Rupert spent the interval backstage so we had no chance to ask him how he thought it was going. At the end of last act when the betrayed lovers sing their final duet, they seemed to me to speak of the grief of all lovers, everywhere, who must part. I stole a glance at Rupert. He was leaning on the edge of the box with his chin in his hand, his expression dreaming, his eyes very bright.
FORTY-THREE
‘May I have the pleasure of this dance, Harriet?’ A man in a dark green tail coat, ivory knee-breeches and a black mask, bowed and offered me his arm. ‘You’re looking perfectly stunning.’
‘Hello, Charles. You’re the spit of Beau Brummell. But how did you know it was me?’
‘It’s my job to deduce these things. An ink-stain on the middle forefinger of the right hand, a slight fraying of the cuff, a crumb of marzipan – no, truthfully, I asked Rupert which was you. How did you know it was me?’
‘I’ve always admired the way the tips of your ears turn over.’
‘Really? I wondered if Ophelia’s noticed. You look like a Spanish infanta in that dress. And that necklace is really something.’
Archie had insisted I wear the snake torque that had been Max’s Christmas present. Despite my protests that I intended to send it anonymously to Caroline Frensham, since I was certain that she had unwittingly paid for it, Archie had stood firm. He offered to put it in the post for me the very next day if that would appease my conscience but I must, must, must wear it one last time to perfect the creation that was his brain-child. I had given in rather than quarrel just as the Polite World was gathering at our door. It felt cold and heavy against my throat.
‘It’s five thousand years old and was probably stolen from the tomb of a Mesopotamian princess. I only hope it hasn’t got a curse on it. Ophelia looks very lovely.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Charles turned his head to seek her out in the crowd. ‘But she even looks marvellous with her head in a towel and wearing my old jersey, up a ladder with a paint-brush.’
I was quite unable to imagine Ophelia in such a situation. ‘Aren’t the lights pretty?’
Paper lanterns concealed light bulbs. In the ultramarine glow that passes for night in London they looked like floating pink and green moons among the branches of the trees that lined the canal.
‘Very. I hear you’re going away. Rupert told me. He said you’d got a new job. Congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You don’t sound very happy.’
‘Oh, I am. Blissfully. But I shall miss London and – everyone.’
‘We’ll miss you too. But you’ll come back for our wedding?’
‘Oh, Charles, I’m so pleased about it! When’s it going to be?’
‘November. It’s usually a quiet time for crime. Villains like to draw breath before the Christmas rush.’ Charles gave my waist a brotherly squeeze. ‘God, Harriet! I’m the luckiest man alive!’
‘Well, yes, I think you probably are. But she’s very lucky too.’
We did a twirl or two before Charles said, ‘I’m having such a glorious time I nearly forgot what I wanted to tell you. Yesterday a colleague of mine arrested Madame Eusapia and her assistant, Miss Judd. I happened to see the report.’
‘No! Why?’
‘Several people put in a complaint about them. So a plainclothes police officer went to one of their séances. He caught Miss Judd crawling round the room, head to toe in black except for gloves impregnated with luminous paint. The overhead light had a loudspeaker hidden in it and there was a tape recorder screwed to the underside of the table. Yards of butter muslin were stuffed down the front of Madame Eusapia’s dress and the canary’s cage was full of whistles, bells and fake cobwebs.’
‘Oh, damn! How disappointing! What a workaday world this truly is. If only there weren’t a rational explanation for everything! A part of me really did think she might be genuine.’
‘The performance was hopelessly corny, apparently. These old girls never try anything original.’
‘But, just a minute, that doesn’t explain everything, does it? OK, I accept she knew who I was. Either Mr Podmore told her or she recognised the name. We were in the newspapers every day just about then. She mugged up the Shakespeare and put it on tape, perhaps took snippets from Sir Basil’s own recordings. I think the moustached man was in on it too, because he and Sir Basil – Madame Eusapia, I mean – had a sort of conversation, obviously planned. I suppose she thought I’d have contacts with the press and people with money and could get her publicity. But that doesn’t explain how she knew that Sir Basil was killed by the bolt of lightning.’
‘That’s exactly what’s been puzzling me.’
‘So what have you decided?’
