Octavia

by Jilly Cooper

  ‘Have a good look, sir!’ he shouted to the man with the binoculars. ‘I’ve got two lovely young girls here, whose knickers are bursting into flames at the sight of you. Only fifty quid each, satisfaction guaranteed. We even accept Barclay Cards.’

  The man with the binoculars turned purple with rage and nearly fell off the roof.

  ‘It’s young men like you who ought to be turned off England’s waterways!’ bellowed the man with the speaking trumpet.

  ‘We even take luncheon vouchers!’ Gareth yelled after them.

  ‘I’ll ask you along instead of a conjurer next time I give a children’s party,’ I said.

  Gussie, who was doubled up with laughter, got to her feet.

  ‘I’m going to see how Jeremy’s getting on,’ she said.

  I buried my face in my biography of Matthew Arnold.

  ‘Still on the culture kick?’ said Gareth in amusement. ‘There’s only one poem, lovely, you should read, learn and inwardly digest.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘“Who ever loves, if he do not propose

  The right true end of love, he’s one that goes

  To sea for nothing but to make him sick.”’

  ‘Who wrote that?’

  ‘Your alleged favourite, John Donne.’

  ‘He must have been having an off day,’ I said crossly.

  Another boat passed us with a pretty brunette sunning herself on deck. Gareth wolf-whistled at her; she turned round and smiled at him, showing big teeth. Gareth smiled back.

  ‘Don’t you ever knock it off,’ I snapped. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of the law of diminishing returns?’

  A dark green world slid past my half-shut eyes. The darkness of the trees over-arched the olive shadows and tawny lights of the water. On the bank was a large notice: ‘Danger. Keep Away from the Weir.’

  ‘It’s not the weir that some people should keep away from,’ said Gareth.

  Beyond the weir, the surface of the river was smothered in foam, a floating rainbow coloured like gossamer.

  ‘Oh how pretty it is!’ I cried.

  ‘Detergent,’ said Gareth.

  I shot him a venomous glance and started fiddling with my wireless. I’d given up listening to pop music since I’d met Jeremy, but suddenly I hit upon some grand opera, a soprano and a tenor yelling their guts out. I was just about to switch over when Gareth looked up. ‘For Christ sake turn that caterwauling off. You’ll wake up all the water rats.’

  So I kept it on really loud to annoy him, absolutely murdering the peace of the afternoon. After an agonizing three-quarters of an hour, the opera came to an end.

  ‘What was that?’ bellowed Gussie from the wheel.

  ‘Don Carlos,’ I said.

  ‘Oh how lovely! That’s your favourite, isn’t it, Gareth? How many times have you seen it?’

  The rat! The snake! Smiling damned villain! I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I turned over and pretended to go to sleep.

  I was lying half drugged with sun when I heard Jeremy’s voice. ‘Octavia, are you asleep?’

  I opened my eyes; the sky was shimmering with heat. I smiled lazily up at him. From the ribald laughter I could hear, Gareth and Gussie were obviously up at the other end of the boat.

  Jeremy sat down beside me.

  ‘You must watch the sun. With fair skin like yours, you could easily burn.’

  ‘Oil me then,’ I said softly, turning over on my front and handing him a bottle of Ambre Solaire.

  He put a dollop on his hands and began to rub it into my back.

  I squirmed voluptuously. ‘Oh, how blissful. I wish I had a tame slave to do it all the time. Put lots on the tops of my thighs,’ I went on mercilessly. I heard him catch his breath.

  When I had made him spin it out as long as possible, I added, ‘And could you possibly undo my bikini strap. I don’t want a white line across my back.’

  His hands shook so much he had the greatest difficulty with the clasp.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said when he had finished, turning my head and looking at him. He was breathing very fast, and his eyes were almost opaque with lust.

  The afternoon was perfect now. The water was plumed with alders and willows, and in the distance two or three pink farm houses dozed among the apple trees. The white spire of a village church appeared behind a hill and a plane sailed silver across the sky.

  ‘How remote everything seems,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe that this time next week I shall be in Marbella.’

  Jeremy sat up on his elbow, chewing a piece of grass.

  ‘You will?’

