About Last Night . . .

by Catherine Alliott

  I raised my hand. ‘I do know. I’ve been into it. And I don’t expect it. I’d only ask for a fraction of it, a peppercorn rent. Cuthbert’s inheritance is a totally unexpected windfall as far as I’m concerned, one I’m not even convinced I’m entitled to, if I’m honest, and this would go a long way to making me feel better about it. It would assuage my conscience. And actually, I don’t want to hear any more about it.’ And with that I joyfully popped the last remaining oyster which he was clearly leaving for me, got it as far as my throat, realized it had the consistency of a large blob of phlegm, gagged horrifically, twice, eyes boggling, looked desperately for a napkin and, finding none, slipped none too elegantly from my stool and fled to the ladies. Happily I didn’t throw up when I disgorged it into the basin but it was nip and tuck. A couple of girls in there were sweet; I’d pushed right past them as they washed their hands, the loos being occupied, and they told me they couldn’t bear the bloody things either. When I finally tottered out, white-faced, Felix was hovering, looking concerned.

  ‘Golly, what happened?’ He escorted me back to the bar. ‘I thought you were about to puke.’

  ‘No, no, just went down the wrong way, that’s all.’

  I took a large glug of cold, refreshing, totally gorgeous champagne, climbed back on to my stool again, which would insist on revolving – how did people do this? – and then sat, like a child, still spinning, waiting for whatever came next.

  Felix was sweet and so grateful in his appreciation. He insisted continually that if I was to change my mind at the last minute, I was to shout. He was also touching in his deeply felt happiness for his father.

  ‘He’ll be beside himself,’ he said softly, his eyes filling.

  ‘Shall we ring him?’ I asked gleefully, having drunk most of the bottle of champagne. Was Felix even drinking? He was more of a sipper, I’d noticed. I must try to cultivate that.

  ‘Oh Molly, I don’t know. It casts it in stone, rather.’

  ‘Come on, let’s cast. The sooner the better.’

  I made him get his phone out and after a really rather playful – and quite sexy – charade about him putting it away again and me digging it out (jacket, not trousers, although I wouldn’t have minded), he laughingly agreed and found the number. The landline didn’t answer and he looked a bit anxious and I suddenly panicked Robert was already flipping dead, but then he answered his mobile. Felix relayed the news and his beaming smile told me how much it was appreciated on the other end. For some reason David sprang to mind as he was grinning, and I couldn’t imagine why. It shook me a bit. Indeed I had to have another drink and regroup on the stool to shed the image of my husband’s face. Was it because I was having supper with a man five years after his death? No, it wouldn’t be that. It wouldn’t be that at all.

  ‘Was he up and about?’

  ‘Just coming back from the pub,’ Felix said happily, pocketing his phone. ‘He’s thrilled.’

  ‘The pub?’

  ‘Oh – he – occasionally joins a quiz team there, on a Tuesday. Thought he’d better – um – pop in, and tell them he couldn’t make it.’ Felix licked his lips. ‘Typical Dad, doing the right thing. Hobbling down with his stick.’

  ‘Oh.’ I nodded. Somehow I hadn’t imagined him going further than the loo.

  ‘Someone helped him home. Put him back to bed. The old devil. He sneaks out occasionally. Such a worry.’

  ‘Ah, right.’ I sank happily into my champagne. Gosh, these elderly parents. More trouble than children sometimes. I made a mental note to ring mine; I hadn’t seen them recently. I also realized, rather guiltily, I hadn’t seen my friends. Anna. Tia. Who’d called, left messages. I wasn’t quite sure why I hadn’t rung back. I’d do it when I returned. Tell them all my news. Or no. Better still, listen to theirs.

  The evening rolled on in a delightfully languorous manner. Felix was concerned I hadn’t eaten much and ordered some delicious garlic prawns and then later, after a few more drinks, suggested a club. I didn’t argue. The only clubs I ever went to in Herefordshire were for books or bridge, and even those I never managed to get to more than once a month. I climbed eagerly into the taxi Felix hailed outside, assuming Annabel’s or somewhere similar, where David and I used to go occasionally with Giles who’d been a member. I was therefore surprised to find myself in a much younger environment: still in Mayfair, but in a tall white town house. Inside it was very dark, supremely sultry and extremely chic. The walls were clad with black velvet and there was a great deal of zebra skin on the floor; indeed animals were clearly a theme here, there even appeared to be a giraffe at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Stuffed, obviously, but life-size. There was a lot of smoky black glass and subdued lighting and girls with dresses falling off, and lithe, beautiful men. It was clearly very much private, members only.

