Dirty Minds (15 page)

Janet and Melissa were the first to arrive. Their drive down had been as scary as Janet had feared and had culminated in an incident with a horse. Melissa had startled the poor beast into a gallop when she stepped on the accelerator instead of the brake. She was still talking about the incident when they arrived at the Melcombe House Hotel. Janet had stopped talking about it but she knew she would have nightmares for weeks to come.

‘How was I to know there was a horse around that corner? And it’s not as if I didn’t stop … eventually!’ They turned the last corner of the long drive and the house came into view.

‘Wow. That is some building!’ Melissa forgot all about the horse. She turned towards Janet, her face a picture. ‘What a place. This is going to be something special.’

‘The road, Mel. Look out for the … it’s all right, you almost missed it.’ Graham’s Porsche collected a second scratch. This time it was inflicted by a stone bollard rather than a hoof.

Melissa remained unruffled. ‘We did decide it was dressy, didn’t we, Jan?’ She pulled up alongside a rather smart yellow sports car, with a scratch down one side.

Janet, in the blissful silence after the engine stopped, let out a long sigh of relief. She flexed her right leg. Her repeated attempts to find a brake pedal on her side of the car had stiffened her up.

‘I think we got it right. Definitely a place for smart clothes. It looks terrific. Look, are those deer down there?’ Although the light was going, the animals were clear to see under the trees.

A footman in white shirt and waistcoat materialised alongside the car. Janet hauled herself out, glad to be in one piece.

‘Can I help with your bags, ladies?’

Melissa left him the keys and the problem of tugging her suitcase out of what Porsche laughingly called the rear seats. Janet had squashed hers into the cramped little boot. Together they walked up half a dozen steps to the entrance. Janet stopped at the top and looked down through the park. There were swans on the lake, and a skein of geese flying across it.

‘What a wonderful place.’ She turned back towards the house and found herself facing the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Melissa was standing beside him, her mouth frozen into a silent, ‘Wow.’

‘
Signorina
, you are too kind. Welcome to my home. And your name is?’

‘Janet.’ She was momentarily delighted to have regained the gift of speech. Then she realised there was a bit missing. ‘Janet Parr. This is my friend Melissa.’

The Italian bowed formally and kissed her hand. For a moment she thought she might melt and disappear down the cracks between the paving stones. Then she managed to rally some sort of lucidity.

‘You are Alfonso dei Conti. I recognise your face.’

‘Alfonso dei Conti di Segni at your service. Would you like to follow me?’ He turned and walked into the hall.

‘Mel, Mel, Melissa, wake up! We are following Signor dei Conti.’

Melissa looked like a freshly caught fish.

The hall was magnificent, completely panelled in oak to shoulder height. Above that was a panoply of portraits of severe-looking men. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was a tall man. He did not look severe. There was a smile on his face.

‘Hello, Janet. I’m Tom. This must be your friend, Melissa.’

She found herself smiling back at him. A sense of great relief spread through her. His was not the face of a creepy pervert.

He held out his hand. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

‘Fine, thank you.’ Melissa came out of her state of stupefaction.

‘I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.’ Janet was beyond dissimulation. She saw Tom’s eyebrows rise, but help was at hand.

‘I thought you were a little pale, Signorina Janet. I have just the thing for you.’ The Italian appeared at her shoulder and took her arm. ‘Come with me, please.’ As she walked off with him, the words ‘just the thing for you’ were resounding in her head.

Melissa was left stranded. Tom stepped in. ‘Would you like me to show you to your room, Melissa?’

She nodded, her eyes still fixed on the doorway through which Janet and Alfonso dei Conti had passed.

The next to arrive were Tiffany and her husband.

‘Tiffany?’ Ros was on duty while Tom was looking after Melissa and Alfonso was pouring alcohol into Janet. She was pleased to see that the mental image she had built up of the writer of
Two’s Company
was not far out. She was a good-looking woman with short brown hair; probably mid-thirties. She was holding hands with a handsome olive-skinned man. ‘And this must be your husband.’

‘I’m Luca.’ He gave her his very best smile, and his hand. His accent was London, not Italian.

‘Hi, are you who I think you are?’ Tiffany’s eyes were out on stalks, as were her husband’s, possibly for different reasons.

