Octavia

Chapter Five

By Friday evening I was golden brown all over and ready for action. I decided Xander was right, my best tack was to charm Gareth and get him on my side, and at five-thirty I was waiting for him with my three suitcases packed. I was wearing a wickedly expensive pink and white striped blazer with nothing underneath, white trousers, and cherry red boots. The blazer and boots were really both too hot to wear but I was only going to be driving in a car. I felt entirely satisfied with my appearance.

The minutes ticked by. Six came and went, half-past six, a quarter to seven. I vacillated between seething temper that Gareth was late on purpose, and worry that he might have lost my address.

At half-past seven the telephone went. ‘This is Annabel Smith,’ said a husky voice. ‘I’m ringing for Mr Llewellyn.’

‘Where the hell is he?’ I snapped.

‘I’m afraid his meeting is going on longer than expected. Could you possibly jump in a taxi and come over here? The address is Llewellyn House, Great Seaton Street. I’ll meet you on the ground floor and reimburse you for the taxi.’

Oh, the hateful, horrible, utterly bloody man! Why the hell had I piled up my car? No taxis were free when I telephoned, all the mini cabs were booked for the next hour. My make-up was beginning to run in the heat. It was no joke having to hump three huge suitcases into the street and wait half-an-hour for a taxi. My blazer was too hot, my new boots killing me. By the time I reached Llewellyn House I was gibbering with rage.

Mrs Smith, in green, looking as cool as an iced gin and lime, was there to meet me.

‘Come upstairs; you must be exhausted. Someone will put your luggage in Mr Llewellyn’s car. What a perfect weekend for going on the river,’ she said as we climbed in the lift to the fifteenth floor. I had a feeling she was amused.

I was ushered into an office as modern as the hour. There were some good modern paintings on the wall, leather armchairs with chrome legs, one wall covered in books and facing it a vast window, a cinemascopic frame for St Paul’s and the city. How could anyone work with a view like that? Gareth evidently could. He was lounging behind a huge black leather-topped desk, on the telephone as usual, talking execrable French.

He grinned and jabbed a paper in the direction of one of the armchairs. I ignored him and went over to the window. Buses like dinky toys were crawling up Fleet Street.

Mrs Smith came in with a tray. ‘Would you like a drink?’

I didn’t want to take anything of Gareth’s but I needed that drink too badly.

‘Gin and tonic, please.’

She mixed me one with ice and lemon, and then poured a large whisky for Gareth.

He put down the receiver and smiled at me.

‘Hullo, lovely. I’m sorry I’ve messed you about.’ There wasn’t a trace of contrition in his voice. ‘You look stunning. It’s as good as a day in the country just to see you.’

‘I’ve been waiting nearly three hours,’ I spat at him. ‘Shall we go?’

He wandered towards the door taking his whisky with him. ‘I’m going to have a shower first; make yourself at home.’

Mrs Smith brought me some magazines. I thumbed through them furiously, not taking in a word.

It was nine o’clock by the time he came back, looking more like a lorry driver than ever, in jeans and a red shirt. He kissed Mrs Smith very tenderly before we left.

‘I see you believe in mixing business with pleasure,’ I snapped as we went down in the lift.

‘But of course. You wouldn’t expect me to sit looking at some top-heavy frump in basic black all day, would you? That’s a nice blazer you’re wearing. Did you think we were going to Henley?’

‘Oh this, it’s as old as the hills.’ I was damned if I was going to admit I’d bought it that morning.

He reached out his hand towards the back of my neck and pulled something off my collar.

‘Don’t touch me,’ I hissed.

He handed me a price tag with a hundred pounds on it.

‘If this is a cleaning ticket, darling, I’m afraid you’ve been robbed.’

I was furious to find myself blushing.

Outside the vulgarest car I’ve ever seen stood waiting for us, a vast open Cadillac sprayed a brilliant shade of peacock blue. I was surprised he hadn’t hung nodding doggies from the driving mirror.

I had to admit he was a good driver, threading that huge car through the traffic in no time. We were soon out on the M4 speeding towards Oxford.

The sun had set. In the west were great masses of crushed-up rose-coloured clouds. Broad beams of light shone down, reminding me of an old biblical picture. If God were up there this evening dispensing justice, I hoped He’d give Gareth his come-uppance. And He might grant me Jeremy at the same time.