  ‘Oh. OK.’ I smoothed down my tired black dress from Coast. ‘Not sure I’m dressed for this.’

  ‘You look gorgeous. Come on, through here.’

  Felix led the way through a dimly lit corridor of rooms, some lined with books and paintings and some with more animal skins, all freckled with the beautiful people. Although it was quite hard to see in this light, the clientele appeared to be both expensively and scantily dressed. A dark Italian-looking man in a cerise silk shirt was talking to a beautiful young actress I recognized but couldn’t put a name to. He was peering down the front of her tiny gold dress seemingly made entirely out of chains. She raised his chin with her finger to avert his gaze, took his glass, drained it, and walked off. On a fur rug in a corner, a couple were curled up, talking earnestly, nose to nose. Two very beautiful black men dressed identically in turquoise Nehru jackets were holding hands on a sofa, whispering intently to one another, gazing rapturously. I was glad I was with Felix, whose casual grace, even in this glamorous menagerie, set him apart somehow. He led me to a red velvet sofa draped casually with a pony skin over the back, in possibly the darkest, most secluded corner of the room. We sat and we chatted and when a waiter passed by, Felix ordered a couple of Cointreaus.

  He sweetly asked about my family. I couldn’t really take my eyes off the room, but I told him about Minna, and how I’d been worried, and how well she looked now, and he was kind and sympathetic.

  ‘She’ll learn.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You have to fall for at least one shit in your life. It’s the rules.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Although, as I watched the two black men kiss, I realized, rather thankfully, I never had. Neither David nor Henri; and before David, I’d spent a year with a lovely boy called Will. I’d been lucky.

  The Cointreau arrived and was sweet and strong, giving me the kick I needed if I wasn’t going to feel sleepy with all this soft lighting and music. At one point Felix took my hand which I liked very much. We were close now, proximity-wise, because a gorgeous red-headed creature in a tiny green dress had smilingly raised her eyebrows to ask if she could sit on the end of the sofa and we’d happily shifted along to accommodate her. Her boyfriend had perched on the arm, a slim blade of a boy in an immaculate suit, gazing down adoringly at her.

  The music got louder and, in front of us, not exactly on a dance floor, more a Persian carpet, a couple swayed rhythmically, lithe and mysterious, pressed close together but with their arms by their sides, feline in their movements. A few more couples got up to join them. I watched, entranced. The lights became dimmer and the music thumped with an insistent bass note which seemed to throb right through me. A husky French chanteuse crooned a love song over it. Felix whispered something in my ear about the lack of expression on the face of the not so young blonde woman who was dancing closest to us, with a beautiful young Asian boy. I giggled. Our faces were very close now. Felix put his finger under my chin and turned mine towards him. His eyes flickered with something thrilling. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine and he was kissing me. Properly. And I was kissing him back. And it was sublime. On and on it went, his hands never touching
me, just his lips, which somehow was terrifically exciting. I felt like it would never end, and that I might actually pass out before it did. I didn’t pass out. Instead, I froze, as a horribly familiar voice hissed:

  ‘Mum! What are you doing?’

  16

  ‘Lucy!’ I gasped.

  My daughter’s eyes were huge, her face frozen with horror. I saw Robin behind her, looking almost as shocked and blinking rapidly, his mouth ajar. Felix got to his feet and I clambered to mine.

  ‘Darling, what a surprise! Who would have thought?’ I managed, flustered, smoothing down my dress with a fluttering hand. Felix raked his through his hair sheepishly.

  ‘Mum, I am appalled. What are you thinking of, snogging in a club at your age? And with someone you hardly know?’ She was pale with fury, towering over me in her heels, her tiny yet voluptuous figure encased in a minuscule black dress, blonde hair piled messily on her head and falling in dishevelled ringlets around her face like Medusa.

