Jack sighed, understanding now what she was doing.
‘You are so horny.’ She stroked his body with her left hand, trailing her fingers across his chest. ‘You’re so bloody beautiful, Jack. You annoy me, exasperate me, with your laid-back attitudes and your refusal to conform. I hate you sometimes. Then I look at you, at your face, at your body, and I never want to let you go.’
She was still stroking. He tried to join in but she pushed his hand away. She often did this. She enjoyed the dominance. Jack thought that making love should be a joint participation, and never enjoyed these sessions as much as she did. He felt strangely disadvantaged and used, as if it didn’t need to be him. It could have been anybody.
Fiona wound her slim body around him, still stroking, still trapping his hands so he couldn’t touch her. ‘You still get that stupid gypsy paper, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ It was part of the game. He knew the rules.
‘You’re still playing with your anorak chums, aren’t you?’
Oh, God. ‘Yes.’
‘And you’re not going to give it up?’
‘No.’ At least this way was easier.
‘And is that where you were today?’
‘Well, sort of – I mean –’
‘Yes or no.’ She nipped at his neck with her teeth, then kissed it better. ‘Yes or no?’
Bloody hell. ‘Yes.’
She seemed to be excited by this. Still stroking, using her fingers and her tongue to arouse him, she climbed on top of him. Her face was angular, pointed, almost vicious in the moonlight.
‘Do you want to get married?’ She was rocking backwards and forwards quickly now, her head thrown back. Her voice was jerky. ‘I said – do you – want to – get married?’
He couldn’t speak. Not now. Neither could she. Fiona eventually shuddered and collapsed on top of him. He lay there, not touching her, feeling exploited.
‘I knew.’ She climbed off him and sat cross-legged on the futon, still, staring at him with glittering eyes. She was breathing heavily. ‘About the fairground stuff. I knew you wouldn’t give it up. I wish you’d told me.’
‘I just did.’ He wished he could have one of her bedside Marlboros. He’d given up smoking five years earlier. Right now seemed a damned good time to start again. ‘Do you object very strongly?’
‘I’ve got other things to worry about.’ She leaned across and lit the obligatory cigarette. He inhaled the smoke greedily. ‘You didn’t answer me about the wedding.’
‘It would take more than a yes or no answer.’
Fiona nodded and waved the glowing red tip of the Marlboro closer. ‘Then shall I make it easier for you? You like things simple, Jack, don’t you? Well, they don’t come much more simple than this. I’m pregnant.’
Chapter Seventeen
Sam’s Mazda crunched across Blenheim Palace’s gravelled courtyard at just gone three o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Early picnickers were already arriving, struggling from the car parks with rugs and hampers.
‘Henley yesterday, Blenheim today,’ Claudia said cheerfully, peering out through the windscreen. ‘How the other half lives, eh?’
‘Living may not be a luxury we’ll enjoy for much longer,’ Sam said, squealing the tyres on a tight bend, ricocheting gravel, and narrowly missing a verdigrised statuette. ‘Not if Danny has his way. We should have phoned and told him what was happening.’
‘No we shouldn’t.’ Claudia waved regally at a couple in evening dress. ‘He’d have told us to come back. Demanded. Ordered. Just stick to the story of the batteries being dead.’
‘On both mobiles? And we didn’t have access to a phone box?’ The Mazda jolted across the South Lawn and into the fairground. ‘And we missed pulling-down and building-up? People have been slung out of the Guild for less. Still, they seem to have managed very nicely without us. But he’ll know we could have phoned this morning to let him know we were OK. He must have been worried sick about you.’
‘Get real. He would only have missed three pairs of hands at pull-down. This is Danny we’re talking about. I think you might be mistaking him for a husband who cares.’
Sam winced as he pulled to a halt on the shingle strip in front of the cluster of living wagons. There was no sign of life from any of them. Nell’s Volvo was missing. ‘Do you want me to face Danny with you?’
‘Definitely not.’ Claudia, still in the PVC hot pants, vest, and boots but minus most of the make-up, got out of the car. Several middle-aged men stopped abruptly. ‘We’ve done what we thought was right. Humanitarian. What anyone would have done under the circumstances. Anyway, as you say, he’ll probably be so delighted to see me back that we’ll be all lovey-dovey before the first firework. See you later.’
