Moonshine

by Clayton, Victoria

  Kit paused near the top stair. ‘You shouldn’t be such a little flirt! But, if you like, I’ll put you down here and Eugene can take you the rest of the way.’

  ‘Please – don’t! He’s such a – b-b-bore. I don’t know why Con wants him to – wants him to – what’s the word?’

  ‘Make love to her, do you mean? There are less polite words but I’m sure you weren’t thinking of those.’

  Violet laughed again. ‘It’s – fun with you here. The others are so – d-dull. Oh Kit, say you like me – a little t-too?’

  For answer Kit put his mouth on hers and they kissed lingeringly. I watched with a feeling that was mostly surprise. It occurred to me that I ought to announce my presence in some way but it would have embarrassed them. And, more importantly, me.

  ‘Don’t – s-s-top,’ breathed Violet. ‘I want – You m-m-must—’

  ‘It’s too public here,’ murmured Kit. I shrank back against the shelves, hoping my feet were not visible beneath the open door. ‘Where can we go? Your room?’

  ‘Mummy’ll be on the war-thing – any m-minute. She’s such an old – beast. But we can lock the – thingy – door. Lucky she takes – long time to get up – stairs.’

  ‘You’re a wicked temptress. All right. But we’ll have to be quick.’

  I heard his footsteps hurrying by, then a door open and close. I asked myself what I should be feeling. What did a few kisses mean? It seemed more like a game than a betrayal. I resumed my search among smooth bed-linen, cool to my hot hands. It took me a little while to find what I was looking for. I turned out the linen cupboard light and stood for a while in the darkness, trying to decide what I ought to do. I didn’t want to spy on them. But Maud’s bed had to be made, and quickly too. I tiptoed back to Maud’s room feeling like an incompetent thief, terrified of being caught. Passing Violet’s door I heard her voice raised in a long moan of pleasure, which became gasping cries, higher and louder each time. There was a rhythmical knocking as of a bedhead hitting the wall. Kit began to groan and Violet to yodel. Not just kisses then.

  I hurried into Maud’s room and closed the door in an unsuccessful attempt to shut out the sound. Hastily I tucked in the sheets and blankets and threw on the eiderdown. I wanted to put my fingers in my ears when I heard a bellow from Kit but that would have made it impossible to fling the counterpane over the top. Minutes later I was thankful I had taken the precaution of turning off the light before opening Maud’s door. Kit was standing just feet away, outside Violet’s room. He was leaning against the opposite wall, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief and grinning all over his face. Had he not been absorbed by what were evidently pleasurable thoughts he must have seen me. I sprang back into darkness and waited until I heard him walk towards the main staircase. Then I ran like an Olympic sprinter down the back stairs and shot into the hall just as he reached the drawing-room door.

  ‘I wondered where you were,’ he said pleasantly as I advanced with a bonbonnière of chocolates I had snatched from the table as I hared through the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, just tidying up a bit.’ I tried to match his leisurely tone.

  ‘You seem awfully out of breath.’

  ‘Do I? It’s been a long day. I’m rather tired.’

  ‘You must be. You’re gasping like a landed fish.’

  ‘I’ll get to bed as soon as I can.’

  ‘O lucky cats!’ He sighed as though he really meant it.

  As I poured coffee and listened to the others making plans for the next day I wondered why I had felt so anxious not to be caught skulking, an unwilling witness to that brief unzipping of trousers and lifting of skirts. It was true that I had eavesdropped dishonourably but surely that was a venial sin compared with making love to one’s host’s wife?

  I looked at Kit who was leaning forward in his chair, discussing something with Constance. As though he felt my eyes upon him he turned his head and smiled at me, an affectionate smile telegraphing approval, tenderness, even longing. He might have spent the last quarter of an hour talking sympathetically to Constance about the Gaelic League instead of screwing Violet to the mattress. I almost laughed aloud as I thought this and then it came to me in a flash that I felt guilty because I had not suffered a moment’s jealousy or even hurt pride. I had not given a tinker’s damn. The reason was simple enough. I had felt nothing but gratitude that it had been Kit making love to Violet and not Finn.

  FORTY-SIX

  ‘Bobbie! Thank heavens!’

