Polo (77 page)

    `Shut up. I'm the one who makes jokes round here.' Ricky felt an appalling weariness.

    `Let's get one thing clear. I love you, only you. But I've survived without you for six years, Christ knows how, and I'm not prepared for half-measures. You've got to leave B-b-bart and come back for good.'

    `How do I know it's for my own good? It wasn't before. We need to get to know each other again.'

    Seeing that Ricky'd left the telephone off, she slammed it back on its hook as she charged out of the house, then drove off in such a cloud of dust that the stable cat jumped up from the gravel and Wayne ducked back inside his box.

    Slumped in despair against the wall, Ricky reached out to answer the telephone.

    It was Violet, whispering ecstatically.

    `Oh, Ricky, Julian's just turned up. He says he's so sorry about everything. D'you mind terribly if we have lunch another day?'

    Washing up last night's supper and today's breakfast in cold water, because Violet had pinched all the hot, Daisy thought gloomily of the mountain of clothes to be ironed and the children's trunks which she still hadn't tackled and which festered in their rooms full of dirty clothes and, probably in Eddie's case, ancient tuck. She felt absolutely wiped out because she'd been up all night acting as Ethel's midwife. But she knew she'd perk up in an instant, just as Violet had, if Drew rang. He hadn't been in touch for weeks.

    She was jolted with hope as the doorbell went. Shaking her hair loose from its elastic band, she opened the door and was astounded to see Chessie.

    `Hi!' That wicked sleepy smile was as menacing as it was irresistible. `I loathe droppers-in myself, but I didn't have your telephone number.'

    Conscious of her blood-stained shirt, her straining jeans and her shiny face, Daisy said: `Come in.'

    After Chessie'd showed absolutely no interest in the puppies and Daisy'd opened her last bottle of wine which she was saving for Drew, they went into the garden taking up opposite ends of a peeling bench which Daisy was always meaning to paint.

    `I've come for two reasons, three really,' said Chessie. `I want to thank you for looking after Ricky. He says you've been wonderful.'

    `Really?' Daisy perked up.

    `Wonderful. I don't think he's ever had a platonic woman friend before.'

    Daisy unperked.

    `You must have got so bored with him banging on and on about me,' went on Chessie.

    Daisy got up and broke off a columbine that was bending double a pale blue delphinium.

    `Ricky's not boring. He loves you, but he never bangs on.'

    `Does about polo.' Chessie pulled off a piece of paint. `Anyway I feel I owe you. I've got very fond of Perdita over the years,' she said untruthfully.

    `Oh God,' said Daisy miserably, `I feel so awful.' `You shouldn't. It wasn't your fault.'

    `How is she?'

    `Pretty low - particularly after losing us the match yesterday. Needs her Mum actually, but too proud to admit it. I'm going to talk to her tonight and see if I can bring you two together.'

    `That's terribly kind,' said Daisy. Perhaps she'd misjudged Chessie. `It'd be wonderful.'

    `And you can do one thing for me in return,' drawled Chessie.

    She'll have stripped that bench in a minute, thought Daisy.

    `I've just seen your painting of Will,' continued Chessie. `It's stunning. One day I want you to do me a copy. But what I really want is - it's Bart's fiftieth birthday next week and he's pretty disgruntled about it, particularly after yesterday. Could you possibly paint me in the nude as a surprise for him?'

    No, thought Daisy, in horror.

    `It's terribly sweet of you,' she said out loud. `I'm really

    honoured, but I've got about four commissions I've simply got to finish.'

    `Oh, please. It'd be such fun. I'm in such a muddle. I feel I need someone like you to talk to.'

    In the end Chessie offered her so much money that Daisy couldn't refuse.

67

    Daisy had never disliked a commission so much. Day after day she was taunted by Chessie's naked beauty, as Chessie babbled on as relentlessly as the Frogsmore about how she and Ricky loved each other and how perhaps the portrait would end up as second wedding present for him, and how Bart was so old, and how she didn't want to end up looking after him when he was old and crotchety, and
boy,
he'd be crotchety.

