‘All right. But you’ve been warned.’
‘Such suitable attire for a christening,’ murmured Caroline.
Chloe called Annunciata over. ‘Annunciata, can I introduce my mother, Caroline Hunterton, and my almost-stepfather, Joe Payton. And this is my brother, Jolyon. And of course you know Magnus Phillips, don’t you?’
Annunciata looked at them all very coolly, and nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘How do you do?’ she said, an expression of acute boredom on her delicate disdainful features. There was a long silence.
‘Er – have you known Piers long?’ said Jolyon rather helplessly.
‘Oh yes. Ages. Well. You know.’
‘Annunciata is an actress,’ said Chloe quickly. ‘She may be in the new play.’
‘How exciting,’ said Caroline, almost as cool.
‘Well, you know,’ said Annunciata again, more distant still.
‘This is a great house, isn’t it?’ said Jolyon. ‘Lovely part of the world. Do you live near here, Miss Fallon?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said, as if he had suggested something entirely ludicrous. ‘I live in London.’
‘I wish I did,’ said Jolyon. ‘Whereabouts?’
‘South-West Three,’ said Annunciata. ‘Do excuse me. Magnus, darling, do tell me all about your book. It sounds so exciting. Politics are so sexy.’ She tucked her arm into his and drew him away.
‘I did warn you,’ said Chloe, smiling gently at Jolyon’s scarlet face.
‘Oh, no, she’s gorgeous,’ he said. ‘Gorgeous.’
‘Hmm,’ said Joe.
‘Chloe, my darling, at last! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. My God, you look beautiful. Couldn’t we run away together straight away, forget this tedious christening?’
‘Maybe later,’ said Chloe, laughing. ‘Joe, Mummy, this is Ludovic Ingram. He’s – well he’s – what are you, Ludo?’
‘Well, I’m in love with your daughter,’ said Ludovic to Caroline, ‘I keep trying to persuade her to leave Piers and run away with me, but she won’t. I work on it as a project tirelessly. And in my spare time I’m a barrister.’
Joe looked at him, at this wonderfully good-looking, charming, and yet patently nice man, and thought how much better for Chloe it would be if she did run away with him. Then he set the thought determinedly, if regretfully, aside as impracticable. It was nice at least that Chloe had a friend in this circle.
A little later he saw Magnus standing alone, glass in hand, studying a group of people with an expression of intense amusement; Piers was at its centre.
‘Working?’ asked Joe with a slightly grim smile.
‘Of course,’ said Magnus, returning it. ‘Fascinating, this lot, aren’t they?’
‘Yup.’ Joe looked at him, his green eyes very thoughtful. ‘I understand from Chloe,’ he said, ‘that you’re dropping the biography of Piers.’
‘I think so, yes,’ said Magnus, his face suddenly blank. ‘He seems a little too bland for my attentions. Unfortunately. I do like a degree of dirt to work with. As you know. So unless I happen upon some fascinating scandal in Mr Windsor’s past, or present of course, which seems so unlikely as to be laughable, I am turning my attentions elsewhere. I have a fancy for Miss Taylor at the moment. Or Mrs Onassis.’
‘Don’t we all,’ said Joe. ‘And besides, you could hardly expose a scandal in the life of a man whose son you were godfather to.’
‘Hardly,’ said Magnus, grinning at him broadly.
For the first time in his life, Joe felt a flash of something approaching sympathy for Piers.
He and Caroline found themselves sitting at a table at lunch-time with Jolyon and seven people they didn’t know. Chloe was rushing about looking distracted, trying to settle people who had loaded their plates and couldn’t find anywhere to sit, and Piers was lounging at a particularly noisy table near the door, laughing and refilling everyone’s glasses with champagne.
‘No sign of the guest of honour,’ murmured Caroline.
‘Who’s that?’ said Joe.
‘Ned. You know? The one whose party this is.’
Joe smiled at her, leant forward and kissed her suddenly on the nose. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘I realize exactly why I love you.’
But she wasn’t looking at him; following her gaze, he saw she was staring at Marcus Phillips.
