Country Pursuits (23 page)

‘That's the spirit,' declared Calypso, and hugged her again. ‘God, this is
weird
, it's usually you having to counsel me about stuff.' She reached across and handed the kitchen roll to her sister, eyeing her as she blew her nose loudly. ‘You know what you need?'

‘What?' said Camilla warily. She knew that mischievous look on her younger sister's face only too well.

‘A night out on the town!' Calypso said. ‘I reckon that's half the problem – you don't have enough
fun
, Bills. You live in your nice little cottage with your nice little life—'

‘I like it that way!' Camilla interrupted.

‘Of course you do,' soothed Calypso. ‘But you must admit even Granny Clem has a more exciting social life than you do. Let's go out and let our hair down. Have a proper girls' night out!'

Camilla looked thoughtful. ‘I haven't been on one of those for yonks.'

Calypso clapped her hands. ‘Well, guess what? There's, like, this
totally
cool club opening in Brixton tonight. It's guest list only, but Sam knows the promoter and she'll put us down as VIPs! What do you reckon?'

‘Brixton in London?' Camilla asked in surprise.

‘No, Brixton on the moon,' replied Calypso sarcastically.

Camilla ignored her. ‘Will it be really loud fast music I can't dance to?'

‘Deffo.'

‘Will it be full of really trendy people who will think I'm a total frump?'

‘Duh, obviously. But you can borrow something of mine and I'll do your make-up. Oh come on, it will be, like, so much fun.'

Camilla stared at her sister for a second, and a smile crept on to her mouth. ‘Oh, goodness, I'm going to regret this.'

‘Life is too short for regrets,' said Calypso and bounded upstairs to her room to find Camilla an outfit.

It was seven o'clock that night. ‘You're going out dressed like that?' asked Angus in shock. He had popped round to see Camilla before she left.

Her hands flew to her throat self-consciously. ‘It's too much, isn't it? I
told
Calypso I'd be more comfortable in my own clothes.'

Angus cleared his throat and gulped. ‘It's certainly
something
.'

Camilla was standing in the middle of the living room wearing a skintight black dress that hugged every contour of her body. It was knee-length, but
one side was slashed all the way up the thigh, leaving little to the imagination. The top of the dress was strapless and Calypso had persuaded Camilla to go bra-less, insisting she didn't need one. On her feet, Camilla was wearing her sister's five-inch Vivienne Westwood spike heels. Her normally loose and wavy long blonde hair had been scrunched and back-combed, her hazel eyes ringed with black kohl and lashings of mascara. A clutter of bangles adorned her right wrist and made a tinkling noise when she moved. Camilla looked like a cross between Debbie Harry and Kate Moss – sassy, sexy and edgy. Not that she was aware of it at this point in time: Angus was making her feel exactly the opposite.

‘Fuck, I'd forgotten what good legs you've got!' Calypso bounded into the room, dressed in a denim all-in-one playsuit with red stiletto ankle boots. She looked her sister up and down admiringly. ‘You look so hot in that dress, Bills!' She turned to Angus, who was sitting, eyes still goggling, on the sofa.

‘I think it's er, er . . .' he spluttered.

‘He doesn't like it,' said Camilla miserably.

‘It's not that,' Angus protested. ‘It's just, well, don't you think you're a bit
old
to be going out like that?'

‘Oh shut up, Angus,' Calypso said sharply. ‘Just because you dress like you're seventy!'

Angus looked down at his mustard yellow cords. He'd got his best brogues on and his favourite Barbour checked shirt. His sludge-green quilted jacket lay on the armchair where he'd tossed it off. ‘What's wrong with my outfit?' he asked indignantly.

‘Where do you want me to start?' asked Calypso. A beep sounded outside, followed by the loud, reverberating bass of house music. ‘Shit, that's Tizzy. She's giving us a lift. Come on!' She pulled her sister out of the room.

‘What time will you be back?' asked a perplexed Angus, sticking his head out into the corridor. Camilla shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

‘Don't wait up!' cried Calypso as she slammed the door behind them.

An hour later, Camilla was seriously beginning to regret being talked into going out. The car reeked from the joint Calypso and her friend Tizzy were sharing in the front. Tizzy, who had bleached blonde dreadlocks and a ring through her nose, obviously didn't believe in keeping to the speed limits. Even before they'd reached the M4, her sporty BMW was flying at 90 mph down the country lanes, the trees and hedgerows a blur of green as they whizzed past. With the speed, the smoke and the booming stereo, Camilla was starting to feel quite sick.