    Daisy got lower and lower, particularly when Ricky dropped in to see Ethel's puppies and found Chessie in residence on Daisy's saxe-blue sofa with her body as warm and brown and tempting as new bread from the oven. She had made no attempt to get dressed, and Ricky, shooting Daisy a murderous look as though it was all her fault, had stormed out.

    By contrast Little Chef popped down twice a day to kiss, lick and clean Ethel's eyes, ears and nose, to examine his offspring with obvious delight and then to curl up for an hour on the priceless clothes Chessie dropped so casually on the floor. Daisy wished Drew were as attentive. He still hadn't rung. All the telephone calls that week were for Chessie, usually when she wasn't there.

    `Say I've just left, whatever time Bart rings,' insisted Chessie or, to explain one day when she wasn't going to turn up at Daisy's at all, `Just tell him you've reached a really tricky bit and I can't come to the telephone, but I send him a huge kiss, and I'll be home around seven.'

    She's seeing Ricky, thought Daisy, and was amazed how desolate she felt. Having now spent some time in Chessie's company, she was now utterly convinced she would only make Ricky miserable if they got together again.

    Ashamed of disliking her so much, Daisy also totallysabotaged any artistic integrity by making Chessie even more beautiful than she was and giving her face a soft wistful sweetness it certainly didn't possess.

    Chessie was enchanted and left on the Saturday afternoon giving Daisy a huge hug and a fat cheque, which would at least pay for Eddie's school fees next year, Violet's trip round the world
and a
new dress for Daisy. But what was the point of that if Drew never rang again?

    In a furious urge to work off her depression, she painted Chessie again with a glittering rhinestone for a face and a viciously cruel, angular body totally cased in a chain-mail of self-absorption. It was one of the only surrealistic paintings she'd ever done and a much truer likeness.

    Exhausted, she took Ethel for a quick walk. Venus was rising to the left as Ethel splashed through the brilliant green watercress and forget-me-nots which clogged Ricky's stream.

I move the sweet forget-me-nots that grow for happy lovers,
thought Daisy despairingly.

    A vast, black cloud massed threateningly along the horizon like a tidal wave about to engulf her. What worse things could happen in her life? But as she wandered home through the buddleia-scented evening, she saw a dark-green Mini draw up outside her front door with a jerk. Not
more
press? Then she froze - worse than press. Sukey Benedict had got out and was waving like a restrained goal judge.

    `I was in the area and thought I'd pop in and say hellair. What a darling cottage, and how charming you've made the garden.'

    This was untrue. The lawn, like a hayfield, towered higher than the flower beds, which were a holiday-let to weeds. Even worse the coat rack had collapsed in the hall, so Sukey and Daisy had to mountaineer over a hillock of Barbours and bomber jackets into the kitchen where two days' washing-up jammed the sink.

    `I'm sorry,' muttered Daisy. `I've been finishing a painting.' If Sukey insisted on seeing round, she thought nervously, she might unearth the nude of Drew in the potting shed.

    `Would you like a drink?'

    Sukey hesitated. `I'm driving. I'd love a cup of tea.'

    Daisy, desperate for vodka, had to winkle two cups out of the sink and wash them in the upstairs bathroom. But Sukey didn't seem to notice anything. She sat down at the kitchen table, playing with one of the yellow roses in a blue vase which promptly collapsed in a shower of petals. She'd always worn her trousers loose to de-emphasize her bottom, but now they were so loose they were almost hipsters, and too loose to contain her striped shirt which was done up on the wrong buttons. A long lock of mousey hair escaped from a most inappropriate Alice band of red velvet dotted with seed pearls. It was like seeing Mrs Thatcher with a punk rocker hairstyle chewing gum, thought Daisy. Despite the muggy warmth of the day, Sukey was shivering uncontrollably.

    `Thank you so much.' As she took the cup and saucer it was difficult to tell where Daisy's rattle ended and hers began.

