Mad About the Boy

by Maggie Alderson

I’d been to Suzy’s ‘beach house’ before and it was rather as I imagine the Kennedy compound in Maine must be, all wide verandas, manicured lawns and tennis courts, and more bedrooms and guest cottages than you could count. I could hardly wait for the big night.

  Four weeks later, as we waited for the first guests to arrive, looking over the ocean from Suzy’s veranda, I felt I looked better than I had since my wedding. I’d certainly never been so well groomed. All the women staying at the house had been given a manicure, pedicure and massage during the day and Suzy had brought up a team of make-up artists and hairdressers to add the finishing touches. I was very relieved that Mr Papodopoulos was not one of them and suspected that Suzy had taken care of that deliberately.

  Best of all, I had the most beautiful dress to wear. Her friend Antony Maybury had created it specially for me and it made me feel like a movie star. He’d done something amazing with a hidden inner structure, so I didn’t have to wear any underwear with it, but still felt totally confident. It was a draped column of slinky silk jersey, in a rich ruby red, with long sleeves and an unbelievably bare back, the whole thing suspended from a high neck band, with gold chains looped across the back and round my hips, to keep it on me.

  ‘This colour is good with your hair,’ he’d said, during the first fitting, frowning at my head in the mirror, as though he was trying to remember a word. ‘Sort of dark mouse, isn’t it? But it suits you. Funny that.’

  He held the bolt of cloth up against me and started cutting it. ‘You English girls have beautiful skin. Let’s show off as much of it as possible without giving you frostbite.’

  With my hair up, a major pair of Heaveringham diamond drop earrings in my lugs and my best Jimmy Choo jewelled mules on my feet, I really felt like a glamorous Sydney girl – which is exactly how Suzy described me.

  ‘You look wonderful, Ant,’ she’d said when I came down, sounding like she really meant it, but adding, with a wicked look, ‘no one would ever know you were English.’

  She looked like Cameron Diaz herself, in a layered chiffon kaftan in different shades of green, through which you could make out the lines of her long slim limbs. She had a serious pear-shaped emerald pendant around her hair, the enormous jewel resting on her forehead. That was her birthday present from Roger, who was looking pretty sprauncy himself in a peacock-blue raw silk shalwar kameez he’d had specially made in Jaipur.

  I stood leaning against the veranda rail looking out over the embroidered tents filled with cushions and carpets, the flaming braziers to keep off the chills, the phalanx of waiters with silver trays of champagne and cocktails, and the enormous flower arrangements like brilliantly coloured birds. The air was heavy with incense and a small band was playing wonderfully exotic sitar music. Antony Maybury winked at me as he bustled past, wearing a turban, making final adjustments to his decorations.

  ‘We’re going to have the night of our lives,’ said Suzy, clinking her champagne glass with mine, as she went off to greet her first guests.

  I thought she was very probably right.

  5

  Wrong. Among the first guests to come out of the house were Nikki and David Maier – and Greg Papodopoulos. For one gorgeous moment, I thought Hugo wasn’t with them, but a few minutes later I heard his unmistakable voice booming out of the drawing room.

  ‘Oh, Suzy,’ he was saying. ‘No … This is all marvellous. Greg has told me how gorgeous this place is, but I had no idea it was the full Hyannis Port.’

  I was normally amused by the way he and his family used the word ‘no’ to express enthusiasm (‘Oh, no, I love it. Noooo, it’s marvellous’ was a normal Heaveringham reaction to a Christmas present, for example), but it was the last thing I needed to hear at that point. Especially as I detected a slightly different tone in Hugo’s voice that evening. By the time he had got on to the flower arrangements – ‘No! These are totally fabulous. We are loving. Divine …’ – I had worked out what the difference was. We are loving? He sounded distinctly queeny.

  And, of course, Nikki and Greg had seen me – standing alone – and were making no effort to walk the ten steps to acknowledge me.

  I often think there is a lot more animal intelligence left in human beings than we give ourselves credit for. How else can you explain the way that two people both know that the other one has seen and recognized them, without either of them acknowledging it? It must be something to do with anti-pheromones. But I had another basic instinct on my mind at that point – escaping, before Hugo saw me.

