Polo (50 page)

    tone deaf, didn't recognize the tune, but the congregation stumbled to their feet.

    `It's OK. It's your opening number,' said Billy soothingly.

    And slowly up the long, long aisle came Declan O'Hara. His hair was almost all silver now, the worry of the fight for the franchise had dug great trenches on his forehead and on either side of his mouth. His morning coat was crumpled, he was wearing odd socks, tears poured down his cheeks, but Daisy, glancing round, thought his face should have been hewn out of rock on Mount Vernon. Surreptitiously taking a pencil out of her bag, she started to draw him on the back of her service sheet.

    Beside him, almost as tall but half the breadth and shivering frantically like a young poplar in a force-ten gale, walked the bride. She wore Rupert's mother's tiara, shaped like the new moon, in her cloudy dark hair, now covered by the slightly yellowing Campbell-Black family veil. Her dress of heavy, ivory silk, only finished two days ago, was already too big for her. The train glittered in the candlelight like a dragonfly's wing and seemed to have a life all its own as it slithered, iridescent, over the faded flagstones.

    `Look at that body,' sighed Seb. `Oh lucky, lucky Rupert.'

    The Bishop of Cotchester waited in his gold robes on the red-carpeted steps. Rupert glanced round. For a second he gazed unbelievingly at the trembling white figure, then the tension seemed to drain out of him. Walking straight down the aisle with his arms out, a huge smile suddenly transformed his face, the handsomest man in England once again. Meeting Taggie just level with Daisy's row, he drew her against him, shutting his eyes for a second, stilling her trembling, checking she was real. Then he looked down at her and mouthed, `I love you.'

    `Hello, Daddy,' interrupted the shrill voice of Tabitha Campbell-Black, angelic in light and dark pink striped taffeta with a coronet of pink-and-white freesias over her nose. `D'you like my dress?'

    A rumble of laughter went through the cathedral.

    `You look gorgeous,' said Rupert, taking her hand, then, turning back to Taggie and putting his arm round her shoulder: `Let's get this over with.'

    `Oh, how sweet,' mumbled Daisy, wiping her eyes. Glancing round, Drew smiled at her fleetingly.

    `Dearly Beloved,' intoned the Bishop, who managed to conduct the entire service without once looking at Rupert. It was disgraceful that such an utter bounder should have captured such a beautiful, innocent child.

    `I, Agatha Maud,' stammered Taggie gazing in wonder at Rupert, `take thee, R-r-rupert Edward Algernon.' `Forsaking all others,' said the Bishop.

    `Forsaking
all
others,' repeated Rupert squeezing Taggie's hand.

    `That'll be the day,' said Janey still scribbling. Everyone jumped out of their skins as Victor's telephone rang.

    The Bishop's temper was further taxed when Gertrude, the mongrel, who'd been held up to watch, unable to bear being put asunder from her mistress a moment longer, wriggled out of Caitlin's arms. Again the congregation rocked with laughter as she scampered along the pew, up the aisle, her claws clattering on the flagstones and stationed herself firmly between Rupert and Taggie, who both had to exert the utmost self-control not to laugh as well.

    `I would like to take as my text the words: Forsaking all Others,' began the Bishop heavily, and launched into a long rant about AIDS, the perils of infidelity and the low morals of his congregation. Gertrude the mongrel, listening intently, started to pant.

`Let flesh retire, speak through the earthquake, wind and fire, oh, still small voice of calm,'
bellowed the congregation.

    `I wish my flesh would retire,' whispered Janey, fingering the beginning of a spare tyre. `I find weddings frightfully unsettling, don't you? Particularly when the couple are so madly in love. One starts looking at one's own marriage, or lack of marriage in your case, Daisy, and saying why aren't I as happy as them. Oh look, they're going to sign the register and here comes Dancer to sing the anthem.'

    Lucky Rupert, lucky Taggie, thought Dancer as he adjusted the microphone and gazed out over the sea of cynical, mocking faces, waiting for him to make a cock-up. As the lovely strains of Gluck's
Orpheus
swept over

    the cathedral like a river of sunlight, Dancer's eyes were automatically drawn to Ricky's face, as pale and frozen as Rupert's had been a quarter of an hour before. Dancer had given his heart irrevocably to Ricky three years ago in prison, but Ricky would never have any idea.

`What is life to me without you,'
sang Dancer in his haunting light tenor. He played it absolutely straight - no frenziedly flying blond mane, no jabbing fingers, no juddering pelvis, just a slight smile lifting his sad clown's face. A shiver of amazed joy ran through the congregation. Daisy's cheeks were not the only ones to be soaked with tears.

