On the walls, equally disparate, were several gold discs won by Catchitune, a lugubrious Stubbs spaniel, a Hogarth etching of a musical evening, a framed manuscript of the first page of a Beethoven Sonata, and a Picasso of grapes and a violin. The grand piano was weighed down with various recording awards and photographs of Larry Lockton fratting with the famous — mostly Mrs Thatcher. All round the room, busts of the great composers looked dourly down from their pedestals at such a visual mishmash.
Poor Marigold was in a frightful state. First she forgot the water for the whisky, then going back to fetch it, she forgot what she wanted it for, and proceeded to water a bowl of lurid pink hyacinths, not even noticing when it overflowed.
‘At least you’ve got lots of flowers,’ said Lysander looking around at the massed bunches of salmon-pink gladioli.
‘Ay sent them to myself,’ confessed Marigold, and burst into tears.
While Ferdie shot off to refill the jug and collect some kitchen roll, Lysander, who was beginning to feel really sorry for Marigold, asked her how she had found out about Larry’s bimbo.
‘It was at the office party in December. Ay always used to be the prettiest girl at office parties.’ Grabbing a piece of kitchen roll, she thrust it into her eyes. ‘All the bosses chased after me when we were first married, now Ay’m the old trout, what everyone has to suck up to because Ay’m the boss’s waife.’
She blew her nose noisily and took a slug of the replenished vodka and tonic.
‘May word, that’s strong, Ferdie. Anyway, I was chattin’ to the company secretary’s wife when I looked across the room and there was Nikki — she’s Larry’s PA — sitting on a leather sofa. Larry was standin’ besaide her chattin’ to the financial director and she was rubbin’ his… er — the front of his trousers.’
‘Perhaps she was brushing off a bit of fluff,’ said Lysander.
‘She’s the bit of fluff,’ said Marigold disdainfully. ‘Then Larry saw Ay was looking and kicked her on the shins. When Ay tackled him, he shouted that Ay was imaginin’ things and should get some glasses. Next day Ay was so distraught, Ay’d just set off to the Distressed Gentlefolks AGM.’
Coals to Newcastle, thought Ferdie.
‘Lady Chisleden was in the chair, I recall,’ went on Marigold, ‘and I got all the way to Rutminster before I realized I’d forgotten the minutes. I always type them, I used to be a secretary, so I rushed home. Patch came running down the stairs, which is unusual, she always stays in her basket in the kitchen if we go out, so I ran upstairs. I’d just had the guest bedroom redecorated in peach Draylon, with peach damask curtains, and Ay thought Ay’d take another peek, it looked so lovely, and Ay caught them at it.’
‘How awful,’ said Lysander, appalled. ‘What did you do?’
‘Ay was so shocked, Ay said, “I’ve just had this room redecorated.” And Nikki asked why didn’t Ay have the walls dragged. Ay said, “Ay don’t care for draggin’ it always looks as though it should have another coat.” Then Ay said, “How long have you been sleepin’ with may husband?” She said, “Ay must just look it up in may faylo-fax,” the cheeky cow.’
‘What’s she like?’ asked Lysander. Seeing Marigold was shivering he got up and put more logs on the fire.
‘Nikki? Spelt with a double K for Kleptomania, only she lifts husbands rather than shops,’ Marigold sniffed. ‘She looks like one of those girls who guides folk towards wheels of fortune in game shows. Very, very pretty, in fact she’s so pretty Ay never suspected she’d be interested in may Larry. Ay thought the only woman Larry admired was Margaret Thatcher. Nikki asked me why Ay didn’t have the walls dragged.’
‘You told us that,’ said Ferdie, who was anxious to get down to business.
‘Ay’m sorry, I keep repeatin’ myself. I trayed so hard to be a good wife. I got lonely in the country, but I kept busy with may committees, and Ay always washed may hair on Frayday and had a candlelit dinner waitin’ for Larry when he got back from town.’ She started to cry again.
‘I wish someone would do that for me.’ Lysander reached for more kitchen roll.
‘I worked so hard in the early years, darnin’ his socks, studying cheap cuts and going without lunch. We were so happy then.’
‘Can we see your wedding photographs?’ interrupted Ferdie briskly. ‘And some when you were first married.’
Collapsing heavily between him and Lysander on the sofa, Marigold opened a red photograph album.
‘You look terrific,’ said Lysander gazing in amazement at a sixties snapshot of Marigold in Hyde Park. ‘Great legs, and that chain belt’s very sexy.’
‘I gave up lunch for a whole fortnight to pay for that dress,’ sighed Marigold. ‘I had a handspan waist then.’
‘Well, you better give up a few more lunches,’ reproved Ferdie. ‘You’ve hardly got a legspan waist now, and your skin’s awful.’
Lysander winced, and wished he could go next door and watch the 3.15. Outside a gaudy pheasant with a red face and staring eyes, trailing awkwardly round the frozen lawn looking for refuge, reminded him of Marigold.
‘It’s nothing personal,’ said Ferdie kindly. ‘It’s exactly like getting a horse fit for a big race. You need a month on the road and two on the gallops. Lysander’ll take you jogging and when it gets lighter in the evenings and you’re frantic for that forbidden first drink of the day, you can both play tennis.’
‘It’ll never work,’ moaned Marigold. ‘If it weren’t for Patch, I’d kill myself.’
Patch stared balefully at them through the strings of the harp.
When Ferdie started to discuss money, Lysander was so embarrassed Ferdie had to take him off to Larry’s den, where he was very excited to find a bar in the corner with every drink known to man hanging upside down with rightway-up labels.
‘Oh, can I play with it?’
‘Of course, and watch the end of Lingfield on the big screen. If you get bored with that, Larry’s got all Donald Duck’s cartoons up on the right,’ said Ferdie, shutting the door firmly.
‘It’s going to cost you,’ he told Marigold, going back into the sitting room.
‘Ay haven’t got any money. Larry’s keepin’ me so short.’
‘Well, you’ll have to pawn a few rings.’
‘He’s charmin’ Lysander.’
‘Charming,’ agreed Ferdie. ‘But very expensive. We’ll have to find a cottage for him to rent down here. Not too near Paradise to preserve his air of mystery. He needs a couple of paddocks and stabling for his horses and a really sharp, fuck-off car, a Porsche or better still a red Ferrari.’
Then, ignoring Marigold’s gasp of horror, ‘And access to a helicopter — we can’t have Larry thinking he’s some tinpot gigolo — and some decent clothes: a few suits and Gucci shoes. He needs decent shoes because he has a tendency to ingrowing toenails. And you must arrange an account at The Apple Tree, and the nearest off-licence and install satellite television, so he doesn’t get bored down here. Then there’s the little matter of his debts.’
‘How much are they?’ said Marigold faintly.
‘Ten grand should cover it,’ said Ferdie airily. ‘He’ll need pocket money of course to send you flowers and take you out on the tiles. If Larry comes back to you that’s a further ten grand, and a retainer for the next year to keep Larry on his toes.’
‘But Ay haven’t got that kind of money,’ whimpered Marigold. ‘Ay shall be destitute.’
‘No, you won’t.’ Ferdie topped up her glass. ‘Insist Larry buys you that house in Tregunter, and I’ll pretend it cost one hundred and fifty thousand pounds more than it does, which gives us lots of leeway.’
Marigold was so distraught, and by this time so awash with vodka, that she accepted all Ferdie’s conditions.