getting hysterical. 'He was dead drunk.'

'Having been deliberately wound up by you. Then you abandon him to the most ghastly prison sentence, then to coming back to the loneliness of Robinsgrove. I was there when he came out. It was crucifixion. I know what it was like being on my own at Pens...o...b...'

'You had women coming out of your ears.'

'I hadn't met Taggie then. Ricky's a one-woman man, and did you know he's never worn anything but a black tie since Will died? Not a week pa.s.ses without him putting flowers on Will's grave, or getting Daisy Macleod to do it.'

'That frump,' said Chessie sharply.

'She's sweet,' said Rupert, 'and that's a typical reaction. b.l.o.o.d.y b.i.t.c.h in the manger. You want to carry on sh.o.r.ed up by Bart's billions and at the same time dangle Ricky on a string. All this stupid business about the Gold Cup and winning the Westchester is carving him up. Let him go. He'll never be rich enough for you.'

'You've never been poor,' said Chessie furiously. 'You get used to living in a gilded cage.'

'You could fly out, but you're too f.u.c.king spoilt, so you go on p.r.i.c.k-teasing.'

Chessie burst into tears. Suddenly realizing that everyone was listening to them, Rupert put an arm round her shoulder.

'Ha, I like that,' said Red, who'd just come out of the roulette room. Tapping the Sunday Sunday Mirror photographer on the shoulder, he whispered, 'Get some close-ups of Rupert and my stepmother.' Mirror photographer on the shoulder, he whispered, 'Get some close-ups of Rupert and my stepmother.'

But even as the photographer sidled up and surrept.i.tiously started snapping away, some sixth sense made Rupert turn and reach out a long arm. Practically garrotting the photographer, he removed the film from the camera and pocketed it.

The photographer was livid.

'I 'ad some nice pix of Lady Shar and Pouf the Magic Dragon on that roll. Give it back. He put me up to it,' he added sulkily, nodding at Red.

'I'm sure,' said Rupert. 'You can still f.u.c.k off.' Wiping her eyes on her flowing green sleeves, Chessie pulled herself together.

'This is my stepson, Red,' she said bleakly.

'A step in the wrong direction,' said Rupert witheringly. 'What were you going to do with that film?' he asked Red. 'Brandish it in front of your father or my wife? With stepchildren that evil, Chessie, I'm even more amazed you stay with Bart. This one's more anxious to make a fast buck than a gay rabbit. I'm staggered he's allowed himself to be prised away from Auriel's bank balance for a second.'

Red, who was seldom lost for words, was frantically thinking up a devastating reply when suddenly Rupert's face lost all its animosity and contempt. In the doorway, moving from foot to foot with shy pleasure like an Irish wolfhound, stood a very tall, slim girl with dark hair and huge, grey eyes.

'Taggie - I must go,' said Rupert, dropping a kiss on Chessie's cheek. 'Sorry I gave you a hard time, angel. I just don't want Ricky screwed up any more.'

Leaving a spitting Red, desperate for rea.s.surance Chessie sought out Luke.

'You OK?' he asked.

'Yes, no. 'Where the h.e.l.l's Ricky? Isn't he coming?'

'I guess not. Chessie, Dancer didn't tell me about your bet with Ricky. I'd never have played for him, if I'd known. I wouldn't do that to Dad.'

'I know you wouldn't,' said Chessie softly. 'Doesn't your arm ache from holding a torch for Perdita?'

'I guess I've got strong arms.'

Chessie smoothed a blob of grey-green paint on his chest. 'You're strong everywhere. Has anyone ever told you quite how attractive you are? I could get you over Perdita.'

Luke laughed. 'That would really complicate things. But thanks for the offer.'

'I love complications,' sighed Chessie. 'They make everything so much more exciting.'

The party roared on. A huge amount of champagne was drunk. Soon the best costume would be judged and it would be time for dinner.

Sharon, having got no change out of Drew, was nose to nose on a window seat with Jose the Mexican, whose whale of a wife had been left at his hotel and whose English had improved dramatically in the last month.

Seb Carlisle, high as a kite now, was also sitting on the window seat, pretending to read Horse and Hound, Horse and Hound, but actually translating for Dommie and Rosie everything Sharon was saying. but actually translating for Dommie and Rosie everything Sharon was saying.

'Ay'm not prepared to be serious, Hose,' he mouthed to his audience. 'Ay'm so muddled, you must gave me tame. Yes, I would adore to live in Mehico.' Seb grinned wickedly, 'But not all the year round.'

The others were in hysterics. Rosie, as Robert the Bruce's spider, was wearing a black body stocking and hood. Out of her blacked-up face, her white teeth sparkled and her green eyes gleamed.

'I love you,' she told Dommie softly.

'I love you,' said Dommie fingering the square box with the emerald, which had cost every penny from the sale of Tiger Lily's putative half-brother.

'I don't know what got into you this afternoon.' Rosie ran her hand over his chest. 'It must have been because I was half-asleep and not expecting you that I was so relaxed. Being a good Catholic girl, I suppose I've always felt guilty about s.e.x before marriage. But I never dreamed it could be as wonderful as it was this afternoon.' Lifting his hand, she kissed all Dommie's fake rings. 'I have to confess, I lied to you about coming before, just hoped it would get all right. I'm so glad you missed me, and couldn't keep away. You were so in control and yet so sensitive, and your c.o.c.k.'