    `I like that crooner,' said Rupert's father loudly. `Didyer say he'd made a record or he had one?'

    `What a pity he didn't take up opera,' whispered Sukey.

    `Don't think he'd have made so much money,' said Seb, `and he certainly wouldn't have been able to support a polo team.'

    Nudging Daisy, he pointed to Sukey's fingers which were tangling with Drew's, paddling the centre of his palm and caressing the inside of his powerful wrist.

    `Captain Benedict's going to get it tonight,' whispered Seb in Daisy's ear. Then, seeing her look of anguish, squeezed her hand. ` 'Spect all this reminds you of your own marriage. Don't cry. Everyone thinks you're stunning.'

    At last the organ broke into the Wedding March and down they came, Taggie and Rupert glued together. Taggie, with her veil back, dark tendrils escaping on to her forehead, eyes huge with love, all her lipstick kissed off in the vestry, kept breaking into laughter at Rupert's outrageous asides.

    `You'd think Rupert had won a gold and the World Championships all in one,' said Janey, opening another notebook. `I must say she is pretty now.'

    `He absolutely adores her,' said the Leader of the Opposition, checking her mascara in a powder compact, `and she's so enchantingly unsmug about getting him.'

    Out into the snow went Rupert and his bride and the cheers and the bells rang out as the flashes of a thousand photographers lit up the High Street.

    `I mustn't cry,' Daisy told herself, as she followed the twins out.

    `Must just go and have a word with the horse physiotherapist,' said Sukey, bolting off down a side aisle.

    Then, so quickly Daisy couldn't believe it was happening, a
warm
hand slid into her frozen one and Drew's voice whispered, `Wow! I want to worship you with my body.'

43

    Daisy had always longed to see inside Rupert's house, which she'd admired so often from the Penscombe-Chalford Road, lying serene and golden against its pillow of beech woods, now thickly counterpaned with snow. Inside Dom Perignon flowed faster than the Frogsmore after a rainstorm as a wildly yelling party spread through the ground floor out into a large marquee where a band was playing `You'd be so easy to love'.

    The line-up took less time than usual because Rupert was more interested in talking to Taggie than any of the guests, and Rupert's father, Eddie, was busy chatting up Maud O'Hara and sniping at his first wife, Rupert's mother.

    Daisy wandered from room to beautiful pastel room, absolutely knocked out by the pictures - two Gainsboroughs, a Van Eyck, a Manet, several Stubbs, a Rembrandt and a Cotman for starters - and listening to the comments of Rupert's army of exes.

    `Hasn't let go of her hand for one moment, has he?' `Terrified of someone telling stories out of school.' `Good thing she was too dyslexic to read the memoirs.' `She'll never hold him.'

    `I just cannot believe Rupert's ability to bounce back. Those memoirs must be
the
most damaging publicity anyone's
ever
had, but now he's hitched to this sweet young thing all the press and the shadow cabinet are clamouring for him to stay.'

    `He's told the Leader of the Opposition he's not even going to stay on as an MP because it involves too many late nights.'

    `Ah well, we'll all have to find someone else. That Dancer's dead sexy, isn't he?'

    `Darling, he's gay.'

    `I heard he goes both ways, and he
is
Ricky's patron,
and
the way into Ricky, and you know how much we all want that.'

    `I think Ricky's more attractive than Rupert.'

    `More unobtainable - up until now - you mean.'

    Wandering on, Daisy heard desperate weeping. Peering into Rupert's dark green study, she saw Rupert's ex-mistress, Cameron Cook, slumped over the desk.

    `I can't help it. I know Rupert wouldn't have made me happy, but I'd rather be miserable with him than happy with anyone else,' she sobbed.

    `No, you wouldn't,' said Declan's son, Patrick, gently stroking the back of her neck. `We both knew today would be a nightmare for you, right. You just hang in with me.' He was so young and handsome and certain.

    Lucky Cameron, thought Daisy. She wondered where Drew was. There were so many beautiful women around. She felt a wave of relief that she wasn't married to Hamish any more. He'd have been belting round, kilt aswirl, attempting to get off with all of them.

    The Irish contingent were already dancing. In one corner the twins were having a fight, scuffling like bear cubs.

    `You bloody well could have given me a cut of that five grand,' Dommie was saying. `I gave you half the money from that pony of his I sold back to Victor.'

    Sitting under a mournful Landseer bloodhound, Daisy found Tabitha Campbell-Black drinking champagne and feeding profiteroles to Rupert's pack of slavering dogs.

