by Fay Weldon
Barley makes a speech saying how wonderful it is to have all his good friends about him at this juncture of his life, and how money and success are nothing compared with family and friends, and how happy he is that the mother of his son Carmichael can be with him at this time of celebration. And so on. Sir Ron is somewhere here amongst the guests, he has heard, but must be avoiding him. So much is obvious. Billyboy Justice and Makarov have won. Barley is finished.
Doris makes a speech about how wonderful and sexy Barley is, and how once she had a drink and drugs problem but how now with Barley by her side she has overcome it. She is so proud to be Mrs Doris Salt. She thanks her parents in their absence for everything they have done for her to bring her to this point in life: they would have been here to help celebrate this wonderful evening, her husband’s sixtieth birthday, but they’re on a cruise. And now will Lady Juliet do the honours because here is his birthday present, from Doris to her Barley, with all her love. A portrait by a great artist, a sudden new blazing beacon in the cultural life of the country actually walking here amongst us tonight, Walter Wells.
Lady Juliet obligingly pulls the rope and the portrait is unveiled. A gasp goes up, because everyone had expected a portrait of Barley but it’s not, it’s Doris. To present someone with a portrait of yourself for their birthday is surely a bit uncool, and Lady Juliet is saying from the plinth actually it’s Barley’s fifty-ninth, not his sixtieth at all. Doris should have known this if she loves him as much as she says, and meanwhile the film crew is moving in for a close shot, and getting in people’s way, and there is a hard arc light rather near the painting and something very strange is happening. A silence falls, becausethe paint is blurring round the edges of Doris’s body and slipping from her face and she looks cruel and evil, rather as one imagines the portrait of Dorian Gray to have been. Someone even calls our Doris ‘Dorian Gray’, and Doris runs towards the camera crew calling cut, cut. Then she runs out into the garden sobbing. And Grace takes it upon herself to shoo everyone out of the room to give Doris time to compose herself. Barley, Sir Ron, Lady Juliet and Walter remain behind. ‘That is very strange, Walter,’ says Lady Juliet, ‘because that’s my best Bulgari necklace you’ve painted on Doris’s breast, the Egyptian piece, and frankly after this evening I don’t like the company it’s keeping.’
9.45p.m.
Doris, shivering in the garden, thinking nothing worse can befall, has answered her cellphone and been told by her Head of Department that Artsworld Extra has been pulled. Doris knows the only reason for this late-night call must be that the Corporation are disassociating themselves from her and fast, that they expect some scandal to break. In her present mood she is not sure that she can weather more trouble. She weeps a little and wonders why Barley is not by her side. She goes inside for warmth and sits on the stairs high up in the house where no-one is likely to come.
10.30p.m.
In the drawing room Walter has finished explaining himself. The Artsworld Extra crew has already been informed and are packing up their portable steel boxes. Their jobs are not at risk: and at least they won’t have to work for Doris anymore. The guests are having a fine old time talking about the Doris/Dorian fiasco and wondering where this leaves Walter Wells and drinking the remains of the Salt cellars– ha-ha – the while. There hasn’t been as good a party as this for yonks. News flies around, like Virgil’s many-tongued rumour, that Opera Noughtie has been axed to give way to the biggest environmentally-friendly de-commissioning plant in Europe: all the pleasures of schadenfreude are here. Outside the chauffeurs prepare for a long wait, and turn on their mini TV sets for the late night film, but as luck will have it it’s been cancelled and in its place is a repeat of the Artsworld Extra Leadbetter show. Some poor programmer will get it in the neck tomorrow for using his own judgement.
10.46p.m.
Barley asks Grace if she will remarry him if he divorces Doris and Grace just looks incredulous and says she’s in love with Walter, hasn’t he heard. Barley says that isn’t such a good idea because after tonight Walter’s name will be mud. Lady Juliet overhears and says on the contrary, this is the way Walter’s going to get his name known, the world being what it is, and personally she thinks the whole thing’s very funny. She says it’s probably the new varnish Walter has been using.
10.48p.m.
Sir Ron turns to Barley, and says Barley must be feeling very relieved. What about? asks Barley, and Sir Ron says didn’t you get a phone call? I asked my people to be in touch with your people, put you out of any anxiety. Rumours had been flying, he knew. Partly his fault for having talked too openly to Billyboy Justice in the belief that he’d keep his mouth shut. Not that Billyboy was much good at shutting his mouth in the first place so much of it having been blown away, ha-ha. ‘Ha-ha,’ said Barley.
‘Opera Noughtie goes ahead,’ said Sir Ron, ‘and the decommissioning plant as well, but we’re giving that to Wales.