The needle on the speedometer registered a hundred m.p.h.

‘Let me know if you’re frightened and I’ll go a bit faster,’ said Gareth.

I stared stonily ahead.

‘Oh pack it in, lovely; stop sulking. We’ve got to spend the weekend together, we might as well call a truce.’

‘Why didn’t you let me go earlier with the others?’

‘Because I couldn’t resist it — I wanted to annoy you. Never mind, I’ll buy you a nice dinner.’

‘I don’t want any dinner.’

‘All right, then, you can watch me eat.’

He pulled in at an hotel beyond Henley. It was obviously very expensive. Waiters were flambéeing ducks all over the place and the menus had no prices on them. I suddenly realized I hadn’t eaten all day and found my mouth was watering.

Gareth grinned at me. ‘Come on, eat; you might as well.’

‘Oh, all right,’ I said.

Reluctantly I had to admit the food was excellent.

‘I always eat well,’ he said.

‘So I notice,’ I said, looking at his waistline.

He roared with laughter. ‘I suppose you like little mini boys with hip measurements in single figures, but as Freddie Trueman once said, it takes a big hammer to drive a big nail.’

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ I snapped.

His table manners were atrocious. Somehow he managed to eat very fast and talk at the same time. Now he was draining butter out of his snail shells with a sound like water running out of the bath. God, it was hot in the restaurant. I was pouring with sweat but I could hardly take my blazer off.

‘I had lunch with Jeremy, yesterday,’ he said, wiping butter off his chin.

‘Oh, I’m surprised you found the time.’

‘I always find time for things that matter. I think I’ve found them a house.’

‘That’s clever of you,’ I said coolly. ‘Whereabouts?’

‘Kensington, round the corner from me.’

‘How can they afford it? Jeremy hasn’t got that kind of money.’

‘But Gussie has. She’s going to buy the house.’

‘Jeremy’d loathe that.’

‘Not now, he doesn’t. I’ve managed to persuade him how sensible it is. They can let out the bottom floor which will pay off the mortgage, and it means they can get married next month instead of waiting until November.’

His face had that dreamy far-away look of a volcano that has just devastated entire villages. I wanted to kick his teeth in but I was determined not to betray any emotion.

‘They must be thrilled,’ I said.

‘Yes they are. I expect Gussie’ll ask you to be a bridesmaid.’

I couldn’t speak for rage. I was glad when the pretty waitress came over. ‘Everything all right sir?’ She smiled at him admiringly.

‘Marvellous.’ He looked her over in a way that made me even angrier.

‘How much further have we got to go?’ I asked as we got back into the car.

‘Twenty, thirty miles, not more.’

The stars were of Mediterranean splendour now, the newly cut hay smelt sweet, feathery moths were held prisoner in the beams of the powerful headlights. The air, cool at fast speeds, grew hot again whenever Gareth slowed down to take a corner. We were driving past the Reedminster fly over now.

‘Look,’ said Gareth, pointing upwards. On a huge floodlit placard was written the word ‘Llewellyns’.

‘You?’ I said, in surprise.

‘Me. I’ll be bigger than Taylor Woodrow one day.’

‘Quite the boy wonder. Why do you go on working so hard? You’ve made your packet. Why’s it so important to make more money?’

‘Oh lovely, you must be weak in the head. For heaven’s sake, if you play a game, even if it’s only scrabble, you want to win don’t you?’

‘And it matters so much to you, the winning?’

‘Of course it does, why not have a Lamborghini and a Rolls Royce and a nice house in London, and a villa in France? And if you can throw in a few good paintings, a string of race horses, the odd yacht in the Med, well bully for you.’

‘It’s status symbols that really matter to you don’t they?’

‘And to you too,’ said Gareth. ‘More than anyone, you need a sybaritic existence with different guys to take you to trendy restaurants, buy you fur coats, fly you to all the smart places. It wouldn’t amuse you at all to be shackled to a poor man.’

I opened my mouth to protest, but he went on.

‘Jeremy’s the same. He’s lucky to be marrying Gus, who’s got some bread.’

‘Jeremy’ll make money out of writing,’ I said quickly.

‘Nuts! He can’t write “bum” on a wall. I bet you don’t understand a word of those poems of his you claim to be so fond of, and do you know why? It’s because there isn’t anything in them to understand.’

‘I can only assume you must be jealous of his talent,’ I said furiously.