‘I think it must be co-incidence. She picked the storm bits because they were highly dramatic. They just happened to be spot on. Extraordinary co-incidences do happen. Or …’
We stared at each other. The effect of the mask was to make Charles’s eyes glitter in a most effective way. ‘Or …?’ I repeated.
‘Or she really does have second sight but resorts to tricks to boost the takings.’
‘I’d love to think so. I really would!’
‘Don’t breathe a word to anyone but so would I. I sometimes get very tired of facts.’
‘What an excellent brother-in-law you’ll make.’
‘O rose of May! Dear maid, kind sister.’ He laughed. ‘For some reason Ophelia attributes all Shakespearean quotations to Hamlet, and for once she’d be right. What are you smiling about?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘Hello, daughter dear. Luckily I recognised you before I made a pass. You’re looking quite bewitching.’
‘Hello, Pa. Not nearly so magnificent as you.’ The handful of press gathered round the gated entrance to the street had got busy with their cameras when Pa arrived in medieval battledress. ‘But isn’t it rather uncomfortable?’
‘I wore this armour for Henry V at Agincourt. I hoped I’d have an opportunity to put it on again. I particularly like the crowned helm. And the visor makes a perfect mask. It’s made of aluminium so it’s very light.’
‘P – Fleur’s dress is charming.’
‘Do tell her so, will you? She’s so sensitive. She thinks you don’t like her. I tell her it’s nonsense. But she’s naturally modest. I must say I find that very attractive. And yet she’s so bright she makes all other women seem like fools.’
There was much in this to annoy but fortunately my beautiful gold kid, silk-lined loo mask concealed my expression. I kept my lips in a curve. ‘I’ll make a point of telling her. Have you seen Cordelia? She was here just a moment ago.’
‘Isn’t that her with the man in the elephant’s head? What a lovely child she is! In fact all my children are raving beauties. I used to think you were the ugly duckling but you’ve turned out a fully fledged swan after all.’
I turned to see Cordelia slipping away into the relative darkness of the common.
‘I’d better go and check on Cordelia.’
‘Don’t fuss, darling. What can possibly happen to her?’
‘I just want her first experience of love to be wonderful and memorable, with someone she adores, not an ugly, mechanical fumble. Besides, she’s much too young.’
‘Of course. She’s a child!’
‘She’s twelve, extremely precocious in some ways and immensely attractive to men.’
‘Well, in that case you’d better run. I can see what looks like a trunk waving near that little group of trees.’
I came panting into the copse to find a perfectly strange couple groaning with desire while struggling to undo the plackets, ribbons, whale-boned corsets and hidden zips of each other’s costumes. There was no sign of Cordelia or the elephant. I hurried back to the canal, where the banks were swarming with guests. Being surrounded by masked faces is fun but also disconcerting. Even on the edge of being alarming. Eyes seen through mask-holes are expressionless but, if you allow your imagination free rein, they can seem mocking
and hostile. Fortunately everyone’s mouths were talking and laughing and the music was gay. But a few bars of those horror film clichés – an out-of-key fairground tune or a whispered nursery rhyme – would have changed the atmosphere from jolly to jolly sinister in a moment.
Archie had instructed the carpenter to make a narrow bridge, its makeshift rails hung with twinkling lights and entwined with greenery, so that our guests could cross the canal. I was halfway over when I met a man in a scarlet soutane and cardinal’s broad-brimmed hat, elaborately tasselled. We drew in our stomachs and essayed to pass.
‘One moment, mam’zelle,’ said a marked French accent. ‘My crucifix is attached to ze coiffure.’ The bridge sagged a little under our combined weight. ‘I zink we must go on land to undo ourselves. We do not want to upset.’ Once on the bank it took a while to separate us. ‘A thousand pardons, I do not want to pull ze hair. Voilà! It is done. Will you give me ze absolution for such a clumsy zing and dance wiz me?’
He wore a scarlet full mask, which I believe is called a vizard. It was stern, with narrow eyes and a turned-down, censorious mouth but his voice was friendly and agreeably flirtatious.
‘I’d love to but first I must find my little sister. I saw her a short while ago with an elephant.’
‘Mais oui, it is there.’ The cardinal pointed to a group on the opposite bank. To my relief I saw Cordelia and the elephant among them, talking to Rupert. ‘You wish to return across?’
