‘You’ve got to cheer up and stop being so bad-tempered. You’ve had a brilliant day so enjoy the end of it.’ Snakily undulating in front of him, she gazed at his angry closed lips, then she pulled him close and kissed him, on and on and on, until everyone clapped and whooped.
‘Nice?’ she asked as she broke away.
‘Yup. Stop trying to annoy Rogue.’
‘Doesn’t look annoyed to me.’
Across the floor, Rogue, dancing with Bonny, had undone three buttons of her little bleak dress and was kissing her breastbone.
‘Where Pauline’s concerned, I want Valent to achieve closure,’ Bonny was saying.
‘And I want to achieve clothes off,’ giggled Rogue, undoing another button.
‘Good thing Valent isn’t here,’ said Painswick disapprovingly, ‘or he’d bring in the heavy brigade.’
Suddenly Etta felt very tired.
‘Come and join us,’ said Seth, who while he watched developments on the dance floor was sitting with the Major and Alban, idly listening to them banging on about moat control. Pulling out a chair for Etta, he filled her glass.
‘Bolton’s moat’s going to flood the village or cause a drought,’ warned the Major.
‘Someone ought to do something about goat control,’ giggled a swaying Trixie, pausing at the table to drain Etta’s full glass. ‘Chisolm escaped at Warwick and was found in the Owners and Trainers wolfing down all the sandwiches. When the barman threatened to charge her, she charged him. Ha ha ha.’ Trixie laughed too long and loudly at her own joke, then collapsed into the chair beside Etta. ‘I wish Valent was here.’
‘Were here,’ said Seth absent-mindedly.
‘He always makes things safe.’
‘And he could pick up the bill,’ said Shagger, waving an empty
bottle at the next table. ‘We’re running out of champagne.’
‘That’s horrible,’ flared up Etta, ‘Valent’s the most generous man in the world,’ then blushed as they all stared at her.
‘Valent has picked up the entire bill,’ said Joey, switching off his mobile and coming out of the dark corner. ‘That’s why we’re all here.’
‘Good God,’ exclaimed Alban.
‘“For his bounty, there was no winter in’t.”’ Alan glared reprovingly at Shagger.
‘Mrs Wilkinson and Valent,’ said Seth, a slight edge to his voice as he raised his glass. He had noticed Bonny and Rogue going outside twenty minutes ago to ‘have a smoke’.
Bonny didn’t smoke, nor did she Normally drink.
‘Corinna’s old enough to be Seth’s mother,’ she was complaining to Rogue as they returned to the tables.
‘Probably is his mother,’ grinned Rogue, ostentatiously wiping off lipstick. ‘Whatever turns you on.’
Bonny’s mobile rang. ‘Oh Valent, dearest, where are you? I miss you so much.’ She ran out of the room.
What a tart, thought Etta. ‘I’m off to bed,’ she said.
‘Must you, darling?’ Seth escorted her to the door but didn’t discourage her. ‘Thank you so much. I’d never have remembered all those words if it hadn’t been for you.’
‘They sounded glorious.’ Then, in the hope that if he were in loco parentis, he might behave better: ‘Will you keep an eye on Trixie? Rogue’s fun but he’s a bit of a wolf.’
‘Of course,’ said Seth, kissing her.
As the disco launched into ‘American Pie’, everyone seemed to surge on to the dance floor.
‘I’ll come with you, Etta,’ cried Phoebe. ‘You are lucky to have that lovely room all to yourself.’
Etta was too depressed and exhausted to offer to exchange it. She’d just taken off her make-up, cleaned her teeth and got into her nightgown when the telephone rang.
After she picked it up, there was a long pause.
‘Etta, this is Alban.’ Even longer pause. ‘Wonder if you’d like a nightcap? I could bring a bottle round. You looked so awfully pretty tonight.’
‘That is so kind,’ cried Etta, trying to sound sleepy, ‘but it’s a bit late. But thank you so, so much, sweet dreams.’
Gosh! Five minutes later, the telephone rang again. It was the Major.
‘You were looking very tasty this evening, young lady. Fancy a noggin?’
‘With you and Debbie?’
‘Old girl’s hit the hay, just yours very truly.’