‘Oh, don’t be pompous, sweetheart. There’s far more poetry in those blue eyes of his than there is in any of his verse.’

‘I thought you were supposed to be a friend of his?’

‘So I am, but I believe in doing practical things for him like getting him somewhere to live, rather than swooning over his tin-pot poetry.’

I didn’t trust myself to speak. Gareth said, ‘We’ll be there in ten minutes.’

I started to do my face.

He flicked on a spotlight to help me, then said, ‘Go easy on the warpaint.’

‘Why?’ I asked, painting a more seductive curve on my bottom lip.

‘Because Jeremy belongs to Gussie.’

‘And?’

‘You’ve come down with the sole purpose of getting him away from her.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh yes you do. That performance you two were putting on the other night, not speaking to each other when anyone else was around, rushing together as soon as you were alone. I heard you both: “Oh darling, we shall have to rely on self-control.”’

It was a brilliant imitation of my voice.

‘Gussie is an old friend,’ I said evenly.

‘That’s the trouble, you’re jealous of her.’

‘Jealous. Me jealous of Gussie? You must be joking!’

‘Because, despite your looks, people love her more than they do you.’

‘That’s not true,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Gussie is a friend and I couldn’t be less interested in Jeremy.’

‘Good,’ said Gareth amiably. ‘Keep it that way then. Here we are.’

He turned off the road down a long woody tunnel. Clenching my hands, I choked back the torrent of rage and fury that was ready to pour out of me. Jeremy’s mad for you, I said to myself, keep calm. Gareth’s just trying to bug you. Gareth stretched.

‘What a marvellous prospect, three whole days of sleep, sex and sun.’

‘It isn’t very likely,’ I hissed, ‘that you’ll get any sex from me.’

‘Not likely at all, unless I ask you for it,’ he said.

Just as I was groping for a really crushing reply, we emerged out of the tunnel and found ourselves almost at the water’s edge. The sky unfurled like a banner cascading with stars. Black hulks of barges darkened the water. Behind, the murky towers and pinnacles of Oxford rose indistinctly.

Jeremy emerged from the nearest boat to meet us. I’d never felt more pleased to see anyone. I wanted to throw myself sobbing into his arms.

‘Hullo,’ he said. ‘You made it OK? Let me help with the cases.’

‘I’m desperately sorry we’re so late,’ I said.

‘Doesn’t matter. Gareth rang this afternoon and said you wouldn’t be here much before midnight.’

In the headlamps of the car I could see the barge was painted scarlet and decorated in brilliant blues, yellows and greens, like a gypsy caravan. The brasswork glinted, the red curtains glowed behind the saloon windows. In gold letters edged with blue was written her name, The Lady Griselda.

‘Isn’t she lovely?’ I said.

Jeremy helped me across the gangplank, but he didn’t squeeze my hand, nor answer when I whispered that it was heavenly to see him again.

Gussie was in the kitchen. She was wearing old jeans and an oil-stained shirt. I suddenly realized how stupid I must look bringing three suitcases.

‘Tavy,’ she hugged me. ‘How lovely. Have you been having fun?’

‘Yes, marvellous,’ I lied, disengaging myself from her. I didn’t want oil stains all over my new blazer.

‘You must be exhausted. Come and see your cabin, and then I’ll give you a huge drink.’

We went through a cabin with two bunks in it.

‘This is Jeremy and me,’ she said, and then opening another door, ‘This is you and Gareth.’

Oh, my God, I thought, I’m going to have to spend the whole weekend fighting him off. Our suitcases were already deposited on one of the bunks. On a ledge stood a glass jam jar which Gussie had filled with meadow sweet, buttercups and already wilting roses.

‘The heads and the washbasin are next door. I’m afraid they’re a bit primitive, and the saloon’s beyond that,’ she said. ‘Come through when you’re ready.’

I washed and put on more scent and make-up to give me confidence. In the saloon I found them all gathered round a portable television set.

‘Look at Gareth’s toy,’ said Gussie.

‘Trust him to bring the twentieth century with him,’ I said and looked at Jeremy, but he looked quickly away.

‘Have a drink?’ said Gussie.

‘I’ll get her one,’ said Gareth, getting a glass out of a cupboard in the corner and filling it with wine.

‘Isn’t this gorgeous?’ I said, looking round at the oil lamps, the panelling and the gleaming brass.

