The Summer House Party

by Caro Fraser

  Guy seized on the suggestion with relief, but Roddy, tilting his chair back and yawning, said he would pass. ‘A day in the open always leaves me rather pooped. I’ll head for bed, if you chaps don’t mind.’

  *

  Diana glanced at the clock as she undressed. Only a little after eleven. Would Roddy wait until Paul and Guy had finished their game of billiards, and the household was asleep? That might be an age. She lay down on the bed, sexual longing flooding her with a delectable urgency. She closed her eyes, lifted her nightdress, and ran her hands over the satin flatness of her stomach. She thought of Roddy, imagining undressing him, touching him.

  Deciding she might as well get ready for bed, she put on her silk robe and picked up her wash bag. As she left her room she could hear from downstairs the clatter of the maid clearing the dinner table. The landing was in darkness, and though she felt about for the light switch she couldn’t find it. Still, there was just enough light from the hallway below for her to see her way to the bathroom. As she reached the bathroom door, she was startled by a tall figure looming next to her in the half-darkness. Roddy, also in his dressing gown, had arrived at the bathroom at the same moment.

  ‘Good lord, you gave me such a fright!’

  ‘You rather surprised me, too,’ replied Roddy. ‘Please’ – he gestured to the bathroom – ‘after you.’

  ‘I have a better idea.’ She opened the door and took his hand. A moment later they were in the bathroom together. In the darkness he slid the bolt and drew her towards him. Then his arms were around her, his mouth on hers. In a matter of seconds their robes were on the floor and she was flattened against the wall as he thrust into her. It was over in a few delirious moments. Their breathing grew slower.

  ‘I think we both needed to get that out of our systems,’ murmured Diana, running her hands over the smoothness of his chest, then down his muscled thighs.

  ‘Yes, indeed.’ His mouth found hers, and to her astonishment Diana felt him hardening inside her again.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she muttered, arching her back lightly. At that moment, the landing light came on outside, and the doorknob rattled. They both froze; Diana clapped a hand over Roddy’s mouth to stifle his laughter.

  ‘I shan’t be long!’ called Diana to whoever was outside the door. ‘I think the bulb must have gone.’

  ‘Oh, how annoying for you,’ replied Meg’s voice. ‘How can you possibly see to do anything?’

  As though in response, Roddy began to move gently inside Diana, at the same time sliding the tips of his fingers between her legs. She gave a tiny whimper, and reached out, fumbling for the tap. She turned it, and water splashed noisily into the basin, just in time to drown the shuddering sigh that escaped her as Roddy’s fingers began their work.

  ‘I’m sort of feeling my way,’ she gasped, trying to keep her voice normal.

  ‘It’s too silly,’ replied Meg. ‘You should have told me about it. I’ll go and tell one of the maids to come up with a replacement.’

  They waited for a breathless moment until they were sure she had gone. Then very slowly Roddy began to thrust into her once more, gently at first, then harder. They came in the same instant, water still gushing from the tap next to them.

  Diana let her breathing slow, her head still thrown back, her eyes closed. Then she gasped, ‘We’d better get out of here before the maid comes.’

  ‘My room,’ said Roddy.

  They fumbled on the floor for their robes, turned off the tap, and emerged hesitantly on to the darkened landing. Stifling their laughter, they padded their way swiftly to Roddy’s room and locked the door.

  Enid arrived at the bathroom with a spare bulb, then went back downstairs a few moments later. ‘I couldn’t find nothing wrong with the bathroom light, ma’am. The bulb’s working fine.’

  ‘How odd,’ said Meg. ‘Perhaps it’s the switch. I’ll have it looked at first thing.’

  *

  The next morning Meg was woken at half nine by the sound of the phone ringing. The shrill, insistent sound carried through the interconnecting door from Paul’s study. Paul stumbled out of bed to answer it.

  A few moments later he came back in a state of excitement, plucking his dressing gown from its hook. ‘That was Bunny Warren. They’ve cancelled an event at Brooklands. The clerk of the course says we can take the new car on the mountain circuit today, if we want. It’s the perfect place to test its acceleration and road-holding.’

