Naked in Knightsbridge (16 page)

Like Lady Margaret, Langston seemed quite taken with Jools — more than he was with his son, anyway. ‘My son is, of course, a great disappointment,’ he told her. ‘I had hoped he would go into the law. Instead he’s wasting his time with blasted politics.’

‘
Langston was a High Court Judge,’ Lady Margaret told Jools, patting her husband’s hand, ‘and despite the fact that he managed to secure Rodney a position in a chambers of note, Rodney insisted on doing his own thing.’ She made it sound x-rated.

‘
How interesting,’ Jools said, trying to follow the conversation even though she had no idea what they were talking about.

‘
And law is the only profession, I tell you, the only profession worth bloody anything in this modern world. Politics,’ Langston continued, ‘bollocks! Who in their right mind takes politicians seriously?’

He prodded manically at one of the colony of garlic snails that sat before him, swimming in a shallow bowl of butter. At least Jools thought they were snails. The small apparatus in his hand was proving an inadequate tool as he attempted to wrest the small, rubbery creature from within its once-mobile home.

‘
What is it that you do . . . uh . . . Jools? Is that what Clement said her name was?’ Langston bellowed at his son.

‘
My heavens, Langston, of course her name is not Jools. It’s Julia. I’ve told you twice already.’

‘
I can’t be expected to keep track of things like names,’ he huffed.

‘
Don’t pay any attention to him, Julia dear,’ Lady Margaret advised. ‘But do tell us what it is that you do to stay busy.’

She nibbled daintily on one of her snails. Langston had abandoned his tool and was stuffing as many as possible into his mouth at one time. A small trail of greasy garlic-butter ran down his lip and into the crevice of his chin.

Jools opened her mouth to speak, hoping that her mind would work faster than her lips and that whatever she thought to say would not make her sound like a complete fool. Thankfully, Rodney responded before she had a chance.

‘
Julia does most of her work online,’ he said.

‘
What does that mean?’ Lady Margaret asked.

‘
Internet sales,’ Rodney responded.

‘
Jesus, man!’ Langdon slammed his fist on the table. The few remaining snails in his colony bounced out onto the table. ‘Would you let the girl speak for herself? You’re not her bloody keeper!’

‘
Temper, darling,’ Lady Margaret said to her husband, patting his hand again. ‘You know what the doctor said about your blood pressure.’

‘
It’s that damned boy!’ Langston took a large swig from his glass of red wine. ‘
He’ll
send me to an early grave, not the blood pressure.’

‘
I’m at leisure, actually,’ Jools said, finally working up the nerve to take part in the conversation. ‘I’m lucky. I sold some of my, um, assets and made a quite a bit, so I’ve been able to focus on myself lately.’

‘
Ah!’ Lady Margaret clapped her hands together. ‘An independent woman! How lovely.’

‘
Bah!’ Langston stuffed more snails into his mouth. ‘Where’s the next course? These snails are far too much work.’

Margaret rang a small gold bell by her plate. As if by magic, two tuxedo-clad waiters appeared.

‘
Well, Rodney, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it looks like you’ve finally gone and done something right.’ Margaret nodded towards Jools.

‘
Rubbish!’ shouted Langston. ‘He’ll have to work harder than that if he’s to start getting any compliments from me. So he’s found himself a decent girl to marry. Any half-wit with a fancy car can do that.’

Lady Margaret smiled, obviously humoured by her husband’s insults.

Jools didn’t understand why they were so down on Rodney. By all accounts, he was a success: the kind of man any parents should be proud of. Even if he
was
gay, that was nothing to be ashamed of, was it?

‘
So have you given any thought to the wedding?’ Lady Margaret asked.

‘
Not really, Mother, but . . .’ Rodney began.

‘
I wasn’t speaking to you, Rodney. The wedding has nothing to do with you. It is the bride’s affair entirely.’

‘
Sorry.’ Rodney fiddled nervously with the cloth napkin in his lap.

‘
I’m not sure yet,’ Jools said.

She needed to talk to Rodney before she said anything more to his mother.

‘
Rodney tells us that you’re motherless. Is that true?’

‘
Yes, I’m afraid. My mother is no longer with us.’

‘
Ah! Well, you leave everything to me. I’ll make all the arrangements.’

‘
Brilliant.’ Jools shot a nervous look at Rodney.

‘
We’ll have it at the Dorchester on Park Lane. And I don’t see any need for a guest list greater than three hundred, do you, Langston, darling?’

‘
Leave me out of it,’ Langston grumbled.

‘
Three hundred people?’ Jools was shocked. ‘Isn’t that a lot?’

‘
Not if you want all our respective family and friends in attendance,’ Lady Margaret responded.

Jools had to stop a snort from escaping. All of her family! That was a laugh. Jools could fit all of her family members and close friends into a small walk-in closet these days. She hardly needed to rent out the Dorchester for a ceremony that was all business, no pleasure. Then again, it might be nice to have a fairytale wedding at a beautiful venue.

Athough a man batting for the ‘other side’ didn’t exactly meet fairytale criteria.

