Wicked! (98 page)

‘I’m so desperately sorry.’ Her voice was so low he had to move closer. ‘I hadn’t the guts to tell you. I thought you might have guessed. I’ll always love you in my head, but not between my legs.’

‘Thanks.’ Emlyn helped himself to several fingers of Hengist’s whisky. ‘How long’s it been going on?’

‘About eight months. War forces people to take chances, but I just knew it was right.’

She ought to be more contrite, thought Emlyn. She has all the self-righteousness of the infatuated.

‘Couldn’t we be friends?’ she begged.

‘I doubt it, not when one’s shot down by friendly fire.’ As a log fell into the grate in a shower of sparks he went on, ‘Hengist won’t get his rugby Blue grandson now.’ Emlyn removed Hengist’s pale blue tasselled Cambridge cap from a bust of Brahms.

‘He could.’ Oriana swung round. ‘Can I ask you a favour? It’s a compliment really. Charlie and I want a baby.’

Emlyn caught his breath. Fuck, he’d pulled the tassel off the cap.

‘Unto us a boy is born,’ sang the CD player.

‘Not unto us, it ain’t,’ said Emlyn flatly.

‘It could be. I can’t think of anyone in the world I’d rather have as father of my child. You’re brave, loyal, funny and such a wonderful athlete.’

‘And thick,’ said Emlyn. ‘You’d provide the brains presumably.’

‘Oh, Emlyn.’ If he could joke, the worst was over.

She reached out and took his hand, irresistible in her hopeful beauty. ‘Daddy’d be so pleased too, he’s so fond of you. Will you sleep with me while I’m here, Charlie truly won’t mind, but if you can’t face that, at least be the donor?’ Then when he didn’t answer: ‘You could have access,’ she added.

‘You fucking bitch,’ said Emlyn softly. ‘I joined this school because of you, and sold my principles down the River Fleet. You ruthless bloody bitch. Using your rough trade to provide hybrid vigour. No fucking thank you.’

‘No need to be obnoxious,’ said Oriana huffily, as though he’d refused to give her a lift to the station. ‘I could easily have married you and had women on the side, taken the easy route. But Charlie and I thought about this long and hard.’

‘Hardly the operative adjectives.’ Emlyn’s voice grew in fury. ‘There is absolutely no way a child of mine is going to be brought up by a couple of lesbians.’

‘Pity,’ sighed Oriana, ‘our gay male friends have been very supportive and are very happy to oblige. They see the bigger picture.’

‘Or bugger picture – we are talking about a child.’

‘Charlie would actually prefer IVF to make sure of a girl, but she knows I so want to give Dad a grandson.’

‘You’ve had it all planned,’ said Emlyn softly. ‘I never, never want to see you again,’ and, fumbling with the French windows, tripping over the door ledge, he stumbled off into the blizzard.

Hearing doors slamming and shouting, Hengist, who’d just seen Janna, who should not have been driving, into her car, marched into the drawing room.

Towering over Oriana, terrible as an army with banners, he roared, ‘Your mother’s devastated. I can’t think of a crasser way of hurting her. I’m amazed you didn’t announce it on television. Heartbreaking News. And what the hell have you said to poor Emlyn?’

When Oriana told him, adding that she hoped it would be some compensation to Emlyn to feel he was involved, Hengist flipped.

‘How can you be so fucking insensitive?’

‘You wanted a son, a grandson; I’m doing my best.’

‘Not one brought up by two dykes.’

Oriana winced. ‘Why are you and Emlyn so homophobic?’

‘Children need a father.’

‘Charlie and I love each other,’ said Oriana. ‘You’ve always surrounded yourself with children who you love more than me. You loved Mungo more than me. I’m just trying to give you another Mungo,’ she sobbed.

‘Don’t drag Mungo into it. Get out, GET OUT, I never want to see you or Charlie again.’

Charging upstairs to her bedroom, Oriana discovered the long, lean, olive-skinned nakedness of Charlie, stretched out across the four-poster. Her high breasts and sleek flat belly would never have need of surgery. Arms on the pillow behind her head showed off armpit hair as glossy as her dark brown Brazilian. On the bedside table awaited oil for fingers that went everywhere, releasing Oriana utterly, driving her to heaven.

