Rivals (67 page)

    Sobbing uncontrollably, Cameron let herself into the house and, shouting at the dogs to get out of her way, went straight to Rupert's office and started searching. In the bottom drawer of his desk, under the lining paper, she found what she was looking for that

    impossibly ill-spelt and ill-punctuated letter Taggie had written Rupert, thanking him for Claudius, and two photographs of her running in the wood. She stiffened when she saw the second. Rupert's kids were there as well as Taggie. They were holding her hands and laughing. The leaves were flame-red on the beech trees, so it must have been autumn, and Tab was wearing her puff-ball skirt, so it must have been this year. Shit and

    they all looked so happy. It must have been while she was away in Ireland. That was why Rupert had been so reluctant to have the kids over since, and insisted on taking them out on his own, in case they babbled on about Taggie. That was almost the worst thing, that she had utterly failed with the children, where Taggie had succeeded. Also under the lining paper, which she couldn't interpret, was a pile of faded leaves.

    Rupert knew he was far too drunk to drive, but he didn't care. Anyway, he had always jumped horses when he was pissed with that much more dash and brilliance. Unable to stop himself, he drove straight into Cotchester and parked outside the Bar Sinister. The roofs of the honey-coloured houses were completely hidden with snow now. Flakes were landing like huge polar bears on his bonnet, almost obscuring his vision, but not so much that he couldn't see the lights in the flat above. Bas was plainly at home.

    Christ why had he been such a shit to Taggie? She'd looked so fucking gorgeous and he'd detested it because he wanted to keep her as his little teenager. At the back of his mind he'd expected her to be always there. Rationally he knew he must never make a play for her, that one day she'd

    find some nice dull kind boy of her own age to take care of her. But he hadn't thought the whole thing through, or realized he'd be driven into a maddened frenzy of jealousy because she'd been stolen from under his nose by the second worst rake in the county who was probably expertly initiating her into the pleasures of the flesh at this moment.

    He slumped on the steering wheel, groaning. He wanted to break down the door, to kill Bas, to drag Taggie back to The Priory like a father out of a Victorian melodrama. In his misery he didn't even feel the cold. Gradually the snow obscured the entire windscreen and he had to turn on the engine to start up the wipers, when suddenly the balcony doors opened and Bas and Taggie came out. She was wearing Bas's red coat. Winding down the window, Rupert could hear her cries of joy at the beauty of the snow. Next moment Bas had gathered up the snow along the balcony rail to make a snowball and handed it to her, but she only managed to chuck it a few yards down the ghostly whitening street.

    Tell you never played cricket at school,' said Bas fondly.

    Then, drawing her close by the lapels of his coat, he slowly kissed her. They were so preoccupied, they didn't even notice Rupert. Totally sobered up, he drove back to Penscombe.

    The rest of the weekend was like the Phoney War. Rupert and Cameron were perfectly polite to each other. She worked on the franchise, he was off to Rome on Sunday for a meeting with the International Olympics Committee, but would be home on Wednesday night.

    The only time she saw him with his guard down was when she caught a glimpse of him watching a Lassie film in the study. He was clutching Beaver and the tears were running down his cheeks.

48

    After lunch next day, having scraped the frozen snow off the bird table and fed the birds for the fourth time, Declan had great difficulty getting out of his drive to visit Freddie. The gritters had been at work on the main roads, but the side lanes were murder. For once the beauty of the black and white landscape held no charms for him. He passed several cars, totally submerged, which must have been abandoned last night, and a farmer frantically trying to dig out some sheep before dusk. The sky was a dull mustard yellow, promising more snow. What would happen if none of the Venturer consortium could get up to London for the IBA meeting? Freddie's drive had already been lavishly gritted.

    "I sent the Council a grittings telegram,' he said with a huge laugh. 'In fact I bunged them a few tenners so they made a detour past the 'ouse.'

    He poured Declan a large brandy and took him into his study. The house was blissfully warm after The Priory. Outside, Valerie's garden had never looked more beautiful, totally hidden by snow, the gaudy colours wiped out, the vast rockery transformed into a mini-Andes, the garden gnomes and the plastic cherubs fluffed out into creatures of fable. Even the serried ranks of hybrid teas had become a white army hoisting up fistfuls of snow. If Valerie moved to the Arctic, reflected Declan, she might become an arbiter of garden taste, a Vita Sackville-North.

    Freddie was in terrific spirits, brandishing the Telegraph with a piece on the forthcoming franchise struggle.

    'It says four incumbent companies are vulnerable and names Corinium as one of them. It also says: "Venturer, Corinium's rival must be reckoned a considerable, creative and management force." Then it goes on to say: "Corinium are strongly challenged, and as a result their shares are selling at a substantial discount to assets."'

    'I don't understand what that means,' said Declan.

    'Don't matter. It's good, believe me. We're on our way,

    boy.'