    `I've had eight profiteroles,' she informed Daisy. `D'you think Daddy's fertilized Taggie yet?'

    `I wouldn't think so,' said Daisy. `D'you like her?' `Yes, but Daddy won't let me go on the honeymoon.' `Shall I draw a picture of you?' asked Daisy.

    `Yes, please,' said Tabitha.

    Later, having danced with the twins and Bas and several foreign showjumpers, and rocked and rolled for an amazingly sexy, energetic ten minutes with Dancer, Daisy wandered upstairs to repair her face.

    Going through a door, she found a bathroom. The wall was covered with photographs of Rupert in his showjumping days. In one he was riding a splendid chestnutmare and being presented with a cup by a famous middle-aged beauty. Underneath she had scrawled: `So happy to mount you - Grania.' How would Taggie cope with that every time she had a pee, wondered Daisy. Hamish had never really coped with her past.

    Opening the door on the other side, Daisy found herself in a bedroom with old rose walls, pink-and-yellow silk curtains and a great Jacobean four-poster which was so smothered in fur coats that it seemed to have a slumbering animal life of its own. Perched on a yellow
chaise-longue,
in an olive green overcoat, was Sukey Benedict talking to Mrs Hughie.

    `Hello, Daisy,' said Sukey. `Love your outfit. So original, don't you think, Edwina? How are you getting on in Snow Cottage? Not too lonely?' Then, before Daisy had time to answer, `Drew and I were just saying we must find you a super chap. Drew's brother's home on leave soon. Perhaps you'll come and have kitchen sups when he's staying?

    As Daisy sat down at the dressing-room table, Sukey turned back to Mrs Hughie. Having mouthed, `Bit of a Bohemian,' pointing in Daisy's direction, she continued, `We're off to St Moritz to play snow polo after Christmas. It's going to be just like a second honeymoon.'

    With trembling hands, Daisy got a tube of base foundation out of her bag.

    `I won't be able to ski, of course. My gynie said it wasn't wise, as I lost the last one at three months.' Sukey's voice was as insistent as Philippa's burglar alarm. `It's funny we had no difficulty getting Jamie, but we've been trying and trying for this one. I had my tubes blown and Drew was about to have a sperm test when I found I was pregnant.'

    Is that really Drew's mistress looking back at me? thought Daisy numbly as she gazed at her ashen face. Drew had never mentioned the miscarriage and swore he never slept with Sukey.

    `Drew's over the moon, because he's always wanted a huge family,' Sukey was off again. `He's being so caring at the moment. He gave me the most gorgeous recording of
Cosi Fan Tutte -
our favourite opera - as a celebration present. We've been playing it all week. He says at least if I'm listening, I'm not scurrying about.'

    That's what I gave Drew for Christmas. It's
our
favourite opera, thought Daisy.

    Looking down, she saw she'd spilled base all over her new velvet knickerbockers. Frantically rubbing it away with a Kleenex, she fled downstairs, slap into Drew.

    `I've been looking for you everywhere,' he said, putting his hands round her pink cummerbund.

    `Sukey's leaving,' said Daisy with a sob. `She's just told me the good news that you're having another baby, and you've both been trying for ages, and you're going to find me a "super chap" and you gave her
Cosi
for Christmas.'

    `It was the tape you gave me,' explained Drew, taking her hands. `It was the only way I could get it into the house and play it non-stop. Look, I'll come and see you tomorrow. Meet me on the north side of Eldercombe woods at ten thirty.'

    Daisy glanced into the study which now contained the bride and bridegroom locked in each other's arms.

    `No, it's no good. I can't cope with half measures any more,' she sobbed.

    Fighting her way through a hall full of people eating plates of chicken, she passed Janey Lloyd-Foxe telephoning through her copy: `Rupert said: Open quotes: bugger off; close quotes.'

    Daisy opened a side door and went out on to the terrace. It was bitterly cold and snowing steadily. The magnolia on the lawn buckled under its weight of whiteness. The valley stretched out through the blizzard, shadowed electric blue and darkly furred with woods. Daisy gave a gasp as a ghostly figure rose up from a bench. His face was deathly pale, his hair, his eyebrows and the shoulders of his morning coat were covered in snowflakes. Only his hollowed eyes were as black as whirlpools. He was like some doomed figure in a black-and-white Russian film.

    `I hate weddings,' wept Daisy.

    `So do I,' said Ricky.

