Beattie turned to the good-looking boy perched on her desk. ‘OK, Rod, you ring her now. Ask the same question and pretend to be the Mirror. Give it five minutes and you pretend to be the Mail, Kev. Then you can put on a posh voice and be The Sunday Times, Mandy, and finally I’ll do my refined Islington twang and be the Independent. That’s her favourite paper. That’ll really rattle her. She’ll soon crack under pressure.’
Rachel hadn’t cracked, but she hadn’t been able to get Boris in Italy because he’d checked out of his hotel and was obviously on his way to Israel. Despite a sleepless night she didn’t really believe the papers — they were just chasing old rumours — until she came out of Jasmine Cottage with the children on her way to Sussex. It was one of those perfect daffodil-lit mornings when the cuckoo might make his first appearance. Breathing in the sweet air Rachel suddenly noticed a bug-eyed blonde getting out of a car.
‘Rachel Grant, can we have a chat?’
‘No, go away,’ said Rachel, shoving the children and her music case into the back of her car which unfortunately was cold and took a bit of time to start.
‘What d’you think of this story about your husband and Chloe?’ The girl thrust The Scorpion through the window.
‘Cheating Boris fakes happy marriage to clinch New York job,’ read Rachel.
‘It’s not true,’ she whispered, driving off with a squeal of tyres.
‘Look at the pictures,’ yelled the blonde.
Half a mile away in Valhalla Kitty was in an increasing turmoil. For a week now she had been cut off from the outside world. As James Benson had prescribed complete rest, Rannaldini had employed a temp, a Miss Bates, who had very nice ankles and who fielded all telephone calls and visits.
Now up and dressed for the first time, Kitty sat in an armchair in the summer parlour gazing listlessly at a little copse of young poplars thrusting their acid-green branches upwards in victory salutes and reminding her agonizingly of Lysander. Out in the park in their New Zealand rugs all Rannaldini’s horses, except The Prince of Darkness, who was still confined to box rest, were enjoying the spring grass. But not Arthur, thought Kitty in despair — and wondered for the millionth time whether Lysander was all right.
Lassie was her one comfort. Already in trouble that morning for having pinched Mr Brimscombe’s paintbrush, peed on Rannaldini’s Aubusson and chewed one of Miss Bates’s green suede shoes, she had now collapsed in front of the fire and was showing off her white belly, with her speckled paws folded over like a model wearing smart new gloves.
As the front door banged she rose with a lot of woofing, shot between Kitty’s legs, then bounded forward pirouetting with joy as her old friend Ferdie walked in with Natasha.
‘Kitty, you poor thing!’ Natasha ran across the room and kissed her. ‘We’ve only just found out how ill you’ve been. Are you OK? You look so pale and thin.’ She thrust a vast bunch of red tulips into Kitty’s hands. ‘And we’ve brought you some mags and some scent. Hasn’t Lassie grown?’ Leaving Kitty, she crouched down beside the puppy who was still trying to lick Ferdie to death.
Kitty had never seen such a change in two people. Natasha looked utterly ravishing in a clinging campion-pink shorts suit and high-heeled black shoes. The heavy make-up had gone; dark-lashes and sparkle were enough, and what was the point of lipstick when it kept being kissed off? And the beady, calculating dead-pan Ferdie was grinning from ear to ear, which were mostly hidden by a curly new cherub’s haircut.
‘I took him to Schumi’s,’ said Natasha proudly. ‘Doesn’t he look gorgeous?’
‘Wonderful! You both do,’ said Kitty in amazement. ‘And so thin, Ferdie.’
‘Forget Special K and Lean Cuisine,’ said Ferdie patting his concave gut. ‘Love’s the answer.’
‘You don’t think he’s too thin?’ asked Natasha anxiously.
‘No, no. When did you two get togevver?’
‘Beginning of last term.’ Natasha collapsed on the sofa and pulling Ferdie down beside her, started nibbling his ear. ‘Ferdie started taking me out from Bagley Hall. Papa’s stopped bothering now he’s bored with Flora. Oh Christ, sorry, Kitty.’
‘I’m sorry we didn’t take you out. I fort when you didn’t come ’ome,’ Kitty blushed, ‘you preferred it that way.’
‘Oh, I did.’ Natasha was ruffling Ferdie’s hair. ‘I’ve always grumbled about Papa and Mama neglecting me. Now I realize how wonderful it is. Ferdie and I have just had the most gorgeous ten days in France.’
‘We fort you was with Cecilia,’ said Kitty.
‘Mama thought I was with you,’ giggled Natasha. ‘No-one checked. And Ferdie takes care of me so much better than either of them. Oh hi, Papa.’ She edged closer to Ferdie as she noticed Rannaldini in the doorway.
‘I thought you were with your mother,’ he snapped.
‘Basically, no. She’s got a new boyfriend. You can read all about it.’ Natasha waved Hello!. ‘The last thing she wants is me around.’
‘And what about your A levels?’ said Rannaldini coldly.
Natasha smiled. ‘Well, Ferdie’s been helping me with Business Studies and even more with Human Biology. And as for Ancient History — I ought to study Lysander.’
Rannaldini was looking thunderous but fortunately rushed back to his study to answer the telephone. He was expecting confirmation from New York any second.
Just for a second colour spilled over Kitty’s grey face. ‘How’s Lysander?’ she whispered the moment he’d gone.
‘Absolutely miserable,’ whispered back Ferdie, thrusting a letter into the pocket of her grey cardigan. ‘Almost as miserable as Tiny who never stops crying and running to the gate looking for Arthur. So most of the time Lysander lets her into the house. He’s back at Magpie Cottage by the way. Marigold rolled up with some prospective buyers and was not amused to find Tiny eating carrots in front of the fire.’
‘Lysander’s still wiped out about the Rutminster,’ added Natasha who was entwining her fingers with Ferdie. ‘He blames himself totally.’
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ flared up Kitty.
‘Course it wasn’t. Rupert’s had to apologize,’ said Ferdie, who was very shaken by Kitty’s appearance. ‘They did a post-mortem. Arthur had a massive heart attack. From what I gather some old worm larvae got into the gut and migrated through the wall of the artery into the aorta and died there leaving a lesion which couldn’t cope with all that blood racing round.’
‘You are clever to explain,’ said Natasha fondly.
‘So they’ve decided Arthur crashed into the railing and broke his neck as a result of the heart attack, so Lysander’s in the clear.’
‘Oh, fank goodness.’ Kitty’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m so frilled, but poor Arfur.’
‘Wonderful way to go,’ said Ferdie. ‘Leading the field by twenty lengths, cheers echoing in his ears, his beloved master in ecstasy. He wouldn’t have known anything.’
‘Are you quite sure?’ Kitty gave a sob. ‘Lysander loved him so much.’
‘He loves you much more,’ said Ferdie with a furtive glance at the door. ‘He’s lost his Eurydice.’
Kitty was about to ask him to explain when Rannaldini marched in, singularly unamused to see Natasha still wrapped round Ferdie, who was no doubt acting as a go-between for Lysander.
‘You better push off now,’ he said coldly. ‘Kitty gets very tired.’
‘She looks terrible,’ said Natasha. ‘Have you been feeding her on Paraquat?’
‘Don’t be infantile,’ hissed Rannaldini so evilly that even Ferdie shivered.