He turned slightly to his left: a rather intense middle-aged man was shovelling food into his mouth, and talking at the same time. It was a very unattractive sight. Beyond him sat a woman in her thirties, very beautiful, heavily made up; she caught his eye, and smiled at him slightly. ‘Felicia Strang,’ she said.
‘Joe Payton,’ said Joe. ‘This is Caroline Hunterton.’
‘And how do you know Piers?’ she said, immensely gracious.
‘I’m his wife’s mother,’ said Caroline, more gracious still.
‘Oh,’ she said, a little vaguely, ‘oh yes. Such a pretty girl. You must be very proud.’
‘Of what?’ said Joe.
‘Well, of her marrying Piers. How marvellous for her.’
‘We think it’s quite marvellous for him actually,’ said Joe. ‘Could you pass the butter?’
The man with the food had finished eating, and was shouting across Joe and Caroline at a younger man who was wearing a white suit and a panama hat.
‘I hear you’re going to Edinburgh,’ he said. ‘Marvellous.’
‘I hope so,’ said the Panama Hat. ‘It’s always a bit of a lottery.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Joe, determinedly. ‘Pretty reliable, Edinburgh. The castle and everything. Nice hotels.’
They ignored him. ‘What are you going to do?’ said the Food.
‘Oh, a marvellous one-act play, by this girl everyone’s talking about, Sacha Simons,’ said the Panama Hat. ‘It’s – well, I don’t know how to describe it really. It’s a comi-tragedy. As opposed to a tragi-comedy. Do you know what I mean? The balance is just slightly different.’
‘Fascinating,’ said the Food.
‘Are you going?’
‘No. I’m desperately disappointed, but we go into rehearsal at Chichester on September first. Anouilh season. I bumped into Harold Hobson the other night at a party, and he’s promised to come.’
‘Wonderful. I adore Anouilh. Such a voice still. I don’t know if you saw the production I was in of The Man Who Came to Dinner – oh, two years ago. The scope of that play is truly amazing. I could never get tired of it. I was talking to Johnny Mills about it the other night, he’d seen it and he said he thought it would make the most marvellous film.’
‘Oh really? I wonder if . . .’
Joe ceased to find the conversation even amusing; he tuned in to two girls opposite him who were talking across Jolyon about where they were getting their Ascot clothes: ‘Two of my chums have dared each other to wear dresses from Biba,’ said one of them. ‘With really super hats of course.’
‘Oh what fun,’ said the other. ‘Do you really think they will?’
Jolyon looked frantic with embarrassment and boredom. Joe winked at him, saw Annunciata heading in their direction and hissed at him, ‘Do you want to see some action?’
Jolyon looked puzzled; Joe leant right back in his chair, reached out his arm, touched Annunciata on the hand. She looked at him very coolly, half smiled and said, ‘Hi,’ with such acute disinterest it took even Joe’s breath away.
‘I just wondered if you could spare me half a minute,’ said Joe.
‘Well, I’d love to,’ she said, ‘but I really have to tell Piers something. I could try and come back.’
‘It won’t take a moment,’ said Joe. ‘Honestly. It’s just that I’m a journalist, work for the Sunday Times, and I’m doing a series on young English actresses. If you were at all
interested, you could give me a ring. Here’s my card.’
Annunciata looked at him, and her face softened, sweetened. ‘Why, how frightfully nice of you,’ she said. ‘I’d love that. Really love it. Goodness, I can’t think why you should want to include me. Although I can tell you I’m almost certainly going to play Portia at Stratford next season. I don’t know if that’s the sort of thing that would interest you? Um – Fergie, budge up, you old bore, let me share your chair.’ She sat down, one buttock on the Food’s knee, pushed back her mane of hair, fixed her large dark eyes on Joe’s face. ‘How interesting your job must be, I’d adore to do something like that.’
‘Well, it has its moments,’ said Joe. ‘You must excuse me, I have to see someone over there.’
He turned to Caroline, but she was gone; looking, slightly irritably, for her, annoyed that she had missed his performance with Annunciata, he saw her on the other side of the marquee, talking just a little too intently to Magnus Phillips.
Ned was very good at the christening; he submitted to the vicar’s ministrations in the small church, didn’t cry, and even managed a toothless smile at his mother when she took him back from his godmother.