  ‘And Sardinia the week after, and then I think I shall probably take off for Bermuda for the summer.’

  ‘Bermuda? Whatever for?’

  I was taunting him now.

  ‘Oh, because a guy with whom I’m just good friends is mad for me to join him out there. He was even generous enough to send me my air ticket.’

  ‘Doesn’t it worry you at all? Living off men all the time?’

  ‘Who said I’m living off men? I give as good as I get. Anyway it’s only normal if one’s father rejects one early in life, to go round looking for other daddies, preferably sugar daddies and playing them up until they’re forced to reject you too.’

  ‘Don’t you ever want to settle down with one man?’

  ‘Not any more,’ I paused, making my voice quiver slightly. ‘Not since Tod was killed earlier this year.’

  ‘Gussie told me about that. I’m terribly sorry.’

  A yellow butterfly shimmered over us. ‘That’s me,’ I said, pointing to it. ‘Always on the loose.’

  ‘So you’re really committed to the fleshpots,’ said Jeremy bitterly. ‘Drifting from one rich playboy to another. Dropping your knickers so you don’t have to drop your standard of living.’

  ‘That sounds exactly like Gareth,’ I said through my teeth. ‘It’s neither funny nor true.’

  ‘Maybe not. Now you can have as many minks and gold bracelets as you like, but what happens when your looks go and you can’t get men any more? Do you know how women like you end up, unless they’re very careful? They start making concessions in order to escape from their loneliness, then more and more concessions until they turn into a raddled old harridan that everyone laughs at.’

  ‘Why do you tell me these things?’ I hissed at him.

  ‘It’s only natural,’ he said in a low voice, ‘that I should try and run down all the things I could never afford to give you.’

  ‘Gareth could give them to me,’ I said.

  ‘What happened between you two last night?’ he said sharply.

  ‘Oh, you know Gareth’s reputation, and you think mine is totally beyond redemption, I’m surprised you ask.’

  ‘What happened?’ he said, seizing my wrist.

  ‘Stop it, you’re hurting me!’

  ‘Did you or did you not sleep with Gareth?’

  ‘No I didn’t, but it’s no thanks to you,’ I stormed. ‘Ignoring me when we arrived last night, avoiding my eyes whenever I looked at you. If anything was calculated to throw me into Gareth’s arms that was.’

  Jeremy put his face in his hands.

  ‘I know, I know. Christ I’m in such a muddle. A month today I’m getting married, and I feel as though I’m going into hospital for a major operation.’

  ‘Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?’ I said, fastening my bikini strap and getting to my feet. ‘I’m going to get a drink of water.’

  I found Gussie in the kitchen eating biscuits and talking up at Gareth who was steering.

  ‘Gussie and I were just saying how much we were looking forward to sampling some of your famous cooking,’ said Gareth maliciously.

  ‘There’s a chicken in the fridge,’ said Gussie. ‘I wish you’d do that marvellous thing you did when Jeremy and I came to dinner.’

  ‘It’s a very complicated recipe,’ I said quickly, ‘and needs lots of special things I’m sure we haven’t got.’

&
nbsp; ‘We can get them,’ said Gussie. ‘Gareth and I have got a yen for Pimm’s tonight, so we thought we’d stop off at the village shop at the next lock. We’ll buy everything you need at the same time.’

  I hope my dismay didn’t show on my face. While Gareth and Gussie were shopping, I had a good wash to get off all the sun-tan oil and sweat. I was just wandering into the kitchen to get another glass of water when I felt something furry run across my feet. I gave a scream. Jeremy came racing down the passage.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Look,’ I screamed. A huge spider ran across the floor and disappeared under the sink.

  ‘It’s only a spider,’ he said. ‘It won’t hurt you.’

  ‘They terrify me,’ I sobbed. He took a step towards me and then the next moment I was in his arms. As his lips touched mine, we both began to tremble. The warmth, the dizziness, the taste of that kiss lasted a long, long time. Then he buried his face in my hair.

  ‘Oh my God, Octavia, you’re driving me mad. What am I going to do?’

  ‘Nothing for the moment, except go on kissing me,’ I whispered, taking his face in my hands.

