Party Games (35 page)

Fleur was in shock. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘I was hardly going to make Beau wait in the yard, was I?’ her dad said.

It wasn’t exactly friendly, but it was a definite improvement on last time. ‘Now let’s take you out for lunch,’ Beau said. ‘That’s if it’s OK with you, Robert.’

He gave a shrug. ‘She’s hardly going to listen if I say no, is she?’

They drove back to Ridings, Beau’s free hand resting on Fleur’s knee.

‘What’s with the vibe between you and my dad?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ She looked at his elegant profile. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My dad doesn’t like many people. Especially if they’re dating his daughter.’

‘Maybe I talked him round. I’m not a complete monster.’

Each time they made love Fleur got more confident. This time she went on top, boobs proud and free. They came together, Fleur collapsing on Beau’s chest exhausted but replete.

‘Did you see Felix on the lunchtime news today?’ she said, after a long while.

‘What land and glory shit has he been spouting off about now?’

She pushed herself up on one elbow and traced a finger around his bellybutton. ‘He’s really helped me and dad out, you know.’

‘Has he now?’

‘Why don’t you two get along?’

He stared up at the ceiling. ‘Felix and I are very different.’

‘That’s an understatement!’

‘Yes, awful irresponsible Beau and dear responsible Felix. I suppose you would say that.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Nothing.’ He shot her a sideways look. ‘God, Fleur, we aren’t the first siblings to have fallen out. Just because we’re blood relatives doesn’t mean we’re going to be the best of friends.’

‘But why move back to Beeversham if you hate your brother?’ she persisted. ‘A family that doesn’t speak is better than no family at all, isn’t it?’

‘Can we talk about something else? Funnily enough,
my brother isn’t one of my favourite post-coital subjects.’

She could sense she was steering into dangerous waters, but Fleur had more questions. ‘What about Lynette?’

‘What about Lynette?’

She swallowed. ‘Is she just your housekeeper?’

‘What else would she be?’

She hesitated. ‘Have you ever been lovers?’

His eyes darkened. ‘No,’ he said curtly. ‘I told you. Lynette needs the spare cash and I need a cleaner.’

‘I-I don’t mind sharing you.’

He sat up and rolled off the bed. ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ he snapped.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said in dismay. ‘I just wanted to know.’

‘Well, now you do.’ He started to put his pants back on. ‘I’m going to get a drink. Getting the Spanish Inquisition off someone just after I’ve slept with them always gives me a headache.’

‘Beau.’

He turned his back on her and stalked out. Fleur was left on the bed, horror-struck at what had just happened.

She’d forgotten how awful it was to be on the sharp end of Beau’s tongue. How he could cut you down in an instant and leave you feeling worthless. Even when they’d had their feud, he had only been casually arrogant towards her. He certainly hadn’t displayed the cold anger she’d just seen.

Fleur gazed miserably through the open bedroom door. He’d been such a player; had she really expected him to give it all up?
How many are there, apart from me?
she thought.
Lynette?
She didn’t know what he got up to on his business trips. How could she ever know?

She felt physically sick. How could she have just degraded herself like that? This thing with him had made her lose sight of herself. She had her self-respect.
I won’t put up with it
, she thought.
I’ll go down right now and tell him
.

There was the sudden sound of footsteps on the landing, and he burst back in the room. ‘Sweetheart. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired, it’s been a busy few days.’

She was completely wrong-footed by his change in mood. ‘I didn’t mean to make you angry,’ she told him.

‘I know,’ he said, covering her face in little kisses. ‘Will you forgive me? I just feel like I kicked a puppy or something.’

She gazed into the deep-blue eyes and her resolve melted. Beau had her exactly where he wanted her.

‘Of course,’ she said, thinking of the cruel way he had humiliated Valentina at the Serpentine party.
Is that what he’ll do when he gets tired of me?

Wasting no time in capitalizing on his radio triumph over Catherine, Tristan hired a man in a giant champagne outfit to follow her round town. The last thing she needed on a constituent’s doorstep, hearing how the NHS had killed their husband, was sodding Champagne Man in the background making glugging noises, but she refused to rise. In an interview with BBC Gloucestershire that afternoon, she was the model of calm.

