Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties

by Lynda Renham

  Breakfast was a farce. Melanie was laid up with another migraine and Gregory was resting with a virus. Very bloody convenient I found myself thinking. Fiona and Sebastian had gone to check the horses, but I bet they spent more time checking the hay. Honestly, it seems like everyone is at it except Hamilton and I. Although knowing him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was at it somewhere too. Breakfast was attended by me, Hamilton, Brice and Margarita, and the conversation was dominated by the sodding engagement party which Margarita wants on Friday so everyone can travel home on Sunday.

  ‘We’ll need Saturday to recover,’ she had said.

  As for me, I’ll need the rest of my bleeding life to recover. I sigh. Honestly, I have never sighed so much in my life. Emily quietly enters the room.

  ‘How do you feel Miss Harriet? Is your foot any better today?’

  I open one eye to look at her.

  ‘If I asked you to kill me would you? I mean, do you do everything you’re told?’

  She giggles.

  ‘Almost everything, but I stop at murder.’

  ‘Think of it as euthanasia, you’d be putting me out of my misery.’

  ‘Come on Miss, you have the shoot this afternoon. Think how much you’ll enjoy that.’

  ‘You like torturing me don’t you?’ I say as Fiona’s mobile starts to ring. Please don’t let it be the Jacks. I pick it up and see Alistair’s name flashing on the screen. Not as bad but bad enough.

  ‘Hello Alistair, Fiona isn’t here I’m afraid she’s, she’s …’ Christ, what exactly is she doing?

  ‘How’s the business trip going?’ I say to distract him.

  ‘I’m b-b-b- …’

  ‘Bored?’ I offer.

  ‘B-back,’ he says.

  I sit up.

  ‘Back,’ I echo, ‘but I thought you were away all week?’

  ‘W-w-w- …’

  ‘I said I thought you were away all week.’

  ‘You d-d-don’t have to repeat yourself.’

  ‘I thought you were trying to say what.’

  ‘W-we got everything done early so I thought I’d j-j-j- …’

  ‘Jump ship?’

  Emily gives me a strange look.

  ‘He stammers,’ I whisper. ‘I’m trying to help.’

  Where the hell is Fiona when her boyfriend calls?

  ‘J-j-jump on a plane to Scotland. I have a b-b-b- …’

  ‘Christ,’ I say, jumping up and standing on my bad foot. ‘Shit, bleeding foot.’

  Emily winces.

  ‘Business proposal for Hamilton and …’

  Shit and double shit.

  ‘Can you ask F-Fiona to call me? I’ll be there sometime tomorrow afternoon.’

  I may have to beg Emily to kill me. I could offer her the pearls as payment.

  ‘Alistair, I don’t think that is a good idea.’

  ‘Of c-c-course it is. Have you heard from the Jacks?’

  I sigh.

  ‘Kind of, but Alistair …’

  ‘Did J-J-J-J- …’

  Oh for pity’s sake.

  ‘Yes, Jack Diamond has contacted us but we have it …’

  ‘No Julian, did he phone you? He called me and …’

  ‘What,’ I yell, grabbing the dressing table for support and pointing to my crutches for Emily to fetch.

  ‘He said he’s been t-t-t-t- …’ he sighs.

  ‘Tied up?’ I ask feeling a knot in my stomach.

  ‘T-t-tr-tr-trying to reach you on your m-m-mobile.’

  ‘Yeah well, that doesn’t work.’

  ‘He’s got a backer and is c-c-c-c- …’

  ‘Calmer?’

  It’s more than I bloody am.

  ‘C-coming home. Are you engaged to Hamilton yet?’

  Christ, this is a farce and I’m the main character. Fiona tumbles in all flushed and happy and I throw the mobile at her.

  ‘Your boyfriend,’ I say. ‘He’s coming here tomorrow. Do you want me to shoot you first or after I have shot myself?’

  ‘Shit,’ she grumbles.

  ‘Yes, we’re in it quite deep actually.’

  I hobble into the bathroom and fall onto the loo. I don’t believe this. It’s bad enough my parents, and Gary and Caron coming here, without stuttering Alistair too. I’m a nice person, honest I am. None of this is my fault. I don’t care about money, or restaurants or fancy houses. I just want to be debt free and with a nice boyfriend. On reflection forget the boyfriend. Men are just nothing but trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘I don’t like this,’ mumbles Babyface. ‘Mum wouldn’t ‘alf be cross if she knew.’