Etta tried not to laugh.
‘So sorry, Normie, it’s really sweet of you, but I’m a bit tired. Thank you so much for thinking of me.’
Gosh! Two minutes later it rang again.
‘Etta,’ stammered a hoarse voice. ‘Got a big bar of drink here, wonder if you’d like to share it?’
It was Pocock. After all the lovely plants he’d given her, Etta felt a brute saying no.
Collapsing on her bed with hysterical laughter, she fell asleep.
The Major – a great warrior brought down by sexual desire – was stalking the passages. He couldn’t waste his Viagra. The soldier’s pole must not fall. He leapt behind a sculpture of Ben Jonson as he saw Seth knock on Bonny’s door and slide inside. He’d be busy for a few hours.
Padding along the passage, moustache erect, the Major found Corinna’s door open. He tiptoed inside.
The bedside light was still on, a bottle of champagne on its side dripping its last dregs on to the carpet. A newspaper lay open at a rave review and a lovely picture. The Major folded it neatly.
Corinna was naked, her long legs apart, lips protruding. An arm thrown back on the pillow raised one big floppy breast higher than the other. Her tummy was concave, she was snoring slightly but still looked ‘As she would catch another Antony/In her strong toil of grace.’
The Major had been unbearably moved by her on the stage, holding his programme over his erection throughout her last scenes. Overcome by lust, glancing down at his stumpy but loyally erect penis, parting his Paisley dressing gown: ‘Long and thin goes right in,’ whispered the Major, ‘but short and thick does the trick.’ Switching off the bedside light, he climbed on top of her.
‘Wakey wakey, here comes Snakey or rather Aspie. The nobleness of life is to do thus.’ He gave a thrust.
It was not quite necrophilia because Corinna did wake up, groaning with delight as his bristling moustache rearranged her pubic hair as he kissed her between the legs until she was flowing like the Nile. Then, plunging into her, he felt her iron muscles tightening round his cock. By Jove!
‘“Give me my robe … I have/Immortal longings in me,”’ she mumbled.
Did she mean her dressing gown, white and silken and tossed over an armchair? Evidently not, for Corinna held out her arms. The Major had found new heaven and new earth.
Rogue Rogers, clocking with fury Amber going upstairs with Marius, joined forces with Seth, who had plans for a foursome.
‘Just like bridge. Shall we ask Alan to join us as well?’ asked Rogue.
‘Christ no, he’s Trixie’s father and a journalist and I don’t fancy Tilda’s teeth on my dick.’
The moment Bonny had come off the telephone to Valent, she had nodded at Seth and disappeared upstairs. Shortly afterwards he had followed her. Registering this, trying not to cry, Trixie fled upstairs to her room, which was called ‘Alonso’, then realized she’d left her new pink high heels in the Prospero Suite. Opening the door, she went slap into Seth, wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans, from which his body reared sleek, muscular, perfect.
Trixie gave a sob. ‘Go away.’
‘Silly child.’ He shoved her back into ‘Alonso’, pulling her against him.
He smelt of drink, sweat, Terre, his musky, sweet aftershave and, too late, as his lips came down on hers, of Allure, Bonny’s favourite scent.
‘Why are you being so mean?’ she sobbed.
‘I had to punish you,’ murmured Seth. ‘You were so arrogant, Lady Disdain, you needed bringing into line.’
Then he kissed her properly, as he had done so often when he was coaching her, holding her upright as her knees gave way, pouring bliss into her. As he pulled away, she stammered: ‘I’ve been so unhappy, you were so cool in the play then so cold at the party.’
‘Not any more.’ Taking her hand, he frogmarched her down the passage. Only when she was inside ‘Caliban’, with the door shut and locked, did she realize Bonny was lying naked in the centre of a large four-poster.
‘No,’ gasped Trixie, ‘not with her, I can’t.’
‘Yes, you can, little bitch, you’ll adore it.’ Bonny’s words were slurred, her eyes crossing with drink. ‘It takes a woman’s touch.’ She reached out to Trixie’s breasts. ‘Beautiful,’ she murmured, unbuttoning the pink satin coat, cupping, squeezing,
caressing. ‘Come on, baby.’ Her touch was unbelievably gentle.