    'What are we going to do about Cameron and Tony?' Freddie chewed on his cigar. 'I can't believe she's turned.' 'I don't want to, but we still haven't discovered who leaked the names of the other moles to Tony.' 'How was she in Ireland?' asked Freddie. 'Wonderful,' said Declan wistfully.

    'Well then, my guess is that she's dotty about Rupert, and when he started giving 'er the runaround last night, Tony seized his chance and accosted her on the way back from the Ladies.'

    Declan thought it was more complex. To bolster her chronic insecurity, Cameron had to have a man in her life, and after that last night in Galway, when she'd made such a definite play for him, he didn't think she was Rupert's exclusive property any more. He was also furious how much seeing her with Tony had upset him.

    'We've fought this fight absolutely straight up to now,' said Freddie.

    'Except for Rupert seducing Cameron in the first place." 'But so much is at stake now,' Freddie went on, 'that we'd better put a private detective on Tony and get Rupert to slip a tiny bug into Cameron's 'andbag.'

    The snow was falling again, flakes tumbling down dark against the muddy yellow sky, then getting lost to view as they reached ground level.

    'Better not involve Rupert at this stage,' said Declan. 'If he realizes she's been hobnobbing with Tony, he might get really rough and send her scuttling back to Tony for good. Anyway, she's got a dozen bags. Rupert's bound to bug the wrong one, and he's off to Rome for three days tomorrow.'

    'OK,' said Freddie, stubbing out his cigar and getting to his feet. 'We'll start wiv a private detective on Tony. I know an ace one. Leave it wiv me.'

    Declan sensed that Freddie was anxious to get rid of him. 'Where's Valerie?' he asked.

    'Visiting her sister in Cheam.'

    'Do you want to come over for supper?'

    Freddie shook his head. 'It's not really a night to go out, thanks. I've got an 'ell of a lot of work to do. I keep forgetting I'm the Chief Executive of a public company.'

    Committing adultery, Freddie reflected ruefully after Declan had gone, made one tell an 'orrible lot of lies. James Vereker was spending the night in London at another Corinium dry run. Lizzie's nanny was away for the weekend. He must remember to ring Valerie before he left, so she didn't ring and find him not at home.

    As he arrived at Lizzie's, he felt glad that the steadily falling snow would cover any wheel tracks by morning. Lizzie was looking out for him, so no doorbells should wake the children.

    She welcomed him in a primrose-yellow silk dressing-gown, rosy, warm and Floris-scented from the bath. The lights were low in the bedroom, but a fire burned merrily in the grate. Reflected tongues of flame lasciviously licked the ceiling. Making a mental note to throw away the evidence first thing in the morning, Lizzie said there was a bottle of Moe't to be opened. Instead, Freddie opened her silk dressing-gown and felt his heart stop. Lizzie was wearing just black high heels and a black corset which pushed up her breasts, moulded her waist and stopped just above her damp blonde bush, except for four black suspenders holding up black fishnet stockings.

    'You are the loveliest fing I've ever seen," murmured Freddie. 'Come live wiv me, and be my love. Leave it on,' he added as Lizzie started unhooking.

    Kneeling down, he removed her high heels and, kissing

    her instep, slowly kissed his way up until he could bury his face in the soft marshmallow of her thighs. Lizzie bent down to take off his jersey and shirt, feeling his stomach muscles tauten as she unbuckled his trouser belt. There was a huge mirror on the ceiling. James adored to watch his own reflection when he made love. Beside his lithe and taut bronzed beauty, Lizzie had always felt like a Beryl Cook lady. With Freddie she felt slim and beautiful and wanted to watch the whole thing.

    'I never rated swucksont-nurf before,' said Freddie happily.

    The snow had grown two inches on the window ledge. Freddie had grown several inches and diminished again. The logs had died in the grate before Lizzie leaned up on her elbow smoothing the red-gold curls on his chest.

    'I love you,' she said softly, so as not to wake him.

    Freddie opened an eye. 'I meant it when I said come live wiv me and be my love,' he said.

    The following Tuesday morning James Vereker had a rare and intimate breakfast with his five-year-old daughter Eleanor. Usually James fled the din of little children in the morning and either had his muesli, prunes and herbal tea in bed or breakfasted at the Corinium canteen after a work-out in the gym. This week he and Lizzie were recording their second programme in the series on the way children enrich and restrict a marriage. James had already written his script which began: 'As a caring parent, I…" and was now, in between reading the Guardian, doing a little research into fatherhood.

    Sebastian, Ellie's brother, who'd already got soaked making a snowman and nearly drowned testing the ice on the lake, was upstairs having his clothes changed by Jilly, the dependable boot of a nanny. Lizzie was working. Ellie was eating a boiled egg, dreamily dipping buttered toast soldiers into the yolk.

    'I hope you'll watch "Round-Up" tonight,' James said to her. 'We're visiting the zoo and filming a new polar bear cub, which is called James after me.'

    'I saw Freddie bare the other night,' said Ellie dreamily.