  ‘Felix Carrington.’ Felix proffered his hand so that Lucy had little choice but to take it although she almost didn’t. ‘And if I might interject on your mother’s behalf, we know each other really rather well. And I don’t think there’s any age restriction on kissing.’ He smiled pleasantly.

  ‘You can’t know her that well because I’ve never met you before,’ she snapped. ‘And you know as well as I do it’s a cheap and tacky way to behave in public.’

  ‘Lucy, that will do,’ I said, jerked from shame to fury. ‘Felix and I are adults and how we conduct ourselves is absolutely none of your business.’

  A few people were turning to look now, catching our tones. I saw the beautiful black boys whispering to one another behind their hands.

  ‘It is my business if it reflects on me and, frankly, I don’t want to stumble across my mother in a compromising position in a regular haunt of mine!’

  ‘Oh, so it’s about you, is it?’

  ‘Shall we … continue this discussion somewhere less public?’ enquired Felix as Robin muttered, ‘Luce …’ and put a restraining hand on her arm which was instantly shaken off.

  ‘No, we won’t carry it on because no more discussion is necessary. I’ve said all I have to say.’ She turned to her boyfriend, tall and immaculate in a dark suit. ‘Robin, let’s go to Kitty Fisher’s. We should have gone there in the first place. I know exactly who you are, by the way.’ She shot this at Felix before she turned to go.

  Robin, hopping from foot to foot and unable to control his innate good manners, lunged back to kiss me goodbye, murmuring, ‘Mrs … Molly.’ Then he quickly shook hands with Felix before, with an acid look from his girlfriend, they departed.

  We watched them go. Felix rummaged through his hair again, looking abashed. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Your daughter, I presume.’

  ‘Yes, my eldest, Lucy,’ I breathed, watching her slim back stalk out through the corridor of rooms, rake straight.

  ‘Not the one who’s escaping the rural Lothario then?’

  ‘No. The one who has all the men in London panting after her and has settled on poor Robin.’

  ‘Poor?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure he’s up to her. She’s … you know. Feisty.’

  ‘I can see that. Here.’ He passed me my drink as we sat back down on the sofa again, perched, though, on the edge. ‘Shame,’ he said ruefully as he sipped his drink. ‘I was enjoying that.’

  ‘Me too,’ I agreed quietly.

  ‘But I imagine the moment has passed.’ He turned and gave me a quizzical little smile.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, recalling Lucy’s blazing blue eyes boring into mine. I cringed. What had I been thinking? ‘I’m afraid it has.’

  He nodded. ‘What did she mean, I know who you are?’

  I sighed and gazed bleakly into my drink. ‘She knows you’re Robert’s son. She thinks I’m mad to even consider letting him stay on.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’

  ‘Which is none of her business and, anyway, I’ve already decided.’

  ‘I know.’ He paused. Swirled his drink around in his glass. ‘What’s Robin’s surname?’

  ‘Farringdon. Well, until his father dies, then it’s Dashbarton.’

  ‘The Earl of?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought I recognized him.’

  ‘Oh really? Where from?’

  ‘Society pages. Photos in Tatler, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Oh. Why d’you ask?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, it just seems to me … you know, nice enough chap, but as you say, not really up to her.’

  ‘No. Lovely boy, but tiny bit …’

  ‘Wet?’

  ‘No, not wet. Accommodating, perhaps.’ I frowned. ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘Well, why’s she going out with him?’

  ‘You’re saying she’s after his money?’ I said, bridling.

  ‘Not money, necessarily, but possibly … the whole package.’

  I made myself consider this. ‘Maybe. But then of course, that makes him who he is.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Just as’ – I waved a hand at the lithe Asian boy dancing with the heavily lifted blonde – ‘his upbringing makes him who he is.’

  ‘Quite.’

