Well Groomed (39 page)

Tonight’s double whammy left Tash dithering for a moment as she wondered whether a third delayed pucker was due, but Sophia was already reintroducing herself to Stefan and bitching about the drive there.

‘Bloody Hugo asked us to give some eventer called Lucy Field a lift and she didn’t stop yakking and swigging vodka the entire way.’

‘Lucy’s sweet.’ Tash giggled as she watched Sophia’s big, green eyes narrowing. She could just imagine her sister taking against the effervescent little blonde eventer who was far better bred, but had far worse manners and no dress sense whatsoever.

‘Oh, I hardly know her.’ Sophia shrugged, eyes scanning the room for someone interesting. ‘Bit of a drab mix, isn’t it? Although I’ve already had a fascinating chat with Lisette Norton. She is
so
predatory, that woman.’ She dropped her voice and huddled close so that Stefan couldn’t hear. ‘I’m certain she’s after a very dashing male we both know jolly well.’

Tash could feel the blood draining from her face as though someone had pulled the bath plug on her jugular.

‘Oh, yes?’ she warbled, certain that Sophia was loving every minute of this.

‘She’s definitely got her sights set on Hugo,’ hissed her sister.

Swigging her glass of wine, Tash wondered why she still felt icy cold even though Sophia hadn’t said the name she’d expected.

TASH TRACKED DOWN PENNY and Gus in the vast, echoing kitchen where they were listening politely to Hugo’s mother, Alicia Beauchamp, ranting about what a ghastly party it was. Resplendent in eau de nil chiffon layers with the family pearls choking the loose skin of her neck, she had cornered her own supply of gin and friends and was holding court in what had once been her own kitchen, although she had not made so much as one cup of tea there in her entire married life.

‘Tash darling!’ Alicia hailed her with a bony, liver-spotted hand. ‘So good to see you. You look too thin. Haven’t seen my son, have you?’

Tash shook her head, kissing her on the soft, loose-skinned cheek. She smelled of cologne and Rothmans. ‘Have you seen Niall?’

‘Your dashing Irish chap?’ Alicia peeked over her shoulder. ‘He not with you, no?’

‘No.’ Tash smiled at Penny and Gus, who were both terrified of Alicia and quaking with deferential fascination at her every word.

Tash rather liked her – she was a saner, younger version of her own grandmother and tremendously high-octane, even though she was also blisteringly blunt. She was besides the only person Hugo deferred to, which gave her a lot of Brownie points in Tash’s book.

‘I saw him with Zoe somewhere.’ Gus touched Tash’s shoulder. ‘Chatting to Hugo.’

‘Ah.’ It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Hugo at all and she’d been at the party over an hour. She also remembered with a wince that she and Niall had left his birthday card and present – a bottle of rare Macallan malt – back at the forge.

‘Now, Tash, you must have a lovely single friend who would make Hugo a decent wife,’ Alicia boomed at her. ‘We’ve been chatting about how ghastly it is having two sons who refuse to get married off – I want some grandchildren before I’m too frail to pick the buggers up.’

Tash caught Penny’s eye and tried not to giggle. Alicia was wildly indiscreet. She was glad Hugo wasn’t within earshot.

‘Well . . .’ She cleared her throat, wondering if she dared mention Zoe, but deciding against it. ‘Not really, no – most of my friends are married or living with someone or whatever.’

‘Damn.’ Alicia inserted a gnarled finger beneath her pearls to stop them pinching for a moment. ‘Shame. You know, I don’t understand what’s wrong with the boy. He gets through more girlfriends than horses, but never seems to treat them as well. Thought he was pretty keen on one a couple of years back, but she pushed off. He’s been even worse since.’

‘Amanda?’ Tash recalled Hugo’s clever, tempestuous girlfriend who had ultimately chosen her career instead of him.

‘No, no, not that outspoken harpy – Lord, no. I think he was glad to be shot of her.’ Alicia headed for a refill of gin. ‘Someone quite different, but he refused to squeak her name to a nosy old bat like me. Met her on holiday, I think. He was extremely cut up about it.’

Tash looked at Penny and Gus in bafflement, but they just shrugged and looked quickly away, catching one another’s eye. They were clearly desperate for an escape route.

Tash spotted it in the form of her sister-in-law wandering past the kitchen door.

‘Sally!’ She bounded over, dragging the Moncrieffs with her. ‘You look fantastic. Gosh, I didn’t know you’d be here.’