  ‘What yer mumbling about?’ snaps Jack Diamond.

  ‘Us being ‘ere, it ain’t right, and yer know it ain’t. We ain’t never done nothin’ like this before.’

  ‘Put a bleedin’ sock in it,’ snarls Mad Jack Junior. ‘Just cos you’re a wimp.’

  ‘I ain’t no wimp,’ protests Babyface. ‘It just ain’t right and I know Mum would be cross.’

  ‘What’s yer bleedin’ mum got to do with anythin’? I’m the boss of this family,’ barks Jack Diamond.

  Mad Jack sniggers.

  ‘One more snigger from you and I’ll knock you from ‘ere to kingdom come, got it?’ snarls Diamond.

  ‘Yes Dad.’

  They’re sitting crouched in the undergrowth. In the distance they can see Glenwood in all its glory. Diamond stares fascinated. He likes tasteful homes and this is certainly one of those.

  ‘I still don’t think we should be on private property,’ moans Babyface.

  ‘You’re always on sodding private property you knobhead,’ sighs Diamond. ‘When you go to collect protection money you’re on private property ain’t yer?’

  Babyface sighs impatiently.

  ‘Yeah but this is different somehow ain’t it? They’ve probably got bleedin’ dogs and everything. They could go for our bleedin’ throats,’ he says shakily.

  Mad Jack fidgets nervously.

  ‘What if Babyface is right Dad? What if they ‘ave vicious dogs?’

  Diamond lifts his binoculars to his eyes and studies the house.

  ‘I ain’t seen no dogs,’ he says focusing the lens onto Fiona and Sebastian who have just come out of the house. Jesus bloody Christ, did that pervert just stroke her arse? Honestly these bleedin’ ponces are the worst.

  ‘That don’t mean there ain’t any does it?’ argues Babyface.

  Jack turns to his sons.

  ‘Christ, how can I concentrate with all this moaning going on? Now listen, you two knobheads. You do as I tells yer, got that?’

  They nod.

  ‘Now, we stay here a bit longer and case the joint, yer both got that? When we think things are cushty we go in. They’re bound to all go out crocheting or to play polio, or whatever the bloody rich and privileged do. When they do we go in.’

  ‘Don’t you mean croqueting,’ corrects Mad Jack. ‘And ain’t it Polo? Polio is an illness Dad.’

  ‘I’ll give you a bloody illness if yer don’t shut it.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like it,’ moans Babyface.

  ‘I told yer, it will be a piece of piss.’

  ‘Yeah, I think Dad’s right. It will be a piece of piss,’ agrees Mad Jack.

  ‘I still don’t like it.’

  ‘What’s a matter with you these days?’ snaps Diamond.

  ‘I just don’t want no Rottweiler tearing at me throat,’ argues Babyface.

  Diamond shakes his head.

  ‘I got someone interested in the silver and it ain’t old Mick either. I don’t want me pants pulled down over the price. This time I got us a good deal. So we go for the silver first, got it? Then we leave a nice little note like, thanking old ‘arriet for all ‘er ‘elp.’

  ‘That ain’t fair,’ argues Babyface.

  ‘What yer on about now?’ asks Diamond.

  ‘Christ Babyface, who the ‘ell ‘ad the jam out of your doughnut?’ groans Mad Jack.


  ‘It ain’t ‘arriet’s fault.’

  ‘It ain’t ‘arriet’s fault,’ mimics Mad Jack. ‘Not bleedin’ much.’

  ‘You need to find yourself a proper slapper, and stop ‘ankering over those you can’t ‘ave,’ says Diamond, lifting the binoculars again.

  Yeah, this should make him a nice little packet. All they’ve got to do is go in when they’re all out doing whatever it is they do. Most likely the servants have a kip or something. Yeah, that’s it. They’ll go in, nick the silver, leave the note and leg it. They’ll make a few grand on that lot. Not bad for a day’s work. That will teach that prick and his girlfriend to muck Jack Diamond about.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it,’ repeats Fiona. ‘He’s never home early from a business trip. Talk about Sod’s Law.’