Finally, the music was turned down and her eardrums breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Do you want a toke?' asked Calypso, turning around and waving the joint in front of her. Camilla shook her head.

‘So you're the middle Standington-Fulthrope,' drawled Tizzy from the driver's seat. ‘Mummy did the same deb season as your mother. Say Iona Fitzroy-Lambeth says hi. That was her name before she married Daddy,' she explained.

‘Tizzy's dad is like, the fifth Earl of Gloucester,'
said Calypso, taking a deep drag of the joint and blowing the smoke out lazily.

‘Fourth, you spaz,' Tizzy corrected. She shuffled around in her seat. ‘Fuck, I am so wired about playing tonight. I can't believe I got the 12 a.m. to 2 a.m. slot. That is, like, so freakin' wicked.'

‘Tiz is, like, a totally wicked DJ,' Calypso explained. ‘Plays under the name Blue Blood.'

‘And you're, er, playing tonight, then?' Camilla asked her.

‘Yah, at Zulu's in Chelsea,' replied Tizzy. She glanced over at Calypso. ‘Both HRHs are going; Harry texted me earlier.'

‘I thought we were going to Brixton?' said Camilla.

‘
We
are,' said Calypso. ‘Tiz is just giving us a lift into town; we'll get a cab the rest of the way.' She cranked up the music and sat back, putting an end to their conversation.

By now, the open country spaces of the motorway had given way to the grey sprawl of suburbia. It was nine o'clock, dusk settling over a jagged, luminous skyline. Negotiating traffic and taking short cuts down backstreets, they headed towards Chelsea. Tizzy pulled into a leafy wide street full of magnificent three-storey houses. She parked up outside one with white shutters on the windows and an imposing black front door with a gold knob in the middle of it. ‘My godmother lives here,' she informed them breezily, ‘but she's away in St Barts so I'm using her parking space.'

After making plans to meet up later, and flagging down a black cab, Calypso and Camilla headed for Brixton, climbing out on to the high street nearly
forty-five minutes later. It was Thursday night and the place was heaving. Souped-up cars with even louder sound systems than Tizzy's thundered past. Every bar was packed with young people drinking, smoking and partying. They all looked trendy, confident and completely unapproachable. Camilla was starting to feel like a fish out of water. There was a distinct edge to the atmosphere, like something could go off any moment. She shivered. Oh, what she'd do to be back in dear old Churchminster!

Calypso was on her mobile. ‘Yah, we're nearly there, babe. We'll just come straight to the club. Cool, see ya.' She ended the call. ‘That was Sam, she's in there already.'

They were off the main road now, walking down a badly lit street. ‘I don't even know the name of this club, what is it?' asked Camilla.

Calypso paused. ‘Pussy Galore,' she said, and watched for her sister's reaction.

‘Pussy Galore?' echoed Camilla, recognition dawning. ‘You're taking me to a gay club?'

Calypso linked arms with her. ‘Yah.
Don't
look like that. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd have a total freak and not come. No one's going to bite your head off, you know.'

‘It's not like that,' protested Camilla. ‘I've got nothing against lesbians. It's, er, just not really my scene.' A vision of Sam's bush flashed before her eyes.

Calypso winked at her. ‘It is tonight!' They had reached a doorway with people queuing outside. A kitsch neon sign hanging above it read ‘Pussy Galore' in loopy writing. A huge, menacing
bouncer with a shaved head, and shoulders like a Russian shot putter was standing at the beginning of the line holding a clipboard. Calypso waltzed up. ‘Yah, we're on Sam Devine's list?' She gave their names and the bouncer checked his list.

‘OK, you can go in,' came the reply, in a surprisingly girlish voice. They headed down a long winding staircase, the sound of music getting louder, until eventually they reached a set of double doors, reverberating with the noise behind them.

‘Ready to party?' asked Calypso, and pulled one open.

Instantly, Camilla was hit by a double whammy of lights and noise. They were in a large, square room with banquet-style seating all the way around. A long glass bar ran the entire length of the far wall, and a seventies-style flashing dance floor dominated the middle of the room. The walls, floor and ceiling were stark white, and pink strobe lights flashed intermittently against them.

