Bad Brides (47 page)

Picking up her phone, she strolled out into the Great Hall, and after a quick survey of the area, she set the timer, put the phone on the piano, dashed up the staircase and stopped halfway up,
sticking out her tongue to one side, flashing the V-sign with her right hand while her left held a half-empty bottle of beer. Pleased with how that photo had come out, she decided to go outside
while there was still light and recreate the pose with the whole of Stanclere Hall behind her.

Drafting a photo caption in her head that managed to get in both
Downton Abbey
and the pop star Miley Cyrus, whose tongue-out pose Barb had shamelessly imitated in her selfie, Barb
dragged open one of the huge front doors and, with her usual self-protective instincts, made sure that she would be able to open it again, propping it just fractionally ajar, before tripping out
and down the big stone flight of steps. She crossed the gravel drive, heading for the huge stone fountain at the centre of the green grass circle around which the drive made a loop before
continuing on to the stables and garages. The fountain, which had also come over from Greece centuries ago in dubious circumstances, depicted Hercules wrestling the river god Achelous for the love
of Princess Deianeira of Calydon. It wasn’t currently switched on; Tamra had had the pump replaced, and the stone thoroughly cleaned to remove all the algae, but there was still the risk of
sub-zero temperatures causing the water to freeze and pipes to crack, so the fountain was always drained over the winter. Over the last few months, however, rainfall had filled up the wide stone
bowl, since the base was plugged up to avoid water filtering into the pipes.

The statue could not have been more eye-catching. Achelous was depicted by the sculptor in the form of a snake, and the very muscular Hercules – who for some reason had decided that it
would be a brilliant idea to wrestle a snake god while completely naked – was doing his best to strangle his opponent. Princess Deianeira cowered away in an exaggerated pose of fear as
Hercules, legs straddling the circular plinth like a Colossus, leant forward triumphantly, seeming quite unbothered by the fact that the curls of the big snake’s body were wrapped around one
of his ankles in an attempt to trip him up.

The strapping Abel Wellbeloved could have posed as the sculptor’s model for Hercules, with one significant difference; as with all classical statues of naked men, the genitalia were
depicted in near-minuscule proportions to avoid the male clients who had commissioned them falling into serious depressions at the sight of a resting penis larger than theirs. Cunningly, however,
the sculptor had symbolically circumvented this restriction by using the huge rearing snake to represent Hercules’ tiny member. The gigantic, wrist-thick body of the serpent came up right
between Hercules’ legs, and Hercules was gripping it in a way that could not have been more phallic. Barb had a lot of fun with that: she boosted herself up onto the fountain lip, grabbed
onto the wide body of the snake with one hand, and reached back with the other enough to get a picture, which she happily captioned:
Me and some naked dude jerking off a snake! Hotttt!

She tried a few other shots and eventually climbed down again, positioning her phone on the far edge of the fountain so that it would capture an image of herself on the steps of Stanclere Hall
with the statue in the foreground. Happy with the angle she had achieved, she set the timer again and positively scampered around the fountain, over the lawn, onto the gravel drive and up the
steps, with a second to spare before she struck again the tongue out and V-sign pose. The beer was finished by now, so she flashed the V with both hands, arms thrown wide, one bony hip jutting out,
her head at a side angle to show off the blonde ponytail of which she was very proud.

The flash went. Barb was heading down the steps again to check the shot when a deep, humming noise in the sky above made her tilt her head back to look for the helicopter that had to be the
source of the approaching sound. It came into view almost immediately, a dark spot on the horizon that swiftly resolved itself into the familiar dragonfly shape and in a few seconds more was almost
over Stanclere Hall. As it reached the grounds of the Hall, it slowed, hovered, the markings on its undercarriage now clearly visible, and began to sink down, the whirling rotor blades cutting
through the air as loudly as a buzz saw.

Barb clapped her hands to her ears and watched, fascinated. She had never seen a helicopter land before, and it was way more deafening and dramatic than it seemed on TV. The extended landing
skids below the body of the cabin reached out like delicate arms, finding their way down to the lawn onto which the helicopter was lowering itself. The skids trembled briefly under the impact,
settled into the grass, and landed, the pilot so experienced that it looked as easy as parking a car.