  ‘Jazzy!’ I sat down in the sedan chair and closed the door, cradling the receiver beneath my chin as I took the weight of a stack of clean plates on my knees. ‘What a lovely surprise!’

  ‘Can you talk?’

  ‘For a minute or two. I’ve got to get over to the tea-room before they run out of plates. Now the house is open to the public—’

  ‘Oh, Bobbie, I’ve got to tell you, it’s so awful …’ Jasmine began to cry. ‘I’ve never been so miserable in my – entire – life!’

  Though naturally distressed to hear this I was not particularly surprised. During my telephone conversations with Jasmine over the last few months I had detected a distinct falling off of rapture with Teddy, though she had done her best to hide it; not, I thought, to deceive me so.much as herself.

  ‘Oh dear!’ I said. ‘What’s happened?’

  It seemed that Teddy’s wife, Lydia, had telephoned to say that their daughter had been rushed to hospital with suspected appendicitis. Could Teddy come at once? Of course Teddy had gone and had remained in London for several days. He had admitted during a hasty call to Jasmine that he was staying with Lydia in the ‘marital home’ in Canonbury. Jasmine had decided that rather than allow loneliness and the yellow Formica in the Enfield bungalow to drive her out of her mind she would go up to town. She had taken a cab to Canonbury. The au pair had answered the door and informed her that sir and madam had gone out to lunch. Lunch! When Jasmine hadn’t been able to eat a thing for days! Apparently the child had come back from the hospital that morning and was quite better. It was only a stomach bug. The bastard! Pretending she was still at death’s door and making Jasmine feel guilty as hell!

  Jasmine knew the restaurant well. It had been one of their favourite haunts in the early days of her affair with Teddy. She had whizzed round to Les Lapins Sous Croûte. Teddy and Lydia had been sitting at their corner table! As Jasmine stared in disbelief through the window she had seen Lydia lean across to straighten Teddy’s tie. And Teddy had taken Lydia’s hand and kissed it! Before she had even thought about what she was doing, Jazz had rushed into the restaurant, seized the first thing that came to hand, which happened to be a Dover sole from the plate of an astonished customer at the next table, and brought it down on Teddy’s head. She had been escorted back into the street by the head waiter, but not before she had managed to hit Lydia on the cheek with a boule of tomato sorbet.

  ‘Can you believe it?’ wept Jasmine. ‘After I’ve given up everything for him – and lived for all those months in that hell-hole – and if I ever see another pampas grass thing again I shall cut my throat. I mean it!’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘Back in Paradise Row. But my room’s let. Sarah says I can sleep on the sofa for a while but the new girls are cross because they can’t entertain their boyfriends. I feel horribly in the way. I’m thinking of going down to the river and ending it all. The doorstop ought to be heavy enough if I tie it round my neck.’

  ‘Jazz. Please. Put the idea right out of your head. It’s ridiculous to think of killing yourself because of a louse like Teddy. He isn’t worth a tear. Stupid, shallow, selfish and debauched. Besides, he has the sex appeal of a putrescent worm. I’m sorry for his wife.’

  ‘I thought you liked him.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Bobbie, I couldn’t come and stay with you, could I? I feel so desperately lonely and I don’t know where to go or what to do. Just for a couple of weeks until I feel a bit better?’

  I pulle
d a face of alarm and perplexity to myself in the privacy of the sedan chair. As housekeeper I was hardly in a position to extend invitations to my friends. But supposing I said no and Jasmine sped straight down to the river? ‘Darling, I wonder if that’s the best plan? Of course I’d adore to have you here but I’m not sure it would be the right thing for you. We’re miles out in the wilds and there’d be nothing for you to do.’

  ‘I could help you. You’re always saying there’s more than enough work. I’d be willing to slave. I wouldn’t want any money, natch. I just have to be somewhere that doesn’t have any memories of Teddy. I still love him, you see, despite everything.’

  ‘That’ll change in time. You ought to find a flat and get a job to distract yourself.’

  ‘You don’t want me either.’ Jasmine let out a heart-wrenching wail of despair. I felt my throat tighten at the sound.

  ‘Don’t cry, Jazz. Of course you can come.’