  Meg yawned. ‘Why leave it till Sunday morning to let you know?’

  ‘Bunny knew on Friday, but apparently he had rather a heavy weekend and forgot till this morning. I’ll go and tell Roddy. If he has plans to go back to London this afternoon, he’ll have to forget them.’

  Paul left the room. Meg lay in bed trying to work out what difference this would make to the day’s arrangements. Everyone had been due to leave before lunch, but now it looked as though Guy and Roddy would be staying on. Perhaps Dan and Eve could take Amy back to London. Or maybe she would want to stay and go back later with Guy. No matter, everyone’s plans would become clear over breakfast. She got out of bed, and had just put on her dressing gown when Paul came back into the room. Meg could tell from his face that something was wrong.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Paul simply shook his head and disappeared into their dressing room, closing the door.

  Meg was alarmed. The expression in Paul’s eyes had been intense, raw, as though something had pained him deeply. It wasn’t a look she had seen before. She approached the dressing-room door, hesitated, and after a moment turned and went out on to the landing. There she met Eve on her way to the bathroom, and at the same moment Diana emerged from Roddy’s bedroom, her blonde hair tousled, clutching her robe together. Meg’s surprise must have been evident, for Diana glanced at her and muttered crossly, ‘Oh, not you, too!’, then swept into the bathroom, banging the door behind her.

  ‘I should have been quicker off the mark,’ said Eve, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Gosh,’ said Meg. ‘Oh well, there’s another bathroom on the next floor. You’ll find the stairs at the end of the corridor.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Meg stood there for a moment, bemused. Given Paul’s views on sex outside marriage, he must have been more than upset to find his sister in Roddy’s bedroom. Though Meg couldn’t help thinking that Paul’s expectations of people were somewhat unrealistic, in this day and age. Though the fact that Diana had been in Roddy’s room, and not the other way around, suggested that she had gone to him. No doubt that made it even worse in Paul’s eyes.

  She went back to their bedroom and knocked gently on the dressing-room door. Paul opened it, half-dressed, his face blank. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Why?’

  Meg faltered. ‘I saw Diana coming out of Roddy’s bedroom. It’s upset you, I can tell.’

  Paul said nothing for a moment. He looked down at the tie he held in his hand. Meg could see a muscle working in his jaw. Then he said in a low voice, as though he could barely contain himself, ‘I am more than upset – I am totally disgusted. Why must my sister pollute every man she meets? She’s like a bitch in heat.’

  ‘Well – I think maybe Roddy played his part, too. It seems hardly fair to blame Diana – if blame is the right word. Which I’m not sure it is.’

  ‘Don’t defend her! Don’t make it worse by reminding me that you subscribe to her low values. You made me aware of that before we were married. At least one of us was sufficiently—’

  ‘Paul, stop it!’ exclaimed Meg. ‘Don’t take it out on me! If you’re disappointed, upset, or whatever, then go and deliver your sermon on sexual morality to those two – though frankly your attitude seems quite absurd.’ She couldn’t help adding, ‘If you want to know, I think it might have done us a lot of good if we had gone to bed with one another before we married.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Meaning – oh, I don’t know! Nothing. Pl
ease let’s not row. I hate it. I’m not the one you’re upset with.’

  She closed the door on him before he could pursue the argument further, leaving him to get dressed.

  The mood at breakfast was confused. Although Meg did her best to be cheerful and talkative, it was clear to all that Paul was put out about something. Roddy had tactfully stayed in his room, and Diana made short work of tea and toast then left the breakfast table briskly.

  ‘So,’ asked Meg, glancing from Paul to Guy, ‘are you going to test drive the car at Brooklands?’

  ‘I haven’t made up my mind,’ replied Paul curtly.

  ‘Well, hadn’t you better, dear? I’d like to know how many we might be for lunch.’