‘I can’t,’ Trixie leapt backwards, ‘it’s gross.’
‘That’s not very polite,’ said a soft Irish voice, ‘when you’re going to have such a lovely time.’
Next moment, iron arms that had driven and thrust a thousand winners past the post gathered her up, ripped off her leggings and pants and laid her beside Bonny.
‘Rogue, how could you?’ sobbed Trixie. ‘Get me out of here.’
‘You’ll love it, angel.’
Suddenly a very large four-poster became very small as four heaving bodies took over.
‘Get her wet first,’ ordered Seth.
So Bonny knelt between Trixie’s legs and got to work, tongue and fingers sliding everywhere.
‘Stop that,’ screamed Trixie, bucking like Furious.
‘Just shut up,’ snarled Seth, clamping a hand over her mouth to silence her, yet at the same time smiling into her eyes and gently stroking her face with his fingertips. ‘Relax, babe, don’t let me down.’
The three of them were so beautiful and so practised, Trixie felt she was the only lousy actress in one of Lester Bolton’s grubby porn films. She closed her eyes after that, trying to blot out who was shoving what into her, tears, and God knows what else, trickling down her face.
How ironic that when she finally opened her eyes again it was to read, on the wall above, Caliban’s loveliest lines.
‘Be not afeared. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.’
She gave a wail of anguish. ‘Let me go, please, please.’
‘She’s not enjoying it, poor kid,’ said Rogue. ‘Let her go.’
‘Give her time,’ said Seth, trying to grab her ankle as she leapt from the bed.
As she managed to unlock the door and stumble into the corridor, his last words were: ‘If you breathe a word about this, you’ll never see me again.’
Etta was so fast asleep, it took several rings before the telephone roused her.
‘Darling, so sorry to wake you, it’s Alan.’
‘W-what, what’s happened, is Trixie OK?’
‘Fine, fast asleep in “Alonso”. Darling, is it OK if I say the party
didn’t break up until three and then I had a late nightcap or daycap in your room?’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Carrie rang, doesn’t believe I wasn’t up to no good, so I said I was with you.’
‘Oh Alan, you are her husband.’
‘I’ll explain, I promise.’
Etta was just dropping off again when the Major rang.
‘Normie here, Etta. I woke Debbie up when I came in, is it all right if I say I had a late nightcap with you?’
Seth woke her around five, sounding unusually rattled.
‘Etta darling, Rogue and I were having a drink in Bonny’s room, “Caliban”. Valent rang in and stupid me, not thinking, picked up the telephone. I hung straight up, but I don’t want him to put the dogs on me. Can I say I was with you?’
‘Seems Valent need not have booked so many rooms,’ said Etta acidly. ‘Did you keep an eye on Trixie?’
‘I saw her into bed, she was fine.’
After he’d rung off, Etta lay back in bed helpless with laughter. She hadn’t bothered to draw her curtains. A silver-white semicircle of moon peered in.
‘Join the party,’ said Etta. ‘There’s nothing left remarkable.’
It was not just the moon that had been visiting last night, most of the syndicate seemed to have had a party in her room.
Good thing Dora hadn’t been around seeking stories.
Shagger, with no thought of Tilda, had been up all night feasting his eyes on the pink and white face of Toby, as he poured out his heart about the difficulty of holding down his job working for Carrie, and the responsibility of impending fatherhood.
‘Is paralysis a symptom of pregnancy, Shag? Phoebe never moves an inch these days to cook supper or iron a shirt.’
On a chair in the corridor, a returning Shagger found Niall’s prayer book open and covered in drink rings and, better still, bumped into Niall emerging from Woody’s room, which was named ‘Sebastian’.
‘Where the bee sucks, there suck I,’ murmured Shagger, ‘Hope you haven’t been led into temptation, Vicar.’
‘Etta’s just left, quite the party animal,’ said Niall blithely. ‘So little opportunity for the syndicate to get together. Time flew, we were discussing Mrs Wilkinson’s campaign.’
‘Camp’s the operative word,’ sneered Shagger.
‘Must rush back to Willowwood for Early Service,’ cried Niall.
Outside, as he waited for a taxi, he called Etta.