    "I don't think I know Freddie Bear,' said James. 'Do the BBC make it, or is it one of ours?'

    'I saw Freddie bare,' repeated Ellie.

    'I heard you,' said James patiently. 'Is it a new cartoon?'

    'No Freddie

    bare. He was on the bed with Mummy. They were struggling.'

    James put down his spoon. 'I beg your pardon?'

    'I wanted a drink of water, so I went into Mummy's room. Freddie and Mummy were in bed. Freddie was bare, but Mummy was wearing long socks with her bottom hanging

    out.'

    James went very red in the face.

    'Are you trying to tell me that Mummy was in bed with someone -er

    someone

    who wasn't Daddy?'

    'Yes,' beamed Ellie. 'Freddie with the big tummy. He's nice, he brings us Smarties.'

    'You're not to make up wicked fibs,' said James furiously. 'Jilly!' he yelled for the dependable boot. 'It's time the children went to school.'

    Lizzie had the effrontery to giggle when James confronted

    her.

    'It's not funny,' thundered James.

    'No, it isn't. Oh dear, I hope the poor darling isn't totally put off sex for life.'

    'Is that all you can say? What about me?'

    'Nothing would put you off sex for life,' said Lizzie.

    'Stop being frivolous. I cannot believe you'd cheat on me with that dreadful, overweight, common little man.'

    'Freddie is a very nice man,' said Lizzie.

    'He's totally dishonourable and so are you.'

    'What about all your affairs?'

    They're finished,' said James sanctimoniously. 'And being in the media one is inevitably the target of certain attentions. Anyway, it's different for men.'

    'Don't blame Freddie then.'

    'Freddie,' said James, working himself up into a fury, 'is a

    member of the rival consortium. I feel utterly betrayed. It's like fraternizing in the war.'

    'Well, I'm not having my head shaved,' screamed Lizzie.

    'And what's this about wearing long socks and your bottom hanging out?'

    Lizzie giggled again. 'It must have been my fishnet stockings and my corset.'

    'You dress up like a prostitute! Whatever for?'

    'To excite him,' said Lizzie simply.

    'You never bothered to do that for me,' said James indignantly.

    Lizzie watched James catch sight of himself in the mirror. Smoothing his hair, he composed his features into an expression suitable for a wronged husband. He's just the wrong husband, she thought.

    'I suppose you realize,' said James nastily, 'Freddie's only been running after you to worm Corinium secrets out of you. I shall have to tell Tony of course. We have to report anything suspicious. He'll be delighted to have something on Mr Squeaky Clean at last. I shan't blame you. I'll say being somewhat unsophisticated and unused to male attention, you fell for it.'

    'I've heard enough,' said Lizzie furiously. 'Freddie is the most honourable man I've ever met. After you junked Sarah, because Tony ordered you to clean up your marital act, she went screaming round to Rupert and told him everything.'

    James winced.

    'Rupert was all set to give the story straight to the News of the World. It would have been a goody: "Corinium stud ordered to give up mistress by boss in order to present image of idyllic marriage to viewers and IBA." There were plenty of Corinium people, including Sarah, who'd have enjoyed shopping you to the press. And the whole thing would have been a lovely black blot on Corinium's escutcheon. But Freddie wouldn't let Rupert do it. Unlike Tony, he feels that sort of thing is below the belt. He didn't want mine, or the children's names, dragged in; said it wasn't fair having them branded as the

    offspring of an adulterer and

    a pratt,' she added as an afterthought.

    'You uncaring bitch,' spluttered James.

    'And what is more,' continued Lizzie coldly, 'if you breathe a word about me and Freddie to anyone, I'm leaving you, and then your silly marriage programme's going to look even sillier.'

    The moment James left the house, Lizzie burst into tears. She was still crying when Jilly the dependable boot got back from the school run. In the end Lizzie told her the whole story.

    'I'd no idea poor darling Ellie came into our bedroom that night.'

    'She'd have screamed if she'd been frightened,' said Jilly comfortingly. 'She was perfectly happy on the way to school on Monday; only interested in whether the lake would be frozen enough to slide on.'

    She picked up a table which James had knocked over as he rushed from the room.

    'If it comes to a split, I'd like to stay with you. You're the best boss I've ever had, and I love the kids. I don't mind taking a cut in salary if things get hard. There, there, there's no need to start crying again.'

    Freddie was just going into a board meeting when Lizzie rang him.

    'I'll come and get you.'

    'No, no,' said Lizzie. 'We've got to lie low. I don't want to give Tony any ammunition at this stage. Venturer doesn't need it, and think of Valerie, Sharon and Wayne. We'll just have to play safe and not see each other till after 15th December.'

    'That's over a fortnight,' said Freddie aghast.

    'Well, we must try, anyway.'

    Freddie was utterly distracted at the meeting. When an outside director congratulated him on the new billion-pound deal with the Japs, he looked blank. When another informed him that the ex-Chairman, General Walters, had died of a