  I hobble to the table and take a glass of champagne.

  ‘We’re having cocktails after the shoot Miss Harriet. Is there anything in particular you and Miss Fiona would like?’ asks Cedric.

  ‘Harriet is a champagne cocktail girl, isn’t that right?’ puffs Hamilton, pushing Margarita in her wheelchair towards us.

  God, why does he keep saying that? It’s like the only bloody thing he knows about me is what I drink.

  ‘What I’d love is a Screaming Orgasm,’ I say.

  Isn’t that the truth? I bet Brice Edmunds could cope with that. Hamilton’s jaw drops and Fiona lowers her eyes.

  ‘No need to tell the whole world dear, maybe just a little word in Hamilton’s ear,’ suggests Margarita as she wheels herself away.

  ‘Of course Miss Harriet, I can do that for you,’ says Cedric calmly, wiping a glass. ‘One part vodka, one and half parts Kahlua and one and a half parts Bailey’s. Does that sound right Miss Harriet?’

  ‘You know how to give a perfect Screaming Orgasm to a woman Cedric,’ I laugh.

  Hamilton shifts uncomfortably and coughs nervously. He takes my arm and pulls me into an embrace.

  ‘Did you phone your parents?’

  I nod.

  ‘Don’t worry Harriet, after Friday you’ll never see me again,’ he hisses nastily.

  ‘Really? Margarita due to pop her clogs at the weekend is she? Or are you knocking her off yourself? Oh, talking of knocking off, did you know Gregory was knocking off your mother, not to mention the fact that your father would knock off Fiona at the drop of a hat, or her knickers come to that. That’s if he hasn’t already. I don’t like to ask.’

  ‘How dare you,’ he snarls, his face turning beetroot.

  ‘No wonder your grandmother doesn’t want to leave the family business to you lot. You’d be too shagging busy to get any work done.’

  ‘Just watch your mouth Harriet, you’re getting too cocky.’

  I’m getting cocky? I’m the only one not getting any cock if you ask me.

  ‘I’m warning you,’ whispers Hamilton, pulling me in closer. ‘We’re getting engaged in three days. You’re madly in love with me, remember?’

  I stroke his bum.

  ‘How could I forget,’ I reply. ‘Nice arse Ham, pity you’re the arsehole that goes with it.’

  I pinch his bum and his grip loosens. I seize the opportunity to step away. Sebastian and Brice stroll down the steps from the rear of the house. Brice looks gorgeous in a white Aran jumper, khaki trousers and a grey scarf. I could rip the whole lot off him right here, right now.

  ‘I’ll have to tell Alistair won’t I?’ says Fiona, making me jump. I was miles away in my little fantasy world of Brice’s naked body.

  ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘That’s it over,’ she says with a sigh.

  Bloody hell, that seems a bit drastic.

  ‘Because of Sebastian?’ I say shocked, I mean, she barely knows the guy.

  ‘No, because he just isn’t caring or loving. We haven’t done it in months.’

  Join the club.

  ‘That’s not a reason to end it surely? At least he hasn’t forced you to get engaged to someone else and had your goldfish killed, not to mention killing all your dreams and practically bankrupting you. I think you’ve got it quite good with Alistair, all things considered.’

  She sighs.

  ‘Cedric, can I have a Screaming Orgasm too? I’m in desperate need.’

  Brice raises his eyebrows.

  ‘What’s this about screaming orgasms?’ he laughs.

  ‘I’m preparing them sir, may I offer you one?’

  ‘Well, I’ll never say no to an orgasm, screaming or otherwise,’ he grins.

  His eyes meet mine. My legs tremble and I thank God for the crutches.

  ‘Good heavens, what is the world coming to?’ grumbles Margarita.

  ‘It’s only a cocktail old girl. Maybe you should try one.’

  ‘I’ve had more than my fair share of orgasms dear boy, all very overrated.’

  ‘I’ve sure you have, you naughty madam,’ he laughs and I want to do everything filthy under the sun with him. I feel my face and neck turn red and I avert my eyes.

  ‘I hear your partner is coming,’ Margarita says to Fiona.

  Sebastian inclines his head to Fiona who shrugs.