‘Oh, no. I just wanted to make sure – Never mind.’ The band was playing ‘Beyond the Blue Horizon’. I had already drunk two glasses of champagne and suddenly I caught the general mood of frivolity and frolic. ‘Let’s dance.’
It was heavenly to be sweeping across the floor under the stars. The air was balmy and smelled of earth and leaves and scent and the excited buzz of happy voices lifted my spirits. The cardinal danced well and the weight of my skirts gave an additional languorous pleasure to the sensation of swinging and circling.
‘You dance divinement,’ he said. ‘Is it permitted to know ze name of ze beautiful stranger?’
‘Excuse me,’ said a familiar voice. ‘My turn, if you don’t mind.’ The elephant thrust his trunk between us and, ignoring the cardinal’s protests, took me in his arms and waltzed me away. ‘Hello, Harriet. Aren’t you surprised to see me?’
‘Jonno!’
‘The same.’
‘Oh, how lovely! Where’s Portia? I thought you had to stay up for the Long Vac.’ Jonno had failed his second-year exams, the appeal of being in bed with Portia having triumphed over writing essays in a dim, dusty library. He was to be allowed to stay on, on condition he worked during the summer holidays.
‘So I do, but the invitation was so tempting we decided to dash down for tonight. We rushed round to the fancy dress shop just before it shut. Portia’s over there.’ He pointed to a slender marmalade cat, standing with her tail over her arm, talking to Pa. ‘I’m afraid our costumes rather let the side down but we’re having such a good time, who cares! It’s a brilliant party.’
‘It’s all Archie’s doing. Cordelia and I only did as we were told. It is lovely, isn’t it? I shall be so sad … You know we’re coming up to Manchester?’
‘I’m really pleased. You’re my second favourite woman. In fact, you look so inviting, if I wasn’t wearing a rubber trunk I’d be dangerously tempted to give you an incestuous kiss. But you’ve made a bad mistake about choosing a place to rent. It’s a very rough area, not suitable at all.’
I explained the peculiar constraints that had led me to select the vilest part of Manchester to live in.
‘Still, you’d better think again, you know.’ He waved his trunk at me. ‘I’ve only just got the hang of this. I might try sucking up water and blowing it out when I’m sufficiently drunk. Trouble is, it isn’t at all easy to drink the ordinary way. It may take me some time.’
‘Darling Hat!’ The ginger cat flung her arms round me. It was odd being kissed by a plastic mask with whiskers like the bristles on a yard broom. Her suit was made of orange-and-black striped fur that had seen better days. ‘Such bliss! I feel drunk already. Let’s all go and have our fortunes told.’
‘You girls go ahead,’ said Jonno. He lifted a glass and held up his trunk. ‘I’ve some catching up to do.’
Inside the fortune-teller’s tent it was dark except for a glowing crystal ball round which fluttered a cloud of frustrated moths. The overpowering smell of incense and patchouli made me cough.
‘Come in, young lady.’ Madame Xanthe was tiny, her chin reaching only a few inches above the table-top. She wore a shiny satin robe. Round her neck was a fox-skin, its tail between its jaws, a modern version of my necklace. Its boot-button eyes stared at me angrily. ‘Sit down, dear.’
Madame Xanthe peered at me with little wrinkled eyes that blinked upwards like a tortoise’s. The beads in her head-dress sparkled as she bent forward to examine the crystal ball. She passed her hands over it several times
‘Ooh, this is a turn-up for the books! Well I never! You’re a very unusual young lady!’ I felt rather flattered. ‘You’ve got the gift. Tell me now, dear, have you had any strange experiences? Anything paranormal, I mean?’
‘Well, yes and no. It’s hard to be sure. I mean, a lot of things that happen in life are rather strange –’
‘Yes, you’ve had many trials and tribulations, I can see.’ Madame Xanthe was clearly not interested in philosophising chitchat. ‘A lot of heartache. He that was all in all to you has abandoned you. And there will be no return. That avenue is closed to you for ever.’ She glanced up at me. ‘Can you think who that man might be, dear?’
I shook my head.
‘That’s surprising. It’s here very definite. An older man. Perhaps a relation.’ I smiled politely. ‘But you’re a lucky girl! I can see here very plain you’re about to get your heart’s desire. A tall, dark, handsome man’s going to sweep you off your feet.’
