Flappy Entertains

by Santa Montefiore

  Flappy was insistent. ‘If anyone can find you a boyfriend, Persephone,’ she said, ‘it’s me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Contacts,’ Flappy added mysteriously. ‘It’s all about who one knows and I know everyone.’

  * * *

  Flappy arrived home in time for lunch. Karen had made a delicious Vietnamese dish of fish, vegetables and steamed rice. It was so good that Flappy decided she’d invite the girls round for a Vietnamese-themed dinner and pretend that she’d cooked it. They’d be very impressed with Vietnamese fish.

  Kenneth had enjoyed a good morning on the golf course. When he told her who he’d been playing with and the list did not include Charles, Flappy lost interest. Kenneth was a little surprised. He’d got used to her questioning him about his game, his form and his conversations. However, she told him that she’d bought a new dress in town and that explained it. She was distracted today, which was understandable. Hedda and Charles’s party was but five days away and Kenneth knew just how much thought went into Flappy’s wardrobe.

  After lunch, Flappy was in her bedroom, laying out her new dress on the bed with the co-ordinating shawl, when the telephone rang. She was so distracted by the fantasy she was having of arriving at Compton Court for the party and turning every head on the lawn that she forgot to leave it ringing the habitual eight times. When she picked it up after the second ring, Mabel’s voice came down the line in a torrent of enthusiasm. ‘Flappy, I’ve news!’ she exclaimed. As Mabel hadn’t heard from Flappy for a few days, this piece of news was designed to pique her interest and remind her of Mabel’s usefulness, for useful Mabel was when it came to the town gossip and keeping Flappy informed. Big Mary had told her about her bridge game at Hedda’s house, which had included Flappy, and Mabel had been put out. Perhaps Flappy was, Mabel feared, dropping her old friends for her new one.

  ‘I’m all ears. What’s up?’ said Flappy, sitting on the edge of the bed in preparation for this earth-shattering piece of information. For Mabel’s voice implied nothing less.

  ‘Guess who’s coming to Hedda’s party?’

  Mabel’s voice was trembling with excitement. Flappy’s curiosity was indeed piqued, just as Mabel had hoped. ‘I don’t know. Who?’

  ‘Monty Don!’

  Flappy gasped. The celebrity gardener was indeed an excitement. Flappy had all of his books (although she’d only looked at the photographs) and had watched him on television. She had to admit, although not publicly because she was allergic to being like everyone else, that she did find him attractive. She was slightly put out, however, that Hedda had not told her herself. ‘Well, that is news,’ Flappy replied and Mabel’s heart flooded with joy that she’d been able to tell her friend something she didn’t already know.

  ‘John got it from Big Mary this morning. Big Mary is a huge fan of Monty Don.’ Mabel chuckled. ‘Aren’t we all!’

  ‘He’s a very impassioned horticulturalist,’ said Flappy knowledgeably. She was damned if she was going to sink to the level of every other middle-aged woman in Badley Compton and comment on his looks. Commenting on people’s looks was something Flappy never ever did. ‘He has a brilliant mind,’ she added loftily, to make the point. ‘His books are incredibly informative. Have you read them, Mabel?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I haven’t. I’ve just seen him on television. He’s so handsome.’

  ‘Is he?’ said Flappy, sounding unconvinced.

  ‘Oh, Flappy, you’re much too high-minded,’ said Mabel with a laugh. ‘You didn’t even notice how handsome Charles Harvey-Smith is.’

  ‘He’s an art collector, you know. What he doesn’t know about art is nobody’s business.’

  ‘By the by, how’s your meditation room coming along?’ asked Mabel, changing the subject and blushing as she mentioned it, for the embarrassment of having actually spied on her friend still stung.

  ‘Gerald and I have been working on the designs. He’s coming over this afternoon to discuss it with me. It’s going to be divine.’

  ‘Oh, you’re so disciplined to be able to sit and meditate the way you do.’

  ‘I’ve always been disciplined. After all, if one wasn’t disciplined one would never get through all the things one has to do every day, being so terribly busy.’

  ‘I really admire that about you, Flappy,’ said Mabel, her guilt at having spied making her gush more than normal. ‘By the by, what are you going to wear for the party?’

