Kissing Toads

by Jemma Harvey

  Equally, he might have felt her Amazonian good looks outweighed the minor flaws in her personality.

  ‘Buenos días,’ she said. ‘I am telling Senora Rooth –’ that was how my name came out – ‘today we must start again to film la historia del castillo. I am to play Eleezabet. Is best part, so I play it. I am great actress. You fire whoever have it before.’

  Morty’s mouth opened and shut, fishlike. ‘Yerse,’ he said at last, achieving what passed for a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll be . . . very good. Very good. Great idea, isn’t it, Ruth?’

  I glared at him. With eyes undoubtedly bloodshot in my pale green face, the effect must have been horrifying. ‘I don’t think . . .’

  The advent of Harry with extra-strong coffee created a timely interruption.

  Russell was the next to hear the good news. Almost as soon as he came in Basilisa seized on him to discuss her motivation in the role, if not Elizabeth’s – ‘In Spain, I am already big star. Now, I will be big star on English TV too’ – and Morty took the opportunity for a low-voiced conversation with me. Whether I wanted one or not.

  ‘I can see you don’t like it,’ he said, perceptively, ‘but honestly, Delphinium’s not that good an actress. Basilisa can’t be worse – she might be better, and she looks terrific.’

  ‘So does Delphi,’ I snapped back, ‘and she may not be Cate Blanchett, but she’s a damn sight more convincing as an English heiress than Carmen Miranda here. She also happens to be nearer the right age – a lot nearer.’

  ‘You try telling that to HG,’ Morty said. ‘He may find her a handful, but he always gives her what she wants, in case you haven’t noticed. I reckon once they’re in the bedroom she knows exactly how to get her own way. They say she has a tongue longer than a sea serpent and enough suction for a turbocharged vacuum cleaner.’

  ‘If you’re thinking of finding out,’ I hissed savagely, ‘never mind her married state – you’d be safer having oral sex with a rattlesnake.’

  ‘Delphinium may be your friend, but you’re a fool if you go out on a limb for her,’ Morty persisted. I remembered she had brushed him off, a long time ago – but he was the type who nursed grudges. And hell hath no fury like a TV presenter scorned. ‘Don’t expect John Beard-Trenchard to support you: he’ll go with HG all the way. If you want to keep your job you’ll back Basilisa, whatever your private feelings.’ He added, with an air of reasonableness that made my palm itch to hit him: ‘After all, Delphinium will still be swanning around in the garden. Losing the acting role is no big deal for her.’

  What I might have said I don’t know. The coffee was kicking in, my head was clearing, and all my most irrational brain cells were going into action. He was right in a way: Delphi would still star as co-presenter, she wasn’t a brilliant actress, and the part of Elizabeth Courtney would probably do little for her career. But that wasn’t the point. (She’d also got me my current job, but that wasn’t it either.) What mattered was that she was my friend. Friends stick together, regardless of cold logic. Friendship always comes first.

  I felt my temper rising to breakpoint, then the door opened and I swallowed my anger unexpressed.

  Delphi walked in.

  It took her about two minutes to assimilate the latest developments.

  ‘You want – to – play – Elizabeth – Courtney?’ she said to Basilisa, spelling it out, her rigid self-control somehow a grim warning of what might happen when, and if, that control should shatter. ‘That’s out of the question. We’ve already shot those scenes, and I starred in them.’

  ‘You? But you are just jardinera. You cannot play great acting part. We shoot them again.’

  The rage that flooded through Delphi seemed to make her grow several inches in height. Whatever hangover she might have had melted in its heat: her eyes flashed hazard warning lights, her hair crackled, her very teeth appeared to lengthen. To anyone who knew these signs, there were two courses of action to take: 1. remove all breakables from her vicinity, and/or 2. get under the table.

  ‘Now would be a good time to duck,’ I told Morty sweetly.

  But Basilisa was no pussycat, and she had all the muscle of a rock-star empire behind her . . .