    There was a dreadful silence.

    `I'm not very good at confiding in people.' Sukey looked down at her big, rubber-glove-cherished hands. `Daddy was in the Foreign Office and we never talked about feelings. I came to you, Daisy, because you always seem such a sweet person. It's about Drew actually.'

    The room darkened. Daisy knew the tidal wave was going to drown her. Never admit to anything, Drew had always insisted, but she was such a dreadful liar.

    `I knew Drew married me for my money.' Sukey was busy dismembering another yellow rose. `He's so frite-fly attractive it couldn't be for any other reason.' Then, when Daisy murmured in protest, `I've been awfully happy really - even though he's always had other women.'

    Drew, the solid, the utterly dependable, thought Daisy aghast. She felt like the conjuror's blonde-haired assistant who hears sawing and realizes she's got into the wrong box.

    `Are you sure?'

    `Oh, one knows. He's away so much - claiming to stay at his club when I later discovered it was closed down for the summer, meetings he said he'd been to, then finding apologies for his absence in the minutes a month later. Beautiful girls seeking me out at parties, then being particularly nice out of relief that I wasn't pretty. Girl grooms suddenly getting cheeky.'

    Daisy could definitely feel the teeth of the magician's saw grazing her side now.

    `Didn't you mind?' she asked in a strangled voice.

    `Of course, I love him. The worst bit was one
au pair,
very pretty, who left in a hurry to work as a chalet girl. Drew must have met up with her again when he was playing snow polo last Christmas. Afterwards she wrote and gave me all the details of all the other girls he'd slept with. He got eight valentines this year.'

    How many times had Drew sworn she was the only other woman he'd ever slept with since he'd been married?

    `How horrible!' she moaned, suddenly nauseated by a waft of cat food. Bending down to pick up the plate, she saw it was crawling with maggots. Gagging, she threw it in the bin. Suddenly she remembered Sukey shaking and shaking, the tears pouring down her face, when Angel had knocked Drew off Malteser in the Queen's Cup.

   `Did you confront him?' she whispered.

    `He denied it,' said Sukey sadly. `Said the girl was a bit potty, and obsessive, and he adored me and the children and would never leave us. I know it's vulgar to talk about it,' Sukey was frenziedly pleating the tablecloth, `but he still makes love to me three or four times a week. I never say no to him.'

    And Drew had sworn that once the children were born they had had a
manage blanc.
The tidal wave had passed over, leaving an aeroplane trail across a vermilion sky like a newly stitched scar. Seeing skin had formed on Sukey's tea, Daisy snatched it away.

    `Let's have a drink, I'm afraid there's only vodka.' She added diet Coke and ice.

    `I could cope with casual flings,' said Sukey, `but this time I think he's really serious about someone. I was doing his VAT this afternoon. He's gone to America for a couple of days to fix up playing in the US Open and some other tour before the Westchester. I know it's utterly despicable, but I went through his Amex and his cheque stubs. He's been spending a fortune on flowers and hotel bills and restaurants this month, and there's a bill back in May for a diamond and topaz brooch for five thousand pounds.'

    That's my daisy brooch, thought Daisy, appalled.

    `Perhaps it was for you,' she said quickly.

    `I'm Capricorn like Drew,' said Sukey tonelessly.

    Daisy suddenly felt bitterly ashamed and utterly suicidal at the same time.

    `One doesn't mean to be mean,' continued Sukey. `I've got a private income, but it's always been a bit of a struggle to make ends meet. Polo's awfully expensive, and the children'll be starting school soon. I never minded going without things, but when I find all his earnings being blued on other women and I'm paying for his ponies and everything else, even his subscription to Boodles, it makes one a bit bitter.'

    The magician's saw was definitely deep in Daisy's flesh now, tearing away bone and muscle.

    `Who is she?'