‘To be honest, it’s what I’ve come to expect from Labour. I’m more worried about the fact that Tristan is thinking up silly pranks, rather than concentrating on the job in hand.’

Felix had been impressed. ‘We’ll make a politician of you yet.’

The day had been particularly busy. They’d been out canvassing all morning, and in the afternoon, she had visited several schools in the area, and an old people’s home where the majority of the residents either stared vacantly into space or were asleep through her entire talk. ‘The truth is, it’s a waste of time,’ the head nurse
told her afterwards. ‘You’re better off just autographing my copy of
Cathy: My Story
.’

It was getting late by the time John turned up at Tory HQ to pick her up. He found Catherine online, scrolling through the
Cotswold Journal
.

‘How’s it going?’

‘Brilliant. How can Tristan Jago have been at three fetes today and a charity luncheon? Does the man have a doppelgänger or something?’

‘Have you forgotten about dinner?’ he asked. He was flying to Costa Rica in the morning. He’d booked it without telling her. Catherine was sure he’d done it to give her a taste of her own medicine.

‘Of course not,’ she said distractedly. ‘We’ve still got time, haven’t we?’

‘It’s nearly nine.’

‘Shit, is it?’ Catherine looked at Kitty and Clive, who were stuffing leaflets into envelopes in the corner. ‘Guys, do you mind if I shoot off?’

Kitty, who’d been staring at John ever since he’d walked in, dragged her eyes away. ‘Of course not, have a lovely dinner.’

Vincent was all over them in Bar 47, which was just as well, as Catherine and John didn’t have much to say to each other.

‘So, all packed?’ she asked again.

‘All packed.’

‘Got your passport?’

‘Yes, Cath, I’ve got my passport.’

‘You must be really excited!’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘I’ll make sure I’m back at midday tomorrow, to see you off.’

‘I’m only going for a couple of weeks, Cath. You don’t have to.’

‘Of course I do!’ she joked. ‘I haven’t gone down
that
far in your estimation, have I?’

He picked up his glass of wine. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’

‘I’m a grown woman,’ she sighed. ‘I hope so.’

The meal passed with the sound of scraping cutlery and polite comments about the food. In bed that night he reached for her, but Catherine, tired, on edge, helpless to stop her marriage disintegrating, made her excuses. They went to sleep on either side of the bed, a pillow-width between them but worlds apart.

The next morning Catherine was back canvassing in the town square. She stood by the war memorial, trying to palm off leaflets on the shoppers and tourists wandering past.

‘Hi! I’m Catherine Connor, Conservative candidate for Beeversham,’ she said to one man. ‘Can I take a moment to tell you my election manifesto?’

‘Not really, love. My parking ticket runs out in a minute.’

Catherine gazed at the leaflets clogging the bin, where people had chucked them away without a second thought. God, this was depressing.

The heat shimmered above the cobbles. The square was starting to feel like a gladiatorial sandpit, with Catherine as the underdog. At half past eleven Kitty came up with another bottle of water for her.

‘Bloody quiet today.’ Catherine sighed gloomily, looking across the deserted High Street.

‘It’s the weather,’ Kitty said. ‘Most people are probably in their gardens.’

‘I don’t blame them.’ Catherine checked her watch. She should head back soon.

‘Where did you say John was going again?’

‘Costa Rica.’

‘Gosh, how lovely. Clive and I always go to the Peak District.’

Catherine smiled at this funny little woman, with her frizzy halo of hair and bright blue Crocs. ‘Are you two ever apart?’

‘We’ve only spent one night apart since we got married,’ Kitty said proudly. ‘And that was when I had to go into hospital for an operation and they wouldn’t let him stay. He was back by six the next morning.’

They seemed completely devoted to each other.
I could probably learn a thing or two from them
, Catherine thought.

‘John seems lovely,’ Kitty said.

Catherine watched a woman strap her child into the back seat of their car. ‘You want to know something, Kitty? I think he’s too good for me.’

She looked shocked. ‘Nonsense! You make a lovely couple. And he adores you.’

Catherine looked at her. ‘You think?’

‘Oh yes. You can tell by the way he looks at you.’

‘I adore him too.’ Catherine sighed. ‘It’s just that sometimes, I don’t know how to show it.’