Barb imagined this would herald the arrival of the Earl of Respers at the very least. Maybe even Princess Sophie! Barb, of course, had been Googling Brianna Jade on a daily basis, had seen the
Style
shoot go up online: those images had been what had prompted her to buy the air ticket and come to the UK. Well, that and, as Brianna Jade had guessed, needing to leave town because
of what she owed her dealer. Jealousy had risen in Barb again at the sight of Brianna Jade hanging out with Princess Sophie and Tarquin Ormond. Brianna Jade didn’t just have it all –
money, an Earl to marry – she had more than Barb had even imagined possible.

Hanging out with Princess Sophie and a famous pop star! Brianna Jade wasn’t just rich and classy now, she was part of a stellar celebrity inner circle! It had been more than Barb could
bear. This visit to Stanclere Hall hadn’t just been a move to prompt Brianna Jade to raise Barb’s stipend: it had been an act of revenge, rubbing Brianna Jade’s nose in where she
had come from, a deliberate attempt at humiliation which, so far, had succeeded wonderfully.

The cabin door of the helicopter opened and someone jumped down lithely: a woman swathed in a camel fur-trimmed coat, slim jean-clad legs flashing, snakeskin high-heeled boots zipped over the
jeans. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail so lush and well-groomed that Barb’s hand instinctively rose, sheepishly, to her own thinner, stragglier version. The woman’s
glorious hair bounced like a shampoo advertisement as she strode towards the Hall, high-stepping like a runway model to counteract the sogginess of the rain-soaked grass: she stopped when she saw
Barb’s phone propped up on the edge of the fountain, picking it up in one suede-gloved hand.

‘Hey, that’s mine!’

Barb started down the steps, walking towards the fountain. Because the statue was so sprawling and elaborate, she was halfway round it before she realized the identity of the woman, who was
standing waiting for her, hands on hips, the phone firmly grasped. Barb reared back as if she had been bitten – very much, in fact, as if the gigantic snake Hercules was so heroically
throttling had suddenly uncoiled itself and hissed in her face.

‘Well, hello, Barb,’ Tamra said, her voice colder than the wind whipping from the rotor blades.

Barb froze, still in the rearing-back position. She had known, of course, that a clash with Tamra was inevitable, but she had envisaged it very differently. In her imagination, she had pictured
it somewhere like the Stanclere Hall library, with herself lounging across one of the sofas like a Bond villain, pulling her photographs out of the Walgreens plastic folder, fanning them over the
coffee table with gusto as Brianna Jade cried and turned to Tamra, and Tamra, holding and comforting her daughter, writhed and raged, but impotently, knowing that she had no choice but to accede to
Barb’s demands in order to keep her daughter happy.

But Brianna Jade was nowhere to be seen, and Tamra’s mouth was set in a firm line, her dark eyes as narrowed and beady and menacing as the snake that, in Barb’s mind, she was
strongly resembling right now.

‘Uh, Brianna Jade said—’ Barb started, her voice not as strong or assured as she would have liked.

‘My daughter isn’t here, and you won’t be dealing with her any more,’ Tamra said, even more icily.

Behind her, the rotor blades of the helicopter slowed down and stopped, the pilot turning off the engine.

‘What about the Earl? He around?’ Barb tried, pulling her thin jacket around her instinctively. It wasn’t that cold in England in the winter, nothing compared to the minus
thirty degree Fahrenheit conditions common in Illinois around this time of year. And yet there was something about the look Tamra was giving her that made Barb shiver.

‘I’m the only person you’ll be dealing with, Barb,’ Tamra said. ‘And it’s going to be a damn short conversation.’

She raised Barb’s phone to look at the screen.

‘I see you’ve been taking even more photographs,’ she commented, starting to scroll through them. ‘Any of them for blackmail purposes?’

Summoned by the noise of the helicopter, a footman appeared in the doorway of Stanclere Hall, naturally assuming that Tamra had arrived, unexpectedly, for a visit; seeing her and Barb standing
by the fountain in the cold, he stood watching to see how developments would play out.

‘I don’t need any more photos,’ Barb said angrily. ‘I’ve got plenty right here!’

She pulled the Walgreens folder out of the back pocket of her jeans; she hadn’t wanted to leave it in the library when she went out.