  ‘I’m so glad you said yes.’ Constance’s generous heart was touched by my description of Jasmine’s misery. We were in the kitchen, unwinding with a glass of wine after the second day of being a stately home. Tour organizers throughout Ireland had been so thrilled to hear of virgin territory that they had dropped down on us in their hundreds and we had been run off our feet. Constance’s mascara had moved to her chin. Every trace of mine had been transferred to my hands in the process of wiping the perspiration from my brow. ‘Poor girl! What a rat!’ I understood Constance to be referring to Teddy. ‘We’ll have to think where she can sleep. When’s she arriving?’

  ‘I’ve booked a ticket for her on tomorrow afternoon’s ferry to Dún Laoghaire. She’ll get a train from there. I thought if you wouldn’t mind I’d go and meet her at Williamsbridge. I’ll get dinner ready before I go.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind. We must make a fuss of her and keep her occupied mentally and physically so she has no chance to pine. Liddy darling, leave a few brandy-snaps for the others. They’re Eugene’s favourites.’

  Liddy, who had been helping herself from the cake tin, looked guilty.

  Constance looked at Liddy’s plate. ‘That must be all that was left of the chocolate cake. I’m delighted to see you eat, darling, but wouldn’t it be healthier to have something like toast and Marmite?’

  Liddy looked uncomfortable. ‘There’s no more bread.’

  ‘There’s at least half a loaf,’ I said. ‘I’m making fried bread for the oeufs pochés soubise. That’s this evening’s first course.’ This elegant sounding dish, as recommended by Constance’s namesake, was less glamorous in actuality: poached eggs with fried onion rings on a bed of onion sauce on the aforementioned fried bread. We needed to finish the sack of onions fast as they were beginning to rot in the middle. I went to the bread bin. ‘But you can have a slice if you’re starving … Oh!’ The bin contained only crumbs. I glanced at Liddy. I was reluctant to make a fuss. It was good that she was eating, even if she seemed to be going to the other extreme. I dreaded to discover that she was making herself sick again. ‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘I’ll get another loaf from the freezer. And after dinner I’d better make two ginger-and-pineapple upside-down cakes for the visitors tomorrow. It was more popular than anything.’

  ‘No, Bobbie,’ said Constance with unusual firmness. ‘You’ve enough to do. I’ll make the cakes if you’ll check I’m doing it properly. I wish I was a better cook. Perhaps the girls could help. Liddy, do you think you might—’ But Liddy had already left the kitchen. ‘Is it too much to hope that your friend Jasmine likes cooking?’

  ‘As far as I know the only thing she can cook is corned-beef hash. Not much good for the tea-room. But she must have learned to do other things when living with Teddy. Hello, Kieran.’ Turlough McGurn’s delivery boy was lugging a sack into the kitchen. ‘I hope that contains carrots.’

  Kieran’s round blue eyes expressed heartfelt regret at having to disoblige me. ‘No carrots t’is week, Miss Bobbie. T’em’s tornips.’

  ‘Turnips! Oh no! We don’t want them. You must take them back—’ Kieran had disappeared at a run into the stable yard.

  ‘How are we going to use up an entire sack?’ Constance looked at the turnips with dismay. ‘The children hate them and I must admit I’m not too keen on them myself.’

  ‘Let’s consult the oracle.’ I riffled through the pages of the fat pink book. ‘Hm. Turnip soufflé is all she can come up with. That sounds faintly disgusting to me.’

  ‘I think it sounds interesting.’ Kit had come in from picking up litter in the new car-park which was the field next to the Cockatoo’s. ‘I like turnips.’ He came over to see what I was stirring, resting his hand on my shoulder as he peered into the pan containing the soubise.

  ‘You’re thinking of delicious little purple ones the size of golf balls,’ I said, smiling, but keeping my eyes on the thickening sauce. It was annoying that now I found it impossible to look at him without the memory of Violet’s cries of pleasure rising unbidden. ‘These are a dirty grey and as big as mangel-wurzels, more suitable for cattle-feed. In fact that’s what we’ll do with most of them: give them to Siobhan and Niamh. Pour me another glass, would you, if you’re having one yourself?’

