Prima Donna (36 page)

He looked around at the hedonistic scene. It was packed with familiar faces – lots from the hunt and the village, but others too from school and university that he hadn’t seen in
years. Waiters were tentatively making their way through the crowds, holding their trays protectively with both hands and doing their best to get back to the safety of the kitchen.

Over on the stairs, he could see Jonty talking to Will. Bloody traitor. Pia was standing next to them, clearly in a terrific sulk as she looked around the room. Probably beneath her to attend
such a non-A-list event.

‘Tanner,’ he heard a familiar voice call, and he looked towards the drawing room. Violet had spotted him and was motioning for him to come over. She looked incredibly sexy, wearing a
slinky lilac dress that was cut low over her breasts. Her long hair was brushed over to one side, held in place by a huge white peony.

Quickly, he stepped down into the crowd, trying to lose himself. He didn’t want to deal with her yet.

‘Tanner! You made it!’ yelled a bloke in a tight-fitting dinner suit, thumping him on the back. ‘How are you, mate?’

Tanner looked at him. ‘God, Wonky – is that you?’

The man held his arms out wide, a jeroboam of champagne in one hand. ‘The very same.’

‘And so’s that DJ, from the look of things. Isn’t that the one you wore at school?’

Wonky looked down at himself. The trousers were an inch too short and the waistband fastened by a safety pin. ‘What gave it away?’ he laughed. ‘Here, have a drink.’

He passed the bottle to Tanner, who emptied the bottle F1-style, letting the drink flow over his mouth and all down his shirt.

‘Animal!’ shouted Wonky, roaring with laughter and jumping up and down like a pogo stick. ‘The Animal’s in the house!’

Tanner wiped his mouth and laughed, handing him back the empty bottle. That should help him catch up. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Better go and get changed before the missus sees
me.’

He walked towards the stairs, pulling off his tie. His shirt was soaked through.

‘Where’ve you been, me old mucker?’ Jonty asked as he approached.

‘Wheeling and dealing,’ he replied drily, unable to stop his eyes travelling up Pia’s slinky body. The silky fabric hugged her possessively, clinging for dear life around her
pneumatic curves, holding on to her breasts and sinking down to her smooth stomach. She looked sexy as hell in that all-in-one, and it was obvious she was wearing nothing underneath. All the other
women in their standard little dresses looked mother-of-the-bride by comparison.

‘Tanner,’ Will said tightly. It clearly hurt him to be so polite.

Tanner nodded. Ditto. For his brother’s sake, he was going to have to put their feud on hold for tonight. Lulie had wanted them here. ‘Well, it all looks like it’s going
well,’ he said with characteristic understatement, as a champagne cork arc’d behind him and hit the chandelier.

‘You could say that,’ Jonty laughed. ‘Just as well we decided against the sit-down dinner, don’t you think?’

Through the crowd Tanner picked up Violet’s voice. He could feel her eyes on his back and ducked down again. Pia raised an eyebrow. He was clearly in trouble.

‘I’d better get changed,’ he said quickly. ‘I take it you’re in Dad’s DJ,’ he muttered to Jonty.

‘Course,’ he shrugged.

‘Course,’ Tanner nodded, resigned, and went upstairs.

He went into the moonlit bedroom, shrugging his jacket off. He could feel the booze hitting his bloodstream already, the beat of the music beneath his feet. He walked over to the wardrobe.
Violet had left his tux hanging on the door, ready for him. He stripped off his wet suit and shirt, and let them lie in a heap on the floor, unbothered about how much it would annoy her in the
morning. His mind wandered back to Veronica as he buttoned up his shirt, wondering idly whether she was still on that old number he had for her. Revisiting the scenes of their passion had unlocked
the floodgates and memories had been resurfacing all the way back home.

He was fiddling with his cufflinks when he heard a sound that made him stop. Rustling. Breathing. In the room with him. He turned and looked round. Coats were piled high on the bed, and some had
slipped onto the floor.

He saw a pair of shiny leather soles reflecting the moonlight; they led to a pair of tuxedoed legs that disappeared up a voluminous tulle skirt. The girl’s face was hidden by her arms.

Christ, not again! It was like being back in St Moritz.

The pleasured girl’s breathing began to get faster, and as her back arched away from the bed in ecstasy, her shirt fell open. Tanner watched, transfixed by the sight of her, utterly unable
to move.