‘You wanna look at them, Tamra? You’ve come a ways since then – you might have forgotten some of the details of the whole Kewanee Hog Days shindig,’ she added, smirking.
‘I bet you wouldn’t like all your smart friends over here getting a look at what you were wearing – let alone your hairstyle.’

Tamra took the folder out of Barb’s hand and, still keeping her eyes fixed intimidatingly on Barb’s face, threw it into the fountain with a back flip of her wrist.

‘I have copies!’ Barb blurted out furiously. ‘I have copies online, I scanned them in – I’m not a fucking
idiot
.’

‘
Oh yes you are
,’ Tamra hissed through her teeth, her eyes darkening to black as Barb watched her in growing fear. ‘You’re the
biggest fucking idiot in the
world
, because you took me on, you stupid little bitch! I don’t give a
shit
what’s in those photos! None of them shows my daughter doing anything she needs to be ashamed
of, and that’s all I need to know! Unlike you on this phone – I’m willing to bet that if I have a look through here, I’ll find a lot of photos of you flashing your boobs,
doing drugs, all sorts of crap.’

She continued drawing her finger over the screen, such a sneering expression on her face that Barb’s blood began to boil.

‘Hah, I knew we’d get there!’ Tamra exclaimed, emitting such a contemptuous, scornful laugh as she looked down her nose at the image she’d found that Barb could no longer
contain herself. Furiously, she lunged for Tamra, hand outstretched to snatch her phone. A mere second later it dawned on her that she had reacted exactly as Tamra wanted: Tamra neatly side-stepped
Barb’s run at her, sending Barb off balance, slipping on the wet grass, and flailing helplessly. The next thing she knew, she was being spun around and pushed, face-forward, towards the
fountain.

Barb thrashed around wildly, reaching for some purchase on the stone fountain edge. She grabbed onto it, but she was no match for Tamra, who had one hand in the small of Barb’s spine and
the other twisted powerfully in the girl’s hair.

‘Take a breath!’ Tamra said viciously.

Barb opened her mouth to say: ‘What? Let the fuck go of me!’ but the second half of those words turned into bubbles as Tamra bent Barb in two over the fountain and dunked her head
thoroughly into the ice-cold water.

It was the worst shock Barb had ever had in her life. She came up sputtering, her face and head tingling as if the skin had been pierced by a million tiny needles. Water trickled out of her
mouth and snorted from her nostrils.

‘Fuck you, bitch!’ she coughed out, and promptly went under again. Tamra ducked her deeper this time, and water flooded into her nose. Tamra didn’t hold her under for long, but
this time when Barb came up the ache of the cold water up her nasal cavities was so intense that all she could do was pinch the bridge of her nose and wail.

‘Fuck
you
!’ Tamra retorted, standing back, as Barb was jumping up and down now, trying to get the water out of her ears, releasing some of the unbearable pressure, her wet
hair splattering drops in all directions. Tamra waited until Barb’s breathing was less frenzied, though she was still gripping her nose and grimacing in pain.

‘I’m packing you off, and if I ever see you again, I’ll have you arrested for blackmail,’ Tamra said evenly. ‘And convicted. Believe me, I’ll do it. The
courts take blackmail extremely seriously. I talked to a lawyer this afternoon. It carries a maximum penalty of fourteen years in this country.’

This was enough to freeze Barb’s blood all over again.

‘But the publicity—’ she started feebly, only to have Tamra cut through her as sharply as a Japanese Ginsu knife.

‘We don’t give a shit about that,’ she said calmly. ‘Big fucking deal. Who cares?’

‘The Earl wouldn’t want people to know—’ Barb gestured widely to the pomp and circumstance of Stanclere Hall behind her. Turning to indicate it, she saw that what must be
half of the entire staff had gathered in the doorway and on the steps to watch, summoned urgently by the footman: more faces were pressed to the windows that faced out onto the drive.

‘And everyone who works for him . . .’ she went on, feeling self-conscious now.

‘Please! I pay the salaries of everyone who works for him and my daughter,’ Tamra snapped. ‘They’re
extremely
loyal to us. He doesn’t give a damn about
Brianna Jade’s being Pork Queen, and nor does anyone else who knows us! Now I’m sending you back to London and putting you on the first plane back home. My secretary’s waiting in
the helicopter. She’ll pay for your ticket back to the States herself and make sure you check in and go through Departures. After that, you’re on your own.’