‘Octavia, wait,’ I heard his voice calling after me. Then I plunged down into the Underground.
Chapter Eighteen
When I got back to Putney, Monkey threw himself on me, yelping with ecstasy, taking my hand in his mouth, and leading me up the path. I found Mrs Lonsdale-Taylor grumbling about the heat and the greenfly and pouring boiling water on a plague of ants who were threatening to enter the house. The dustmen were on strike and hadn’t collected for two weeks; the stench of Jeyes fluid in the dustbins was almost worse than yesterday’s smell of rotting food and vegetation.
Mrs Lonsdale-Taylor straightened up, scarlet in the face.
‘There’s a young man waiting for you upstairs,’ she said with a sniff, ‘he says he’s your brother.’
I bounded upstairs, I couldn’t wait to tell someone how miserable I was. Xander loved Gareth too; he would understand how suicidal I felt. I found him in my bedroom, his face had a luminous sickly tinge, as though he was standing under a green umbrella. A muscle was going in his cheek. The ashtray beside him on the table was piled high with half-smoked cigarettes.
‘Thank God you’ve come,’ he said. ‘I’m in dead trouble.’
His light brown hair, almost black from sweat, had fallen in a fringe over his forehead, emphasizing the brilliant grey eyes. He looked absurdly young. I ran across the room and put my arms round him.
‘What’s happened? Tell me. It’s not the baby?’
He shook his head.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got anything to drink. Tell me what’s the matter.’
‘I’ve got to get £2,000 by tomorrow.’
‘God, whatever for?’
‘I’m being blackmailed.’
‘Then you must go to the police at once.’
‘I can’t,’ he said with a groan. He was near to tears. I realized I was the one who had to stay as calm and cool as a statue.
‘You must go to the police; they’ll keep your name out of it. What on earth have you done? It can’t be that bad.’
The door suddenly opened, making us both jump, but it was only Monkey. He trotted over and curled up at Xander’s feet. I kicked the door shut.
‘Who is it?’ I asked.
‘It’s Guido,’ said Xander in a dead voice.
‘Guido?’
‘The Italian boy, the good-looking one you met that day we had lunch at Freddy’s, before you went on the boat with Gareth and Jeremy.’
‘Oh yes, I remember,’ I said.
‘That weekend you were away I refused to go and stay with Ricky and Joan.’
‘Yes.’
‘I went down to Devon with Guido — to a gay hotel.’
Oh God!
‘Well one of his mates turned up, another pretty boy, also Italian, and we all got stoned of course, and started taking Polaroid photographs in the bedroom. Some of them went pretty far. Now Guido and his pal want a couple of grand for a start, and if I don’t cough up tomorrow, they’re going to send the photos to Pammie and Ricky.’
I thought for a minute. The scent of tobacco plants was almost sickening outside. I could hear the outside tap water plummeting into Mrs L-T’s watering can.
‘Don’t you think Pammie twigged long ago?’ I said. ‘She’s not stupid.’
‘She can’t admit it, even to herself.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to tell her?’
Xander’s voice broke. ‘Not when she’s pregnant. She was so happy about the baby, and suddenly everything’s going so well at work, and we’re getting on so much better at the moment.’
There was no point in reminding him he’d only been back from the Middle East twenty-four hours.
‘Ricky’ll throw me out, and so will Pamela, and I know it sounds wet, but I really want that baby. You’ve got lots of rich friends.’
‘What about Gareth?’ I said. ‘He’ll help you.’
‘I’m getting on so well with him too,’ said Xander fretfully.
‘If you give in to Guido this time, he’ll only be back for more bread in a week or two.’
‘If I get a breathing space,’ said Xander, ‘I can think of a way to hammer him, I just need time. Oh for God’s sake Octavia,’ his voice rose, almost womanish, ‘I’ve helped you out enough times in the past.’
It was true.
‘All right, I’ll get you the money,’ I said.
‘How?’
‘I’ve got a friend who’s offered me £1,500 to do some modelling,’ I said, ‘I guess I can push him up to £2,000.’
As soon as Xander had gone I went out to a telephone box and dialled Andreas’s number.
I imagined him pushing aside a blonde, and climbing over a huge pair of tits to answer the telephone.
‘Hullo,’ said the husky, oily, foreign voice.
‘Andreas,’ I said. ‘This is Octavia.’
There was a pause.
‘Octavia Brennen.’
‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘Just let me turn this redhead down. I was expecting a call from you.’
‘You were?’ I said sharply. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, the grapevine said you were having rather a lean time, and you’d left the flat. Pity. It was a nice situation, that flat. Anyway, what can I do for you?’
I swallowed. ‘Do you remember what you said about photographing me for Hedonist?’
‘Sure do.’ He had difficulty keeping the triumph out of his voice.
‘You were talking in terms of £1,500,’ I said.
‘I must have been crazy.’
‘Could you make it £2,000?’
‘Inflation’s clobbered everyone, baby.’
‘Not that much. Your circulation’s booming. I read it in Campaign last week.’
‘Well, if you make yourself available for — er — dinner and other things afterwards, I might consider it.’
He waited. I could almost feel him writhing like a great snake in anticipation. What the hell did it matter? Gareth was caput as far as I was concerned. What did anything matter?
‘All right,’ I said, ‘that would be nice. But can I have the cash tomorrow?’
‘Greedy, aren’t we? I hope there’s nothing the matter with you, Octavia. I’ve never known you haggle before. Take it or leave it, that’s the sort of duchess you always were. I wouldn’t like you to be any different. It’d make me think things had a certain impermanence.’
‘I need the bread,’ I said.
‘All right.’ His voice suddenly businesslike. ‘Cy Markovitz is in London at the moment. I’ve booked him all day tomorrow. Come along at two.’
In utter misery I realized I would have to cut the presentation. But getting the money for Xander had to be more important than anything else.
‘All right,’ I said.
He gave me the address and then added softly.
‘And don’t wear anything tight. We don’t want crease marks all over you. Till tomorrow, darling. You won’t regret it, I promise you.’
After that I had to go and waitress. When I got home I washed my hair and made pathetic attempts to get my body into some sort of shape to be photographed. I then spent hours writing and tearing up letters of explanation to Jakey. Even the final result didn’t satisfy me. I was so much on the blink, I could hardly string a word, let alone a sentence, together and nothing I said could change the fact I was doing the dirty on him. Monkey lay on the bed, dozing, unsettled by the change in routine. Every so often he gave a yawn which turned into a squeaking yelp. I refused to go to bed, it was too hot to sleep anyway, and if I did sleep I would have to wake up and face afresh the truth about Gareth and Lorna.