  Chapter Seven

  The crimson sun was sinking, the pink water darkening as we tied up for the night alongside a bank of meadowsweet. The air throbbed with the formless chattering of birds, and all along the bank water rats and owls began to come out on night duty. I managed to postpone cooking by saying the chicken would take too long to make.

  I put on a pale grey semi-transparent mini-dress. I didn’t need the cracked looking glass to tell me how marvellous I looked. Gussie was looking hideous in white. She was scarlet from the sun.

  ‘She looks like a great red lobster,’ I thought with a giggle. ‘All she needs is a dollop of mayonnaise.’

  Gareth handed me a Pimm’s. It was afloat with apple, cucumber and oranges.

  ‘Is this dinner as well?’ I asked coolly.

  ‘It’s utterly divine,’ said Gussie. ‘Try it.’

  I took a sip and smirked at Gareth. ‘It tastes exactly like cough mixture,’ I said.

  Jeremy, sitting at the table shelling broad beans, looked fantastic. His skin was tanned to the colour of dry sherry; he was wearing a white shirt. I surreptitiously lowered the zip of my dress a few inches, then caught Gareth looking at me and pretended I was fanning myself because of the heat.

  ‘Jeremy darling,’ cooed Gussie fondly, ‘you’re putting all the pods in the pan and the beans in the muckbucket. You are abstracted today.’

  ‘His mind’s on other things,’ said Gareth.

  ‘Like this bloody review I’ve got to write for the Statesman,’ said Jeremy. ‘I’ve got to file copy on Tuesday. I simply can’t get beyond the first chapter.’

  ‘Well say so, then,’ said Gareth.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Jeremy. ‘It was written by the editor’s wife.’

  ‘That’s a gorgeous dress,’ said Gussie, looking at me enviously. ‘I’d love something really sexy like that.’

  ‘You’ve got Jeremy,’ I said, smiling at him.

  ‘Yes, and don’t let any of us forget it,’ said Gareth.

  ‘Broad beans are disappointing,’ grumbled Gussie, raking her thumb nail down the furry inside of the last pod. ‘They always look as though they’re going to produce far more than they do.’

  ‘Like someone else I could mention,’ muttered Gareth as he filled up my glass.

  A smell of mint drifted in from the kitchen.

  ‘I’m starving,’ said Gussie.

  For dinner Gareth fried some huge prawns in garlic and parsley and we ate them with broad beans and new potatoes.

  ‘Our new house has a little garden,’ said Gussie with her mouth full. ‘Just think Jeremy darling, we’ll be able to grow our own vegetables. You’re a fairy godmother, Gareth, finding us this house.’

  ‘I’m neither a fairy nor a godmother,’ said Gareth, forking a large new potato out of the dish and putting it straight into his mouth.

  ‘These prawns are fantastic,’ said Jeremy. ‘Have some more, Octavia.’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘I’m surprised to see Gareth cooking at all. With your pithead upbringing I’d have thought you’d have been dead against men in the kitchen.’

  There was a slightly embarrassed pause.

  ‘My father spent his time in the kitchen when he was home,’ said Gareth. ‘It was the only room we had downstairs.’

  ‘How amazing,’ I said, my lips curling. ‘Did you all sleep in the same bed?’

  ‘I liked your father,’ said Jeremy hastily.

  ‘So did my mother,’ said Gareth. ‘If you’re a miner you’re a real man — and women like that.’

  Gussie sensed that I was about to make some crushing remark.

  ‘Whatever happened to your glamorous brother?’ she said. ‘I remember him coming down to take you out at school and watching a lacrosse match, and no one scoring any goals at all. They were far too busy gawping at him.’

  ‘He went into the family business,’ I said. ‘But he hates it. He’s export sales manager now and has to spend his time swapping filthy stories with reps.’

  ‘Who did he get married to?’ said Gussie.

  ‘Ricky Seaford’s daughter, Pamela.’

  ‘That was a good dynastic match,’ said Gareth. ‘Aren’t Seaford-Brennen’s in a bit of trouble at the moment?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said, scathingly. ‘They’ve had a terrific year.’ I always say that.

  ‘Oh well, you should know,’ said Gareth. ‘I just heard rumours of strike trouble.’

