At the end of lunch, when the waiter brought over their coffees and Flappy’s mint tea (she was dismayed to see that it was not fresh but in a teabag), Kenneth excused himself and left the table to greet a friend. Flappy and Charles were left alone. There was an awkward silence, but Charles was keen to fill it. His gaze settled onto Flappy’s face in a gentle caress and then he reached under the table and found her knee. ‘I regret that I didn’t sweep you up to one of the spare bedrooms and make love to you,’ he said in a quiet voice.
Flappy was stunned. ‘I’ve just been to see Hedda,’ she told him, pushing his hand off her knee. ‘It’s over, Charles. Hedda knows.’
He laughed. ‘Of course she knows and she doesn’t mind,’ he said. ‘We have a deal.’
‘I know all about your deal. But you’ve been caught. We agreed it has to stop.’
‘She won’t find out. We’ll be careful.’
‘I won’t betray her, Charles. She’s my friend.’
‘Come on, Beauty! You can’t ruin Beastie’s fun.’ He leaned closer and Flappy smelt the coffee on his breath, which, mixed with the wine, was not very appealing. ‘Think of all the wicked things I’m going to do to you. No one else has ever brought you to such great heights of pleasure. Are you really going to give that up because of a friendship that is no more than a few weeks old?’
‘Yes, Charles, I am. Hedda could have ruined my marriage and my reputation in this town, but out of the kindness of her heart she has decided not to.’ Flappy looked at him with tenderness. ‘What you and I had was wonderful and I wouldn’t change any of it for the world. You are a wonderful lover. It is true. But we were careless and now we must pay the price. We can gaze at each other from afar, but we cannot touch. That’s the way it has to be.’
Charles sat back in his chair and sighed. ‘I won’t give up, Beauty. I love you.’
‘Oh, Charles…’
‘I won’t. I will give you time, that’s all. Then I will return and sweep you off your feet again. You may think you are just another of my many conquests, but you are wrong. You are the greatest of all my conquests, and the last.’
Flappy was very pleased to hear that she was not only his greatest conquest but his last. She did not want to be arrogant – Flappy was aware of her faults and she did not believe that arrogance was one of them – but it did not surprise her in the slightest. After all, she was confident of her position at the top of the food chain. If she was certain of one thing, it was that she was a white tigress. However, as Kenneth made his way back to the table she was certain of something else, too. That she was happy with her Toad.
Chapter 17
Flappy waited impatiently in the hall. She was dressed all in white – a loose white shirt, white draw-string trousers, white plimsolls and a white shawl. In fact, she was a picture of innocence and serenity. It was just a shame that the ladies’ tardiness disturbed the tranquillity of her mind, which up until this moment had been as calm as a limpid pool of water. Since meeting Murli, her guru – the guru sent to her by the universe, for it was true, one did not find a guru, the guru found one – meditation and yoga had done a great deal to put her back into balance and restore harmony to her life; she was herself again.
She looked at her watch and sniffed. If they didn’t arrive soon she’d go without them.
The rumble of an engine and the scrunching of tyres on gravel broke the silence, and Flappy went outside. A chilly wind was blowing in off the sea now that autumn had staked her claim to the land and summer had well and truly retreated to flower on another continent far away. She folded her arms and looked disapproving. Mabel, who was driving the car, gave a little wave, but Flappy did not wave back. They were late and if there was one thing Flappy abhorred, it was lateness.
The four women climbed out of the car. ‘I’m so sorry, Flappy,’ Mabel began nervously.
Esther followed behind her. ‘We’re only ten minutes late,’ she said, glancing at her watch.
Madge hoped that Flappy would blame Mabel, seeing as she was driving the car. But Mabel reached Flappy and rolled her eyes. ‘Madge couldn’t find her yoga mat,’ she explained.
‘It’s been so long since I’ve used it,’ said Madge, hurrying over the gravel, the mat rolled up under her arm.
‘We’re all here now and I can’t wait to meet the guru,’ said Sally. ‘What’s he called?’