‘I’m Rosalind – ’

‘Waters. You’re Rosalind Waters, aren’t you?’ Luca gave his wife an enquiring look. She did her best to explain. ‘Darling, this is Rosalind Waters. You must have seen her face all over the place.’ He still hadn’t got it. ‘She’s a famous model.’

‘I used to be, Tiffany. Now I’m a would-be writer.’ She smiled.

At that moment, a young black man appeared at the entrance. Ros held out her hand in welcome.

‘And might you be James?’

He nodded, offering his hand shyly. ‘Hello, good evening. I’m Jimmy. Well, it’s James, but everybody calls me Jimmy.’

‘Jimmy, hello.’

Jimmy looked up, a nervous expression on his face. A tall man came running down the stairs.

‘I’m Tom. Welcome. Thanks for coming.’ He turned to Tiffany and her husband. ‘Hi, you’re Tiffany, aren’t you. And Luca?’

They nodded and all shook hands. Tom found himself shaking hands with first one, then the other, as they, in their turn shook hands with Jimmy. It was like the end of a tennis match.

Jimmy started on his prepared speech. ‘Mr Marshall. I just want to say how sorry I am.’

‘Jimmy, no problem. We are delighted to have you with us.’ Tom checked the hall for other new arrivals. ‘You’ve all met Ros? She’s another of our group. Janet has also arrived, but I think she had a rough journey. Oh, wait a minute, here she is now. Janet, you’ve got a bit more colour in your face now.’

Alfonso brought her back, a solicitous hand on her arm. Her face bore an expression of awe. Strangely, so did his. Introductions were made once again. Ros and a pair of porters led them upstairs to their rooms. Tiffany couldn’t take her eyes off Alfonso. She was whispering desperately in her husband’s ear as they disappeared from sight.

‘
Tommaso, una parola
.’ Alfonso caught Tom by the arm. ‘Are you familiar with what the French call the
coup de foudre
?’

‘The clap of thunder. Not to be confused with just plain clap.’

But Alfonso was beyond humour. ‘Tommaso, I am destroyed. I am killed, stone dead.’ His eyes were wide, his expression one of amazement. Tom had never seen him like it. The penny dropped.

‘Janet?’

The Italian, not trusting his voice, just nodded.

‘You, the world’s most eligible bachelor, smitten?’

‘Europe.’ Alfonso’s voice was barely audible. Tom found himself leaning forward. ‘
Time
magazine called me Europe’s most eligible, not the world’s. And, yes, you are right. It has only happened to me once before in my life. I was seventeen. Come and have a drink with me, if you can spare the time to hear an old man reminiscing.
A la recherche du temps perdu
. Oh, Tommaso,
che roba, che roba
!’

Tom let himself be taken by the arm and led away.

The Indian Torturer arrived just after six. She was accompanied by a pretty, very young-looking blonde girl. Ros had taken over welcoming duty after she had spotted Alfonso and Tom in a corner of the old bar, a bottle of champagne in front of them. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said that Fonsie was crying. So she was in the hall when Maggie limped in with her companion.

She walked towards them with a tentative smile. The Indian Torturer was a daunting sight: close-cropped hair and forearms like a man. She was not looking happy. She certainly didn’t sound it.

‘Good evening. My name is Maggie Perkins. This is Suzy.’

‘Hi, good evening Maggie, Suzy. Did you have a good trip down?’ Ros realised as she spoke that it was the wrong question. The blonde girl’s eyes rolled, while the older woman just glowered. Ros spotted the walking stick. ‘Oh dear, have you had an accident?’

‘I broke my back.’ As a reply it did not invite comment, but Ros tried anyway.

‘Oh, how terrible for you. I hope the drive here wasn’t too uncomfortable.’

‘Suzy’s car worked fine but we got lost more than once.’ The look she shot across at the blonde girl was pure venom. From the expression on the girl’s face, it was clear she would get the blame. And the punishment.

Ros tried to sound a more positive note. ‘But at least you are here now, safe and sound.’

‘My back feels like it is on fire. I really need to lie down.’

‘Of course. Would you like me to show you the way?’ Ros was not finding conversation easy.

Maggie gave her an answering look that said, ‘damn right I do’. Ros turned towards the stairs. Just at that moment, one of the porters came up and coughed discreetly at her ear. She stopped.

‘Hello, yes. Is something wrong?’

‘Just a minor problem, ma’am. A lady calling herself Penelope Grainger has just telephoned. Her hire car has broken down about two miles from here. Mr Jeffers asks if you would like us to take the Land Rover and fetch her?’

