‘We unfortunately or fortunately never had children. I’ll leave you two to freshen up. See you topside, say in ten minutes. I’m sure Jeremy would like to watch as we make our way out of the marina, past the billionaires’ yachts, which of course your husband, Consuela, could well afford.’
‘He says he’s too busy and doesn’t have the time to waste on toys for other people’s benefit.’
Amanda left them, and Consuela went into the washroom to change.
Profiting from her absence, Holt changed clothes as well. When she returned, they went up to join Amanda and Jonathan, who explained that they only had two crew members: William, who they called ‘captain’, and a young girl, Veronica, who helped with the cooking and cleaning.
‘I can handle the boat all by myself,’ said Jonathan, ‘so we only need the one man, though we are training Veronica as a backup. It’s not very arduous, as once out at sea you just have to enter the route into the computer and the boat sails itself. Of course you have to keep a lookout for other boats, but even then the radar tracks them and issues an alert if there is any risk of collision. The biggest danger is hitting some kids in a small rubber boat that might not show up on the radar.’
‘Sounds easy,’ commented Holt.
‘Usually is, but not always. We can control the boat from two places – from the bridge at the front of the enclosed main cabin, which is suitable for all weathers, and from the front of this upper, relatively open deck, which has similar but less sophisticated controls but in good weather is nicer and has better visibility.’
With the ‘captain’ controlling the boat from the main wheelhouse and the four of them on the upper deck, they eased their way out of the crowded marina, passing small yachts, cruisers, and finally some gigantic ones, like mini ocean liners, near the end of the mile-long quay.
‘What are those domes for?’ said Holt, pointing to the couple of plastic domes not only on the superstructure of their own craft but also on virtually all the large yachts.
‘Though they make them look like spy ships, they are usually to protect the rotating antennae, which automatically track the satellites for TV. You just key in the code, and the antenna tracks the satellite automatically. Some of the smaller pods are for antennae tracking communications satellites – some people run their businesses from their boats. Keeps them out of the arms of the taxman.’
‘I suppose people onboard have a lot of spare time to watch TV and videos,’ said Holt, wondering whether he would find it boring after a time.
‘We’ll soon be there,’ announced Consuela. ‘The hotel is the height of luxury and tranquillity, and will be the ideal place to talk. I need some juicy details for my report.’
‘I see,’ commented Holt, slightly unsure of what juicy material he could think up.
‘Don’t worry! It won’t be all talk. There is an infinity pool blasted out of the rock with a view over the Mediterranean. Tomorrow afternoon Jonathan and Amanda will come and pick us up to take us off to La Garoupe Beach, where we will have a barbeque onboard, like in the old days. Afterwards, they will take us back to the hotel, and they will come back early the following morning to take us to Villefranche for the reception, followed by a lecture by some Russian expert.’
‘What on?’
‘The Owl didn’t say. Anyway, over there you can see La Garoupe Beach, where Amanda and I, and sometimes Jonathan, used to go some years ago. That is before he sold his software company. The water is very warm and the beach faces east, so you have the sun behind you and not in your eyes from midday onwards. Some people come by boat and moor offshore. Those that do not have their own launch can phone the restaurant or hotel and ask to be fetched by pedalo. We’ll come back here tomorrow evening for old times’ sake.’
Holt was only half listening, for he was taking in how great Consuela looked. It was not only her looks that were remarkable, but her gaze – the way she looked at you with those bright eyes as if for a moment she were entranced by what you were saying. Perhaps the look was not reserved for him and was turned on at the numerous receptions she held and attended, and was the asset H appreciated most. He was still lost in those thoughts when she turned to address him.
‘Jeremy?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, finding an excuse to feast his eyes on her directly.
‘I am sorry. I should have warned you. The hotel we are going to is one of the most exclusive hotels in the world, and this is the high season. They only had one room available. In fact, we only got it because someone cancelled and we – that is, H and I – know the manager.
That means we shall have to share the room and, I’m afraid, the bed. It won’t be too horrendous, as the bed will be enormous and the bathrooms all have two washbasins, which is normal for people like us. We women like to have our own basin with essentials at hand, and above all, everything kept spotless, something real men seem incapable of.’
The boat eased alongside the Hotel du Cap jetty, allowing Holt and Consuela to jump off onto the close‑set wooden planks. With staff from the hotel arriving to greet them, Holt wondered then and later whether an essential part of their role was ensuring undesirables did not importune the well‑healed guests.
The bellboy took them up to their Superior Room in the main building. It was elegant in a traditional style, with a view of the Mediterranean and the park surrounding the hotel, with its graceful pine trees. It was an oasis of calm, cut off from the rough and tumble of the normal world. Truly a place for film stars and those able to pay for graceful tranquillity.
‘As I said, look how large the bed is,’ said Consuela before adding that Holt could sleep on the far side should he wish.
‘I’m not sure…’
‘You did sign up for a Trophy Wife.’
‘Yes. But…’
‘Let’s play it by ear, though I am not sure that is quite the right expression in the circumstances.’