‘Why don’t you get John a going-away present?’ Kitty suggested.

‘You think?’

‘It doesn’t have to be anything expensive, just something little to remind him of you.’ She gave her a smile.

‘Thanks, Kitty,’ Catherine said gratefully.

Butterflies was one of those shops devoted to random kitsch that was no use to anyone. A sign saying ‘Hand Over the Chocolate and Nobody Gets Hurt!’ was hanging in the front door, while the window display was a mishmash of cheap handbags, plastic jewellery and garish china cupcakes. Catherine picked up a hideous woodland ornament. How could Lynette make a living out of selling such tat?

The shop was empty. A door banged out the back somewhere. She heard voices, a man’s and a woman’s, low and intense. The woman laughed, then it all went quiet again. Was Lynette back there with her mystery man? Footsteps started down the corridor, accompanied by a soft whistling. It seemed like Catherine was about to find out.

She didn’t know who looked more surprised. ‘Hello there,’ said Beau Rainford, striding round the counter. He cast his eyes over the shop. ‘I hear the “gentleman ball-scratchers” are popular,’ he told her.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

He was wearing a snow-white polo shirt that hugged his spectacular torso. ‘Good luck with your campaign, by the way.’ His blue eyes gave Catherine the once-over. ‘Legs like those will always get my vote.’

Flashing her a grin, he stepped out to the street.

Lynette came scurrying through a moment later. She saw Catherine and looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘Oh! Have you been here long?’

‘No, I just came in,’ she lied. ‘I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’m looking for a little present for John.’

‘How about Batman cufflinks? Perfect for the man in your life.’

‘I’m not sure John’s that kind of man.’

‘Or a battery-controlled helicopter? Hours of fun in the garden!’

Panicking, Catherine settled for a lucky toadstool snow globe. It was five to twelve by the time she hared out, straight into the crew from BBC Gloucester.

‘There you are, Catherine!’ the reporter said. ‘Could we get a few words on the controversial badger-culling plan for the lunchtime bulletin?’

‘Actually, I’ve got to be somewhere.’

‘Look, there’s Esme Santura! Let’s get a piece on camera from you both.’

The pagan witch was floating dreamily up the High Street, flowers trailing from her raven hair.

‘Good afternoon,’ she said breathily.

‘Esme, I’d like to ask you and Catherine a few questions about both your campaigns,’ the reporter said.

‘Of course.’ Esme turned to Catherine. ‘What star-sign are you?’

‘Erm, Sagittarius.’

Esme’s smile faded. ‘Oh.’

The reporter looked excited. ‘Esme, you’re saying that’s a bad thing?’

Five minutes later, after Esme had banged on about Catherine’s ominous planetary alliances, she managed to escape. Haring past a pack of astonished journalists on the pavement, she belted back towards the Crescent.

‘John!’ she panted, scrabbling for her front-door key. ‘Sorry I’m late!’

The hallway was empty. There was a note on the sideboard.
‘Couldn’t wait any longer. Will call you from the airport.’

Driving over to Beau’s that evening Fleur pulled over and burst into tears by the side of the road. All those generations of Blackwaters, all the blood and sweat they had poured into the land over the years, had amounted to nothing. They were going to lose the farm.

She found Beau by the pool scrolling through his iPad.

‘Hello, you,’ he said. ‘I was just catching up on my horoscope.’

‘What did it say?’

‘It’s warning me off feisty redheads who know how to operate heavy machinery and have a great rack.’

He got up and kissed her. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Hay fever,’ she said, rubbing at her red eyes.

He frowned, but didn’t say anything. ‘What can I get you to drink?’

‘I thought I might go for a swim first.’ The water looked wonderfully inviting. Fleur just wanted to submerge herself in it and block out her thoughts.

She went inside to get changed. Beau had been his
normal charming self since the bedroom episode but all the same, it was playing on her mind. But what was the alternative? Challenge him and risk being left out in the cold again? His wrong side was not a nice place to be, as she had discovered. She was back in the sunlight again – and that was all that mattered.

You’re weak
, she told herself furiously.

There was the sound of movement in the kitchen when she came back down. ‘Ta da!’ She bounded in wearing the Gucci bikini. ‘What do you think?’