‘Come to bed, my darling,’ called out Charlie softly, then, seeing the anguish on Oriana’s face, asked anxiously, ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

‘It’s a good thing you haven’t unpacked yet,’ sobbed Oriana, ‘there’s no room at this inn.’

Out on the pitches, it was as light as day. In contrast to her master’s anguish, Elaine skipped and cavorted, white on white, snorting excitedly, tunnelling her nose along the snow. Hengist, who had no treads on his black evening shoes, fell over twice and heaved himself up. Reaching Badger’s Retreat, he found a tall big ash had been blown over in yesterday’s gale, knocking most of the branches off the east side of the Family Tree, smashing every sapling springing up around it.

Like Charlie, invading our Christmas, destroying us, he thought. A few remaining branches swung loose like broken limbs. Others were bandaged in snow. Hengist gave a howl and flung his arms round the trunk trying to hold the family together.

From now on, his sights would be set on Paris.

By the time he got home, Oriana and Charlie had departed and he was greeted by a tearful Sally, furious with him for chucking Oriana out.

‘It was the way she was born, poor child.’

‘Bloody wasn’t. How could she treat poor Emlyn like that?’

‘She loves Charlie, who was sweet when they left. She apologized and hoped she hadn’t come on too strong at dinner, but she didn’t know how to handle Emlyn and she was so nervous about meeting us.’

‘Bollocks,’ raged Hengist, ‘she’s as nervous as a basking shark.’

98

Dora, of course, leaked the entire story to the press, who came roaring down to Bagley, wildly interested in the coming out of Oriana.

‘Of course we support Oriana,’ Sally told the
Telegraph
, ‘Hengist and I are naturally disappointed as we’ve always longed for grandchildren and feel life is easier if you have a conventional marriage.’

‘If your daughter does something reprehensible,’ Hengist was quoted as saying, ‘you take it on the chin.’

Rupert put down
Lord of the Flies
, which he was rather enjoying, to ring Hengist to commiserate.

‘Same thing happened to us with Marcus. Hell of a shock at the time. But he’s very happy with his boyfriend and it didn’t do his career any harm.’

Bianca was absolutely fed up with Rupert staying at home to read his set books during the holidays, which meant she couldn’t slope off and see Paris. Why the hell couldn’t he take up blood sports again?

Although most of the staff at Bagley were very sympathetic towards Hengist, Sally and Emlyn, there was a faction, headed by Poppet Bruce, who felt the Brett-Taylors had been a little too smug about Oriana’s achievements.

Janna tried to comfort a monosyllabic, devastated Emlyn, who was outwardly stoical, thinking more of Hengist and Sally. Inwardly he identified with the Brett-Taylors’ Christmas tree, which had held up the lights, the tinsel, the fairy and the coloured balls, with everyone oohing and aahing. Now the decorations had gone back into their box until next year, but the tree had been chucked out on the terrace on Twelfth Night, destined for the bonfire. That’s how he felt Oriana had treated him.

Somehow he had survived the beginning of term, welcoming back boys, taking lessons and rugby practice, drinking only a little more than usual, refusing to talk to the press, who nevertheless quoted him as saying: ‘I feel a proper Charlie, although that’s probably Oriana’s role now.’

On the other hand, history mocks were never marked down more savagely. Even Boffin Brooks only got a D, while one boy ordered to run ten times down to the boathouse on frozen ground was carted off to the sick bay with a broken ankle. Emlyn was again taking no prisoners. He coped until the second week of term when he and Sally were wandering towards the lake discussing the situation.

The snow had nearly thawed. The brightest thing in the landscape was the warm brown keys of the ashes and Elaine in her red tartan coat, bounding ahead. A soft grey mist was coming down. The press, thank God, had retreated.

‘I’m so worried about Oriana’s career and her relationship with Hengist,’ Sally was saying as she tightened her dark blue silk scarf under her chin. ‘He so adores her. When you and she were together, you always made room for him, but Charlie seems to be all-consuming. I doubt, even if he came round, she’d let him back in again.

‘I like lesbians,’ she added firmly, ‘Joan’s a dear. But I just feel their chances of happiness are limited and it’s more difficult to gain social acceptance because the world is so ignorant and the press is so cruel.’