  It irritated Flappy that Hedda’s party was ‘the party’ and not ‘Hedda’s party’. ‘Which party is that, Mabel?’ she asked.

  ‘Hedda’s party.’

  ‘Ah, yes, that party. No, I haven’t given it a thought. I’m sure I can find something in my wardrobe.’

  ‘If you don’t, might you be nipping into Chic Boutique? They always have lovely things there,’ said Mabel.

  ‘Perhaps, if I have time. But really, one is so terribly busy.’

  ‘Well, I won’t keep you, Flappy,’ she said, looking at her watch and ascertaining whether or not she had time to drive into Chestminster. ‘Toodle-oo.’

  * * *

  At four o’clock Gerald arrived in his old Volvo Estate. The boot was full of rolls of fabric and wallpaper and boxes of samples and swatches. He appeared at Flappy’s door with a black portfolio under his arm. Flappy greeted him warmly and took him straight to the cottage, stopping only briefly to admire a fat bumble bee toddling about the petals of a rose. On reflection, the roses really were very special at Darnley.

  Once in the cottage, Gerald laid his portfolio on the table and unzipped it. He pulled out four mood boards. One for the downstairs, one for each of the two bedrooms, and the fourth for the bathrooms and sitting-room-kitchen. He’d taken the liberty of planning a total redecoration, knowing that Flappy would be easily persuaded to spend more of Kenneth’s money than she’d previously expected. No one loved a decorating project more than Flappy.

  Flappy looked at every board in turn while Gerald told her the idea behind each display of fabric and wall colours. They really were gorgeous, for Gerald had such a good eye.

  ‘How are you finding the Buddha?’ asked Gerald.

  ‘Such an inspiration, Gerald,’ Flappy replied. ‘In fact, I must light the incense and candles before Charles gets here. You know he’s my meditating partner?’

  Gerald arched an eyebrow. ‘What? Handsome Charles? Hedda’s husband?’

  ‘Is he handsome?’ Flappy asked, giving him the wide-eyed, innocent look of someone who had never thought of it.

  ‘Very,’ said Gerald.

  ‘Well, aren’t I lucky then to have such a handsome meditation partner?’ It suddenly occurred to Flappy that she had not remembered to send Charles a warning text. ‘He’ll be here in a minute.’ She looked at her watch. Indeed, he’d be here in five.

  ‘Oooh, goodie,’ he cooed, hurrying to the Buddha to light the incense and candles. ‘What does he think of your gorgeous statue?’

  ‘Very conducive to meditation. He makes all the difference,’ said Flappy, eyeing the door and hoping that Charles would make a discreet entrance.

  Just as Gerald was bending down with the match the door flew open and Charles strode in like a gladiator who’s just triumphed over lions at the Colosseum. ‘Beastie here!’ he exclaimed in a booming voice, a rose between his teeth. ‘Where’s Beauty?’

  Flappy blanched. Gerald stood up, a startled expression on his face. Charles stared at Gerald as if he were a lion that had risen from the dead and slowly took the rose out of his mouth. There was a moment of excruciating awkwardness and then Flappy laughed. A light, nonchalant laugh. The laugh of a woman who knows her life depends on making light of this potentially damaging situation. If there was one thing Flappy was good at, it was turning something explosive into something benign. ‘Oh, Charles, not Shakespeare again!’ she said. Then she turned to Gerald. ‘I told him you were going to be here, so ce petit drame must be for your benefit.’ She didn’t quite know why she’d broken into F
rench. It must have been because she was deeply nervous.

  Charles understood immediately and burst out laughing too. ‘Gotcha!’ he said, pointing at Gerald.

  Gerald, whose face was a contortion of confusion, laughed too, although uneasily. ‘Yes, you did,’ he said, looking from Charles to Flappy and back again.

  ‘Did you know that Charles used to be an actor?’ she said.

  ‘Shakespeare was one of my fortes,’ said Charles, giving Gerald the benefit of his beautiful eyes and dazzling smile. ‘That’s an entrance from Much Ado About Nothing.’ Which it wasn’t, but Gerald had only read Twelfth Night at school and couldn’t remember anything about it.