‘What a treasure,’ said Maria Woolf, smiling at him slightly nervously. ‘Doesn’t he look exactly like Piers? I hope I shall fulfil my duties well. I’m afraid I’m rather hedonistic to be a godmother.’
‘All the better!’ said Piers, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. ‘You can initiate the boy into all kinds of pleasures in the fullness of time. And how lucky he will be.’
‘Oh, Piers, really! Now look, can we have a tiny chat about this new play? And then Jack and I must take our leave, we have guests for Sunday sups. Oh dear, that baby’s dribbled on my sleeve. Chloe, dear, could you go and find a cloth or something?’
When finally all the guests had gone, Joe and Caroline, with Jolyon, sat down in the kitchen with Chloe. The nanny had whisked away the baby and Pandora, who was overtired and fractious, had just been extremely sick all down her white frilled dress. Piers was nowhere to be seen. ‘He’s talking business to someone, I expect,’ said Chloe vaguely. ‘It was lovely to see you all. Jolyon, you did wonderfully well. And Annunciata specially told me how good looking she thought you were.’
‘Gosh,’ said Jolyon, blushing scarlet again.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Joe. ‘I liked your admirer, Chloe. Mr Ingram. Very nice. We talked some more over christening cake.’
‘I like him too,’ said Chloe.
Piers appeared, flushed, excited. ‘What a marvellous day, and how wonderful you were here to share it.’
‘Well, Piers, they are family,’ said Chloe. ‘Of course they’d share it.’
She spoke sweetly, but there was a slight edge to her voice. Good, thought Joe, she’s learning, learning at last.
‘Marvellous,’ said Piers again, ‘and darling, Maria is definitely going to put money into The Kingdom. What a girl she is. And what a hat that was. I was terrified it would fall into the font.’
‘It was bigger than the font,’ said Caroline, with a frosty smile.
‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it? Now then, have you enjoyed yourselves? I do hope so. I saw you talking to Fergie, he’s the most marvellous amusing man, and the most brilliant character actor of his generation. Not my words, I hasten to add: George Devine’s. He was here, did you meet him? He founded the Royal Court, you know. Now Joe, he would make a marvellous subject for you. I could fix it any time.’
‘Thanks, but I could probably manage on my own,’ said Joe. ‘Er – Piers, I wonder if we could have a word?’
‘Of course,’ said Piers. ‘As a matter of fact, I wondered if you might write a piece about this film project I’m planning. The musical version of the Dream, you know, with Tabitha as Titania; wouldn’t that make a terrific story?’
‘Probably, yes,’ said Joe. ‘Let’s talk about that too.’
‘Fine. We can stroll down to the yard. I can show you my other new baby. A colt.’
‘I’m not very fond of horses,’ said Joe. ‘As long as he’s tied up.’
‘Oh, good Lord, yes, he’s in a stall,’ said Piers. ‘Will you be all right, Chloe darling, for a few minutes?’
‘Oh, I think so,’ said Chloe.
Piers led him out of the house and down a long, hedged path towards the stables.
‘No anxieties, I hope?’ he said. ‘Chloe is marvellous, such a wonderful little mother.’
‘No, no, not at all,’ said Joe. ‘She looks very well.’
‘Now, this piece about the Dream,’ said Piers.
‘Love to do it,’ said Joe, truthfully, ‘when it’s in production. I’m sure the Sunday Times would be very interested. No, it was Jolyon I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘Jolyon? Oh, yes, very stage-struck he is. Well, I would be delighted to help, in any way. He’s a sweet boy. Wonderful manners.’
‘Yes. And of course he’d probably love to work in your agent’s office. If you can really fix that. That was a nice surprise. To Caroline as well.’
‘Well, of course. He’ll be nothing much, just a messenger really. But it’ll give him a feel for the business.’
‘The only thing is, it’s a long commute for him,’ said Joe, ‘and I don’t really think I want the responsibility of him living with me, in my place in Primrose Hill. I’m out such a lot, and he’s very young.’
