Polo

by Jilly Cooper

  ‘What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?’ he hissed, taking Red aside.

  ‘Following yonder star,’ said Red, nodding in Auriel’s direction. ‘Oh, star of wonder, star of light, Star of World Class Bank account.’

  ‘Shut up,’ snarled Bart. ‘How dare you barge in here with her! It’s goddam rude to Chessie and she’s too goddam old for you.’

  ‘You can give Chessie a good twenty-two years,’ said Red coolly. ‘Perhaps we ought to swap. Christ!’ He looked round the living room. ‘What have we he-ah – Conchita’s blue period, or blue collar period? Why are you kicking my ankle, Luke? Chessie did it all? Oh, right. That explains it.’

  ‘Mom liked things simple,’ said Bibi. ‘She always had red roses, and she always wore her rubies at Christmas dinner. D’you remember, Red?’

  ‘I’m starving,’ said Luke evenly, smiling at Chessie. ‘It smells incredible.’

  ‘I thought we’d dine in half an hour, after we’ve opened our presents,’ Chessie told him gratefully.

  ‘Mom believed in self-control,’ taunted Bibi. ‘She always made us wait to open our presents till after dinner. Have you heard from her, Red?’

  ‘We called her this evening,’ said Auriel, accepting a glass of champagne from Conchita. ‘What a gracious lady. Now Grace truly is a gracious lady.’

  ‘Crack!’ murmured Chessie to Bart. ‘Can you hear the breaking of New Year’s Resolutions? You were at school with Grace, weren’t you, Auriel? Why don’t you have a Very Old Girl’s Reunion.’

  But Auriel had drawn Bart down beside her on the sofa.

  ‘Red’s been showing me videos,’ she purred. ‘My, you’re a fine player. I hope to join Red in England this summer when he plays on your team.’

  Auriel and Red, Luke reflected five minutes later, got away with murder because people were so anxious to go to bed with them – Red in terms of behaviour, Auriel in terms of conversation.

  ‘I never have time to practise,’ she was now telling a glazed Bart. ‘That’s why my handicap’s only minus one.’

  ‘I wish we were minus her,’ Luke murmured to Chessie. ‘Her ego’s even bigger than her boobs.’

  ‘Not a lot,’ said Chessie drily. ‘Bart’s going to fall down her cleavage if she gets any nearer. It’s so embarrassing we haven’t got her any presents.’

  ‘Just giftwrap Red. That’s all she wants, judging by the number she’s doing on Dad.’

  Red turned to Perdita, who’d been increasingly edgy all evening about seeing him again.

  ‘Hi, Judas,’ he said coldly; then, grinning and lowering his voice, ‘You did me a good turn tipping Auriel off about Lucy Chalmers. After a lot of foot-stamping she admitted she really cares,’ he dropped his voice an octave, aping sincerity, ‘which means I get all my bills picked up.’

  ‘Red bought me a Sheraton sideboard from Christie’s for Christmas. Isn’t that darling?’ Auriel was now telling a blanching Bart.

  ‘She paid for it,’ Red murmured to Perdita.

  ‘Didn’t you give her anything?’

  Red smiled. He had a trick of letting those amazing, kholed eyes suddenly gaze deep into yours, so for a second you thought he was being serious.

  ‘She’s had her labia pierced, so I gave her a couple of diamond studs. Makes it hard, eating her out. Like getting bits of grit in one’s oyster.’

  Perdita gave a scream of shocked amusement.

  ‘I want you personally to design me my own airplane. The Alderton Auriel, I can just picture it – flamingo pink,’ Auriel was now saying as though she was bestowing a great favour on Bart, who was desperately trying to prevent a Yorkshire terrier fornicating with his left leg without actually kicking it.

  ‘I think we’d better open our presents,’ said Chessie.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Luke. ‘I’m sorry about Angel. He’s not usually as late as this.’

  ‘Who?’ said Bibi sharply.

  ‘Your father’s new ringer,’ said Chessie. ‘Luke thought he might be lonely away from home.’

  ‘For Chrissake,’ snapped Bibi.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ chipped in Perdita. ‘Luke rang to ask the name of his street. He said: “I look out of the weendow,” then came back and said it is called “One Way”.’

  ‘Christmas is for the family,’ Bibi glared at Luke. ‘Why d’you want to ask some hick Argy who’ll be completely out of his depth?’

  ‘Lame ducks are better than lame dicks,’ said Red, draining and refilling his glass.