‘Murli,’ Flappy replied through tight lips. ‘He’s already there, probably mid-levitation by now. You know he’s the real deal. Just as you would expect. A picture-perfect guru.’ She swept her eyes over their yoga attire. Sally’s, especially, was much too brightly coloured and brash. Flappy would make sure that she put Sally’s mat behind hers so she wouldn’t have to look at her. ‘If one is going to have a guru, one might as well go the whole hog and have him long beard, long hair and all.’
‘This is such fun!’ gushed Mabel. ‘I’m going to be very stiff. I can’t even touch my toes.’
‘I’ve never tried,’ said Esther.
‘I used to be able to put my ankles behind my ears,’ added Madge.
Flappy put up a hand. ‘That’s not a pleasant thought, Madge. Shall we proceed?’
They followed Flappy through the gardens. A light mist lingered over the trees and shrubs, muting the reds and golds of the leaves and giving the place an almost Gothic beauty. Indeed, autumn at Darnley was really very beautiful and Flappy never missed an opportunity to remind herself of how incredibly lucky she was to live there – or to remind everyone else. ‘I am so so lucky to be surrounded by such loveliness,’ she said as she trod lightly down the path. ‘Because to see nature’s glory is to see the face of God.’ She thought that sounded rather good and, since her infidelity, she was conscious of needing to make it up with God.
‘Oh, it really is lovely,’ Mabel agreed, admiring the swathes of Japanese anemones.
‘I think that the gardens at Darnley are the loveliest in Badley Compton,’ Madge added, knowing that that would earn her a few Brownie points.
It did indeed, for Flappy seemed to swell with pleasure. ‘How kind of you, Madge. I think they’re beautiful, but then of course I’m biased.’
‘And the cottage is so dear,’ said Sally as it came into view at the end of the path. ‘Such a lovely secluded place for meditation.’
‘Well, one is so frightfully busy,’ said Flappy. ‘One does need a little solitude every now and then, for one’s soul.’
They all nodded in agreement, grateful that Flappy was herself once again.
Murli was indeed exactly as one would imagine a guru to be. He had long white hair, a long white beard, rich brown skin, wise brown eyes and a large, sensitive nose. When he saw the women, he put the palms of his hands together and made a bow. The women followed suit, thrilled to be in the presence of a real guru who had come all the way from Rajasthan (albeit, some forty-six years ago).
‘Welcome to my class,’ he said, and his voice was exactly what a guru’s voice should be, deep and soft and foreign.
Flappy was delighted to be showing off, not only the guru, of whom she was very proud because he was, to be sure, authentic, but the sanctuary, which was what she now called the sitting room, which Gerald had just completed. Incense filled the air, candles twinkled in their holders and the Buddha gazed upon them all with a wise and enlightened face.
They laid out their mats and the guru took them through the poses, explaining what each pose was for as he twisted his flexible body into all sorts of impossible positions. This one helped digestion, this one prevented headaches and this one aided concentration. Flappy, having done yoga every morning for the last thirty years, was able to hold each position with ease and obvious enjoyment. The others were like rusty old bicycles that hadn’t been used in decades. Their wheels were stiff and their pedals creaked, but they were determined not to let Flappy down by complaining or giving up. By the end, Flappy had barely broken into a sweat while the others were as red in the face as runners after a marathon.
They settled onto their mats for the meditation. Flappy arranged herself into the Lotus position, knowing that she and the guru were the only two in the room who could. Madge, who used to be able to put her ankles behind her ears, could no longer sit cross-legged, Sally could and did, while Mabel and Esther sat on chairs. The guru led them through a visualization which was very pleasant. Flappy stilled her mind and allowed it to follow the guru into a lush green forest, but then Charles popped out of the trees. She was determined not to think of him. It was over. Well and truly over. However, in spite of her efforts, her mind kept going back to him. After all, she’d been his best and last, and the fact that he’d said he’d never give up gave her a frisson of the old excitement that not so long ago had dominated her life. He still wanted her, a woman of her age! If Flappy abhorred one thing, it was smugness, yet she felt very smug about that.