‘Well, I pop up all over the place.’ Sally kissed her, laughing. She was looking far slinkier than Tash had ever seen her, her usually messy blonde hair slicked back into a chignon at the nape of her neck, her face painted with minimal but exquisite make-up that emphasised the wicked grey eyes and curling mouth. Her dress – a long, narrow tube of cream silk – emphasised her terrific curves whilst minimising the rounded belly which had never flattened after Linus was born.

She kissed Gus and Penny hello, then turned back to Tash.

‘I said hi to Niall – he looks knackered, poor sod.’ She nodded towards one of Hugo’s panelled sitting rooms in which Niall was clearly ensconced. ‘He says you guys are getting married in the village now. That’s terrific. When are the invitations going out?’

‘Soon,’ Tash coasted vaguely. ‘Is Matty with you?’

Sally shook her head. ‘Babysitting very grudgingly. I’ve told him I’m on an assertiveness weekend. He says that if I assert myself any more, I’ll be assertifiable.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him the truth?’ Tash stared at her blankly.

Sally lifted her chin bravely. ‘I’m here with Lisette – Matty disapproves of our friendship,’ she explained, not quite looking Tash in the eye. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

Tash was about to confess that, childish as it may seem, she did rather mind when there was a sharp blast of cold air behind her.

‘What the –?’ Sally gaped over Tash’s shoulder and then started to laugh.

Turning around, she saw that the fat oak door which led from the kitchen to the long rear lobby was wedged wide open. A loud, roaring engine noise boomed from the narrow passageway and the next moment a glistening wet tyre capped with a vast red mudguard was edging its way over the stone step.

Seconds later there was a loud burst from an engine and Hugo thundered into the kitchen on a vast motorbike which he proceeded to ride around in a wide circle, practically mowing down several party guests including Sophia.

‘God, he’s an immature prat, isn’t he?’ Sally giggled with relish.

Tash, who had been rather carried away by the sexiness of the whole thing, took a hasty swig of wine and tried hard to agree. But there was no denying that Hugo looked obscenely good.

His hair, wet from the drizzle outside, gleamed like Medusa’s snakes around his laughing face as he dodged in and out of the guests, long legs dangling to either side of the huge bike and scuffing the floor to keep balance as its back wheel slithered on the flagstones. Wearing a vast sheepskin flying jacket and scruffy, rain-soaked jeans, he looked more like a hell-raising gate-crasher than a party host.

‘He’s so bloody attractive, it’s unfair,’ Sally sighed. ‘I’d love to think he’s got a small prick, but Lisette assures me otherwise.’

Tash breathed a great mouthful of wine into her wind pipe.

Bringing the beast to a skidding halt on the flagstone floor, Hugo cut the engine and whooped delightedly. ‘Thanks, Ma!’ He blew his mother a kiss and removed a large red satin bow from the handlebars.

‘That monster is Alicia’s present to him,’ Sally muttered to Tash. ‘It seems the old dear’s quite keen to kill him off young so that she can get her court shoes through the door here again.’

‘But Hugo already has about three cars.’ Tash watched as he attached the vast bow from the bike on to the collar of one of the dogs that was milling about at knee height.

‘Ah, but they’ve all got air-bags and anti-roll bars.’ Sally winked.

Looking at Hugo’s big smile and glittering eyes, Tash could tell he was in a dangerous, reckless mood. She had seen him like this before and knew just how unpredictable and nasty he was capable of being. Recently she had been the victim of that relentless, mercurial need for entertainment far too often. Deciding to steer well clear, she slipped into the room which Sally had nodded to when talking about Niall.

He was sprawling loose-limbed on a sofa with Zoe and the local vet, Jack Fortescue. Lounging on the arm beside him, a long thin strip of unlit fuse, was Lisette.

Tash was about to back out again when Niall caught sight of her and bounded upright, almost tipping Lisette into a vast, dead-looking fern.

‘Tash angel, I’ve been searching all over for you.’ He laughed, clearly already very drunk. ‘You having a good time?’

‘Terrific.’ She smiled stiffly as she caught a strong whiff of whiskey. ‘Lots of familiar faces.’

‘Sure, there are, there are – and one of them’s right here.’ He gripped her arm. ‘Come and say hello to Lisette. Doesn’t she look well?’

