Familiar Rooms in Darkness (30 page)

‘Oh, God, just take a look!' Megan, pointing at the shower, retreated to the furthest corner of the bathroom.

Adam advanced on the shower cubicle and pulled back the curtain. Looking down, he saw that the water from the showerhead, which should have been running away, was being regurgitated from the drain in throaty belches of brownish sludge, filling up the cubicle basin and beginning to spill out on to the tiled floor. The smell was revolting.

‘Oh, Christ!' said Adam, moving quickly back.

‘What is it?' Megan was shivering in horror in the corner, trying to dry herself.

Compton-King's large, unshaven face appeared round the door. ‘Trouble, boys and girls?' He looked down and saw the tide of brown liquid seeping quickly over the tiles. ‘Shit.'

‘Literally,' said Adam. ‘It must be the septic tank backing up.'

‘Switch the shower off !' squealed Megan. ‘It's going to flood the place!'

Adam inched his way barefoot round the brown, spreading tide, pulled back the shower curtain with one hand, and tried to lean over to switch the shower off. In so doing, he put his full weight on the shower curtain, which parted from its rail in a brisk ripping tinkle, and fell over. The edge of the shower basin caught him hard on his ribs, and he found himself wrist-deep in the stuff which was burping from the drain. The combination of the smell from the drain and the pain in his ribs made his gorge rise, and for a moment he thought he might be sick. He struggled to his feet and let the stream of tepid water from the shower rinse the worst of the muck from his hands and arms, then shakily he turned the shower off.

He stood there, T-shirt and boxer shorts clinging to his body, in a pool of sewage, his chest aching. The drain gave a series of deep, effluvial burps, then all was silent. To Megan's yips of disgust, Adam stepped from the burgeoning cesspool and padded over to the washbasin. He teetered around it for a minute or two, rinsing one leg, then the other, keeping a wary eye on the plughole in case it threatened to regurgitate as well. ‘I should probably have a typhus injection or something.'

Megan made her way round the creeping puddle and fled to the bedroom.

Adam and Compton-King surveyed the horror. ‘Well, that about settles it,' said Adam. ‘We can't stay here.' He shivered momentarily. ‘Chuck us a towel.'

Compton-King peered into the linen cupboard and pulled out a diminutive guest towel. ‘Looks like this'll have to do.'

Adam took the towel and mopped himself ineffectually. ‘God, what a mess… Maybe Megan and I can move into one of the other villas.'

‘Not much point in that, as I imagine they all share this same, wonderful
fosse septique
.'

Adam sighed. ‘I'm going to get dressed.'

‘I'll drive to the town down the road and get us some breakfast,' said Compton-King, trying to look bright. ‘There must be a supermarket.'

‘Great. Thanks a lot. I'll ring the people who look after the place and get someone to sort this out.'

Adam came downstairs ten minutes later and rang the caretakers. No reply. He went into the kitchen and found Bruno and Megan sitting at the table. Megan's expression was as miserable as he'd ever seen it. Bruno, on the other hand, looked serene. He was smoking a large spliff, his matted hair dripping water on to the T-shirt which he'd been wearing since Saturday.

‘Just been for a swim,' he remarked. ‘Pool's not bad.'

‘About the only thing round here that isn't,' muttered Megan.

‘Yeah.' Bruno gave an otherworldly glance at his surroundings. ‘Rick said it would be really cool, but this is
tragic. I mean–' he gave a disbelieving laugh, ‘I'm a fucking rock star!'

Megan and Adam stared at him wordlessly, then Megan reached out a hand for the spliff. Skank nodded and passed it to her.

That's it, start the day by getting stoned with this moron
, thought Adam. He wandered out into the early heat of the day. The swimming pool lay, inert and blue, in the centre of the complex of shabby villas, the rest of which were locked and shuttered. Hardly surprising that no one wanted to rent them. They were shoddy and ugly, with threadbare patches of lawn leading to the pool. Adam wandered from house to house, inspecting the barbecue areas, the shrivelled patches of geraniums which nobody had bothered to water recently, the dilapidated sun loungers and rickety pool umbrellas, wondering how he could possibly have been so unlucky as to finish up renting this. It was clear that they couldn't spend the next two weeks here.