  Trying not to run, I stepped off the veranda and strolled ever so casually towards the tents, as though there was no place on earth I would rather be. I could swear I felt the fire of malicious eyes on my back as I went although, of course, I could have been imagining it.

  But I didn’t imagine Nikki’s voice when it clearly rang out, ‘Hi Hugo, darling. Look, there’s your ex-wife, looking like Father Christmas in a red dress and with no one to talk to. Such a shame, isn’t it? She looks quite nice, for once.’

  I didn’t hear Hugo’s reply, because I was hiding behind the tents by then. Where I stayed as long as I dared, fuming about it all and particularly about Nikki calling me Hugo’s ‘ex-wife’, when we were still very much married, even if we didn’t happen to live together any more.

  The evening did not get any better. I knew a lot of people at the party, but the whole thing was marred for me because I was so self-conscious about Hugo and Greg. It seemed as though wherever I went, they were already there – and it wasn’t exactly a small space.

  Suzy and Antony had divided the garden up into lots of defined areas, almost like a series of rooms, so you always had that feeling there was somewhere else to go and discover, where there might be something marvellous going on.

  As well as the huge outside dance floor and various food stations with whole goats roasting over charcoal, great piles of couscous, towering arrangements of exotic fruit and much more, there was a series of different bars serving different kinds of drinks. Then there were all the tents, with chill-out zones for lying around in, stand up and mingle areas for socializing and long tables where groups could gather. All this and still there wasn’t enough room for me to escape from the dashing duo, who seemed to be waiting – having a fabulous time – round every corner I explored.

  But while I was having a miserable time, I could still see it was a wonderful party and I was very happy for Suzy that it was going so well. Certainly everyone had gone to enormous effort with their outfits – always a great compliment to a hostess – and from very early on people had starting dancing. Those who weren’t getting down on the dance floor were constantly cruising around, mingling, and every other moment, great peals of laughter would break into the night.

  It was, without doubt, one of the best parties I had ever been to. It was just a shame I was having such a rotten time at it.

  No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t feel like I fitted in anywhere. I just floated around feeling completely unanchored. The problem was, I didn’t have a core group of friends to keep coming back to, and that, I realized, was something I had taken for granted all my adult life. I had always been part of a party posse and now suddenly I wasn’t. And worst of all, of course, I didn’t have Hugo.

  In retrospect, I couldn’t believe I had been so thick, but I had been so excited about all Suzy’s plans I hadn’t thought it through – but this was the first big party I had been to without him, since I was nineteen years old. It was hell and it was made even worse by the fact that he was there with someone else. I hadn’t considered that possibility either and I was quite hurt that Suzy hadn’t mentioned to me that Hugo and Greg were coming together. It wasn’t like her to be so insensitive.

  Adding to my general woes, I also had the distinct impression that people weren’t particularly thrilled to see me. I tried to convince myself I was just feeling insecure, but it seemed as though I wasn’t really welcome anywhere. If I went up to a group I knew, there would be a slightly embarrassed
pause and then the conversation would continue, in a way that didn’t include me, so I’d melt away again and try another group. The only times I felt happy all evening were when I was with Suzy and Roger, but I couldn’t hang around them all the time like a cling on.

  I finally knew I wasn’t imagining it when Caroline French actually turned her back on me when I went up to say hello to her. I hadn’t seen her for a while and was quite looking forward to a chat, but she distinctly turned round and ignored me. I was so astonished I just stood there and I saw the man she was talking to give me a slightly embarrassed look over her shoulder, which confirmed my worst fears. I couldn’t believe it; I didn’t think people really did that. Not once they were past Tom’s age anyway.

  That was all ghastly, but worst of all, I had no one to dance with. I love dancing and I couldn’t believe how left out I felt. It made me realize, once again, just how lucky I had been all those years, when I could just drag Hugo out to dance, without thinking about it twice.