But she didn't get any further. Dommie had pulled Seb off the bench beside Sharon and Jose and hit him across the room.

'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' he yelled. 'You didn't go near any blood-stock sale this afternoon.'

'I b.l.o.o.d.y did, too,' yelled back Seb. 'I bought a grey three year old.'

'You b.l.o.o.d.y didn't. You went to bed with Rosie and pretended to be me.'

'Ouch,' yelled Seb, stubbing his toe on David Water-lane's armoured foot, as he scrambled to his feet. 'I'm not dancing with him later.'

'Don't send me up,' roared Dommie. 'She's the only girl I've ever loved.'

'I can understand why,' said Seb.

Dommie was about to hit him again, when suddenly Seb said, 'Kerist, look at that.'

'Don't change the subject, b.l.o.o.d.y John Thomas Becket.' Dommie grabbed Seb's ca.s.sock.

'No really, it's worth a break,' protested Seb. For a second Dommie swung round.

'Jesus.' He let go of Seb.

A clatter of hooves was greeted with whoops of excitement, laughter and shrieks of joy and horror as, ducking her head to avoid the top of the door, Perdita rode side-saddle into the room on Spotty. Dressed - or rather undressed - as Lady G.o.diva, her flowing blond hair concealed very little.

'Christ, what a body,' said Bas in wonder. 'No wonder Ricky kept it under wraps.'

'Disgraceful,' spluttered Sukey.

'I always suspected she was a natural blonde,' said Seb, sidling away from Dommie.

Miss Marple, eyes on stalks, stalked across the room, spygla.s.s poised.

'I think Lady G.o.diva was a relation of mine,' said David Waterlane.

'The dollar has absolutely no defence against the controlled yen,' said Victor, still encased inside his dragon's head.

I have an uncontrolled yen for that girl, thought Red. 'Thank you,' said Perdita, accepting a gla.s.s of cham pagne from a drooling waiter.

Spotty, incurably greedy, buried his red-and-white nose in a large plate of sausage rolls, raising his upper lip like a camel when he encountered the sausage. The photographers were going berserk.

'Whatever you do, keep them rolling,' screamed Cameron Cook to the Venturer cameramen.

Fighting his way through the screaming overexcited crowd, Drew pulled off his white tunic to display a splendidly muscular torso.

'Get off that pony, Perdita,' he said softly.

Put her in the stocks,' shouted Seb.

But Luke was too quick for any of them. Stripped to the waist, unable to give her his s.h.i.+rt, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a primrose-yellow shawl which had been left hanging over a chair and threw it round Perdita's shoulders.

'Take Spotty back to the stables,' he ordered Red and, dragging Perdita off, carried her screaming, kicking and struggling back to the Normandie, followed by a pack of reporters baying as joyfully as bloodhounds.

Up in her room he threw her on to the bed, chucked a towel at her and leant against the door, not trusting himself to speak. Perdita had never seen him so angry. It was as though the door to a blast furnace had suddenly been wrenched open. Paint was streaked across his chest, arms and face, where it had settled grimly in grooves on either side of his mouth, darkened his eyelashes and smudged even blacker rings under his eyes. His spiky, gold hair was beginning to escape the silver spray. He looked like the only miner to escape alive after some prolonged and terrible pit disaster.

'You drink all this?' he roared, picking up the empty bottle of Moet on the dressing-table.

Perdita nodded.

'What the h.e.l.l for? Are you crazy?'

'I was making a f.u.c.king statement. I came as Lady G.o.diva because I can't afford a costume. The only way I can compete with all those rich b.i.t.c.hes is when I'm naked. Half of them wouldn't dare show off their bodies. They need all those three thousand pound dresses to hide the bulges.'

'What about that grand I gave you last week?'

'Wouldn't buy a bra top round here. I'm fed up with being the best woman player in the world, and so f.u.c.king poor. It's no fun gambling in the playground of the rich when you haven't got a bean. I've never had any help from my b.l.o.o.d.y family.'

'Bulls.h.i.+t,' yelled Luke. 'Daisy never stops making sacrifices for you.'

'She's a wh.o.r.e,' said Perdita tonelessly. 'You don't know what it's like being illegitimate, with no father to relate to.'

The next moment Luke had yanked her to her feet and swung her round to look into the mirror. Grabbing her face, he pulled down her eyes so the blood-red sockets showed, then with the other huge hand pulled her mouth upwards at the corner and squashed her cheeks together, like some hideously deformed cretin.

'Howdya like to be born like that?'

'Well, I wasn't,' said Perdita, wriggling so frantically the shawl slid to the floor.

'Lots of people f.u.c.king were,' Luke held her steady. 'You, on the other hand, were given everything: spellbinding talent, charm if you'd bother to use it, a beautiful face, a body like an angel.'

Below the hideously deformed face, the flowing curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, belly and thighs showed up even more perfectly, as though some wood nymph had donned a mask of chaos.

'You're eaten up with self-pity,' went on Luke accusingly. 'Millions of people would give their eye teeth to be illegitimate if they had your advantages. You've just got the wrong values. Money doesn't buy happiness unless you know how to use it. You'll be a great polo player. Just give it time.'

Coated now by grey-and-green paint, Perdita tried to wriggle free.

'You're supposed to be strong and silent,' she screamed, 'so shut up. You're not interested in living. All you care about is ponies and working your a.s.s off. With you, bread and onions, for Chrissake. All onions give you is stinking breath.'