Wandering back to the house twenty minutes later, he could hear the sound of the Bentley's engine in the distance. Food at last. Everybody had been utterly famished since yesterday. He went back to the kitchen to help unload groceries and put some breakfast together.

But Compton-King had returned with nothing more than two baguettes and a bag of croissants. He put them apologetically on the kitchen table.

‘Is that it?' Bruno looked dazedly at the bread.

‘I couldn't find a supermarket that was open. Managed to find a baker's. Best I could do.'

Megan took a croissant from the bag and began to eat it.

‘They're better warmed up,' said Adam in a conciliatory fashion.

‘I don't care. I'm too hungry. And fed up. Anyway, the oven probably doesn't work. Nothing else seems to.' She glanced up at Adam, her eyes a little glazed from her smoke, and handed him a croissant. He took it and ate it dejectedly. Bruno broke off a large lump of baguette and chewed it.

‘What are we going to do for the rest of the day?' asked Megan. ‘We can't live off this.'

‘We'll have to go out and find somewhere for lunch,' said Adam. ‘And some shops, if possible.'

‘And then what?' Megan turned her angry gaze on him. ‘Come back here? To this horrible place? You can't go upstairs without wanting to throw up!'

‘Megan–' began Adam. But she got up, ignoring him, grabbed another croissant from the bag and stomped from the kitchen.

Adam followed her outside. ‘Look,' he said, ‘you've made it perfectly clear that you blame me for all of this. But do you really think it helps? Do you think I want to hear you telling me every other second how bad it is, and how fed up you are? Could we try to be a little less selfish, perhaps? How about supporting me, instead of whining on about everything?'

‘Don't start having a go at
me
! This was meant to be a pleasant break for both of us, but what happens? First you agree to drive down with two people I've never met in my life, in a bloody awful car that doesn't work properly. Then I find you haven't even bothered to take the time to book somewhere decent – and you expect me to
be perfectly fine about it! Do you know what? I wish I'd never agreed to come with you! I wish I'd stayed in London!'

‘You don't know how entirely and sincerely I agree with that sentiment,' retorted Adam. He went back into the house.

Compton-King was wearing the insouciant expression of someone pretending not to have overheard someone else's row. ‘Look,' said Adam apologetically, ‘it was really good of you to drive us down here. But there's not much sense in you hanging around. You'll want to get on.'

‘You still have to pick up your hire car,' pointed out Compton-King. ‘I'll drive you into Cahors.'

Adam scratched his head. ‘I hadn't thought about that. If you're sure you don't mind, that would be great.'

Adam and Compton-King set off for Cahors in the Bentley. Megan and Bruno stayed behind, sitting in the sun by the edge of the swimming pool, their legs dangling in the water.

‘You and Adam been going out long?' asked Bruno.

‘A couple of years,' said Megan moodily. She had never felt so hostile towards Adam, ever, and it wasn't a feeling she liked. She could tell he felt the same way at the moment, and that merely heightened her own brooding animosity. She should want to make it up with him, but she didn't. She frankly didn't care.

‘Right.' Bruno nodded philosophically.

Megan rounded on him. ‘What d'you mean – right?'

‘Sorry?' Bruno was startled.

‘You said it in a certain way. “Right”, you said, and then nodded in that significant way.'

‘Easy!' Bruno held up a defensive hand. ‘Why don't you just chill a bit? Relax. I just meant that two years was probably long enough to start getting on each other's nerves.' Megan said nothing, just stared at the sunlight dancing on the water. Bruno contemplated her expression. He smiled, put out a finger and lifted a lock of hair from her face. ‘You look so bloody miserable. Come on, give us a smile.'

Megan sighed, and gave a small smile in spite of herself. She cast a tentative glance at Bruno. He had nice eyes. Smiley eyes. He was young and carefree. Suddenly she wanted to be like that, too.

‘That's better,' said Bruno. He dipped his hand in his T-shirt pocket and pulled out a battered spliff and lit it. ‘There you go.' He handed it to Megan. ‘Now, tell me all about you and Adam.'