  ‘All firms have to cope with strikes from time to time.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Gareth, grinning. ‘My men know they’ve got the best boss in the world, so why should they strike?’

  ‘Modesty certainly isn’t your strong point,’ I snapped.

  ‘Of course it isn’t. I’m much better at being immodest.’

  God, he irritated me. I wanted to throw my drink in his face. Gussie went off to bring in some strawberries and cream, so I stretched out my foot towards Jeremy and started rubbing it against his leg. The pressure was immediately returned. And when Gareth started quizzing him about publishing, he obviously had great difficulty in concentrating.

  ‘These are the first strawberries of the year, so you must all make a wish,’ said Gussie, doling out great platefuls.

  I wriggled down a bit further under the table, and ran my leg up and down Jeremy’s thigh. The next moment I could feel his hand stroking my foot, gently caressing the instep. It felt fantastically sexy. I wiggled my toes against his hand voluptuously.

  ‘Did you know that buggery was legal after 90 days on board?’ said Gareth. ‘So we’ve only got 89 days to go, boyo.’

  ‘Oh darling,’ sighed Jeremy, ‘I never knew you felt that way.’

  That warm hand was still stroking my ankle. Then suddenly I looked across the table, and froze with horror as I realized that Jeremy was squashing up his strawberries with both hands. Before I could whip my foot away, the hand had closed round my ankle like a vice.

  ‘What big feet you’ve got Grandma,’ said Gareth, his eyes glinting with laughter. I tugged frantically for several seconds before he let me go.

  After dinner he turned on the television. It was an old film, Carmen Jones.

  ‘You go for me, and I’m taboo,’ sang Dorothy Dandridge, shaking her hips, ‘But if you’re hard to get I go for you. . and if I do, I’ll tell you baby, that’s the end of you.’

  ‘Oh, turn it off, I’ve seen it twice already,’ said Gussie.

  We took our drinks out on deck. The trees on the edge of the river were as dark as blackberries. A little owl swooped by noisily. A slight breeze wafted the strong soapy scent of the meadowsweet towards us. In the distance we could hear the sensual throb of pop music, and see the dark sky florid like a great bruise.

  ‘It’s a fair,’ said Gussie in excitement. ‘Oh, please let’s go.’

  The red and ye
llow helter-skelter rose like a fairy tower out of the pale green chestnut trees, the lights of the big wheel turned like a giant firework. I listened to the beat of the music, the roar of the generators and the thwack of balls on the canvas at the back of the coconut shies. I’m always turned on by fairs.

  Gareth had just loosened every tooth in my head, driving like James Hunt round the dodgem car track. My only consolation was that Jeremy and Gussie, now clutching a Gary Glitter poster, a china Alsatian and a huge mauve teddy bear, had been watching our progress. Next to them had stood a group of youths who had wolf-whistled and whooped in admiration every time we crashed past them, as my hair whipped back and my skirt blew up to reveal an expanse of brown thigh. This was the kind of corporate approval that wouldn’t do Jeremy any harm. Now Gareth was wasting a fortune at the shooting range, and Jeremy and I stood side by side watching Gussie riding on a merry-go-round horse with red nostrils. Grasping the brass rod with both hands, her handbag flying on her arm, her eyes shining, she smiled at us every time she came past. We smiled dutifully back.

  The sensual beat of the music was eating into my soul. It was now or never. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the big wheel pause to take on more passengers. Gussie’s merry-go-round would stop in a minute.

  ‘Let’s go on the big wheel,’ I said to Jeremy.

  ‘Won’t you be scared?’

  ‘Not with you.’

  ‘We must be careful. Gussie’ll start suspecting something.’

  ‘I want her to,’ I said.

  With almost indecent haste, we slid into the bucket seats. At that moment Gussie clambered off her horse and looked round.

  ‘Over here,’ shouted Jeremy.

  She looked up and grinned. ‘Take care,’ she shouted.

  Up and up went the wheel. At the top we could see for miles. The moon had broken free from its moorings and was sailing up in the sky. Below us lay lit-up villages, dark woods, pale hayfields, and to the right, the distant gleam of the river.

  ‘Oh isn’t it beautiful?’ I said, moving my leg against his.