She circled her hips rhythmically, going slowly at first, getting faster and faster until finally she gasped as she was spirited away on the waves of her orgasm, and then the room fell still and
silent. Tanner realized he’d better get out of there. Ignoring his jacket, still on the hanger, he strode out of the room, abandoning his cufflinks altogether and rolling up the sleeves
instead.

He closed the door quietly, hearing laughter bubble up just as it clicked shut. He bounded down the stairs and saw with a sinking heart that Violet had joined Jonty and Pia and Will. They made
an uneasy group, as Pia and Violet jostled for position against each other.

‘Did you hear Harry Hunter’s here?’ Violet asked him excitedly, forgetting all about her fury at his late arrival.

‘Who?’ Tanner muttered, fiddling with his sleeves, and hoping no one would notice he was hopelessly turned on from the scene he’d just encountered in the bedroom.

Pia watched him fidget, intrigued. He looked a mess – flushed, half-dressed, wild-eyed and with a severe case of five o’clock shadow. She’d hardly ever seen him look anything
other than buttoned up and austere before.

‘Oh Tan, don’t say you haven’t heard of Harry Hunter,’ Violet scolded, leaning in coquettishly. Tanner realized she was drunk. ‘He’s the famous writer.
Remember we went to see that film of his at the cinema?’

‘No.’

Violet rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, you do. He’s notoriously naughty, always in the papers for seducing other men’s wives.’

Tanner stiffened. ‘He sounds charming. So what’s he doing here, then?’

‘I brought him,’ Pia replied insolently. ‘He’s an old friend of mine.’

Tanner stared at her. He might have known. If there was trouble brewing, she’d be involved somehow. ‘And I suppose when you say “old friend” you mean . . .’

‘Lover?’ she finished for him, flashing a glance at Violet. ‘Yes.’

Violet’s eyes narrowed jealously. Harry Hunter. Will Silk. How come Pia got the lion’s share of the rich and lusty, when she was saddled with a poor posh boy with a chip on his
shoulder about his family’s lost heritage?

‘That figures,’ Tanner muttered darkly. ‘Well, where is he, then? I can’t wait to meet this character.’

‘He was last seen chasing a streaker out into the gardens,’ Will offered, hoping that would induce Tanner to leave. He preferred looking at Violet when she wasn’t hanging off
Tanner’s arm.

It didn’t.

‘Where’s Lulie, by the way? I haven’t seen her yet,’ Tanner said, raking his hair back off his face. ‘I imagine she’s looking stunning.’

‘You’d better believe it,’ Jonty grinned, scanning the room. ‘She went to check on the caterers. Oh! Hang on. Here she is,’ he said, looking up the stairs.
‘Hello, darling, I thought you were in the kitchen.’ He kissed her cheek.

‘I was. I went up the back stairs to have a quick lie-down.’ She checked her hair which was provocatively tousled. ‘Think I had too much to drink,’ she smiled, wrinkling
her nose. ‘Oh hi, Tanner, you made it back to us in time, then.’

‘Uh . . . yes,’ Tanner croaked, his voice breaking. He leant forward to kiss her, letting his fingers rustle her tulle skirt. ‘You look lovely,’ he managed.

Lulie smiled.

‘I hear you had a successful meeting in London today,’ Will said blandly.

‘Who told you it was successful?’ Tanner countered. He couldn’t stop looking at Lulie’s skirt. It couldn’t have been her. Jonty had been standing on the stairs the
whole time he’d been getting changed. And surely she wouldn’t . . .

‘What meeting?’ Violet asked.

‘We’ll talk about it later,’ he mumbled. ‘This isn’t the time.’ He grabbed a half-empty glass off the table and drained it. He needed to get wasted. This
couldn’t be happening. ‘I need to start thinking about my speech.’ He looked around the room, scrutinizing the other women’s outfits – cocktail dresses, little black
dresses, sparkly things. But no other big net skirts.

Jonty slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned. ‘Oh no, bro! Don’t do it. No one needs to hear it. They’re all too lashed anyway.’

‘If you think you’re wriggling off the hook, you can think again,’ he said slowly, looking back at Lulie. She was sipping a drink and scanning the room absent-mindedly. Who was
she looking for?

Jonty shook his head. ‘I reckon that’s why you and Vi haven’t got married yet. You’re not man enough to square up to what I’ll have to say in the best-man’s
speech.’

Tanner took his eyes off Lulie and looked at his little brother, protectively. ‘Tonight’s all about you, shandy boy!’

‘Harry! You’ve come back to us,’ Pia purred, grabbing a tall, blond man’s arm and nestling under it, like a duckling.