Sop a bit of unemployment up, give the new Assembly something to get their teeth into.’ Barley is saved.
11.01p.m.
Barley’s cellphone buzzes. It’s the police. They’ve found the suspect and it’s some stalker after Doris Dubois, a loony, a woman dressed as man, who used to be a cleaner at Wild Oats. Doris has had a lucky escape. They have her safely locked up. Barley calls for a large whisky. He’s a rich man again. He can even have Ross back now he doesn’t have to worry about the Russians: he can afford a driver who isn’t all that fast on his feet. Doris will have to get her own car. Flora turns up with Barley’s whisky. Has Barley heard that Artsworld Extra has been pulled? She, Flora, is to front its replacement, From the Other Side. No, not Art, Art doesn’t get enough viewers, it’s the supernatural, her other interest. Where’s poor Doris, she must be in a terrible state, one way and another. Barley says Doris is never in a terrible state for more than ten minutes, or however long it takes her to get her own way, and Flora laughs and says don’t be so unkind. There is something of Grace about her: perhaps that’s why they all got on so well. She is the daughter he didn’t have, except his feelings are not the kind a man has towards his daughter. He admires Flora’s long beautiful neck and thinks how much better the Bulgari necklace would look on Flora than on Doris. He will divorce Doris. If you’ve done it once you can do it again. Easy-peasy.
11.32p.m.
Barley’s cellphone buzzes again. It’s Carmichael from a transit lounge in Singapore, wishing his father a happy birthday. Sorry about the incident outside Ma’s flat. He’d come straight from Soho in a friend’s car, all upset about Toby, there’d been a bitof a tussle in the front seat, and somebody’s foot had suddenly gone down on the accelerator, you know how it is. ‘Well I don’t,’ said Barley, ‘but I’m sorry you were upset.’ ‘Thanks, Dad,’ said Carmichael happily. ‘I’m okay now.’
12 p.m.onwards
A drunken search for poor Doris is held throughout the house. Guests join in. Peals of laughter come from the refurbished rooms, as Doris’s ideas of what a house should look like are scrutinised and found wanting, and her builders mocked. Mattresses are bounced upon and scorned. Grace, the first wife, finds herself defending Doris, the second. The bath taps that Barley turned on earlier, to no avail, have started to gush water, flooded the bathroom floor and brought down the ceiling of the master bedroom, star constellations and all. Barley just shrugs. What does it matter? Flora would never consent to live in a house like this. It was not beautiful to begin with. Barley will sell it.
Doris is finally tracked down by a party that consists of Barley, Flora, Grace and Walter. She is sitting drumming her heels on the stairs. She has torn off her flame-coloured dress and hurled it in the corner. She is very cross. She is wearing a white slip.
‘Good Lord,’ says Flora, ‘the midnight thudding on the stairs, the wraith in white? I knew I was right. I knew ghosts could come from the future as well as the past. See, I already have my first programme. What price History of Art now?’ ‘You bitch,’ cries Doris, ‘You bit
ch. You want to take everything I have. But I’ll be back, just wait and see, and then you’ll pay for it!’ But her voice sounds hollow to all their ears, almost ghostly, and the house rejoices.
Also by Fay Weldon
Fiction
THE FAT WOMAN’S JOKE DOWN AMONG THE WOMEN
FEMALE FRIENDS
REMEMBER ME
LITTLE SISTERS PRAXIS
PUFFBALL
THE PRESIDENT’S CHILD THE LIFE AND LOVES
OF A SHE-DEVIL
THE SHRAPNEL ACADEMY THE HEART OF THE
COUNTRY
THE HEARTS AND LIVES
OF MEN THE RULES OF LIFE LEADER OF THE BAND THE CLONING OF JOANNA
MAY DARCY’S UTOPIA GROWING RICH
LIFE FORCE
AFFLICTION
SPLITTING
WORST FEARS
BIG WOMEN
RHODE ISLAND BLUES
Children’s Books
WOLF THE
MECHANICAL DOG NOBODY LIKES ME
Short Story Collections
WATCHING ME, WATCHING YOU
POLARIS
MOON OVER MINNEAPOLIS WICKED WOMEN A HARD TIME
TO BE A FATHER
Non-fiction
LETTERS TO ALICE
REBECCA WEST SACRED COWS
GODLESS IN EDEN
Copyright
Flamingo
An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
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Flamingo ® is a registered trade mark of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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Published by Flamingo 2001
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
First published by BVLGARI Italy S.p.A. 2000 as a special limited gift edition
Copyright © Fay Weldon 2000
Fay Weldon asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 0 00 712126 1
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © OCTOBER 2010 ISBN: 978-0-007-39049-6
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