Ros remembered that the maître d’hôtel was called Jeffers. ‘If that’s not a problem for Signor dei Conti, we would be very grateful.’

The footman inclined his head and slipped away.

‘Sorry about that, ladies. Follow me please. Oh, Maggie, are you going to be all right on the stairs? I’m afraid the lift doesn’t go in till next week.’

‘I’ll manage. Suzy, take my arm.’

Ros watched as the girl obeyed. Just for a moment she had the impression the girl was close to rebellion, but the moment passed. They made their laborious way up the stairs to the first floor. Ros consulted her list.

‘You are in room 24. At least that’s right here. You don’t have much walking to do.’ She turned the handle and threw open the door. ‘Here you are.’ It was a delightful, large room. Her attention was taken by the huge double bed. Once again, she caught something in the blonde girl’s eye, but it disappeared in a flash.

‘So now that we’re here, what do you want us..?’ ?’ Maggie stopped herself and breathed in deeply. When she spoke again, her tone was far less aggressive. ‘I’m sorry … Rosalind, I’m afraid I’m in a bad mood. The journey was longer than we anticipated and this damned back of mine is hurting like hell.’

Both Ros and the blonde girl heaved surreptitious sighs of relief. Ros looked at her watch.

‘It’s half past six. Take your time and chill out. You’ve got a good half hour.. Why don’t you freshen up and then come down for a drink? I’ve always been a firm believer in alcohol as the best analgesic sedative.’

Maggie smiled and, as she did so, the girl visibly rallied.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to it.’

As Ros left, she found herself wondering just what form that might take.

‘That man, the one in the yellow jumper, that’s Alfonso dei Conti.’ Tiffany couldn’t believe that her husband hadn’t heard of him. ‘He’s a multi, multimillionaire. He owns the Camaleonte brand. You’ve heard of that, surely?’

‘I think so. Is he a raving poof? Aren’t they all in that business?’

‘No, Luca, he’s not. He’s the world’s sexiest man, or most attractive man or something. He’s had more women than you’ve had hot dinners.’

Luca was admiring the four-poster bed. ‘Now you come to mention it, I feel quite hungry now.’ He reached out for her but she slipped out of his grasp.

‘We haven’t got time, Luca. We’re supposed to be downstairs at seven. You’ll have to control yourself till later.’ She disappeared into the bathroom. ‘Wow, there’s a bath the size of our bed in here.’

His head appeared round the door as she was pulling her tights down. ‘Did you say something about a bed?’

‘Luca, let me have a pee in peace, will you? Go and phone my mum to see if the kids have been behaving themselves.’

He went back into the bedroom and made the call. It was engaged. He returned to the bathroom, where she was washing her hands. He handed her a spotless linen towel off a pile.

‘Who’s that model again?’

‘Rosalind Waters. She’s ever so famous. She was the face of, oh, I can’t remember. You know, one of the big cosmetics houses. I wonder what she’s doing here.’

‘Presumably she’s with the world’s sexiest man, present company excepted, of course.’

‘I suppose she must be. What a couple, eh?’

‘Yeah, if you like that sort of thing. Give me my old Tiff any day.’

‘That’s quite enough of the old, please. I would ask you to remember that I’m a month and a half younger than you.’

‘Yeah, but women age quicker than men.’

They went back into the room and she opened her suitcase. ‘Just you remember, Luca Rossi, that women reach their sexual peak at thirty-seven. In case you’ve forgotten, that’s next year. And you men are all washed up from seventeen onwards.’

She unpacked the dress she had selected for this evening. She shook it out, eyeing the creases suspiciously. She found a hanger and took it back into the bathroom. There was a hook beside the shower. The steam would sort out the creases. Luca sat on the bed and watched, entranced, as she pulled her jumper over her head, and slipped out of her jeans. He stretched out a hand and stroked her behind, as she hunted for her wash bag.

He looked at her affectionately, then reached across and encircled her with his arms. She snuggled up against him.

‘I think this is going to be a fun weekend, Tiff. And you know what they say, thank God it’s Friday.’ He kissed her ear and cupped his hand around her breast. ‘The weekend starts here.’ His fingers slid down across her stomach.

‘Luca, we haven’t got time. Not now, darling.’ But her protests were half-hearted.