‘Oh, that’s absolutely no problem!’ said Piers. ‘He can stay with me in the London house. I’m there all the time at the moment. Of course Chloe’s down here, but I’m in every night practically, learning lines and working on the Dream. I’ll take very good care of him, I promise.’
‘How kind,’ said Joe. ‘Well, look, I hadn’t quite expected that. I’ll have to talk to Caroline.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, was that it?’
‘Oh yes, it was really. Is that the horse?’
‘It is. Isn’t he beautiful? Such a wonderful rich, dark bay. His name is Dream Street. Damon Runyon, you know?’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Joe.
‘Fantastic breeding. He’s going to be superb. I plan to race him for a few years, on the flat, and then retire him to stud.’
‘He looks very excitable,’ said Joe, looking with alarm at the animal’s rolling eyes and flaring nostrils. ‘Will he quieten down?’
‘I hope so. I certainly don’t want to have to geld him. I see him as a very long-term investment. I’ve put a lot of money into him.’
‘Well, as long as Chloe doesn’t try and ride him,’ said Joe.
‘Chloe! My dear chap, I wouldn’t get near this fellow myself. Strictly for the professionals. Shall we get back to the house?’
‘Sure,’ said Joe easily. He looked at Piers, smiling at him in his silky, just-off-patronizing way, and thought how much he disliked him; and catching himself almost unawares, he said, ‘I understand you were in Hollywood, Piers, in your youth. I wish I’d known before, you might even have been able to help me with the research for my book.’ He half expected still to do no more than embarrass him; he was totally and deliciously unprepared for the effect it had on Piers. He turned not just pale, but a ghostly greenish colour, and then a dark flush spread up from his neck to his face; his pale grey eyes leapt with – what? Joe wondered. Fear? Rage? Shock? It was certainly a great deal more than embarrassment.
He stood there, staring at Joe, and Joe stared back and recognized his terror; then he leant quite casually against the wall, and looked down at the linen suit he had changed into for the christening, picking an imaginary piece of fluff off it, and when he looked at Joe again, his face was normal, his eyes amused, his voice light and confident.
‘Good Lord,’ he said, ‘who on earth told you that?’
‘Oh,’ said Joe, relieved for the first time that
Yolande was safely with the angels (as she surely must be, he thought), ‘a wonderful lady, who did help me with my book, called Yolande duGrath. A drama coach at Theatrical. You don’t remember her?’
‘Sadly not. I wish I did. What a name though, Yolande duGrath. She should have been an actress, herself.’
‘She was, in her youth.’
Piers looked at him, and Joe could read behind the bland open gaze, the rueful smile, knew what he had decided: that this one was too dodgy to deny, better gone along with, defused that way.
‘Well, Joe, I’m afraid you’ve found out my guilty secret. Not even Chloe knows. I like to play that one down. Stupid, but I really am not proud of my time there. It was only very short. Less than a year. I did some dreadful things, dreadful. A couple of frightful costume dramas, even played a dancing pirate in a musical about a mutiny ship.’
‘I’d certainly like to see that one,’ said Joe. ‘So – when exactly were you there?’
‘Oh – mid fifties.’
‘Really? Then that was exactly the time I was researching. Did you read my book?’
‘What book was that, Joe?’
‘Oh, it was called Scandals,’ said Joe. He was watching him very intently.
‘No,’ said Piers, and his gaze meeting Joe’s was open, almost amused. ‘No, I’ve never even heard of it. Did it do terribly well?’
‘Not terribly,’ said Joe.
‘Well, that must have been so disappointing for you. But I’d certainly love to see it. Do you have a copy, Joe? That you could lend me?’
‘No,’ said Joe, ‘I don’t. Only one left I gave to my dear old mum. Chloe was asking for it too, she said she wanted to read it, now she’s in the business so to speak.’
A flicker of alarm was in the grey eyes and then gone again. ‘Hardly in the business, poor darling. She still finds it all rather hard to cope with, I’m afraid. But she’ll get used to it I’m sure.’
‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘I’m sure she will. With you to help her. Anyway, one of the scandals I was researching at that particular time was concerned with a young man called Byron Patrick, who was quite a rising star, but got mixed up in something very unsavoury. You never met him?’
AN Outrageous Affair Page 49