  To this Paul made no reply. Guy gave Amy a glance, then said, ‘It would help to know sooner rather than later, old man. Because if we are taking her out, I might ask Dan to drive Amy back to London – if that’s all right with you, Dan?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Paul muttered something about checking gaskets, and left the table. Dan glanced at Meg. Despite her brightness, he could tell there was something wrong. Perhaps she and Paul had had a row. He said as much to Eve as they left the breakfast room.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ replied Eve, ‘but I do know that Diana spent the night with Roddy, and word seems to have got out. Maybe Paul doesn’t like such shenanigans under his roof. Did you notice Roddy didn’t come down to breakfast?’

  ‘Paul can be something of a prude,’ remarked Dan, ‘but he’s also a stickler for good form, and it’s hardly good form to make one’s guests feel awkward.’

  ‘Well, let’s not concern ourselves overly with our hosts’ domestic squabbles. I’m going to pack. Let me know when you’ve found out if we’re giving Amy a lift. I should like to be in London before lunchtime.’ She paused at the top of the stairs. ‘I assume we’re taking Diana?’

  ‘I imagine so. I’ll check.’

  Dan went to Diana’s bedroom, but found it empty. He went downstairs to the morning room, thinking she might be there, but the sound of Paul’s angry voice made him halt outside the door.

  ‘I cannot believe that you would come to our home and behave in such a disgusting way!’

  ‘Oh, stop it, Paul,’ came Diana’s voice in reply. ‘Do you have any idea how perfectly ridiculous you sound?’ Dan heard the snap of a lighter. ‘I will behave any way I choose.’

  Dan retreated a couple of feet to the round polished table in the centre of the hallway, making a pretence of examining the local paper which lay there, staying close enough to listen.

  ‘Not in my house, you won’t. And I absolutely forbid you to have anything more to do with Roddy.’

  ‘What cheek! Who are you to forbid me anything?’

  ‘I’m the person who pays your bills, gives you a generous allowance, and allows you to live rent-free – that’s who.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘If you choose to take it that way. I’m telling you what to do for your own good.’

  ‘Don’t you think Roddy might have a say in this? Are you going to forbid him to have anything to do with me as well? Do you think you can control everyone?’

  ‘Roddy is my employee. I can make it clear to him where his best interests lie.’

  ‘You are quite outrageous!’ There was a moment’s silence; Dan could hear the click of Diana’s heels on the parquet floor. ‘I know what’s behind this. You want Roddy all for yourself. And you can’t bear to think that Roddy would rather have me.’

  At this point Dan decided it might be wise to absent himself, since the row had reached a pitch where one or other of them was likely to come storming out at any moment. He didn’t wish to be caught eavesdropping, fascinating though it all was. What on earth had she meant about Roddy? So far as Dan knew, Paul had a deep and abiding loathing of homosexuality. Perhaps she was just goading her brother out of spite. Siblings could be foul to one another in argument. Dan imagined that the real cause of Paul’s anger was his sense of outraged decency, and the fact that it was his own sister who was behaving badly, flinging her wanton behaviour in his face. Added to which, Diana had put Paul in an embarrassing situation vis-à-vis Roddy. He wondered how Paul would deal with that.

  In the end it was Roddy who dealt with it. Realising that someone had to say something, he went to Paul half an hour later and addressed the issue in a frank fashion, apologising for the indiscretion, saying that he could see how he had caused Paul personal embarrassment, and that it might be best if he were to leave the racing team. Roddy had a good understanding of the workings of Paul’s mind, and the suggestion was more a gesture of appeasement than a serious proposal. It enabled Paul to respond in a reproving but magnanimous spirit.

  ‘I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed, Roddy. There are certain standards, and you and Diana fell well short of them. But you’re both grown-ups. Let’s say no more about it.’ Roddy, relieved not to be threatened with a horse-whipping, put out his hand, and Paul shook it, adding, ‘But you do understand the problems it will cause if things continue? With Diana, I mean?’

  This surprised Roddy, and also presented him with a slight difficulty. At present he had no serious intentions regarding Diana, but it would be insulting to say as much.

  He cast around for a suitably oblique response.

  ‘I can assure you nothing of the kind will happen again.’

  So Paul and Guy and Roddy took the car to Brooklands, and Dan, Eve, Amy and Diana returned to London, leaving Meg to ponder the events of the weekend and try to work out whether it had been a success or not. She eventually decided that, whichever, it had at least been interesting.