Emlyn gathered up a remaining patch of snow and hurled it into the lake. ‘Guys get excited by the idea, but only if it’s two lush blondes on a bed and they can watch or join in. They’re threatened by the reality.’

He and Sally were so engrossed they didn’t notice Poppet Bruce waiting like Horatius as they stepped on to the Japanese bridge which crossed a narrow stretch of the lake. Poppet looked very cheery in a woolly hat, muffler and gumboots all in orange and, because she was pregnant, she had added a blue and orange wool cloak. She was full of her own Christmas.

‘We enjoyed goat’s cheese quiche for the festive meal and instead of exchanging Christmas gifts, we donated a goat to a family in Africa. I’m very excited by my latest project: swimming for Asian women.’ Then, eyes sparkling with malevolent enthusiasm, she went on, ‘I’m so pleased to bump into you, Sally, because I so rejoice for you.’

‘Whatever for?’ Searching for carp in the grey water, Sally braced herself.

‘That Oriana’s gay. What a thrill for you and Hengist. What a new and fascinating take it will give you on life, with particular resonance for Hengist who’s so homophobic. I would urge him to have immediate counselling. As a professional, I’d be happy to oblige.’

Reading their silence as approval, Poppet turned and walked back across the bridge with them. ‘What is more, I much look forward to meeting Charlie Delgado. I so admire her oeuvre. Might Oriana be prevailed on to address the Talks Society, not just about the war, but about coming out? She and Charlie could do a fascinating double act.’

They had reached the other side.

Sally, quite unable to speak, was gazing in horror at Poppet. Not so Emlyn, who was so angry, he gathered up his deputy headmaster’s wife and threw her into the lake.

‘It’s not just Asian women who go swimming. If you were a bloke,’ he roared, ‘I’d smack you round the face, you insensitive bitch. And you’re
not
going to rescue her.’ He seized Sally’s arm.

As he hurried her away, Sally reflected on life’s ironies. She had been so delighted when she thought Oriana had a new man, but now, how lovingly and gratefully she’d have accepted Emlyn as a son-in-law. Furiously spitting out pond weed, Poppet swam to the bank.

Emlyn had hardly got back to his flat and poured himself a vast whisky when Alex Bruce, glasses steaming up in righteous indignation, barged in.

‘How dare you chuck Poppet in the lake? You could have killed her and our babe.’

‘Witches deserve drowning,’ yelled Emlyn. ‘My only mistake was not to do it sooner. If you come down to the lake, I’ll be happy to hold you under.’

Such was Emlyn’s fury, Alex backed hastily away, knocking over a chair overloaded with unopened Christmas presents.

‘You’re only resorting to vulgar abuse, taking it out on your colleagues, because you can’t handle rejection. Oriana is clearly seeking closure.’

‘Shut up about Oriana!’ Emlyn drained his glass of whisky and got to his feet, his massive frame blotting out any light from the window. Next moment, he had grabbed Alex’s lapels, dislodging his spectacles. ‘You little weasel.’

‘You’ll get fired for this.’

‘Good,’ said Emlyn, ‘I couldn’t work under the same roof as you and that vindictive cow a moment longer,’ and his fist propelled Alex through the air on to a rickety sofa, sending flying piles of rugby shirts and unmarked mocks papers and face-down photographs of Oriana.

Despite a possibly cracked cheekbone and his terror of this vast, fire-breathing Welsh dragon, Alex felt a surge of satisfaction. Emlyn, with his working-class, state-school background, was an ace in the Hengist-Artie-Theo pack, because he saw good in their traditions, whereas Alex only saw evil. Emlyn was also young, left wing and progressive and so loved by parents and pupils alike that Alex feared him as an outside candidate for headmaster. His loss to the old guard would be immeasurable.

‘Can I accept this as your resignation?’ he spluttered.

‘You certainly can, now get out.’

That day Emlyn walked straight to Janna, who took care of him. For twenty-four hours he was delirious, ranting and raving in the pits of drunken despair. It was hard to tell if the bitch he was inveighing against was Poppet, Charlie or Oriana.

Janna, therefore, hid a letter she had been amazed to receive from Oriana, which apologized for being rude.