‘Don’t I always, darling?’ Harry grinned, letting his fingers lightly brush past her nipples. He watched as they grew hard under the silky fabric. ‘I’m your very
own boomerang.’

So this was Harry. Tanner took a good look at this handsome newcomer who had Pia almost rolling over to have her tummy rubbed.

‘Where’ve you been anyway?’ she sighed, infinitely brighter now that Harry had returned.

‘Oh, you know . . . mingling.’ A waiter suddenly appeared. Harry took two glasses, and drained one.

‘We haven’t been introduced,’ Tanner said tersely, holding out a stiff hand. He didn’t like the cut of this guy’s jib. ‘I’m Tanner Ludgrove,
Jonty’s brother. And this is Violet, my partner.’

‘The hosts of the evening! Harry Hunter,’ he replied, shaking Tanner’s hand and kissing Violet. ‘Lord, what pretty eyes you have.’

‘Why, thank you, Mr Wolf,’ Violet flirted, much to Tanner’s chagrin. Harry laughed, showing off his Hollywood smile.

‘Oh, what’s this? Did you need to make a quick getaway or something?’ Violet asked, reaching up to him and pulling a sprig of ivy from his hair.

Ivy? Tanner frowned, then looked aghast at Lulie. Nobody had followed Lulie back down the stairs and . . . and the ivy practically fell in through that bedroom window. Surely Hunter hadn’t
been that much of an idiot that he’d climbed down it?

‘Ah, that’s my standby prop. I take it everywhere with me, just in case someone forgets to mention the party’s fancy dress,’ Harry replied jocularly, tucking it in his
breast pocket.
‘
Hate it when that happens.’

‘Oh
really
? And what character could you possibly be with that little sprig?’ Violet asked slyly.

‘Why, Puck,’ he shrugged.

Sophie sat in the chair as the hairdresser tugged and smoothed her hair into obedient silkiness. She checked her watch. She had been here over two hours now, and desperately
needed to get over to the opera house to see her canvases in all their hanging glory. Baudrand had called in one of Chicago’s pre-eminent gallerists to curate the show and she’d been
meticulous to the point of neurosis, not even allowing Sophie a preview until minutes before curtain-up.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Not bad. You almost couldn’t tell that she hadn’t slept for the past week. Red Bull and Pro-plus had kept her going, and she’d even taken
up smoking. She’d lost a shocking amount of weight but the new make-up she’d bought at Macy’s had done a great job of masking her fatigue. She felt so tired she half expected her
skin to shed like a snake’s. This layer was dead and done. She had nothing left to give.

‘
Et voilà
,’ the hairdresser said, with a final flourish. He held a mirror up behind her and Sophie admired the back of her own head. Her hair, downlighted into a
sophisticated garnet shade and smoothed into submission by a Brazilian perm, looked luxuriant and glossy, billowing down her back in thick non-frizzy waves.

She smiled, tossing her head from side to side and wondering whether Adam would like it. She hadn’t seen him since their encounter in the hallway, and certainly not since Russell’s
article had outed them as lovers. She felt the tears well up and dabbed her eyes quickly.

‘You’ll knock ’em dead,’ the hairdresser declared, proud of the transformation he had wrought. She’d looked like road kill on the way in. Sophie shrugged off the
black salon cover-up and pushed her arms into a gold satin cocoon coat. It had cost almost a month’s rent but it did a good job of giving her some shape and looked sumptuous against her
claret velvet minidress.

She stepped outside and hailed a cab. She couldn’t walk more than fifty feet in her shoes and, besides, it was almost dark. The opera house was lit up like a Christmas tree, and as she
drew up outside and saw the huge crowds she felt a tingle of excitement. Tickets for the production had sold out within hours, and demand to witness the American leg of this dance-off was such that
enormous screens had been erected in the plaza outside. Thousands of people were sitting in plastic chairs, eating hot dogs and drinking coffee beneath huge banners of Ava and Adam.

In earlier meetings, Baudrand had said the banners would be printed from Sophie’s best images, highlighting both their new partnership and her exhibition. But as she walked towards the
theatre for the first time in weeks, she saw they’d taken a completely different turn. Punning on their names, Adam and Ava had been provocatively shot by Bruce Webber as the First Man and
Woman of ballet – another shot in the eye to Pia.

Sophie studied the images, spellbound. Manipulating their majestic bodies to entwine each other, wearing nothing more than the figurative fig leaves, their sizzling chemistry leapt out like
fames and the results were titillating, erotic and artistic, all at once. Even under Pia, ballet had never been seen like this before.