‘Really?’ Though I knew it was all nonsense, my heart did speed up a bit.
‘Oh yes. He’s very passionate and he worships you.’ This seemed highly unlikely. She pointed to the shining globe. ‘There he is! Oh, he’s very clever and successful. You’re going to live together very happily until a ripe old age and have two children. A boy and a girl.’ She frowned and stared. ‘And a pig.’
‘I’m going to have a pig?’ I was startled.
‘No, dear,’ said Madame Xanthe a little impatiently. ‘I see a large animal – perhaps it’s a donkey – or a large dog.’
‘I do have a St Bernard.’
‘There you are then.’
‘Is that all you can see?’
‘That’s all, dear.’ She examined the globe again. ‘Good health, just the usual minor ailments. You want to be careful driving a car. You aren’t very good at it. You’re going to have a nice house in the country and Mr X, your hubby’s, going to grow potatoes. Or is it dahlias?’
‘But what will I be doing?’
‘I can’t see that, dear. You’re busy with the children.’
‘I’m not going to be a writer, then?’
‘I can’t tell. The picture’s gone, I’m afraid. And it wasn’t very clear.’
I waited outside the tent while Portia’s fortune was told. Might I really have psychic powers? I could not imagine myself living with a man who grew prize dahlias. But Madame Xanthe had seen Dirk in the crystal ball. I was mildly depressed that she had not also seen me sitting in an office with ‘EDITOR’ written on the door. But what of the passionate, worshipping man who was to sweep me off my feet?
Portia came out of the tent.
‘Well? What did she say?’ I asked with some eagerness.
‘The usual nonsense. Something about being abandoned by an older man, who’d once been everything to me. I can’t think who that could be. Unless it was Pa. She said I’d been through many trials and tribulations. Well, that’s true of everyone. And that I was going to be seduced by a tall dark handsome stran
ger. I hope not. Jonno’ll be furious. What did she say to you?’
‘Exactly the same.’ I was conscious of disappointment. ‘Where’s Cordelia?’
‘She was dancing with the executioner. Look, isn’t that her going into the marquee?’
Inside the marquee we saw Archie, surrounded by an admiring crowd. He beckoned to us.
‘Come, Harriet, and let these good people feast their eyes on you. And who is the pussy with mange?
‘Hello, Archie. It’s Portia. It’s all I could find to wear at the last minute. I prefer to think of myself as a cat with a past. You look amazing.’
Archie made a minute adjustment to the folds of his enormously wide culottes of silver brocade trimmed with gold ribbons at the waist and knee. ‘I had Mrs Wapshott copy a painting of Louis XIV. My favourite king. He never did things by halves. They’re called petticoat breeches. Practically drag, dear girl, but the royal connection makes it respectable.’ Above them he wore a coat and waistcoat of the same brocade with gold lace and gold buttons. A hat trimmed with huge feathers was perched on his white full-bottomed wig, which sparkled with diamonds. A single ruby-red glass tear, the only point of colour, clung to his silver mask. He dazzled and glittered and shimmered, and you could hardly look at him without blinking.
Archie waved a jewelled hand. ‘It’s so romantic not knowing who anyone is. One’s imagination garbs them with fabulous beauty, excoriating wit and acute sensibility. I dread my appointment with reality in the morning.’ He murmured in my ear, ‘Un succès fou, I think we can safely say.’
‘The food looks so gorgeous, it really a pity to eat it.’ Portia pointed a paw at the buffet table, laden with succulent dishes. Candlelight touched the ice sculptures with flashes of gold. There was a giant water lily, a Chinese pagoda and a dragon with a long tail. We had got them cheap because the young Finnish artist who had executed these marvels had succumbed to Archie’s charms. I had seen them earlier together on the dance floor, snaking hips in unison.
‘Do you know, I feel quite twenty again,’ Archie gave a sigh of pleasure. ‘Pinkki – that’s my new friend from Lapland – is the most ravishing boy. He must be the tall, dark, handsome stranger authorised by Madame Xanthe to sweep me off my feet. She was spot on, too, about the older man. Though it was so long ago, I shall never forget those thrilling sessions in the map cupboard with the geography master.’
Clouds among the Stars Page 66