‘You mean, play it by—’
‘By how we feel when the situation arises. But remember what goes up always comes down in the end, as if it never went up. So don’t worry. Let’s forget about those little things for now. As soon as you are ready, we can go down and have a relaxed dinner on the terrace.’
Chapter 13
What Did You Expect?
The Grill and Lounge Bar, where Consuela had reserved a table right at the front, overlooking the sea towards Cannes, was a wonderful, relaxed locale, with the setting sun adding to the romantic feeling. They started with a cocktail recommended by Consuela. Holt ordered crab with Japanese wasabi dressing, followed by a superb roast from the trolley, while Consuela opted for a summer vegetable dish followed by turbot meunière with young leeks and caviar, amongst other things. All accompanied by fine red and white wines. They could not resist the great desserts brought to them on a trolley.
Though the service was impeccable, key to the whole setup was how relaxed, unpretentious, and laid-back everything was. Holt pointed this out to Consuela, who told him that in the highest circles, where everybody is somebody, there is no need for pretensions.
After some exceptional champagne in the Eden Roc Champagne Bar, overlooking the sea, they made their way to their bedroom, with Holt feeling very merry but not weak-kneed as he had been at The Loughty. Consuela was the first to go to the bathroom and to bed.
‘It’s your turn in the bathroom now. Don’t take too long. I don’t want to fall asleep waiting – for what, I am not sure.’
Holt did not take long – just a quick shower and so on and he was soon out, bedecked in the elegant bathrobe supplied by the hotel. Not knowing what to do, he stood hesitatingly at the side of the enormous bed, which seemed to have grown even larger, leaving ample room for him to sleep on his own. She had told him she was thirty-two, an age at which, according to some, women are reaching their prime.
‘What are you waiting for?’
‘Maybe I should take off my bathrobe.’
‘That would be a start.’
�
�Right then,’ replied Holt in a hesitant voice.
‘This is beginning to sound like The Graduate, with you the eighteen-year-old virgin son of H’s best friend rather than a twenty-four-year-old. This is not meant to be an initiation test. That’s for later, and nothing to do with me.’
‘You hit the nail on the head. To be honest I am worried about that initiation test. Will I have to parachute out of a plane – I can’t stand heights – or worse still, harm someone?’
‘Your only hope, Jeremy, is to keep me sweet so I put in a good report. Unfortunately, it won’t be just what happens tonight. The people you will be meeting on the mega-yacht in two days’ time may be reporting on you too. The Owl might even be there, who knows?’
‘You’re dead right.’
‘Forget about him. We only live once. To tell you the truth, I really like you. You’re a breath of fresh air, and I should thank the Owl for giving me the chance to meet someone like you, outside my normal circle yet intelligent. So get in before I have second thoughts and get bored with this Mrs Robinson routine.’
Feeling embarrassed, Holt divested himself of his bathrobe, slipped into the bed with his pyjama bottoms still on, took a deep breath, and moved over towards her.
‘Hey, you’ve got nothing on.’
‘What did you expect? I’m a recently married woman.’
Feeling more like a meek six-year-old boy climbing into his mother’s bed after a bad dream – except his mother would surely have had her nightie on – he wondered whether Blackwell’s stunt at The Loughty had not permanently emasculated him. So much so that like then, he remained transfixed as Consuela undid his pyjama bottoms and pulled them down and off. It should have been the other way round, with him doing the undressing using the secrets he had gleaned as a teenager from a book which said women liked order, and that if you managed to get one stocking off, she would take off the other one herself. Admittedly that book must have been written before the horrible invention of tights.
‘I haven’t taken any precautions,’ he stuttered.
‘Don’t worry that big head of yours about that. I won’t be seeking child support – you do not have that kind of money and never will.’
Holt felt the delicate touch of her hand in the place where at his medical the doctor had checked his reflexes by asking him to cough, but unlike then, desire started coursing through him. His feelings ran wild. Clutching her breasts, he rolled her over and ended up right on top. Pausing for a fraction of a second as if to savour the moment, he penetrated deep within her without any foreplay. Indeed, none was needed, as she was already as wet as could be.
‘I was wondering,’ gasped Consuela afterwards, ‘whether you might even be a virgin. Evidently not – or rather, not quite.’
‘I might just as well have been. I’ve never experienced anything like it. The way you…’
‘It was a new experience for me – I suppose like being with a teenager, not that I have ever been with one.’
Holt took her hand and held it until it was time for another joust, with him bringing more to the party the second time.
Too tired after the flight from London for a third tryst, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Holt woke up thinking of Michael Douglas’s frenzy with the bunny‑boiler in Fatal Attraction, though he was sure Consuela represented no danger in that respect. He had, though, a twinge of guilt regarding Celia but told himself that if pressed, he could tell her it had been for queen and country.
To his surprise, Consuela did not want to get up for breakfast and seemed to be content to just lie there propped up on the luxurious soft pillows. Perhaps she was accustomed to lying in and having breakfast brought to her. It would have been nice, though, to have breakfast on the terrace overlooking the sea where they had eaten the night before.