The place was packed, and not a pair of testicles in sight. Gorgeous, sexily dressed women were bumping and grinding with each other on the dance floor. Two tiny, elfin-looking girls with matching pink hair were snogging right in front of Camilla. To her left, a sixteen-stone woman dressed in a latex cat suit was whipping the buttocks of the skinny, scantily clad woman she was parading around on a dog lead.

‘Babe, you made it!' said a gruff voice. Sam was standing in front of them. Her short hair had been gelled into spikes, and she was holding a bottle of beer. She gave Calypso a lingering kiss on the lips and then pecked a completely taken-aback Camilla
on the lips as well. Camilla thought she looked flushed and happy, like a different person. ‘So we've enticed you over to the dark side?' Sam said wickedly to Camilla.

‘Ignore her,' said Calypso, smiling, and grabbed her sister's hand. ‘Let's get some drinks in.'

On the way to the bar, they bumped into a gorgeous creature who looked like a cross between Ru Paul and Nefertiti. She shrieked: ‘Cally, babe, how are you?'

Calypso shrieked back, air-kissing her. ‘Crystal, this is my sister.'

The six-foot vision, dressed in a chain-mail mini-dress, looked Camilla up and down. ‘I can see good looks run in the family. You're a
doll
, darling!' she said with dramatic flamboyance. Camilla couldn't help but giggle.

‘Thanks,' she said, smiling at her.

‘Crystal's, like, a top fashion muse for all the big designers,' said Calypso as they manoeuvred their way towards the bar. ‘Totally bonkers, but she's such a laugh. Let's start off with shots, shall we?'

Fifteen minutes and three potent concoctions later, the alcohol had already gone to Camilla's head. She had started to relax and take in her surroundings, rather than be terrified by them. They found Sam sitting at a table in the corner with three other girls. Calypso launched into introductions. ‘Guys, this is my sister, Camilla,' she said, and they were greeted with hellos and hiyas from round the table.

‘I'm Penny, love your dress,' said one, a cool-looking redhead in a silver bomber jacket. ‘This is
Sadie,' she continued, and the friendly looking blonde next to her smiled and raised her glass. ‘And Lola.'

‘Camilla, we've heard so much about you.' Lola was a bewitchingly pretty Chinese girl with long dark hair that fell like a sheet down to her waist.

‘All good, I hope,' Camilla joked, taking a sip of the cocktail she was holding. It was so strong her eyes started watering.

‘Of course!' said Calypso mock-indignantly. ‘Now, you lot, my sister doesn't get out much so we're on a mission tonight. Let's get hammered!' They cheered and clinked glasses.

A few hours later, everything was turning into a blur for Camilla. They'd started playing drinking games and she'd lost count of the number of times she'd lost, downing one dubious shot after another. Her bum had been pinched four times on the way to the bar and a three-foot dwarf dressed in a Wonderbra and spaceman suit had tugged on her dress and asked if she was up for a threesome.

Now they were glugging vodka from a bottle Penny had bought, giggling hysterically as Lola recounted a disastrous date she'd been on with a fire-eater who had accidentally set fire to a pub chair whilst trying to impress her. Tears were rolling down Sadie's face while Penny cackled and chain-smoked Benson & Hedges.

Camilla's stomach hurt from laughing so much. She hadn't had so much fun in ages. Everyone was well, so
normal
. What had she been expecting?

‘Is that an engagement ring I spy?' asked Lola,
who had finished her story and was sitting next to her.

‘Yah, I'm getting married,' sighed Camilla.

Lola eyed her curiously. ‘You don't sound very happy about it.'

Before Camilla realized it, her eyes had filled up again with tears. ‘Oh, how embarrassing,' she sobbed as Lola took the paper mat from under her drink and handed it to her. Camilla dabbed her eyes with it ineffectually. ‘I am really looking forward to it. It's the booze talking, I'm just having a few last-minute nerves.'

Lola gave her an understanding smile. ‘I know the feeling, I was going to get married once,' she told her.

Camilla was shocked. ‘Really?'

Lola nodded and took another deep glug of her drink. ‘Lovely guy, proposed with a three-carat ring at the Rio carnival five years ago.'