  Delphi didn’t care. When she really lost it, Delphi didn’t care about anything. ‘I am an actress, a presenter and an all-round star!’ she declared. ‘All you’ve ever done is jump in and out of a moving sports car while varnishing your toenails – not exactly Oscar-winning stuff. You couldn’t act tragic if your hair extensions were pulled out! As for your playing Elizabeth Courtney – we could dub your voice over the top, but we couldn’t dub your face. Elizabeth was twenty-six – no plastic surgeon could rise to the challenge! And if we put you in period costume you’d look like a . . . like a transvestite matador! We might let you do a small part because you’re HG’s wife, but you as Elizabeth Courtney – we’d be laughed off the screen!’

  ‘Beach!’ Basilisa screeched incomprehensibly (it took me a moment to realise she meant Beetch!). She leaped to her feet. Delphi’s tall, but she was taller, much taller. Even her slippers had four-inch heels. ‘You forget, you are in my house. In mi casa, I am the only star! I decide! You leave now – you leave without your clothes, without anything. I throw you out myself!’ She seized Delphi’s shoulders in what looked like a grip of steel. She was a strong woman, plainly athletic and very fit – the sleeves of the negligee fell back to reveal arms like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Russell laid an ineffectual hand on her by way of restraint.

  ‘Try it!’ Delphi snarled.

  (There was a lot of snarling at Dunblair. Probably the ghosts in the atmosphere taking over.)

  Unfortunately, there was no half-grapefruit to hand, not even a bowl of cornflakes. She picked up the nearest cup of coffee and threw it at her opponent, splattering the eau de Nil silk and brown-leather cleavage. Luckily for Basilisa, it was cold. The Spaniard produced a string of what must be oaths in her native language, shaking Delphi violently. Delphi retaliated with a kick which knocked her opponent off her stiletto heels, twisting her ankle in the process. As Basilisa lurched sideways she started to scream for HG.

  ‘My husband is biggest star in the world – he see you never work again – no tele, no jardín, no actriz, nada! We have lawyers, we have influencia – your career is terminada – you starve in the streets –’

  She yanked Delphi towards her, landing a vicious blow on her breast. Delphi yelped with pain and doubled over, then sank her teeth in her enemy’s arm. Russell, Morty and I all moved to intervene – it was getting nasty – falling over each other and proving generally useless. Behind me, I heard Harry’s voice: ‘This is fun, but it’s gone on long enough. You two –’ this to the guys – ‘grab Bazza. I’ll handle Delphinium.’ He wrapped his arms around Delphi and pulled her back; a mouthful of Basilisa’s flesh appeared to come with her. There was blood running down the pale green silk, blood round Delphi’s lips.

  ‘She is evil – she is vampiresa – caníbal!’ Basilisa accused, not without some justification. ‘Look what she do to me – look what she do! I sue for millions!’

  ‘She was worried about starving on the streets,’ I said. ‘She wanted to get a good meal in first.’

  ‘Beach!’ Basilisa howled. ‘You are beach too! You fired, you all fired! We find new producer, new director –’

  ‘What the fuck is going on?’

  It was HG.

  He didn’t exactly take charge; rather, taking charge was thrust upon him. Basilisa, hastily released by Russell and Morty, clung to him and burst into unlikely tears. Between sobs, explanations came pouring out – demands for Delphi’s instant expulsion, for the role of Elizabeth Courtney, for legal action against all and sundry and major surgery to save her arm.

  ‘If you persuade Crusty to cast her as Elizabeth,’ Delphi said, having been unhanded by Harry, ‘I’m quitting anyway. It’s a breach of my contract – or if it isn’t, it should be. I won’t stand for it.’

  ‘If she goes, I go
,’ I said. ‘And if you had any decency –’ this to the other two – ‘you’d back me up.’

  ‘Consider yourself backed,’ said Russell.

  Morty – the prat – didn’t say anything, merely looking doubtful.

  Basilisa was now weeping into HG’s shoulder, a major feat since she was several inches taller than him, even without her heels. He concentrated on soothing her, speaking in passable Spanish, before reverting to English to explain that although she would have been wonderful as Elizabeth Courtney, those scenes had, alas, already been shot, and there simply wasn’t time to do them again. He was relying on her to support him in the alternative role . . .

  Basilisa’s tears evaporated at the speed of light.