‘I’ve booked a cabana,’ Consuela announced as he came beside the bed.
‘What’s that?’
‘A kind of fenced-off beach hut and private space amongst the trees beyond the swimming pool. The great thing about them is the privacy they afford. We need to talk a lot more if I am to write a proper report. Maybe it would be good if you knew more about me too. Everything is not always as it seems. From there we can go to the swimming pool from time to time. It’s only a few yards away.’
As Consuela had said, the great feature of the cabanas was the seclusion they provided. Holt could well understand how a film star could languish there for much of the day and, on venturing to the pool, be protected from pesterers by the hotel staff; not that there would be many importuners at such an exclusive establishment. There was the gentlest of breezes. Ideal conditions for talking.
‘I am not,’ said Holt, ‘used to such simple luxury, nor ostentatious luxury for that matter.
‘Neither was I.’
‘Really? I thought you were to the manor born.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Something like being born with a golden spoon in your mouth.’
‘Quite the opposite. I was adopted and brought up in the Deep South by a poor and very strict Baptist couple, who already had a boy much younger than I. They lived frugally out in the sticks, miles from anywhere. They were actually quite loving and nice people, except where discipline was concerned.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘If we seriously misbehaved, they ordered us to go and cut a switch. That meant undressing and going out to the yard in just our underpants, making sure to select a nasty enough one. Of course we would take our time removing the twigs and leaves to delay matters, but the wife did not seem to mind, for she reckoned touching the implement before it touched us helped us reflect on our misdeed and was a key part of the punishment.’
‘How could they be so mean?’
‘They claimed they were doing it in God’s name.’
‘Good excuse if you ask me.’
If they deemed the switch too flimsy, the culprit had to go and cut another and receive five extra licks.’
‘Must have been terrible.’
‘Yes, it was. Besides the pain there was the humiliation – being bent right over with panties pulled down below the knees, showing everything not only to them but also to the gawking brat.’
‘But you watched him getting his comeuppance.’
‘Yes, and thoroughly enjoyed it, I’m ashamed to say. That was when he had been nasty to me and I, being the oldest, I was not to be next. But it’s different for a girl.’
Was Consuela making it all up to unearth what the French call the English vice? He would try not to sound too curious about her spankings, lest it gave the wrong impression.
‘How long did that – the beatings – go on for?’
‘Until I was fifteen or so. They stopped when I threatened to do the same to their dog if they did it again. As they loved the mongrel more than me, that put an end to it. Instead, I was grounded, which in many ways was far worse.’
‘Why didn’t you leave them?’
‘Not so easy, for it seemed I would be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, which is what I eventually did. They actually meant well, now I think back.’
Anyway, with the support of a counsellor who took to me at high school, I managed to get a scholarship to university and did psychology in the hope it would help me sort myself out and help others in similar predicaments. Being attractive meant the male, and even some female, students started coming on to me in what to the innocent me at the time seemed a vile way.’
‘There must have been some that were okay.’
‘Perhaps, but I was too scared to lower my defences. Finally, it was the psychology and my wanting to help people that was my undoing. I met the fiend I told you about. He got through my defences by getting me to take pity on him. He snared me by saying he had never been given a chance in life, but once he had taken my virginity he started to knock me around, saying it was for my own good. I suppose I put up with it at the beginning because he was punishing me for bei
ng bad, just like my step-parents did.’
Holt sensed she was being honest but still feared she was putting it all on so that he would eventually have to open up himself. He would have to play the game, whatever it was. He had better not try on the self‑pitying card – she would see right through it.
Their conversation was interrupted by the hotel waiter, who had appeared at the entrance to their cabana plot, asking what they would like for lunch. Holt could hardly tell one member of staff from the other. They were all fit and trim and seemed in their thirties or early forties.
They ordered a couple of salads and some mineral water, and while waiting for it to arrive, went over to the infinity pool for a swim. There they found themselves in the presence of a famous American film star, to whom no one was paying any attention.
After lunch and a nap, it was his turn to reveal details about himself. He started with his upbringing, which in fact was the easy part, though he had to be wary of sounding as though he was to be pitied regarding the premature death of his parents. This was interspersed with the occasional swim following which they went for a walk around the grounds, enjoying the shade of the beautiful trees and the tread of the carefully tended paths.
On returning to their room, they readied themselves to go down to the landing stage to be picked up by Amanda and Jonathan, who arrived precisely on time, there being no traffic jams out to sea.
Consuela said she needed to spend some time on her own in the cabin, perhaps to send in a report to the Owl, so Holt stayed up topside with Jonathan.
‘How was the hotel? Get a good night’s sleep, Jeremy?’
‘Yes, thanks, like a child.’
Jonathan would not have been duped by this understatement, particularly as Holt had a swaggering gait, suggesting the night at the Cap had given him a considerable lift. Also, he must have overheard Consuela the day before saying they would have to share that large bed.
‘You were pasty-faced,’ continued Jonathan, smiling, ‘and somewhat downtrodden when you arrived, as if you had been under a lot of strain. I am sure this break will have done you good.’
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