  Once you’re on the dance floor, it’s fine, there’s always someone to boogie with, but it’s the first partner that’s crucial. I certainly didn’t have the guts to go and dance on my own. Maybe if I’d felt a bit tipsy I would have but, on top of everything else, I was having one of those nights where every successive drink just seemed to make me more sober.

  Eventually I just gave up even trying to have a good time and sat in a chair, watching other people dance and feeling like some kind of tragic maiden aunt – isn’t it lovely to see the young enjoy themselves? I tried to find it interesting on an anthropological level, just to make the time pass.

  I’d been there about ten minutes – or was it ten hours – and was starting to wonder if I could creep off to bed without Suzy noticing, when salvation appeared in the form of Antony Maybury, who stood in front of me and put out his hand.

  ‘May I have the pleasure of dancing with your dress?’ he asked.

  I practically jumped into his arms. At last, I thought, I could start enjoying myself. Antony was a good dancer who interjected the twirls and turns he was putting me through with hilariously bitchy remarks about other people at the party and what they were wearing.

  The DJ was playing some great tracks and I had finally stopped thinking about myself, when who should pile onto the dance floor, but the Maiers, the Frenchs and the Heaveringham-Papodopouloses, who all seemed to be having a marvellous time. Hugo had his jacket off and his dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist – all he needed was a medallion, I thought – and was dancing the wild leprechaun leap I knew so well.

  Antony didn’t seem to have noticed the newcomers to the dance floor, or he just didn’t care, so I did my best to keep on dancing, although I suddenly felt desperately self-conscious and had to concentrate to keep moving. The minute you start thinking about dancing, you can’t do it and I felt like some kind of badly programmed robot.

  I was just about getting back into the rhythm, when Antony released me suddenly from a major spin and I found myself facing away from him and standing right in front of Caroline’s husband, Tony. Just as at any normal party, he smiled at me, took my hand and jived with me in a friendly way. Maybe it was going to be a fun night after all, I thought.

  But no, suddenly Caroline had put herself firmly between me and her husband, with her back to me once more, so I was left standing in the middle of the dance floor, like a complete prune. I turned round to find Antony and saw to my horror that he was now dancing with Nikki. David Maier had disappeared and Hugo and Greg appeared to be in a clinch. Greg looked me right in the eye and licked Hugo’s neck.

  I left the dance floor.

  I was going to escape to my room, but Suzy and Roger were sitting on the swinging cane sofas on the veranda and I couldn’t get past them into the house without explaining. But I knew I was very close to tears and I just had to be alone.

  Already starting to sob, I headed blindly down the sloping lawn away from the house and when I was about halfway down I was very relieved to see a small gazebo tucked away by the garden wall. I headed for it. It was pitch dark inside and I stumbled in. By then I was crying so seriously I didn’t see the figure sitting in the corner until he took a deep drag on his cigarette.

  It was Nikki’s husband, David. We recognized each other at the same moment and he stood up and came over to me.

  ‘Hey, Antonia,’ he said, flicking his cigarette through the open window. ‘Now what’s the matter with you, little lady?’

  He came closer and took my arm. I was crying really hard, those painful tears that make your chest ache, and much as I wanted to stop I couldn’t. Before I really registered what was happening, David had his arms round me. In that first instance, I was quite touched, I needed some comfort and arms are arms in that kind of situation. Then I felt his left hand stroke my buttock and I snapped back to normal awareness. Just as I did, he slipped his other hand inside my dress – there wasn’t much to stop him – and started fondling my right breast.

  ‘David! Stop it!’ I squealed, like a teenager, but he took no notice. He pushed me back against the wall and tried to put his knee between my legs. I managed to hold him off, wriggling as much as I could to try to get out of his grasp, but the fact was, he was much stronger than me and I was flat against the wooden wall, with nowhere to go. Suddenly I was really scared.

  ‘Must be terrible, seeing your old man out there pashing that poofter,’ he said into my ear. ‘Must be very frustrating, a grown-up girl like you, not having a man in your bed, eh? Bet you get really lonely at night in that big house on your own.’

