‘Darling Taggie, I’m sorry I’ve been such a sod. Have a lovely Christmas. See you on New Year’s Eve. All Love R.’
‘Oh it’s beautiful,’ she said with a sob, and fled upstairs, clutching herself in ecstasy.
Outside, the stars and the new moon seemed to be shining just for her. Ralphie had remembered after all, and in seven days she’d see him again.
17
By New Year’s Eve the Christmas decorations at The Priory were sagging, the evergreens had brewer’s droop, and Wandering Aengus, having smashed every coloured ball on the Christmas tree, had taken up crash-landing in the Christmas cards.
Outside, a force five gale, Hurricane Fiona, as Patrick had called her, was rampaging up the valley, rattling the windows, and howling down the chimneys. On the lawn a huge pink-and-white-striped marquee, heated by gas burners, wrestled with its moorings.
‘Perhaps we could enter it for the Americas Cup,’ said Caitlin.
‘We can line all the drunks round the bottom to hold it down,’ said Patrick, taking another slug of Moët.
‘You’ll be one of them if you don’t stop knocking back that stuff,’ said Caitlin reprovingly.
‘It’s my birthday. Everyone is entitled to behave appallingly on their birthday. Oh, I’ve got the key-hee-hee of the door, never been twenty-one before.’ He was extremely happy because, unknown to his father, his mother had given him a new Golf for his birthday.
As Maud had gone off to the hairdressers and to pick up a new dress that was being altered, Patrick and Caitlin carried on doing the seating plan she had started. Taggie had tried to write names on some of the cards, but was in such a state of excitement about Ralphie’s arrival that her spelling had gone totally to pot. Worried about the marquee coming down, she had gone off to ring the firm who’d put it up. Her arms ached from mashing the potato for a dozen enormous shepherds’ pies. She seemed to have put crosses in a million sprouts and peeled a billion grapes for the fruit salad. The garlic bread lay like a pile of silver slugs in its aluminium foil. The turkey soup only needed heating up. The kedgeree for breakfast was in four huge dishes on top of the deep freeze, with cucumber, prawns and hard-boiled eggs, ready chopped to add at the last moment. Patrick’s birthday cake, in the shape of a shamrock, rested in the fridge.
An extension lead still had to be found for the disco, a bulb was needed for the outside light, and Caitlin still hadn’t written out large cards to show people where the loos were and where to hang their coats.
But things were gradually getting under control. Taggie had never felt so tired in her life. She had cooked herself into the ground, but she kept telling herself that if she got through everything and didn’t grumble, God would reward her with Ralphie.
Back in the marquee, Caitlin was hastily rewriting new name cards for people Taggie had seriously misspelt.
‘Monknicker Baddingham,’ she giggled. ‘Do let’s leave that one. Put Monknicker on Daddy’s right.’
‘I’ll put Joanna Lumley on his left. He needs some fun,’ said Patrick, ‘although, as it’s my birthday, I ought to have her next to me.’
‘Look,’ screeched Caitlin. ‘Utterly bloody Mummy’s put Rupert Campbell-Black next to her. I’m bloody sitting next to him.’
Removing the card from Maud’s right, she bore it off and placed it reverently beside hers, three tables away and behind a huge flower arrangement, so her mother couldn’t spy.
‘In fact —’ she scribbled Rupert’s name on to a second card — ‘I’m going to put him on both sides of me so there’s no slip up.’
Looking at his place, Patrick noted that he was sitting next to Lavinia, his current girlfriend, and someone called Sarah Stratton.
‘Oh, I’ll swap her,’ said Caitlin, seizing Sarah’s card. ‘She’s ancient — at least twenty-six.’
‘I was rather excited by the sound of her,’ said Patrick. ‘Mum said she was very beautiful and voluptuous, with a rich crumbling husband. My only answer is to marry a rich wife. I wish Pa would cut me out of his will. If I inherit all his debts, I’m finished.’
‘Oh well, I’ll swap Sarah back again,’ said Caitlin. ‘I’ve put Tag next to Ralphie.’
Patrick shook his head: ‘I wouldn’t. He and Georgina Harrison have been inseparable all term. He’s bringing her tonight.’
‘Well, why did he send Tag that amethyst pendant then, and apologize for being such a sod?’
‘Sounds most unlikely. Last week he couldn’t afford to buy his mother a box of handkerchiefs for Christmas, and he still owes me fifty pounds. Are you sure it was Ralphie?’
‘Quite sure, the two-timing shit.’
‘Shut up, she’s coming.’
‘I got through to the tent man; he’s coming over. He says they’re going all round Gloucester double-checking their erections,’ said Taggie with a giggle, then turned pale as the doorbell rang.
But it was only two young pink and white Old Etonians who were doing the disco, and Maud back from the hairdressers, with her hair set in a mass of snaky curls.
‘It looks lovely, Mummy,’ said Taggie.
‘It looks gross,’ muttered Caitlin.
The telephone rang. It was Bas Baddingham.
‘Darling Maud, may I bring my new new lady?’
‘Of course,’ said Maud. ‘More the merrier. Damn,’ she added as she put down the telephone, ‘another really attractive spare man paired up. Who the hell’s going to dance with Cameron Cook?’
‘You haven’t asked her?’ said Taggie in horror, thinking of the wrecked smoking jacket. ‘Daddy can’t stand her.’
‘How many d’you reckon are coming?’ said Patrick, giving a glass of Moët to each of the pink and white Etonians, who were both staring at Taggie.
‘About two to three hundred,’ said Maud airily.
‘But we haven’t hired nearly enough plates or knives or forks or anything,’ said Taggie aghast, ‘or got anywhere to seat them.’
Maud turned to Patrick. ‘Pop across the valley to Rupert’s and borrow some,’ she said.
‘I didn’t know he was coming too,’ whispered Taggie, even more horrified. ‘I thought he was away skiing.’
‘He’s come back specially for the party,’ said Maud dreamily. ‘It was too windy for him to land the helicopter but I’ve just seen him driving through Penscombe. Well, if there’s nothing else for me to do, I’m going upstairs to paint my nails.’ As she went out, running her eyes over the table seating, she caught sight of Rupert’s cards on both sides of Caitlin.
Tearing one up in a rage, she put the other back on her right. ‘You will not sit next to Rupert, Caitlin, you’re going to sit next to Archie Baddingham and like it.’ She turned back to Taggie.
‘Has Grace made up the beds for all Patrick’s friends?’
‘Someone insulted her in the pub at lunchtime,’ said Taggie. ‘Introduced her as Declan O’Hara’s scrubber, so she’s gone to bed in a huff.’
‘Well, get her up,’ snapped Maud. ‘At least you’ve got Valerie Jones’s char and her two children and that butler Reg and his friends coming to help, but you better make up some more beds.’
‘They can all sleep in armchairs,’ said Patrick soothingly as he gathered up his new car keys. ‘I’ll go and borrow those plates from Rupert.’