  ‘Well, I would say don’t give up your day job, but as you don’t have one, I can’t,’ said Gerald, feeling a little tongue-tied suddenly in the face of such beauty. ‘What do you think of Flappy’s Buddha?’ he asked.

  ‘Buddha?’ said Charles. ‘I think he’s marvellous. In fact, just looking at him inspires me to sit in the Lotus position and reach for Nirvana.’

  ‘Oh, Charles, you are funny!’ said Flappy, putting a hand on Gerald’s back and leading him towards the door. ‘We must begin,’ she said.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I love everything, Gerald. Send the invoice to Persephone and she’ll arrange for the payment of the deposit. Start at once. I want my little sanctuary ready as soon as possible. In the meantime, Charles and I will put up with it as it is, won’t we, Charles?’

  Gerald was delighted that Flappy had commissioned the entire project. She hadn’t even looked at the costings. He’d add a little on for luck, he thought, as he said goodbye to Charles and Flappy and left the cottage. He walked up the path and on through the gardens and thought how very good-looking Charles was. He focused on his eyes, the colour of green topaz, and on his impossibly handsome smile that made the lines on his cheeks deepen in such an attractive way, and he forgot the strange way he’d made his entrance. If he didn’t know Flappy so well, he’d think that she and Charles were more than friends.

  * * *

  ‘I meant to warn you,’ said Flappy, as Charles watched Gerald disappear up the garden.

  ‘That was close,’ he said, moving away from the window.

  ‘I’m sorry. I got distracted buying a new dress for your party.’

  Charles grinned. ‘I’m going to dance with you,’ he said, slipping his hands around her waist.

  ‘Will there be dancing?’ said Flappy. She’d thought it was just a cocktail party.

  ‘Of course there’s dancing. I love dancing. There’s dinner too. Hedda loves a party.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Flappy, wondering whether she’d bought the right dress for the occasion. ‘What’s Hedda going to wear?’

  Charles shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I’m much more interested in what you’re going to wear and if it’s easy to slip out of.’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled suggestively.

  Flappy laughed. ‘You beast!’

  Charles swelled with pleasure. ‘You beauty!’ Then he swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

  Chapter 13

  The morning of Hedda and Charles’s party Flappy awoke at 5 a.m. in an exceedingly good mood. Her whole body was infused with excitement and enthusiasm, and an unconditional love for the world and everyone in it. She was happy. Blissfully happy.

  She opened the curtains. Outside, the gardens – the many beautiful gardens at Darnley – were bathed in the still, silent semi-light of dawn. Indeed, she could see a pale pink blush glowing on the horizon as morning began to emerge shyly from beneath night’s velvety quilt. How beautiful it was, this magical hour, anticipating the gentle stirring of waking animals and birds; nature’s inward breath before the hectic activity of day commences.

  Flappy’s reverie was interrupted by the rumbling sound of Kenneth’s snoring next door. But she was in a good mood. Nothing could dampen the happiness she felt inside. In fact, her heart was like a warm bun in her chest, soft and springy, and she felt only love and affection for her husband, even though he did sound like a pig.

  She skipped down to the pool, slipped out of her silk dressing gown and dived naked into the water, slicing through it like a gannet. She glided up the first length in an elegant breaststroke, savouring the sensual feeling of the water wrapping around her body and cooling her loins that burned for Charles’s touch. The second length was backstroke, the third front crawl and the final length a less impressive breaststroke because by now she had run out of steam. She dried herself with a towel and padded into the gym. She was too restless to do yoga this morning. Too excited. Too happy. There was only one thing to do and that was to dance naked to The Weather Girls’ ‘It’s Raining Men’. She’d always loved that song and today, with the anticipation of Hedda’s party, she was in just the right mood to sing along to it. With her hair going fluffy and her cheeks flushing pink, Flappy pranced about the wooden floor, wriggling her hips and kicking her feet, shaking her shoulders and laughing out loud, wildly, passionately, unleashing the beast. The fiery beast that had, for so long, been hidden in the cold of her deepest unconscious, now at liberty to express itself with all its hunger, delight and zeal. It felt wonderful. In fact, she didn’t think she had ever felt this wonderful and it was all thanks to Charles, for giving her a bite of ambrosia and unfettering her true nature.