‘Very sexy too,’ added Gareth approvingly. ‘Octavia and I are waking at the crack of dawn to do PT.’

‘PT?’ said Gussie in surprise. ‘That doesn’t sound Octavia’s line of country.’

‘Some people call it sexual intercourse,’ said Gareth.

He raised his glass to me, his wicked lecherous eyes moving over me in amusement.

Gussie went off into peals of laughter.

‘You mustn’t tease, Gareth. Poor Tavy won’t know if she’s coming or going.’

‘Coming, hopefully,’ said Gareth.

‘I hear you’ve found a house,’ I said to Jeremy. ‘I’m so pleased.’

For a moment he looked up and our eyes met, then he looked quickly away. A muscle was going in his cheek; he was obviously in a state.

‘Yes, it’s great, isn’t it?’

‘Great!’ said Gussie, ‘it’s marvellous! Most couples can’t afford a house for years. Gareth fixed us a mortgage and found us the ideal place in a few days. You must come and help me choose curtains and carpets, Tavy. I’m so hopeless.’

They started talking about the house and wedding plans until I couldn’t stand it any more. ‘Does anyone mind if I go to bed?’ I said.

‘Of course not,’ said Gussie. ‘I’ll come and see everything’s all right.’

‘You’ll see me anon,’ said Gareth.

‘No doubt,’ I said, turning to Jeremy, ‘Goodnight, it’s such a treat to be down here.’

Just for a moment I was comforted by a flicker of misery in his eyes, then the shutters came down.

‘Goodnight, sleep well,’ he said.

In my cabin, Gussie was plumping pillows.

‘It was a good thing Gareth rang Jeremy and said you were going to be late, or we’d have been in an awful shambles. Jeremy and I spent all afternoon in bed,’ Gussie confided with a little giggle, then went on, ‘I hope you don’t mind sharing a cabin with Gareth. I’m sure he won’t pounce on you unless you want it.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’ I snapped.

‘Oh well,’ she stammered. ‘I mean, I thought you might want it, perhaps, if you found him attractive.’

‘I don’t,’ I said.

‘Oh dear,’ her face fell. Realizing it was a bad move, I added, ‘I like him very much, but not in that way.’

Once I was alone, I couldn’t stop shaking. What had that snake Gareth been saying to Jeremy to change him so much? Had he just done it out of sheer bloodymindedness or did he want me for himself? When I was in my nightie (which was apricot silk, clinging and, ironically, bought to inflame Jeremy) I found to my horror that I had left my sleeping pills behind. In the state I was in I’d never sleep without them.

I put all my suitcases on the floor, and crept into the top bunk and lay there, tense and trembling, waiting to fend off the inevitable assault when Gareth came to bed. All I could hear were shouts of laughter from the other room.

An hour went past; they were coming to bed; there were shouts of ‘goodnight’, then silence, broken only by the sound of water lapping against the boat.

The door opened, and Gareth slid quietly into the cabin. Hoping he would not hear the terrified thudding of my heart, I tried to breathe slowly and evenly.

‘Only five out of ten,’ came the soft Welsh voice. ‘People who are really asleep breathe much faster than that.’

Then, to my amazement, I heard him getting into the bottom bunk. He must be trying to lull me into a feeling of false security. I lay frozen for ten minutes, but suddenly my terror turned to fury. Unmistakably from the bottom bunk came the sound of gentle snoring.

I lay there spitting with rage until eventually I decided it was no use working myself up into a state. Gareth might have temporarily chucked a monkey wrench into the romantic works, but if he intended to fight dirty, he would find that no one could fight dirtier than me when I put my mind to it. Whatever he had told Jeremy — that I was a spoilt bitch, a parasite, an opportunist — would make no difference in the end. Jeremy was mad for me, try as he might to fight it.

Time was on my side. In this heat, cooped up together for three days, Jeremy’s self-control was bound to desert him. All I had to do was look stunning and wait. Festina lente. But how could I be expected to look stunning if I couldn’t sleep? I wanted to go up on the moonlit deck and cool off. But although Gareth was now snoring like a warthog, I had a feeling that as soon as I tried to climb out of my bunk, his hand would shoot out and grab me by the ankle. Why, oh why, had I forgotten to bring my sleeping pills? The hours crawled by, and only when a misty dawn began to filter through the porthole, did I fall asleep.