Lysander, who seemed to have been cold for days, felt a passionate, almost tearful, relief at the equal warmth of Bob’s welcome.
‘Come in, dear boy. You look frozen and in need of a whole fur of the dog. Morning, Jack. Put him down. There aren’t any cats.’
Pushing Lysander towards a pale orange and blue striped armchair beside a crackling leaping fire he opened a bottle of pink champagne.
‘How were the roads?’
‘Awful, until I got to Rutminster and they’d started gritting.’
‘More gritted teeth than roads the other night,’ observed Bob, as he carefully eased the cork out. ‘What a remarkable evening. I had terrible problems getting the orchestra sobered up in time for today’s rehearsal. We’re playing a fiendishly difficult piece by Villa-Lobos at the Festival Hall this evening. Chloe was supposed to be singing Les Nuits d’été, but she’s done in her back, or so she says.’
Bob gave Lysander his weary charming smile as he handed him a glass. ‘You enjoy yourself?’
‘No.’
Idly Bob straightened the yellow Chinese silk shawl draped over the piano and removed a browning flower from a bowl of light blue hyacinths. Then, sitting down opposite Lysander, he raised his glass: ‘To my deliverer. This should really be Dom Perignon Rosé 1982 because it’s such a red-letter day. I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I’ve been praying for someone to take Hermione off my hands for fifteen years.’
Lysander’s jaw clanged like a gangplank.
‘Rannaldini’s always been far too fly to offer the old thing marriage.’ Bob carefully smoothed out the gold paper of the champagne cork with a beautifully manicured thumb. ‘Anyway he is my musical director and if I cited him as co-respondent he’d probably fire me and the orchestra doesn’t need any more scandal. Beside,’ he added gently, ‘I’ve got you and Hermione on video so I’m home and dry.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Lysander choked on a huge gulp of champagne. ‘Basically I don’t think Hermione and I would suit. She’s a terrific singer and a terrific-looking woman and all, but honestly she’d find me such a thicko and hopelessly unmusical — and I doubt if I could afford her.’
‘You should have thought about that,’ Bob said, suddenly cold. ‘Hermione could certainly afford you. You’d never have to work again. And you’d be a much more arresting accessory than a chain handbag on her arm; and she’s sensational in bed — as, of course, you know.’
Lysander had gone green, his face glistened with sweat.
‘I don’t remember. I promise you, Bob, I was set up. One of the reasons I feel dreadful is you’ve always been seriously nice to me. I never wanted to bonk her.’
‘So, you’re telling me you’ve got no intention of standing by her.’
‘N-no, please not,’ bleated Lysander.
‘After you’ve compromised her so appallingly. You realize she can afford the toughest lawyers in the world.’
For a long moment Bob glared at Lysander’s terrified face, then he started to shake with laughter.
‘What a pity! I suppose I’ll have to hang in there. She couldn’t cope on her own and Cosmo does need a putative father.’
‘But I thought you adored her?’ said Lysander in utter bewilderment.
‘I take care of her,’ said Bob flatly.
Getting up, smoothing his remaining blond hair in the mirror, he perched on the arm of Lysander’s chair: ‘The other night when you and Hermione were in bed you reminded me of Matthew Arnold’s white violets plucked by the little children then, when the nurse calls them home, thrown down to die on the woodland floor. You’re wasting yourself on women, you know,’ Bob added softly.
Lysander’s eyes widened. He felt himself blushing and tried to make himself as small as possible. Even so, Bob was seriously close. Glancing up he noticed the smoothness of Bob’s recent shave, his hairless nostrils above the long wide upper lip, the big kind, almost lashless eyes.
‘You were probably too drunk to remember anything about your performance the other night.’ Bob put a light hand on Lysander’s hair. ‘But I promise you it was the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen.’ Slowly he stroked Lysander’s rigid cheek with the other hand. ‘I know you’d be turned on to watch yourself on the video.’
‘I bloody would not!’ Lysander jumped to his feet so fast he nearly tipped Bob on to the floor.
Jack stopped inspecting a stuffed bear in the corner and barked furiously.
‘Are you quite, quite sure?’ Righting himself, Bob moved towards his quarry.
‘Quite.’ Backing away panic-stricken, Lysander was blocked by the piano.
‘What a shame,’ sighed Bob. ‘You’d find men so much more rewarding and far less hassle. Oh well, we better have lunch. Meredith!’ he shouted through to the kitchen.
And in bustled Meredith. Swamped in a butcher-boy apron, he was bearing a big blue Delft dish of lobster pancakes smothered in the palest white wine and anchovy sauce.
Collapsing on to the keyboard with a crash of notes, Lysander opened his eyes the widest ever.
‘You and him?’ he mumbled incredulously.
Bob nodded, filling up a glass for Meredith. ‘Been going on for fourteen years. I’d never have survived marriage to Hermione if it hadn’t been for Meredith.’
‘Does Hermione know?’
‘Course not, silly bitch. She’s so unobservant and self-obsessed,’ said Meredith. ‘Can you get the bread from the oven and the salad, Bobbie? I’m sure you’d enjoy the video, Lysander,’ he went on cosily. ‘I loved it. You’re so photogenic you’d make a fortune in blue movies.’
‘You really are kind.’ Starting to giggle in relief, Lysander found he couldn’t stop until they all joined in until the tears were pouring down their cheeks.
‘I’m so sorry,’ gasped Lysander finally, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. ‘It’s so nice to laugh, but I love Kitty.’
‘Tush, tush,’ chided Meredith. ‘There’s a world of possibility out there,’ he tapped the window, ‘called London. Three thousand miles away there’s New York. With those God-given looks, why throw yourself away on a plain Jane?’
‘She is not.’
‘Who is married to someone else,’ went on Meredith laying a blue napkin across Lysander’s thighs, ‘who is determined not to relinquish her.’
‘I must rescue her.’
‘You won’t, duckie. Now eat up that pancake before it gets cold. You’re much too thin. Don’t worry,’ he added when Lysander drooped like one of Kitty’s snowdrops, ‘you’ve got to move out of Paradise and give it time.’
‘Kitty’s doing time with that shit. How can I abandon her when I know how happy I can make her?’
‘She’s a treasure,’ agreed Bob, forking radicchio and cèpes shining with tarragon dressing on to Lysander’s side plate, ‘but she’ll never leave Rannaldini. He terrorizes her and appeals to her conscience. A lethal combination. He’s got her mother into an expensive home which Kitty couldn’t afford on her own. As it is she sends her money every week.’
‘I could pay for that,’ said Lysander quickly. ‘Kitty’s mother could live with us, then it wouldn’t be so expensive.’
‘Well, you’d better abandon this gigolo lark and win her properly.’
‘I find it mystifying,’ said Meredith, gobbling up the untouched three-quarters of Lysander’s pancake as he loaded up the machine. ‘What’s Kitty got that we haven’t?’