At the end of the meditation, when the guru gently brought them back to the present, they were flushed in the face and unusually peaceful. They hadn’t quite reached Nirvana, that was reserved for those like Flappy who were very advanced, but they had, nonetheless, reached somewhere surprisingly pleasant.
‘We will finish with an “Om”,’ said the guru. ‘It is a simple word but it has a very complex meaning. The whole universe resonates with the vibration of “Om”. So when we chant, we connect with the deep, eternal sound of the universe, yes? We say “Om”, but we chant “Aum”. Understood? Let’s try.’
He closed his eyes, placed his hands in the prayer position, and began to chant. The women chanted with him. The sound started in their chests, rose up their windpipes and escaped through their mouths. Esther tried not to laugh; Madge was overcome with nostalgia for the retreat she’d been to many years ago in India; Mabel concentrated very hard because she wanted to be like Flappy; and Sally was distracted by a new story that was coming into her mind from nowhere about a married woman who meets her lover in a cottage like this one, under the guise of practising yoga.
Flappy lost her sense of self in the vibration. She found that she was spiralling down somewhere deep inside herself, very far away. It was a blissful feeling to be so relaxed and so disconnected from one’s life. She could have stayed there all evening, but the guru had to go. He had another client to see and Flappy was called back.
‘Where did you go?’ asked Mabel, when the guru had left and Flappy had opened her eyes, looking dazed and strangely peaceful.
Flappy sighed and gave her a beatific smile. ‘Into my soul, Mabel,’ she said.
‘What was it like?’ asked Madge.
‘Still,’ she replied. ‘Isn’t it wonderful that one’s soul is so still, when one’s mind is so terribly busy!’ She stood up and stretched. ‘How was that, ladies?’ She scrutinized them with a sharp and critical gaze.
‘I adored it,’ gushed Mabel.
‘Wonderful,’ said Madge.
Esther wasn’t convinced. ‘I’m afraid meditation is not for me,’ she said.
‘You have to keep at it,’ said Flappy. ‘It’s something you get better at the more you do. You’re not giving up, Esther. Things that are worth having do not come without effort. Don’t think that I reached such depths the first time I did it. It’s taken many times to get this good.’
‘But we don’t have your focus,’ said Sally.
Flappy knew this was true, but she didn’t want to make her friends feel inadequate. If there was one thing Flappy was good at, it was making other people feel good about themselves. ‘Yes, you do,’ she said firmly. ‘You all have the potential to be the best versions of yourselves possible and it starts here, with me.’ She put out her hand. ‘Who’s going to join me on the road to Enlightenment?’
Mabel was the first to put her hand on top of Flappy’s. ‘Me,’ she said.
‘Me,’ said Madge, putting hers on top of Mabel’s.
‘All right,’ agreed Sally. ‘Me too.’
‘Come on, Esther,’ encouraged Flappy with a smile. ‘I might be a little further along the path than you, but you never know, with effort and dedication you might catch up.’
‘Okay,’ said Esther, although she thought the whole thing a complete waste of time. Esther placed her rough old palm on the top of the pile. ‘I’m in,’ she said with a grin. ‘And if I don’t reach Nirvana, Flappy, I want my money back.’
And Flappy laughed for she was paying for the guru, or rather Kenneth was. Darling Kenneth. She was so so lucky to have Kenneth.
* * *
On the second Sunday in November, Flappy opened her curtains to see the gardens crystallized with frost. She caught her breath. The beauty of it was arresting. Dawn was but a faint golden light on the horizon, breaking through the night’s sky like the distant glow of a farrier’s forge. The lawn and the bushes and trees were silver-grey and still, like a magical world where fawns are half human and half beast and children appear out of wardrobes with their faces full of wonder. Flappy was filled with joy, because that’s what beauty did to her, it made her feel buoyant, as if the lightness in her heart could literally lift her off her feet and send her flying over the gardens like an owl. She smiled and inhaled through her nose. She was happy and grateful, and aware of all her blessings. Indeed, Flappy had more blessings than she could count. But the greatest blessing of all was in her bed.