She waited until Sam’s car had disappeared out of sight behind his living wagon and then pulled an agonised face. Danny, she knew, was going to go totally ape-shit. No question. She’d never been away all night before without him knowing exactly where she’d been. She took a deep breath and opened the front door.
Danny was asleep on the sofa, stripped to the waist, wearing only crumpled black cords. Claudia looked at him with deep sorrow. He had a lovely body, but his face, even in sleep, was angry. Was that her fault, too? She wished she still loved him. The television was chattering to itself but as he had the remote in his hand she decided against even attempting to switch it off. Tiptoeing through into the bedroom, she closed the door quietly behind her and sank down on the bed.
Within minutes she’d wiped away the smeared make-up, replacing the mascara because she’d always vowed she’d go to her coffin wearing mascara and a pale pink lipstick; whipped off the fantasy island clothes, pulled on a rather pretty sleeveless Monsoon frock, and tamed her corkscrew curls into tousled and shaggy.
‘There,’ she addressed herself in the mirror. ‘Mrs Daniel Bradley is ready to face her public.’
It was a pity that Mrs Daniel Bradley wasn’t quite so ready to face her husband. It was also a pity that she couldn’t have a shower, but the noise of the water was bound to wake Danny and the longer he slept the better. So she compensated with an extra-lengthy squirt of Arpege and counted to twenty with a Mum roll-on. Flapping her arms above her head as an aid to quick-drying, she leaned from the bedroom window.
Blenheim looked gorgeous beneath the cloudless blue sky, its honey-coloured buildings and perfectly manicured grounds everything that a stately home should be. At the front of the picnic area the bandstand was being erected. With a pleated white silk canopy, it looked like something from the Arabian Nights. The cordoned-off section past the fairground at the top of the lawn must be for the fireworks display, she decided; and in the background the fountains sparkled and danced in the sunshine, spilling their perpetual shower in a million crystal droplets.
It was all very different to last night. Claudia shuddered at the memory of the police station: hot and stuffy and with a definite smell of fear.
Terry had been hustled off into an interview room, as had Karen and her parents. She and Sam had sat rather awkwardly on spindly chairs and waited. It seemed like for ever. Sam had wanted to ring Danny and let him know that they were staying until things had been sorted out. Claudia had persuaded him not to.
Danny wouldn’t have understood how guilty she felt. Terry had been her friend, and she’d encouraged Karen to stay with them, really. Made it easy for her to remain in the Beast Wagon. And she had, hand on heart, always known that Karen was probably under-age. But they had seemed so happy. And Terry was a nice kid.
Of course, as Sam had said, with hindsight it was pretty obvious that Karen’s parents were frantic back at home. She simply hadn’t thought about it.
That is why, when the policewoman emerged and asked if they were prepared to stand surety for Terry because there were some discrepancies between his story and Karen’s and no one seemed too keen to press charges, they agreed and Sam had written the cheque.
Terry had appeared, looking shocked and scruf
fy, and tried to say thank you, which was when Sam had said he’d stop the money from his wages. Claudia smiled, remembering Terry’s grin.
‘You mean you’re not going to sack me?’
‘Can’t do that, can we?’ Sam had shrugged. ‘We don’t officially employ you, remember? When did you give us your P45 and your National Insurance number?’
And they’d all laughed, and then stopped just as abruptly when the Duty Officer had said Terry must report to a police station every day until such time as they’d sorted out charges. If he didn’t, he’d be arrested. Understood?
That, Claudia thought, watching the music stands and golden chairs being set in semicircles on the bandstand, was when the night had become rather strange. Up to that point, it had been fairly straightforward. Unpleasant, of course, but straightforward.
Then Karen and her parents had staggered out of their interview room, all looking very pale and shaken. Karen had immediately broken away and thrown herself at Terry. Neither her parents nor the police seemed to have the heart to separate them.
‘Seems to me,’ Karen’s father had said, ‘that there’s more to all this than meets the eye. I think we could all do with a nice cup of tea.’