  By the time she joined Kenneth at the breakfast table Flappy was dressed, coiffed and ready for her day. And it was a big day today. She had lots of important appointments. After all, she had to look her best for Hedda and Charles’s party. It was what was expected. She didn’t want to let the people of Badley Compton down by looking anything less that immaculate.

  Kenneth studied her and his eyes lingered for a long moment as he tried to work out what was different about her. Her hair was the same, though slightly tousled, her eyes were bright and sparkly, but Flappy’s eyes had always been bright and sparkly. Was it something about her skin, perhaps? Could it be possible that she was getting younger, not older? Indeed, there was an agility to her movements that hadn’t been there before; a bounce. ‘Flappy,’ he said as he buttered his toast. ‘What’s going on?’

  Flappy’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean? Going on where?’

  ‘With you,’ he said and his eyes scrutinized her again.

  Flappy swallowed. The heat prickled on the back of her neck. ‘I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, darling,’ she replied breezily, masking her discomfort.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said and smiled. ‘You’re the only woman in Badley Compton who seems to be getting younger, not older.’

  ‘Oh that,’ she exclaimed with relief. Well, she knew about that. She laughed and was going to repeat her usual thing about the ugly portrait in the attic, when she realized this was not the moment for a joke. It was the moment for cunning. If there was one thing Flappy was good at, it was knowing when to be shrewd. ‘I’m just lucky,’ she said, then smiled fondly at her husband. ‘Good genes and a happy marriage.’

  He patted her hand. ‘I backed the right horse, didn’t I?’ he said with a chuckle.

  ‘So did I,’ she replied, although she didn’t much like being referred to as a horse.

  * * *

  When Persephone arrived at nine, Flappy was ready with a list of things for her to do. ‘Good morning, Persephone,’ she trilled cheerfully.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Scott-Booth,’ Persephone replied. ‘You have a full diary until lunch. Hair appointment at ten with a manicure and pedicure. You should be out by one-thirty.’

  ‘Good,’ said Flappy. ‘You can drive me into town. I don’t want to have to drive back with wet nails. While you’re waiting you can run a few errands for me.’ She gave Persephone the list. ‘Usual things, no surprises, and you can have a coffee and a cake on me at Big Mary’s if you like. My hair tends to take some time. I just have so much of it. Poor David spends hours laboriously painting the highlights. I tip him double. One really should be generous when one
can.’

  The two of them set off in Flappy’s Range Rover, listening to Classic FM. Flappy sighed with pleasure at the sight of the blue sky and feathery white clouds that wafted across it. Hedda would be pleased, she thought. No rain to dampen everyone’s spirits. It would be a starry night and a full moon for the last party of the summer. Next year Flappy would make sure that she gave the last party of the summer. But for now, she was happy to allow Hedda that privilege, considering she was sleeping with her husband. It was the least she could do, to be generous-spirited to Hedda.

  She parked at the kerb and the two women got out. Flappy headed for the hairdresser’s, while Persephone continued down the street to make her way through Flappy’s shopping list. It was only when she had finished and had time to kill that she went off to Big Mary’s to take up Flappy’s offer of a cake and a cup of coffee. She wasn’t surprised to see Mrs Hitchens, Mrs Armitage, Mrs Hancock and Mrs Tennant sitting at a table with their heads together like a quartet of witches. She smiled, greeting them politely as she passed, and went to stand in line behind a dark-haired young man who was talking to Big Mary while she made his coffee. Her eyes settled onto the cakes and she wondered which she would choose today. Would it be the one with sprinkles or the sticky one with pink icing? The man turned to her as Big Mary took a plate down from the shelf behind her. He caught Persephone’s eye and smiled. ‘Hello,’ he said.

  ‘Hi,’ Persephone replied.

  The man liked what he saw, for he added, ‘I like the chocolate cake the best. I had a slice yesterday and I dreamed about it all night.’

  Persephone laughed. ‘I’m more of a vanilla girl myself. I can’t decide which one to go for.’

  ‘What’s the choice?’ he asked, joining her in looking through the glass. Persephone pointed at the two cakes.

  He thought about it for a moment, scratching his chin. ‘Personally, I’d go for sprinkles.’