  No conclusion seemed to have been drawn but I realized he meant Lucy had no right to the moral high ground. And that she’d been finger-pointing, which was wrong of her. Felix wasn’t after anything, I knew that. Just a few more weeks, or months, in familiar, comforting surroundings for his father. Suddenly I felt confused. And the lashings of champagne and Cointreau which had felt like such a splendid idea so recently were making me feel awfully light-headed and dizzy. I put my glass down on the little table beside the sofa, feeling decidedly foolish. What was I doing kissing a man I barely knew in a nightclub, but also … why ever not? Which? I hoped Lucy, en route to her next venue, would be racked with guilt at embarrassing her mother so, but somehow I knew she wouldn’t. She’d still be fuming, whilst Robin tried to soothe her, falling over his words a bit as he did. He had a slight stutter which didn’t improve when he was stressed. I frowned, pulled my dress down over my knees. Surely Felix couldn’t be right? That couldn’t be why she liked him? I shook my head and declined another drink as a waiter approached. Felix asked for the bill, which came almost immediately and for which he signed: no money or credit cards changing hands. Why did he come here, I wondered? And who did he usually come with? Women? Not men, surely? All at once, it was out of my mouth before I could harness the flow. Felix looked surprised.

  ‘Oh, clients mostly. Or dealers. It’s quite convivial to have somewhere civilized to bring them and talk business. Thank you.’ This, to the waiter.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, relieved. ‘Yes, I can see that.’

  ‘I mostly use it for lunch or drinks after work. There’s a very good dining room. And the food’s excellent. This is the first time I’ve been here so late, actually. Bit of an eye-opener, if I’m honest. Shall we go?’

  He flashed me a lovely smile and as we got up, I saw a couple of women closer to my age sitting with their dates on clubby leather sofas, surreptitiously watching as we left. He really was a very attractive man. I straightened my back and tucked my tummy in. And I’d had my moments, I thought, as a man on the way out gave me a smile. OK, he was the cloakroom attendant, but I’d definitely had them. Not recently, of course, but I still could, surely? It was never too late. Never.

  When I awoke the following morning – Felix having dropped me back in a taxi, then, with a chaste kiss, asked if I’d stay one more day so he could see me the following night, to which I’d readily agreed – I got out of bed, went to the galley kitchen and put the kettle on. As I crept around being quiet, making a cup of tea, getting dressed, making the bed, and a mental note to put fresh sheets on and wash these when I left, I took my mug to the kitchen to rinse it and turned at a noise behind me. Lucy and Minna appeared through the front door. They slammed it shut
behind them.

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ said Minna, glaring at me.

  I gazed back, astonished. They were still in their evening clothes.

  ‘You forgot to leave me the key,’ Minna snapped.

  It took a moment. Then: ‘Oh!’ Both hands flew to cover my mouth in horror. ‘God. So what did you do?’

  ‘Well, obviously I had to stay at Adam’s, which wasn’t entirely in the script.’

  ‘Oh my God! Adam who?’

  ‘Exactly. I’ve only seen him three times and I end up sharing his fucking bed.’

  ‘Oh Minna!’ I was horrified. I clutched my heart. Felt faint.

  ‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t actually a fucking bed. He was a perfect gentleman. But it’s not ideal, Mum. Not quite what I had in mind. Puts me on the back foot, rather.’ She barged past me in the kitchen, snapping on the kettle. She swung back, folding her arms and looking at me mutinously.

  ‘So how did you …?’

  ‘Lucy collected me this morning. She was at Robin’s because she was so upset about last night. And then of course Nico rang, so we got the whole story.’

  ‘What whole story?’

  ‘About you snogging Paddy Campbell in the lane.’

  I gasped.

  ‘Nico was in the Spar and heard everyone talking about it. It has really, really upset him.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Sit down, Mum.’ Lucy’s voice, which had yet to be heard, was stern and low. I perched, horrified, realizing she looked pale and determined. She sat down beside me.

  ‘Do you have a problem, Mum? Would you like to talk to us?’

  ‘No, of course not – don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘It’s not unusual, you know. A friend of Robin’s has got it.’

  ‘Got what?’

  ‘A sex addiction.’

  I gaped at her. ‘Sex addiction? Blinking heck, I haven’t had that for six years!’

  ‘Oh, so it’s not that then?’ They exchanged a relieved glance. ‘Just … what? Snogging? Attention? How many, Mum?’

  ‘How many … none!’