  ‘If you girls are determined to drink the profits I may as well join you. You’ll have to get some proper litter bins, you know, clearly marked. I’ve got a sackful of crisp packets, sweet papers, pork-pie wrappers and Coke cans. In addition a fur glove, one copy of Shaw’s Plays Pleasant, a broken umbrella and a used condom.’

  ‘No!’ Constance looked scandalized. ‘In our car-park? Well, really! I can’t believe any of the kind, polite, cosmopolitan people I showed around today could have zoomed back to their car after a heavy tea and – and had a quickly in the back. They just didn’t seem the sort.’

  Kit laughed. ‘It’s called a quickie. Even the civilized copulate, Constance.’

  I guessed, from his satisfied expression, he was remembering making love to Violet.

  ‘Yes, but not in the backs of cars.’

  ‘Perhaps they were Timsy’s customers,’ I suggested. ‘Though that’s worse, isn’t it? What will visitors think if they find drunken couples fornicating on the grass just where they want to park?’

  ‘What a pair of spoilsports you are!’ Kit laughed again in a way that was beginning to grate. ‘Too much feminism takes the fun out of a girl, remember.’

  ‘Would we have begun a movement for emancipation in the teeth of derision, imprisonment and force-feeding if the fun for women hadn’t been taken out ages ago?’ I kept my tone light-hearted as I briskly stirred the contents of the saucepan.

  ‘If you’re not getting enough fun, you might let me try to do something about it.’

  Kit was standing at my elbow. I looked round to see that Constance was no longer in the kitchen.

  ‘How conceited you men are. You think any problem can be solved by getting into bed.’

  ‘I’m not conceited. I’m begging you to take pity on me. Bobbie,’ he murmured, putting his lips close to my ear and speaking in a low voice, ‘I don’t think you women understand how wretched a man feels being within sight and sound of the object of his desires and not being allowed to touch.’

  ‘What makes you think women don’t feel quite as unhappy in the same situation?’

  I knew as soon as I said it that this was a mistake.

  ‘Well, you certainly aren’t feeling like that about me,’ he said with some asperity. ‘It’s Finn, isn’t it? I saw the way you looked at him when you thought no one was noticing. Why can’t you be honest enough to admit the truth?’

  ‘Because – because – I wish you wouldn’t bully me. I’m not obliged to tell you what I think and feel. You must stop spying on me. I’m not in the mood to have a love affair with anyone …’ I hesitated. By making love to Violet he had inadvertently done me a good turn. I need no longer waste time and energy trying to persuade myself that I could love him. It would be better to end all speculation for him too. But I wa
s reluctant to wound him. I looked at Kit’s face, on which were written both anger and unhappiness, and felt thoroughly ashamed of myself for my cowardice. My head gave a preliminary throb. ‘Do let’s talk about something else.’

  Kit sat on the edge of the table, his arms folded, looking at me. ‘You’ve changed. Yesterday you were pleased to see me. You were warmer to me than you’ve ever been. Now you’re cold.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I know you better than you think. And you’re hopeless, as it happens, at concealing your thoughts. Now, let me see, when did it begin, this coldness?’ He looked up as though thinking. ‘Yes, you were chilly this morning at breakfast.’

  ‘Oh, rubbish!’

  ‘You were. I felt a boreal blast over my porridge. You were all soft-blowing sweet breezes before dinner last night. A-ha! I see! It’s obvious now I think about it. You thought I was flirting with Violet. Shame on you for thinking the worst. Though I’m flattered you were jealous. What a silly girl you are! I was only being polite, trying to cheer the poor girl up. She means nothing to me. She’s pretty but pretty dim, too.’

  ‘Don’t say another word! I can’t bear to hear you talking like that—Oh, damn!’ I added as I smelt burning. Flavia came in as I was hastily transferring the sauce to a clean pan before the taste of burned butter and flour could permeate the roux.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘You look cross.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Have you finished your homework?’

  ‘There wasn’t much. I’ve been helping Mummy.’ Flavia went up to Kit. ‘She said to tell you she’s ready to come down. She says to go up at once because Granny’s having a bath which takes her ages and Mummy’s all on her own and bored. I offered to stay but she said she wants you. She’s put on a specially nice dress and spent ages doing her hair. It’s good she’s feeling happy again, isn’t it?’