    `Bibi Alderton. Drew hid some letters under his mattress. They weren't that passionate, just passionately grateful for Drew being so kind to her. And there's been a lot of dropped telephone calls, and he keeps urging me to go out and walk the dogs, and although he claims no-one's rung the telephone reeks of his aftershave when I get home.'

    `I had that with Hamish,' said Daisy. She shivered, too, at how often she'd breathed in the tangy, lemony smell on Drew's beautiful strong brown neck and jaw, and felt faint with longing.

    `It's awfully easy to imagine these things,' she added helplessly.

    Sukey shook her head. `I was staying with Mummy last week. Drew'd been invited to dinner with Rupert and Taggie. You know what a wonderful cook she is. Drew described every course when I got back. Unfortunately I met Taggie in Sainsbury's the day Drew'd left for America and she said she was so sorry Drew'd only stayed for a quick drink and she hoped the pony with colic was OK. Well, I checked with the grooms, very casually. They said none of the horses had been sick. It's so revolting. One gets just like Miss Marple. There's this ghastly sick exultation in the detective work, then when you stumble on the truth it's the gates of hell. But I always felt Drew wouldn't leave me,' she raised streaming eyes to Daisy, `because he needs my money to play polo, but Bibi Alderton could buy me out a hundred times over.' Putting her face in her hands, she burst into tears.

    Rushing round the table, Daisy put her arms round her. `Please, please don't cry. He's a bastard. He's not worth

    it.'

    `Why, you're crying too,' said Sukey, as she dried her eyes a couple of minutes later. `You're so kind, Daisy. You really mind for me, don't you? I shouldn't have dumped on you. All this must remind you of your own marriage breaking up so much. What d'you think I ought to do? I love him so, so, much.'

    `I'd sit tight,' said Daisy, then thought what a stupid expression. She'd been tight for days after Hamish left her. `From what I gather Angel and Bibi are still very snarled up about each other. Angel's gorgeous, but he's been playing Bibi up dreadfully because she's such a workaholic, and she probably wants to make him jealous, and Drew's probably only flirting with Bibi because he wants to get his own back on Angel for jabbing pelhams into his kidneys and trying to break his jaw.'

    `It'd be so lovely if you were right,' said Sukey.

    `Have another drink.' Daisy felt a ghastly, sick, masochistic craving for more detail.

    `No, I must go.' Sukey got to her feet, rubbing her eyes like a child. She had no mascara to smear. `Our Nanny's got a first date with our local bobby: so romantic. He's awfully good-looking with lovely blue eyes - rather like Drew's.' Her voice broke again. `I love him so much, Daisy.'

    With Sukey gone, Daisy wandered distraught into the garden. The sweet tobacco scent of buddleia was cloying, almost overpowering now. She knew she would hate the smell for ever as a reminder of paradise lost.

    The owls were hooting from the woods. She had never seen that much of Drew because of the children and because he'd been away so much, but it had been such a heavenly affair; and with his apparent, utter integrity and strength, he had restored her faith in men. In anguish, she realized that dreaming about him and looking forward to seeing him again had been the one thing that had made her life bearable. How stupid not to realize that if a man's capable of being unfaithful to his wife, he's bound to be unfaithful to you. As she sobbed in the darkness, there was no-one to hear her except the hooting owls and the swooping bats.

    If anyone was more miserable than Daisy that night it was Perdita, wandering barefoot two hundred miles away through an infinitely more beautiful Sussex garden, where totally weedless, herbaceous borders towered above shaven lawns and stone nymphs blanched by the moonlight frolicked at the end of rides battlemented with yews. Floodlighting cast a golden glow on the splendid Georgian house Bart had acquired as his English base. Chessie and Bart inhabited the heart of the house. Angel, without Bibi, smouldered in the West Wing. Perdita and Red appropriately waged cold war in the East Wing. Feeling mossy, stone steps cool beneath her feet, Perdita could see into Bart's and Chessie's jade-green drawing room where the Chippendale table acquired specially to display the Gold Cup had, on Bart's insistence, been left bare to remind and punish Perdita.