  On cue Leroy barked, the Rottweilers bayed, the Yorkshire terriers yapped and Bibi’s heavy jaw dropped as Angel came through the door. For the last fortnight he’d been enjoying the sun and the girls of Palm Beach. He was tanned a smooth milk-chocolate brown, his bronzed curls were bleached and streaked. White jeans and a blue, sleeveless T-shirt covered with car oil and black, rubber tyre marks clung to his wonderfully elongated, elegant body. He looked a hundred million dollars and was carrying a rose pink poinsettia. Going up to Chessie, he said, ‘For you. I am very unwise man bearing gifts. I am sorry I am late. I ’ad flat tyre and got ’opelessly lost.’

  ‘How lovely, thank you,’ said Chessie taking the plant, then, adding to Luke, ‘you were quite right, he’s so beautiful I think we’ll keep him just for stud purposes. Now, let me introduce everyone. You know Bart,’ Bart and Angel nodded at each other without friendliness. ‘And Bart’s beloved son, Red, by whom he has been well fleeced.’

  ‘Very funny,’ said Red, shooting his stepmother a look of pure hatred.

  ‘I watch the match against the Kaputnik Tigers,’ Angel told Red. ‘Zat last chukka, you play like an Argentine. I nevair realize you zat good.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ said Red, mollified. ‘Luke says you’re pretty sharp too. How are those bastards Juan and Miguel treating you?’

  ‘Terrible,’ began Angel, then seeing Bart’s look of disapproval, ‘terribly nicely.’

  ‘And this is Bart’s daughter, Bibi,’ went on Chessie.

  ‘Hi,’ said Angel, thinking what a pity Bibi didn’t have Red’s looks.

  ‘And Auriel, who needs no introduction.’

  Angel kissed Auriel’s hand.

  ‘How darling,’ sighed Auriel, ‘and what a glorious poinsettia.’

  ‘We’ve got an English setta at home,’ said Perdita idly.

  ‘I am sorry I’m not properly dressed,’ said Angel, who was utterly unfazed. ‘Luke say dinner at the barn, I thought we would be ’aving pony nuts. It smell wonderful.’ He smiled at Bibi, who didn’t smile back. Inside she was seething. How could she possibly keep Angel in order and at a distance if Luke included him on a social footing? Now he’d never get up in the morning.

  She was even crosser because Angel was so utterly devastating and she hadn’t bothered to tart up, and everyone else looked so stunning. She loathed her black dress, which was one of Grace’s cast-offs. Tomorrow she’d go out and buy a new wardrobe.

  Just as they were about to open their presents Grace rang to wish Red and Bibi a prolonged Merry Christmas.

  Listening to Bibi’s cries of ‘I miss you, Mom, nothing’s the same without you,’ Angel thought how beautiful, fragile and vulnerable Chessie looked and decided which side he was on.

  The second telephone rang – it was Tokyo for Bart.

  ‘The Japs obviously don’t know it’s Christmas either,’ said Chessie savagely, sloshing two inches of vodka into her glass.

  36

  Perdita had never seen such presents, and was amazed how everyone took them for granted. Bibi, however, was delighted to open an envelope containing a set of keys for an Alderton Skylark.

  ‘Oh, Daddy, thank you,’ she gasped, kissing him.

  ‘Reckon if you’re going to be my new polo manager you’d need a helicopter.’

  ‘What!’ exploded Red and Angel.

  Bart smiled malevolently. ‘Bibi’s worked her ass off this year. I’m fed up with having her so far from home, so I’ve put her on the board, and made
her my new polo manager. She’ll operate out of Florida and New York from now on.’

  ‘Sheet,’ whispered Angel to Perdita. ‘Think of working for zat ugly cow.’

  Red wasn’t even remotely appeased when Bart gave him a Stubbs.

  ‘If you hock it,’ said Bart, ‘I’ll disinherit you.’

  And what about Luke? thought Perdita in outrage. Bart had only given him a disgusting, monogrammed gold pen-and-pencil set.

  Luke, however, was knocked out when Chessie gave him a signed first edition of his bible: Marco on Polo, and also first editions of Longfellow and Emerson.

  ‘My wicked stepmother,’ he said, hugging her.

  Chessie flushed, but made no comment when she tore open some red paper containing a cushion embroidered with the words: ‘Eat, drink and re-marry’ which was a joint present from Bibi and Red.