Kenneth, who was now invited to join her every Saturday night, lay sleeping in the semi-dark. He snored and grunted and made all sorts of revolting noises, but Flappy considered that her penance for her transgression. She not only put up with it, she welcomed it, for every snore and grunt reminded her of her sin and inspired her to become a better person. That said, she did not go as far as allowing him to make love to her. That would be one step too far and Kenneth might suspect something. It was very important that he didn’t. Besides, now she was further along the path of Enlightenment the beast within had been cast back into the shadows and her carnal desires had been extinguished. She was more spirit than matter, and getting increasingly spiritual by the day.
Quietly she left the bedroom and went down to practise yoga. She did not swim naked in the pool. That urge had been relegated to the shadows with the beast, and she did not dance to pop music. She practised yoga in front of the mirror and tried not to admire her beautiful figure because that would be succumbing to pride.
After yoga she went to the kitchen to help herself to breakfast. The newspapers had been delivered and, as usual, she secretly read the Mail on Sunday while Kenneth slept on, leaving the Sunday Telegraph by his place for when he came down and joined her. Flappy devoured the gossip in the paper, flicked through You Magazine and sipped her tea. By the time Kenneth appeared, the Mail was nowhere to be seen and Flappy was ready by the coffee machine with a wide smile and a kind word, the perfect wife in the perfect kitchen in the perfect life, at Darnley.
Flappy got ready for church. She wore an elegant long skirt over boots, a black cashmere sweater and three rows of pearls at her throat with matching pearl earrings. She admired herself in the mirror, certain that she lived up to the expectations of the good people of Badley Compton, whom she would see at church. She did not want to disappoint. After all, Mabel needed an example to copy and the other women needed someone to admire. It was an arduous task, being an arbiter of style, but someone had to do it and Flappy was aware that she was the only person in Badley Compton who qualified. As she climbed into Kenneth’s Jaguar she was secure in the knowledge that her position as queen of Badley Compton was unchallenged.
Kenneth parked the car outside the church and they walked slowly up the path, arm in arm, the last to arrive, as was tradition. They passed through the big doors and breathed in the familiar smell of candle wax, warm bodies and perfume, mingled with the particular scent of this ancient place of worship. Everything was as it should be, Flappy thought as she made her way down the aisle at a stately pace, smiling graciously at all her friends and acquaintances who turned their heads to admire her. She was happy to see, at the front, in t
he row behind Hedda and Charles, Persephone and George, who had been inseparable since the party – Hedda’s event was now referred to simply as that and Flappy was not in the least jealous. She’d just make sure that she gave a bigger one next year.
Flappy smiled at the vicar, who was looking a little uneasy, and turned to the left. To her horror, there, sitting in her and Kenneth’s seats, was a couple she had never seen before. She stopped and stared, and a look of total bewilderment and affront darkened her face. The couple didn’t even look at her, they were busy with their noses in their prayer books. There was no apology, no getting up and moving somewhere else, no hint of awareness that they had, in front of the entire community, made a terrible faux pas. In one hasty glance, Flappy, with her incisive eye, took in the woman. She must have been in her thirties, with rich brown hair, smooth olive skin, high cheekbones, a wide and beautiful face – yes, it must be acknowledged that she was, indeed, very beautiful – and a pretty, straight nose. She was elegant, too, in a belted blue coat with a fur lapel.
Flappy coughed. The woman looked up. Flappy noticed that her eyes were beautiful too. Pale sage-green in colour and surrounded by thick black lashes of an indecent length. The woman smiled innocently. Flappy’s indignation deepened. Kenneth put a hand on her arm and encouraged her to come away. If it hadn’t been for Flappy’s innate graciousness and her desire to be polite at all times – she was, after all, quite advanced up the path of Enlightenment – she would have told the couple to move. But she didn’t. She allowed her husband to lead her away. Hedda and Charles squeezed up to allow them to sit in their row and Flappy sat down beside Hedda.
‘How dare they!’ Hedda hissed to Flappy under her breath.
‘Who are they?’ Flappy hissed back.
‘I don’t know, but I fear they are new in Badley Compton.’
Flappy Entertains Page 19