  8

  DAN WAS AT his desk, going through an article he had written on an exhibition of Degenerate Art in Munich, and wondering how much of it would escape Mr Hitchcock’s blue pencil, when a call came through to him from Harry.

  ‘Harry, how are you?’

  ‘Ecstatic, my dear. Laurence is back, and not a mark on him!’

  ‘That’s good news. You must be very happy.’

  ‘I’m so extravagantly relieved that I’m throwing a supper party at Panteli’s this evening by way of celebration, and you have to come. Brian Hawthorn will be there, and Gavin Henderson.’

  ‘Is that the downstairs place in Frith Street?’

  ‘The same. Corkage is free, so if everyone brings a bottle or two, we can have an excellent night of it.’

  ‘I’ll be there. What time?’

  ‘I told Stavros nine o’clock, around seven or eight people.’ He added, in a voice that trembled with warmth, ‘God, Dan, it is so good to have him back. I have had a year of hell. Night and day the gates of dark death stood wide…’

  ‘And you’ve retraced your steps to the upper air. Or Laurence has.’

  ‘Homer, was it?’

  ‘Virgil.’

  ‘Ah, yes, of course. Well, see you tonight.’

  Dan put the phone down, glad for Harry. Just yesterday he’d had a telephone call from a deeply distressed Sonia, telling him that she’d heard Charles Asher had been killed in an attack on a bridge. Poor Charles, with his Wodehouse paperback stuffed in his jacket pocket, and his dogged belief in the fight against Fascism, and who had never even got to sleep with a woman before his short, troubled life had ended. How pointless and random it all seemed.

  *

  Panteli’s was a small and formerly obscure Greek restaurant in a Soho basement which Harry, perpetually on the lookout for good, cheap food, had discovered six months ago. He had advertised its delights to his wide circle of friends, and now it was on its way to becoming a fashionable bohemian hangout. This, coupled with the fact that Harry was something of a grecophile, having travelled much in Greece during his university years, endeared him tremendously to the patron, and when Dan came downstairs into the restaurant a little after nine, Stavros Panteli and Harry were engaged in raucous conversation at a table crowded with Harry’s friends.


  Dan sat down between Brian and Gavin, two of Harry’s magnificently effeminate chums. Brian, a poet with dark, soulful eyes, was already fairly drunk, and regaling the table with an outrageous story of a recent encounter with an Irish navvy. Gavin, a wealthy aristocrat who had fought in Spain the previous year, was explaining to Laurence his plan to house a number of Spanish child evacuees on his estate. Dan helped himself to a large glass of wine and joined in the conversation.

  Two women, Laurence’s sister and a friend who was an avant-garde painter, joined the party. Eventually the food arrived, each dish proudly announced by Stavros as the waiters set them on the table – youvetsi, souvlaki, spanakopita, keftethes and quantities of excellent bread. The feast commenced, Laurence’s return was toasted by a tearful Harry, and someone was sent out to get more wine.

  After a couple of hours Dan, fairly drunk, left the table and made his way to the gents at the back of the restaurant. As he came out he noticed a man in conversation at a corner table with two older men. The lighting in the corner was poor, but Dan felt he knew him. He paused, trying to work out where he had seen him before. The man sat back abruptly in his chair, dismissing something one of his companions was saying with an impatient wave of his hand, and Dan realised that it was Arthur Bettany. The gesture contained all the restless arrogance that Dan recalled from their schooldays. How strange to have heard Bettany’s name for the first time in six years just recently, and now to encounter him in a Soho restaurant. For a drunken moment he thought of going over and saying hello, but there was an intensity about the conversation which told him he might not be welcome, and besides, he had no special wish to renew the acquaintance. He and Bettany had got on well enough, but they hadn’t really been friends. Suddenly Arthur turned and glanced in Dan’s direction, and Dan moved away, back to the rowdy table where the wine was still flowing and Brian was singing ‘Mad About the Boy’ in a throaty impression of Marlene Dietrich.

  An hour later, when it was nearly midnight and Dan was thinking of leaving, Bettany passed their table, now alone. He was immediately hailed by Brian.