There were more loud cheers. Then, just as Caitlin finished lighting the candles, like the dark stranger coming over the threshold, Cameron Cook walked in. She was wearing an extremely tight-fitting, strapless, black suede dress, which came eight inches above her knees. Three-inch cross-laced gaps on either side from armpit to hem made it quite plain she was wearing nothing but Fracas and Mantan underneath. There was a heavy metal chain round her neck, and among the heavy silver bangles worn over her long black suede gloves gleamed Tony’s diamond bracelet.
Anyone else would have looked tarty in that dress, but Cameron, with her marvellously lean, sinuous, rapacious beauty, succeeded in looking both menacing and absolutely staggering.
‘Holy shit,’ said Patrick into the microphone.
Everyone screamed with laughter.
‘Blow out your candles,’ said Caitlin.
Still gazing at Cameron, Patrick blew them out with one puff, then turned to Declan. ‘Who the hell’s that?’
‘The biggest bitch in television,’ said Declan bleakly.
‘She may well be your future daughter-in-law,’ said Patrick.
‘Christ, I can just see her with a whip,’ muttered Bas to Rupert.
‘Perhaps that’s what gets your brother going.’
Basil turned to Daysee Butler: ‘Did you know your boss was heavily into SM?’
‘Who’s she?’ said Daysee.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Cameron, fighting her way through the crowd to Maud’s side. ‘We’ve had a lot of hassle at work.’
‘Lovely to see you at any time,’ said Maud. ‘Caitlin,’ she added pointedly, terrified that Caitlin might start monopolizing Rupert again, ‘will get you something to eat.’
‘She needs a drink,’ said Patrick.
Goodness, he’s pretty, thought Cameron. Like Declan, but purer-looking, somehow.
‘Aren’t you going to cut your cake?’ she said to him.
‘I’ve got to wish,’ said Patrick. Never taking his eyes off her, he slowly plunged the knife into the cake, right up to the hilt.
‘I didn’t have time to buy you a present,’ said Cameron.
‘You brought yourself,’ said Patrick, slightly mockingly. ‘Just what I wanted.’
Filling up his glass with champagne, he handed it to her.
‘Thanks.’ Taking it, Cameron drained the glass.
Just at that moment, from speakers all round the tent, Big Ben boomed out the twelve strokes of midnight. As everyone started kissing everyone else and cheering, Patrick drew Cameron into his arms and kissed her on and on and on.
At last they broke away.
‘The coup de foudre,’ said Patrick softly. ‘I’ve waited twenty-one years for this to happen.’
‘Look at Tony’s face,’ whispered Lizzie Vereker to Charles Fairburn with a shiver.
As the last notes of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ rang out, Declan could be heard saying, ‘Bloody January again.’
Plates were being cleared away, tables pushed back and the marquee cleared for dancing, as the women drifted upstairs to do their faces. Telling Cameron he wouldn’t be a second, Patrick went off to the kitchen to thank Taggie. Oblivious that Monica might be watching, Tony fought his way over to Cameron and seized her arm: ‘What the hell are you playing at?’
Cameron winced. ‘Celebrating Christmas. It hasn’t been great so far.’
‘I couldn’t get away.’
‘I guess not.’
‘That dress is deliberately provocative,’ snarled Tony.
‘Well, if it deliberately provokes you, it’s doing a great job.’
‘Why are you so fucking late?’
‘Titania’s four months gone.’
‘Shit. How d’you know?’
‘Wardrobe told me,’ said Cameron.
‘And she’s admitted it?’
‘Sure.’
‘Who’s the father?’
‘She’s not sure. It could be Bottom, or Theseus or even Peter Quince.’
‘Jesus — we’ll just have to shoot round her.’
Patrick never made it to the kitchen. Declan dragged him into the library.
‘For Christ’s sake, Cameron’s out of bounds.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s Tony Baddingham’s mistress.’
‘So. Are you frightened of losing your job?’
For a second Patrick thought Declan was going to hit him.
‘It’s not that. You’ve no idea of the evil of both of them.’
‘He may be, she’s not. She just needs someone of her own age to play with for a change.’
‘He’s taught her some very unpleasant habits,’ said Declan heavily.
‘Like arguing with you, I suppose,’ said Patrick.
‘She’s out of your league.’
‘I don’t give a fuck,’ said Patrick, walking out.
‘You don’t have to take your clothes off to have a good time, oh no,’ sang Jermaine Stewart from the disco. ‘You can dance and party all night.’
Still arguing with Tony, seeing both Monica and Patrick bearing purposefully down on her, Cameron escaped to check her face. After Patrick’s kiss, she certainly couldn’t have any lipstick left. Upstairs, in the only bedroom that didn’t seem to be inhabited by necking teenagers, she found Sarah Stratton brushing her hair.
‘Good party,’ said Sarah.
‘It seems so.’
‘I’m glad I bumped into you,’ said Sarah. ‘Tony’s offered me a job at Corinium. Ought I to take it?’
‘Sure,’ said Cameron coolly.
‘You don’t think he’s just after my body?’
‘No way,’ said Cameron, who was having difficulty applying lipstick, her hands were trembling so much.
‘I just wondered.’ Sarah dropped her head, brushing all her hair downwards. ‘Tony and Monica are an awfully weird couple, you know. Paul’s ex-wife, Winifred, used to be Monica’s best chum. I’ve often wondered if they weren’t a bit dykey.’ Sarah tossed her head back, so her hair rose, then cascaded wildly onto her shoulders.
‘Monica evidently told Winifred,’ she went on, ‘that Tony made such incredible sexual demands on her that she had to move into a separate bedroom. He wanted it two or three times every night. Now she restricts him to once a week, like church. Perhaps that’s why he’s so lecherous.’
As if in a dream, Cameron watched Sarah spray Anais Anaïs between her breasts, then behind her kneecaps and finally, pulling out her pants, on her blonde bush.
‘Did Tony make a pass at you?’ Cameron said in a frozen voice.
‘Not exactly — but he was terrifically complimentary,’ said Sarah. ‘And I must say for an older man he’s not unattractive.’
As they came downstairs James Vereker was hovering. Deliberately ignoring Cameron, he asked Sarah to dance. Oh well, thought Sarah, anything to make Rupert jealous.
‘How did you get on with Tony’s mistress?’ asked James.
‘Oh my Christ, is she?’ gasped Sarah, appalled, and she told James what had happened. ‘I’d better not take that job at Corinium after all,’ she said finally.
‘She’d certainly have it in for you,’ said James. ‘She has it in for any beautiful woman.’ (And man for that matter, he nearly added.) ‘If you came to Corinium —’ his arm tightened round her — ‘I’d look after you and show you the ropes.’
‘Isn’t television frightfully difficult?’
‘Not if you’ve got a teacher who really cares,’ said James.