After a mellow hour of smoking and talking, Megan began to feel better. Not about Adam, but about herself, about life. It was nice to make a new friend. Her continuing sense of resentment against Adam made her feel justified in having a moan about him. And Bruno was easy to be with. It was a pleasant change to talk to someone with a less serious agenda, not wrapped up in books and literary articles. There was an aimlessness about Bruno which she found quite refreshing.

‘How old are you?' she asked.

‘Twenty-nine.'

‘I thought you were younger.'

‘It's my childlike persona,' said Bruno. He shifted himself on to the grass and lay back. ‘Nah, actually it's being in the band. In a band you never grow up.'

Megan reflected on this, thinking how pleasant it would be to be able to resist all those pressures to behave like a grown-up. Perhaps it was to do with being in her thirties, perhaps it was to do with being around Adam, so solitary and serious… Whatever it was, she liked the idea that it wasn't necessarily too late to have fun.

‘What are you going to do?' Compton-King asked Adam, as they drove into Cahors.

‘About that wretched house? Try the caretakers again. Not that they're going to be able to make the place habitable, even if I manage to get hold of them. I suppose I'll end up ringing the gite company and telling them I'm going to sue them rotten. What else can I do? I'll just have to try and wring some compensation out of them when we get back to London.' Adam sighed and ran weary fingers through his hair. ‘I can think of something to tide us over for today, at least. Harry Day's daughter has a house not far from here. The one who was in the Orton play. She's staying there at the moment. Harry left the house to her and her brother.'

Compton-King nodded. ‘Bella. Gorgeous girl.'

‘Do you know her?'

‘No. Harry and I had drifted apart somewhat by the time she came along. But her face is all over the place.'

Adam nodded. ‘We've grown quite – quite friendly since I started the biography. She suggested Megan and I should drop in while we're down here, and I can't think
of a better opportunity. At least we'll get some lunch. Then we can sort out somewhere else to stay for the next couple of weeks. I'll ring her when we get back.'

Bella was in the kitchen discussing grocery requirements with Marianne when the phone rang. She had tried to put Adam from her mind since leaving London, and hardly expected to hear from him, so her heart leapt with unexpected pleasure at the sound of his voice.

‘Adam! How are you?'

‘Well, the trip down was interesting. Richard Compton-King drove us. You remember I mentioned him – an old friend of your father's?'

‘Oh, yes.' Her tone was unenthusiastic. ‘The one who outed Daddy.'

Adam winced. ‘You could say… Anyway, the gite we booked has turned out to be a bit of a disaster. My fault. I made a booking at the last minute, took whatever was going. We woke up this morning to find that the septic tank is backing up, and the place is uninhabitable. We're bailing out and trying to find somewhere else to stay, but I wondered if–'

‘Come over here for the day. You absolutely must.'

‘That's what I was hoping you'd say. It'll only be for a few hours, till we fix up something else. The whole thing is awful.'

‘Poor you. How far away are you?'

‘I had a look at a map, and it can't be more than an hour or so.'

‘Well, put your things together and come over. Ask Mr Compton-King if he'd like to come to lunch, too. I'd be
interested to meet him. Since he was such a friend of Daddy's.'

‘Right…' Adam paused uncertainly. ‘He's got a – a young friend with him. A musician. Sort of.'

‘The more the merrier. We'll see you around lunchtime.'

Bella hung up. She felt disproportionately happy at the thought of seeing Adam. ‘Marianne,' she called, ‘we're going to have a few extra people for lunch.'

Adam put the phone down and went into the kitchen, where Compton-King was leaning back in a chair which looked too frail for his large frame, feet up on the table, studying a road map.

‘Right, that's all fixed up. Are you and Bruno headed anywhere in particular?'

‘Not especially. Just thinking of rolling off in the direction of Bordeaux. Why?'

‘Bella wondered if you'd like to come to lunch as well.'

‘What's happening?' asked Bruno, strolling into the kitchen.

Compton-King folded the road map. ‘We've been invited to lunch by a preposterously pretty young actress. A friend of Adam's called Bella Day. Does that appeal?'

‘Cool.'

‘I thought it might.'

‘Right,' said Adam, ‘we might as well get going straight away.'

Megan, wandering moodily in from outside, caught this. ‘Get going where?'