  Now he had his hand up my skirt and I was deeply regretting the no-underwear dress.

  ‘Ooh,’ said David, clearly encouraged. ‘No panties. You must be panting for it.’

  He laughed at his own joke and started slobbering all over my face. It was disgusting. I tried to kick him, I tried to scream, but it’s not easy when someone has his mouth over yours. It was probably only seconds, but it seemed to go on for hours.

  It was like trying to fight off a giant squid. I would concentrate on trying to loosen his grip in one place, only to feel his other hand exploring somewhere else. Worst of all, I could feel his hard-on pressing against my lower stomach, where he was deliberately rubbing it up and down. In the nightmare of it all, I realized he’d managed to undo the top of my dress, so my breasts were completely exposed and then he pulled the skirt up over my thighs. When I heard him unzip his flies I went limp with terror. And that saved me.

  The moment he felt my body flop he thought he had his opportunity and he pulled away from me, ready to mount his final assault. I sensed my moment and I kneed him in the balls with all my strength.

  ‘You fucking little bitch, you whore,’ he gasped, as he staggered away from me and I ran out of the door and up the lawn as fast as I could.

  I kicked off my shoes for speed and was holding my dress up with one hand as I ran past a very surprised-looking couple who were smooching by the garden wall. The look on their faces brought me to my senses and I realized I couldn’t blunder back through the party in the state I was in.

  I skirted left behind the catering tents and picked my way in the dark, tripping over the guy ropes, to the side of the house. I had to fight my way through some large spiky shrubs, but eventually I made it to the other side of the building, where I knew there was a small door into the house, away from the main entrance. I was very happy to find it open and slipped inside just as I heard Suzy’s voice round the corner farewelling some guests.

  I ran up to my room and locked myself in. I ripped off my dress, stuffed it into a plastic carrier bag and threw it into the waste-paper basket, then I turned the shower on full blast. Just before I got in it, I looked at myself in the mirror. What a fright. My make-up was smeared all over my face and my hair was like a tangled nest. As I scrubbed the mascara off my cheeks, I realized I was wearing only one of my diamond earrings.

  At least I was able to blame my fragile state on a hangover the nex
t morning. The hardest part was joining in Suzy’s rapturous party post-mortem. I couldn’t possibly tell her I’d had the worst night of my life, culminating in an attempted rape.

  ‘I hardly saw you all night, Ant,’ she was saying, as she hoovered up a fried egg sandwich, sitting on the veranda wearing a white cashmere cardigan over a sarong and never taking off her very dark glasses. ‘What did you get up to?’

  I was amazed at the good front I managed to put on.

  ‘Oh, you know, flitting around, talking to people, dancing, drinking too much …’

  ‘I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself, Ant,’ she said, patting my leg. ‘I was a bit worried about you when I saw Greg walk in. I specifically didn’t invite him, you know – he’s hardly one of my friends, he just works where I get my hair done. And I did actually call Hugo and ask him not to bring him, which he agreed to. It was Nikki Maier who brought Greg. I am so cross with her. Hugo was really embarrassed when he arrived and saw them on the veranda …’

  ‘So they didn’t arrive together then?’ I asked her.

  Suzy shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, through a mouthful of egg. ‘They definitely arrived separately, but coincidentally very close together. Hugo looked really surprised when he saw Greg.’

  She paused and looked at me, clearly not sure whether to say more. I said it for her.

  ‘But he didn’t seem to mind for long, though, did he?’ I sighed.

  ‘No, he didn’t. I’m sorry, Ant.’

  After breakfast I told Suzy I was going to get some air and braced myself to go back to the summer house. I had to find that earring. They had belonged to Hugo’s grandmother and I felt responsible for them.

  I picked up my shoes, which were still strewn on the lawn from the night before, and then forced myself to walk towards the little wooden structure. It had seemed such a terrifying torture chamber the night before, but now it looked so flimsy in the sunlight. I felt physically ill when I looked at the corner where David had pinned me, but I got on with searching the floor for my earring. I looked everywhere, but there was no sign of it.