  ‘Support you? Why should I support you when you don’t support me? Why do you not throw her out immediately? You are in love with her, no? Why else do you back another woman – una desconocida – against your own wife?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘You know I do not approve divorce – soy católica – so you think you can betray me with this whore, and I will say nothing, I will suffer in silencio! Bastardo! You are wrong. Never will I be silent! I will tell the world how she seduced you, how she stole your love from me. No – do not touch me. I go now to call my publicista. You –’ she turned back to Delphi – ‘remember, I make promise. You are terminada – you will never work again.’

  Delphi, at a loss for a sufficiently devastating retort, yawned in her face.

  Basilisa would have swept from the room, but her ankle slightly impeded her progress, lending an element of hobble to the sweep.

  ‘I’ll deal with her,’ HG assured us when she had gone. ‘She’s a little temperamental, that’s all.’

  ‘Really,’ I said, not bothering to remove the dryness from my voice. ‘She attacked Delphi.’ I decided to disregard the coffee-throwing incident. ‘I mean, physically attacked her. Are you all right?’ This to Delphi.

  ‘That was a nasty blow you took,’ Harry said. ‘Maybe I should have a look at it.’

  ‘No!’ Delphi jumped like the proverbial startled hare when he laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You’re a butler, not a doctor, and this is my boob we’re talking about. Anyway, it’s just a bit bruised.’

  ‘I’ll get you some arnica,’ Harry offered, unperturbed. ‘Don’t worry: you can rub it in yourself.’

  ‘What I really need is to wash my mouth out. I mean, I bit her. I’ve probably got blood poisoning – her blood must be pure strychnine.’

  We’d got past caring that HG was still there. Iconic superstardom stops being quite so impressive when you see it every day.

  ‘Look after her,’ he told Harry, and went out, at a guess to talk to Basilisa, though what he was going to say I had no idea. He hadn’t taken her part, but in the face of her overweening ego I couldn’t see him taking ours.

  ‘We could all be out of a job,’ I said, meaning Delphi, Russell and me.

  ‘I doubt it,’ Harry said. ‘You’re forgetting something. HG mayn’t make a lot of noise about it – he doesn’t need to – but he’s been king of the heap nearly all his life: he’s used to doing exactly what he wants. Much more used to it than the Basilisk. He’ll let her have her own way when it doesn’t interfere with his, but not otherwise. Right now, he’s really into developing the garden. You’re all part of that. He won’t let anyone upset his plans.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Russell said. ‘I’ve got a wife and kids to support. The grande geste is all very well, but I much prefer not having to live up to my principles.’

  Once the crew turned up and Delphi had had time to recover from whatever she might have ingested when biting Basilisa, we spent the rest of the day in the garden filming, though I was privately apprehensive and aware it might prove to be a waste of time. After all, if Basilisa put the kibosh on the show, HG could always go ahead with someone else. In the world of TV gardening, Mortimer and Delphi weren’t the only game in town. Belatedly I tried to phone Crusty, but his mobile wasn’t answering and both office and home numbers gave me a machine. I left a message asking him to call back, hoping I wouldn’t have bad news.

  Improbable versions of the Fun-Fight at the OK Castle were circulating somehow, almost before anyone had arrived to circulate them. I was constantly being asked for information or corroboration: was it true that Delphi had pulled out Basilisa’s hair extensions, run her through with the claymore, torn off her negligee to reveal the extra nipple she used for suckling her familiar? As a result Delphi enjoyed a rare surge in popularity, becoming a heroine to actors who had formerly deplored her using her celebrity status to snitch the best role. I didn’t pass on the fact that the Basilisk wanted to terminate the whole project; but that leaked out too.

  ‘Why’re we still rolling?’ Dick demanded. ‘No point if the show’s folding. We could be in the pub.’

  ‘HG will sort things out,’ I said. ‘We have to trust him.’

  ‘I heard,’ said Nick, ‘that Bazza gives billion-dollar head.’ He’d obviously been talking to Morty. ‘HG won’t have a prayer. Nor will we.’

  ‘With all those groupies and things, HG’s probably had more head than . . . than Philip Treacy!’ Delphi declared. ‘At his age, he ought to be blasé about it.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘He’s old enough not to be thinking with his dick any more.’