‘Brilliant,’ Claudia, who was dying for one, had agreed. ‘There’s a fairly good all-nighter just up the road.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ Karen’s mother looked as though she was about to throw her petticoat over her face in horror. ‘There’s nothing like a good brew in your own home, that’s what I always say.’
‘Quite right, Mother. So I vote we all pootle off home and enjoy the cup that cheers,’ Karen’s father had looked almost perky. ‘We might even be in time for Horlicks.’
Karen had shaken her head violently. ‘I ain’t going without Tel.’
Karen’s parents, much to Claudia’s surprise, seemed to have known she wouldn’t. ‘No, that’s all right. You bring the lad along with you. We need to talk this through.’
Sam had looked at her with horror. ‘That means we’ll have to go as well. He’s got a thousand quid of my money riding on him. Where do they live? Outer Mongolia?’
‘Oakton,’ Claudia had said faintly. ‘Bloody miles. We’ll never get back in time for pull-down.’
They had driven off in convoy, Sam keeping to a sedate forty-five miles an hour behind Karen’s father’s oatmeal Fiesta. It had taken well over an hour, and Karen and Terry had scrambled from the back seat of the car with far more love-bites than when they got in.
The house in Oakton was fairly oatmeal too, Claudia had noticed, with touches of salmon pink and mushroom. It had been a pretty bizarre tea party. The Emblings, Karen’s parents, who called each other Mother and Dad, had confided that Terry seemed such a nice boy and they didn’t want any trouble, you know. And Karen and Terry had sat side by side on the sofa and held hands. Karen had apparently sworn to every police officer who questioned her that she’d left home of her own accord because ‘she wann’ed to do summat diff’rent with ’er life’. No, Terry had never laid a finger on her; he’d looked after her like a brother; they’d had separate beds. Sam and Claudia had practically choked on their very weak Tesco ground-leaf.
Karen, the Emblings said, had been – er – active for some time. Too many hormones, they explained. Advanced for her age. And she’d be sixteen next week – and everyone in their family got married at sixteen and eight months’ pregnant. Sam and Claudia had murmured and felt very old. So, the Emblings had continued, if Karen was serious about Terry, wouldn’t it be nice to announce their engagement on her birthday – and plan the wedding for next year? Terry, at this point, had tried to slide beneath the sofa. Sam had kicked him.
‘What a lovely idea!’ Claudia had smiled radiantly at everyone. ‘I haven’t been to a wedding for ages!’
So, as the dawn was breaking through the Emblings’ mushroom curtains, it was agreed that Terry should stay in Oakton and accompany Karen and her father to the police station, where the misunderstandings could be sorted out once and for all. When everyone was satisfied that no offence had been committed, Terry would rejoin the fair, and Karen would return to school, and they’d see each other as and when. Then Mr Embling had excitedly made Horlicks and the four of them had trooped off upstairs to bed, leaving Sam and Claudia facing each other on rather hard-stuffed oatmeal fireside chairs.
‘I think they think we’re a couple,’ Claudia had grumbled, easing off her boots.
Sam had punched his salmon-pink cushion. ‘Suits me. Wake me up in an hour and we’ll drive home.’
They’d woken at lunch-time.
The bedroom door opened and a bleary-eyed Danny staggered in, heading for the en suite. He didn’t seem to see Claudia at first. She held her breath. It wouldn’t take long.
It didn’t.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Danny squinted at Claudia’s new look rather doubtfully. ‘And when the fuck did you get back?’
‘Ages ago.’ Claudia chewed the inside of her cheeks to stop her teeth from chattering. ‘We tried to ring. Um – you managed OK without us, then?’
Ignoring this, Danny thrust his head forward. The veins were enlarged; the muscle in his cheek was twitching. Claudia felt very, very alone. His eyes were bleary. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Sorting things out with Terry.’ She tried walking backwards but came up against the wall. She changed tack and started sliding sideways. He’d never hit her – yet. ‘It took ages. Sam will explain.’
‘Ter-ry!’ Danny’s tone was sing-song mocking. ‘Darling Ter-ry! And where is the bastard now?’