  ‘Yes. Apparently his business trip came to an end earlier than planned. I hope it won’t be an inconvenience Sir Sebastian,’ she says fluttering her eyelashes.

  He lays a hand on her arm and she visibly swoons.

  ‘Of course not, after all he was coming for the engagement party. We’ll have to monopolise you before he gets here.’

  ‘So you’re partial to Screaming Orgasms,’ Brice teases.

  I bite my lip.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he says, offering me a plate of sandwiches.

  The sun shines brightly on us and I watch as Cedric prepares for the shoot. Brice looks down at my foot.

  ‘I thought you were about to tell me something last night,’ he whispers.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ I whisper back.

  ‘Oh bugger, who asked that old fart to the shoot,’ says Margarita as Major Bates ambles towards us.

  ‘Afternoon all, spiffing day for a shoot. Thanks for asking me old man,’ he says, slapping a hand onto Sebastian’s shoulder.

  ‘Make mine a Chablis old boy, a nice large one if you would,’ he says to Cedric.

  ‘Well let’s get on with it or this old bugger will be as drunk as a skunk before we’ve got one pigeon in the air,’ says Margarita.

  I hobble forward and give Hamilton a nod.

  ‘Keep clear,’ I say as I pass him.

  ‘Fiona, are you participating or observing?’ asks Margarita.

  ‘I’ll just watch. I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot. One of us hobbling around is enough I think.’

  Not by the time I’ve finished.

  ‘Is the trap ready Cedric?’ calls Sebastian, lifting his gun.

  I pull on my earmuffs and watch Sebastian aim and miss. I am about to turn to Brice when I see he is cocking his gun. Seconds later he has a clear hit.

  ‘Brilliant,’ yells Margarita, ‘a good kill, well done.’

  Brice calls to Cedric to pull and aims again, getting another direct hit. Margarita gestures to Cedric for cartridges. Brice lifts my earmuffs off and smiles.

  ‘Good shot,’ I say. ‘I expect you’re an expert horseman too.’

  Whereas I am bleeding useless at everything. Honestly, I can’t think what the fuck I’ve been doing with my time.

  ‘I’m still looking forward to seeing you in your riding outfit,’ he whispers. ‘I’m particularly interested in that riding crop of yours.’

  I go weak at the knees and grab his arm for support.

  ‘I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with it,’ I say huskily.

  ‘I’m sure I could find a use,’ he says provocatively.

  God, I’m going to have a screaming orgasm right here and now if he carries on like this. He pats my earmuffs down as Margarita shouts pull. I grab my champagne g
lass and down the remains. Emily, in her starched white apron, refills my glass. I drink half and realise everyone is looking at me. It‘s my go. Here we go again. Let’s hope this time I hit the sodding pigeon. I load the gun more confidently and the feel of the metal in my hands gives me a strange sense of power. I could go mad for a moment and turn it on all of them couldn’t I? I could make them all listen while I tell them what a bastard Julian is and how horrible Hamilton has been. Yes, I could easily do that. Except standing behind a loaded shotgun while you force people to listen doesn’t make you look very sane does it? I slide forward the catch and shout pull. I aim carefully with my finger on the trigger and get the pigeon in my sight. Something catches my eye in the woods on the other side of the rose garden. I lower the shotgun and the bleeding thing goes off. I gasp as I see something drop.

  ‘Oh my God, I’ve hit something,’ I cry, pulling off the muffs.

  ‘What in buggeration was that?’ asks the Major pouring another glass of Chablis.

  ‘My God, was that someone out there?’ says Hamilton shakily.

  ‘Could have been a deer,’ says Sebastian.

  ‘Did you say someone? Good grief, why would there be someone out there?’ says the Major.

  ‘Oh God, it’s not Alistair is it?’ cries Fiona, frozen in fear.

  ‘Someone go and damn well see. Bloody fools whoever they are. Bloody trespassers no doubt, and idiots on top of that. They must have seen we were having a shoot,’ snorts Margarita who I‘m beginning to think should take a trip along the yellow brick road to find herself a heart.

  I drop the gun and hobble after Brice who is sprinting ahead. I cross the lawn to the woods and look for Brice, but he is nowhere to be seen.