‘Terrific,’ Tash repeated hollowly. She looked more than well, she looked ferociously beautiful, those huge haunted eyes almost bottomless in their magnetism, the curling mouth strangely reminiscent of Hugo’s with its drooping sensuality and sloping curves. With a free-falling heart she realised that no amount of primping and preening would ever make her that beautiful.

Expecting a gushing faux-welcome in return, Tash was rather surprised to be on the receiving end of a frosty glower.

‘Hi.’ She swallowed uneasily.

‘Hi.’ Lisette stretched out a slender arm.

Thinking she was expected to shake her hand, Tash made a fumbled grab for it before realising too late that Lisette was simply reaching for her drink. A split-second later three inches of red wine cascaded down her own leg and into her ultra-trendy long boot as a result.

‘Christ!’ Tash leaped away, shaking her leg as though performing a spontaneous hokey-cokey. ‘I’m sorry – it was my fault. So clumsy.’

Lisette didn’t argue. Instead she sighed patiently and signalled for one of the roving local girls to bring over the bottle of red. She held up her glass to be refreshed, brushing a few imaginary drops of wine from her own dress. As it had almost all tipped into Tash’s boot, this was pure showmanship.

Suddenly she flashed the big, sexy smile that could floor an entire rugby team at twenty paces.

‘I hear you’re going to let me borrow Niall back for a few weeks?’ she said smoothly.

‘What?’ Tash was preoccupied with the damp vintage whooshing around inside her boot. It felt as though her right foot was plugged into an electric foot spa.

‘The film, Tash.’ Niall was smiling through gritted teeth.

‘Oh, yes. That.’ She nodded vaguely.

‘I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic.’ Lisette’s smile flashed off as instantly as it had beamed on.

Tash was wriggling her toes uncomfortably amid much squelching of claret.

‘Oh, I am.’ She tried to ignore her wet foot. ‘I loved the script – it’s terrifically funny.’

‘She was the one who bullied me to take it.’ Niall touched her arm lovingly.

Lisette flashed the smile on and off again so quickly that she looked as though she had a facial tic. Then, with a malicious glint in her eye, she proceeded to go into every boring, finite detail of the casting, crew and schedule. Having an active interest, Niall was the only rapt listener. Even Zoe, who was killingly polite, stifled a yawn.

Tash caught her eye and was grateful for the sympathy, noticing that Zoe’s long, subtly clinging midnight blue dress brought out her cool blonde colouring perfectly; she looked like a glamorous ice queen in a fairy tale. It was the first time Tash had seen her dressed up since New Year’s Eve, and she was startled by the change it effected. She looked ravishing. Had Zoe gone the whole hog on a more regular basis, she guessed she would be hopelessly intimidated by her.

Sticking out Lisette’s monologue for a couple more minutes so as not to appear rude, Tash finally limped off to locate a loo in which to rinse her foot.

All the downstairs ones were occupied and it appeared that the more riotous the party grew, the less they were being used for their natural purpose. From one, Tash could distinctly make out the sound effects of some very unpleasant projectile vomiting; from another came the zealous grunts and groans of mutual tongue-swallowing.

Now walking with a very strange gait, she headed upstairs. Again, the lavatories with which she was familiar were locked. She knew the house pretty well from previous parties and occasional teaching sessions with Hugo, who had given her some dressage coaching during their brief moment of friendship and even once, on a memorable day, asked her in for doorstep-thick sandwiches and wine afterwards. But her knowledge of Haydown stopped just several yards along the landing and she looked around rather forlornly as she tried to figure out where another bathroom might be.

It was a very long, dark, galleried landing, its wooden floors dull and pock-marked from the dashing of booted feet, its tapestried upper walls torn, dusty and faded. To her left, an ancient horse-hair chaise was oozing out stuffing like a splitting soufflé, beside which a low Pembroke table was groaning beneath the weight of a dozen dusty silver photograph frames. Tash hobbled over to take a peek. They were almost all of dogs and horses, she noticed, some clearly dating back several generations. From one, Hugo’s despotic late father glared at her beadily, seeming to accuse her of snooping.

Backing off, she headed through a nearby door and found herself in a vast bedroom, dominated by an unmade four poster, the sheets pouring over the end like a bursting dam, the pillows scattered beside it like a giant’s slippers and a great pile of unmated clean socks littered on top. A tatty biography of Montgomery sat on the bedside table with a pair of spectacles perched on top, and several acres of old newspapers lay on the floor, fluttering in the breeze from an open window.