‘
I’m afraid I don’t have much family,’ Jools admitted. ‘It’s just my dad and he’s… out of the country at the moment. He won’t be able to come.’

‘
Nonsense!’ Margaret commanded. ‘Give me his contact information and I’ll handle everything.’

Jools nodded although she couldn’t even begin to imagine that particular conversation. But she couldn’t very well tell them her father was wanted in Europe for having it on with teenagers. She gave Lady Margaret her father’s address in Ibiza, praying to God he was banged up in jail and wouldn’t be able to respond.

*

An hour or so later, they were back in the car.

‘
I think that went well,’ said Jools.

Rodney was gunning the car west, the driver having disappeared into his parents’ house. ‘Yeah, they liked you.’

They sat in silence for a while, then Rodney pulled up in front of a small terrace not far from Harrods.

‘
I’ve got, er, work to finish up. Do you mind going in and making yourself at home?’

‘
Sure.’

Once she was out of the car – house keys and alarm code in hand – Rodney roared off. Suddenly, Jools had little desire to investigate her new home. She almost wished she was spending the night back with Skuttle, or at least Mel.

Mel. Yes, she could take a stroll over to Mel’s place. She didn’t want to gloat, exactly, but she did want to let Mel know that her plan had worked out after all. Of course, Mel hated her guts right now, but she might be so shocked at her appearance she’d forget all about the
boyfiend
and her mother. Or she might not recognise Jools and let her in by mistake. Whatever it took, Jools needed to talk to her.

She arrived at Mel’s building just as someone was leaving. Scurrying through the open door, she made her way to Mel’s flat.

Testing the handle, she found it unlocked.

‘
Mel?’ Jools pushed the door open and walked into the dimly lit foyer. She waited a moment before calling Mel’s name again. There was no answer so Jools decided to leave a note telling Mel that she’d stopped by and could now be reached at Rodney’s swank little SW7 terrace.

Jools heard a noise coming from the bedroom. She couldn’t place it at first. There was something animalistic about it but at the same time mechanical. A grunt and a clank, a buzz and then someone screaming – Christ, was that a man or a woman? She walked hesitantly towards the noise, wondering if Mel had been stricken by some horrible stomach flu.

‘
Mel? It’s Jools. Are you all right?’ Jools was about three feet from the bedroom when the door swung open. Michel appeared, red-faced and wearing only a giant smile and nothing else.

‘
Gross.’ Jools slapped a hand over her eyes.

‘
Jools! How’d you get in here?’ he asked, jockeying to block her view of the bedroom. Unfortunately all that jiggling attracted her eyes to his nether-regions.

‘
The door was unlocked. Is Mel here?’ she asked, quickly moving her eyes to his face again — not that it was much better. She tried to look behind him into the bedroom.

Michel shook his head. ‘Nope. Just me. Just me here in the apartment all by my lonesome.’ He stretched to block her view again. ‘I’ll tell her you stopped by.’

Right then, Mel’s voice called out from the foyer.

‘
Babe?’

Mel came down the hallway towards them. Her mouth dropped open as she took in the sight before her. Why was Jools there – wearing Chanel and Prada, to boot? And why was Michel naked and panting?

‘
Um, hello,’ Mel started, her eyes moving from Michel to Jools and back to Michel.

‘
Hiya, darling. Jools popped by for a chat – I was just doing some, er, push-ups. Why don’t you two go out for a late feed, on me?’

Jools glared at him. She was sure there was someone in that bedroom, but the last thing she wanted was to upset Mel all over again.

‘
Sounds great.’ Jools linked her arm with Mel’s. ‘I’ve got so much to tell you.’

Not sure what else to say, Mel allowed herself to be led away.

Soon after, Jools and Mel were seated at their favourite cosy booth in a fabulous but cramped Polish eatery in a tiny Kensington backstreet.

‘
So, given that I have no choice but to forgive you for saying those unforgivable things about mummy, will you explain how you came to look like this?’ Mel popped half a cheese and spinach pierogi into her mouth.

‘
What do you mean?’ Jools responded. There was a bowl of thick hot borscht in front of her but she wasn’t interested in eating. Not after the meal she’d had to endure with Rodney’s parents. ‘Don’t I always look like this?’ She thought it better not to mention Michel again – ever, if she could manage it.

‘
Yeah, right. So let’s have it. Who did you mug?’

‘
No one,’ Jools said, trying to hold back a smile. ‘And don’t worry about dinner. This time it’s on me. Well, maybe not this time, but after tomorrow, definitely.’

‘
What have you done?’ Mel was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Jools explained everything. She told Mel how Rodney had appeared at her squat and taken her to Percys; about the Wetherspone house and Rodney’s parents; and lastly, that all of her financial worries were over. Finally finished, she waited for Mel’s response.

Mel ate another pierogi, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. ‘I suppose it’s better than dumpster diving and living with a hobo. But I still can’t condone you selling yourself like a geisha.’

‘
Geishas are very well taken care of, Mel. Besides, the joy of this arrangement is that Rodney is totally and utterly into men. I’m completely safe from any unwanted advances.’