  Perdita felt a bit despondent. Chessie had given her a Gucci bag and Bibi a very pretty white-and-yellow dressing gown, but she had had nothing from Red, Bart or Luke. Luke had buggered off in fact. She took a slug of champagne. God, she wanted to be rich.

  Then, suddenly clattering along the floodlit rose-festooned colonnade and through the french windows came little Tero. Her dark eyes darting with panic, she was all done up in a scarlet headcollar, scarlet bandages and with pieces of holly and mistletoe braided into her tail and still unhogged mane.

  ‘Tero,’ gasped Perdita so loudly that only Luke’s strength stopped the pony bolting. Then she recognized Perdita and gave a deep, throaty whicker of joy.

  ‘Sure knows her new mistress,’ said Luke, putting the lead rope in Perdita’s hand.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ whispered Perdita. Bursting into tears, she flung her arms round Luke’s and Tero’s necks. ‘Oh, you’re so kind, I so dreaded leaving her. Oh, darling, darling Luke, thank you,’ and she kissed Luke just under the left jaw bone, breathing in his strength and goodness.

  For a second Luke felt dizzy with relief. Perdita would have to stay in Palm Beach another three weeks while Tero went through quarantine.

  No-one, however, upstaged Bart Alderton. Two minutes later he returned from the stables leading Spotty, the skewbald Perdita had ridden in the first chukka of the Fathers and Sons. Spotty’s wall eye gave him a very old-fashioned look and his skewbald markings included white quarters and brown back legs, so he looked as though he was wearing stockings kept up by garters. A brilliant, wilful, merry, courageous pony who could keep going for ever and who refused to be intimidated even by Juan or Miguel, he caused cheers and yells of laughter whenever he played.

  ‘Here’s a good old boy,’ said Bart, handing a second lead rope to Perdita. ‘Merry Christmas, and thanks for clinching the Fathers and Sons. Spotty and you should get along.’

  ‘Oh,’ breathed Perdita, handing Tero’s rope to Luke, ‘I love this pony. He’s a dream to ride. You are so, so kind,’ and, flinging her arms round Bart, she covered his face with kisses like a child.

  Red was seething. First Bibi on the board and Bart’s polo manager, and now Spotty.

  ‘That’s a good horse, Dad,’ he and Bibi said simultaneously.

  ‘Who was only saying last week that Spotty looked as though the milkman’s horse got his mother?’ said Bart smugly.

  ‘That sort of horse is only conceived,’ said Auriel dreamily, ‘when the stallion jumps over the fence and couples with a mare at the moment of the eclipse.’

  Well, he’s certainly eclipsed Tero, thought Chessie furiously. ‘Why didn’t you give Spotty to Luke?’ she hissed, drawing Bart aside. ‘He’s the one who needs him.’

  Bart smiled chillingly. ‘I want Luke so short of dough he has to come to me and beg.’

  ‘Stupid idiot,’ said Chessie. ‘Don’t you realize when that horse goes to England Ricky’ll be playing it in matches against you all summer?’

  Looking at the enraged faces, Perdita didn’t care. She was used to being the centre of a family row. Two really good ponies could turn her career around. It never entered her head, as she left Luke to take both ponies back to their stables, how she would pay for flying them back to England.

  ‘You’d better come and play on my team, and bring Spotty with you,’ Bart told her, thinking how amusing it would be to take Perdita off Ricky as he picked up one of the telephones to take a call from Australia.

  ‘Dinner is served,’ announced Conchita.

  Almost on cue, the second telephone rang. Bibi picked it up. Suddenly her eyes gleamed and her sallow face lit up. She looked almost pretty.

  ‘Ricky,’ she cried joyfully. ‘How are you? Who’d you want to talk to? Oh, right. I am flattered. I’ll take it next door. I’ve been missing you too, darling.’

  Perdita turned grey as reality reasserted itself like a stubbed toe. Here she was in Palm Beach, spending Christmas with the sworn enemy of the man she loved, taking his ponies and accepting his hospitality and money. Bibi had probably told Ricky everything, rubbing it in like washing-up machine powder into a cut. No wonder he hadn’t answered her calls. Seeing her look of utter desolation, a returning Luke put his good arm round her shoulders. Somehow Chessie managed to stay cool.

  ‘Let’s go and dine,’ she said to Auriel, adding maliciously, ‘I know Bart will enjoy having you on his right.’

  ‘May I be allowed to say Grace?’ asked Auriel, dropping her voice dramatically.

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ said Chessie. ‘It’s not an awfully popular word round here.’