  ‘Did you know you can have an erection after death?’ Mick remarked brightly. ‘I think it’s a side effect of rigor mortis.’

  ‘I don’t want to know,’ I said.

  The castle staff, alienated by Basilisa over a long period, were particularly attentive to Delphi, even Morag offering what passed for approbation, in her own special way. ‘The Lord be wi’ ye!’ she declaimed. ‘Ye ha’ defied the deil, and spat in the face o’ yon Jezebel.’ (‘I didn’t think of that,’ Delphi murmured.) ‘For all your vanity and sin, ye ha’ done God’s work.’

  ‘Let’s hope he sees it that way,’ I said, unable to resist the pun.

  HG put in an appearance around four, looking more than usually world-weary.

  ‘I’ve discussed the situation with Basilisa,’ he said. ‘She was pretty upset. You must understand, she’s rather like an overgrown kid.’ Not another one. ‘She’s used to being the centre of attention, the one the party’s all about. It’s very difficult for her to adjust to taking second place, especially in her own home.’

  ‘Has she?’ I said bluntly. ‘Adjusted, I mean.’

  ‘Mm. She knows how much the garden means to me.’ How much? I wondered. I was prepared to bet it had cost him in diamonds, at the very least. Basilisa wasn’t the type to skimp on the price. ‘Of course, she still wants to be part of the project. I said you might consider keeping her in the role of my wife, provided she’s ready to take direction.’ Harry was right, I thought, my respect for HG going up in leaps and bounds. ‘She hadn’t appreciated what a very good team you are. I explained that even with the prestige of my name, we couldn’t get the same high-profile coverage with anyone else. She doesn’t spend much time in the UK, you see.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, mesmerised. His tactics were inspired.

  ‘She wanted a change of producer,’ he continued, ‘but I said you were the best. Basilisa’s used to having the best – of everything.’

  I swallowed, stunned by the vision of myself up there with Peter Bazalgette and Verity Lambert.

  ‘However, she has been rather distressed by the incident of the – er – bite on her arm.’ My spine stiffened; flattery wasn’t going to get him anywhere on this. ‘It took me some time to persuade her that sacking Delphinium wasn’t an option. She wants compensation and a written apology, but I pointed out that Miss Dacres’ injuries were worse than hers—’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘I mean, they were. Basilisa punched her in the breast, and she doesn’t have silicon to protect her.’

  HG allowed himself the flicker of a smile. ‘I’m sure of it. Anyway, now Basilisa unde
rstands I’m not involved with Delphinium, she will be more . . . flexible. Compensation, naturally, is out of the question – the offence is far too serious for mere money to make a difference. As for the apology, I told her it would have to be deferred until shooting is completed. Then we’ll see. Basilisa realises the importance of maintaining good relations with your team.’

  ‘She hasn’t any good relations to maintain,’ I said.

  ‘Go along with me here,’ HG said, switching out of diplomatic mode. ‘I’m not going to end in the divorce courts because of a TV programme. I don’t mind looking like a bastard, but I’m buggered if I’m going to look like a fool.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ I said, disarmed by this sudden frankness. ‘It must be tough, having an image like yours to live up to.’

  ‘It is. My image, as you call it, has survived a lot of shit, but it would never outlast my being dumped over a makeover show.’

  ‘You could always pretend you were having an affair with Delphinium after all,’ I suggested.

  ‘I’d rather have one with you.’ Hell. He really was very charming when he chose to be. ‘I’m giving up viragos in future.’

  ‘Delphi will never apologise,’ I said, ‘and frankly, I don’t see why she should. Basilisa got physical first. Delphi was just defending herself.’ With a vengeance.

  ‘Like I said, the apology’s deferred. Let’s finish the job in hand and then we can sort out the fine detail. When my garden looks the way I want . . .’

  ‘All right,’ I conceded. I didn’t really need to be back on the breadline. ‘But how do we keep the peace in the meantime?’

  ‘It’s a large castle. Basilisa will behave, now her position has been made clear.’ I couldn’t help speculating exactly what that position was. ‘It’s up to you to manage Delphinium.’