‘I don’t know. Oakton, I think. It’s all OK. I’m sorry we didn’t ring –’
‘You will be.’
‘Don’t threaten me, Danny. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know where I was – but you knew I was with Sam. You knew I was safe. You knew –’
‘I knew –’ Danny grabbed her shoulder, ‘that you were with that pretty boy! How many condoms did you get through, eh? D’you really think I’m that bloody thick? Did you really think I believed they were Sam’s? I knew who they belonged to – I just wanted you to tell me! And now you have!’
She squirmed under the pressure of his gripping fingers. ‘Listen to yourself for once. Think, Danny. Why did we have yesterday’s row? Because I’d started my period. Because I wasn’t pregnant. I’ve never, ever been unfaithful to you.’ The words tumbled over each other in indignation. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring you, I’m sorry I’m not pregnant – and I’m really, really sorry that I don’t love you any more!’
Claudia wrenched herself away from him. Gathering the Monsoon frock up round her knees, she leapt across the bed and out of the bedroom, then belted across the sitting room towards the front door.
‘Shit!’ She landed barefooted on the strip of shingle. Oh, God. Why had she told him that? What on earth would happen now? She flew across the grass between the living wagons and pounded on Nell’s door.
‘She’s gone out,’ Rio Mackenzie, who was sunbathing in a brief bikini, informed her. ‘Ages ago. Dunno where to. What happened last night?’
‘Tell you later,’ Claudia muttered, leaping over Nyree-Dawn and Mercedes whose bikinis were even scantier. ‘If Danny comes looking for me, you haven’t seen me, right?’
‘Right,’ the twins chorused in unison, replacing their Ray-Bans and rubbing each other with Ambre Solaire. ‘No sweat.’
The picnickers seemed to be fairly unconcerned about where they sat. A whole host of them were spreading tablecloths on the grass between the Scammell and the Foden, right next to the generators. They’d be covered from head to foot in diesel spray the minute the rides started, Claudia thought, wondering if she should tell them. Probably not, she decided, stepping over unevenly-hewn hunks of gala pie and rather flaccid sausage rolls. If they couldn’t make more effort than that for Blenheim Palace they deserved to get dieselled.
The concert wasn’t due to start until eight o’clock, w
ith the fireworks at ten. The fair should open at seven. Claudia saw no reason why she shouldn’t man the hoopla as normal. Still, it was going to be tricky for a while. She stood forlornly amongst the living wagons. Oh, sod Nell. Why couldn’t she be in? No doubt she’d gone rushing off to spend an illicit afternoon with her bank manager lover, not giving a thought for anyone else.
Sam, also stripped to the waist and wearing faded Levis, pulled open his door and anchored it back against the side of the living wagon. He grinned across at her. ‘You look pretty swish. Quite a transformation, in fact. What’s the matter? Decided that I’m not so unbearable after all, have you? Can’t keep away – oh, Christ.’ He leapt down the steps and gathered her in his arms. ‘What’s he done to you? Come on, sweetheart. Come on.’
She sat in Sam’s living wagon – its dark wood and scarlet furnishings as familiar to her as her own home – and poured it all out. ‘And I told him I don’t love him any more,’ she sniffed into a handful of kitchen roll. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Is it true?’ Sam handed her a brandy.
‘’Course it’s true.’ Claudia drank the brandy as if it had been lemonade. ‘You know it’s true. Everyone knows it’s bloody true. I just shouldn’t have said it.’
Sam shrugged and sat beside her. ‘Maybe it wasn’t quite the right time, but I guess Danny knows it’s true as well. I don’t think it matters too much to him, honestly. Love isn’t top of his agenda.’
‘Not like Nell’s – or yours, you mean?’
‘Something like that.’ Sam pulled her head down on to his shoulder. She didn’t pull it away. He spoke into her hair. She wished she’d washed it. ‘I actually quite enjoyed last night. We had a nice time together, didn’t we?’
‘We always do,’ she mumbled into his bare shoulder. He’d showered and smelled of citrus and soap. ‘I like it when we’re friends.’
‘So do I. Do you want me to go and talk to Danny?’
Stealing the Show Page 19