  Dinner was out of this world. Chessie had retained all her old skills. Not feeling hungry herself, she was only too happy to give up her smoked salmon to Auriel, but incensed that Red took one bite, and, dropping his fork, promptly lit a yellow Sobranie.

  Bibi was still on the telephone, the bitch. If she was trying to get off with Ricky, there was no way Chessie was going to allow her to get off with Angel too. Turning her languorous, blue eyes towards him, she asked if he’d telephoned his family today.

  ‘I did,’ said Angel, who had finished his smoked salmon and was looking at Red’s discarded helping as longingly as the orange stable cat who had jumped on to the table.

  ‘That cat’s been trying to get at the goose all day,’ said Chessie, putting it back on the floor.

  ‘Cat?’ said Angel, clutching his smooth brown forehead. ‘That is “cat” in American?’ Then he started to laugh. ‘Zat is why I am so late. Of course it is gatto too. In Argentina we have the same word gatto for a jack. I ’ave my flat tyre on the freeway, I look up gatto in the dictionary, it say “cat”. I keep stopping drivers, and ask them if they have a cat in their car. They drive on as eef I am crazy man. My English is not very well, but I am learning it more better by Phoney-Lingus.’

  ‘That’s my husband’s perversion,’ said Chessie.

  She is beautiful, thought Angel, and so sweet.

  ‘What part of America you come from?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m English.’

  Suddenly wild-eyed and distraught, Angel rose to his feet: ‘Luke didn’t tell me.’

  Chessie put a hand on his arm. ‘You’ve forgiven Perdita. Can’t you forgive me? I’m sorry about your brother. You must miss him dreadfully, particularly at Christmas. It was a horrible war.’

  She was so beautiful, thought Angel, sitting down again, he could forgive her anything.

  ‘This is wonderful food,’ he said as Bibi floated back into the room, oblivious of black glances from Perdita and Chessie.

  ‘Who she talking to?’ asked Angel.

  ‘My ex,’ said Chessie bitterly.

  ‘El Orgulloso?’ said Angel in disbelief. ‘He not interested in ugly cow like that. She look like an ’orse, and not a very pretty one.’

  ‘Ricky likes horses better than anything else. Perhaps that’s the attraction.’

  Looking down the table, seeing his dramatically under-handicapped ringer mauling his wife, Bart toyed with the idea of sacking Angel on the spot, but, having played practice chukkas with him yesterday, decided he was too good to
kick out so early in the season. Used to calling the conversational shots, he had to confess himself beaten by Auriel as she regaled him with stories of famous movie stars she knew – namely, herself.

  Bibi, having also left her mousse, was bitching to Red in French about the dishonesty of Miguel and Juan. ‘They’d installed four boarders at the barn and were charging them $800 each a month – straight into their own pockets.’

  ‘And the reason Juan came back for the Geldof match was to charge Dad expenses for screwing Sharon Kaputnik,’ answered Red, also in French.

  ‘This one doesn’t seem much better,’ added Bibi dismissively. ‘The way he’s mauling Chessie, he’s just another jumped-up gigolo.’

  Whereupon Angel butted in perfect French.

  ‘I have never asked money for my sexual services,’ he told Bibi coldly and turned back to Chessie.

  Red was highly amused; Bibi went scarlet. Angel needed putting down, but not like that.

  The goose was even better than the smoked salmon.

  ‘This turkey is simply delicious, Francesca,’ said Auriel, feeding large slices to the slavering Yorkshire terriers. ‘The white meat is so subtly flavoured.’

  ‘I used truffles under the skin,’ said Chessie, grateful for any praise. ‘Ricky’s father used to pronounce it Truefles,’ she added idly.

  ‘True was the one thing you weren’t to Ricky,’ said Red nastily.

  ‘It’s all awesome, Chessie,’ said Luke, who was eating a lot, despite not being hungry.

  Bart was off the telephone to Sydney at last.

  ‘To my beautiful and gifted wife,’ he said raising his glass.

  ‘To the second Mrs Alderton,’ said Red, draining his glass.

  ‘Yes – to Mom,’ agreed Bibi.

  They had a pause before pudding.

  ‘I’m gonna make a full-scale assault on American Airlines,’ Bart told Auriel.

  ‘My agent says I’m his favourite client,’ said Auriel. ‘He’s closing a deal with a really good author to write a book on the Auriel Kingham Phenomenon.’

  ‘Seeking control of the company,’ went on Bart.

  ‘I’d like to write my own autobiography, but I don’t have the time,’ went on Auriel.