    `You must be frozen.' Daisy dabbed her eyes with the base-smeared Kleenex. `What are you doing out here?'

    `Trying not to be a spectre at the feast. Thought I'd try out a wedding to see if I was cured. Now I know I'm not. I should be over her. It's three and a half years.'

    `Not at times like this,' comforted Daisy. `Weddings are killers. Christmas is a killer, not being able to drink doesn't help, and seeing people as blissful as Rupert and Taggie is worst of all. You've got all four.'

    `Chessie looked like an angel as a bride,' said Ricky. `Her hair was filled with spring flowers. I thought I'd arrived in heaven. I loved her so much, but I couldn't show it. She found me utterly uncommunicative.'

    `I showed it too much,' said Daisy sadly. 'Hamish found me utterly claustrophobic. You can't win really.'

    `You don't want me, but you want me to go on wanting you,' sang the bandleader.

    `I wish I wasn't so attractive to birds,' sighed Dancer, seeking refuge in the pantry.

    `You wouldn't be so rich if you weren't,' said Bas, who was already very drunk.

    Dancer had seen Ricky go on to the terrace. It broke his heart to see him so miserable. `We've got to do somefink positive about Ricky.'

    `You've done a helluva lot,' protested Bas. `You've financed the bugger and put up with his moods. But I tell you he'll never win his beloved Gold Cup or get to ten with the present team.'

    `You think I ought to stand down and be a non-playing patron?' said Dancer stoically. `You gotta level with me.'

    `Christ, no. It's me who should,' said Bas. `I've got far too many business commitments to play high goal, and next year I'm going to be run off my feet with Venturer. We start transmitting at the beginning of the following year, and Rupert and I are planning to revive the Westchester in the States in September.'

    Dancer, who'd been arranging his tangled curls in the reflection of the window, swung round.

    `But the Westchester's Ricky's Holy Grail,' he said excitedly. `You're not having me on? You fink you could?'

    `Sure,' said Bas, topping up both their glasses. `There's been such a polo explosion, particularly in America. Rupert's mad about the idea, and he never gets involved with anything that doesn't mean big bucks.'

    Dancer shook his head. `We'll miss you on the team. You give us class.'

    `And a lot of headaches. You need a seriously good defensive back.'

    `Who d'you suggest? Money no object.'

    `Alejandro Mendoza's the best,' said Bas, `but he'd rip you off and he's not allowed in. Ben Napier's a bastard, and wouldn't even charm you while he ripped you off. Shark Nelligan's an animal.'

    `You know anything about Luke Alderton?'

    `That's an idea,' admitted Bas. `You'd like him. He's playing brilliantly at the moment - scored two penalties from beyond the half-way line in the American Open - and he's got this amazing grey - Fantasma. He's rock solid and he'd be brilliant at de-fusing Perdita and Ricky.'

    `I'll ring him tomorrow.' Dancer was really happy now. `And I'm knocked out about the Westchester. Is there anyfing I can do for Venturer?'

    `I expect so,' said Bas. `Hullo, Janey darling.' Slowly he undid the buttons of her bright blue suit and did them up again correctly.

    `Where's Ricky? I can't find him anywhere,' said Janey fretfully. `It's absolutely infuriating. I've just filed copy only to find Rupert's father has suddenly proposed again to Rupert's mother with nine other wives and husbands to be taken into consideration. I wonder if the
Daily Mail
diary page has gone to bed. I could flog it to Nigel.'

    `Anyone seen Rupert and Taggie?' Patrick O'Hara put his head round the door. `We must get them to cut the cake or my father'll be too drunk to make his speech. He's been rehearsing snatches of Yeats all week.'

    `So many loved Rupert's moments of glad disgrace,' said Janey drily. `I hope Declan's not going to quote Yeats at those Philistines. They know far more about snatches.'

    `Not the Irish,' said Patrick.

    Rupert and Taggie, who'd escaped upstairs, gazed over the white valley.

    `It's all yours now,' he murmured, removing her veil and her tiara and ruffling her long, dark hair. `If I really told you how much I loved you, you'd be still here gathering dust and cobwebs in a hundred years. D'you know, I feel faint.'

    `Oh, darling,' interrupted Taggie, all concern. `I bet you haven't eaten since yesterday.'

    `Faint with longing,' went on Rupert. `I'm fed up with all these people.'

    `Shall we go?'

    `But we haven't cut the cake,' said Rupert, shocked. `And I'm supposed to thank your parents.'

    `For letting you pay for the entire wedding?'

    `Declan wants to make his speech.'

    `He'll make it whether we're here or not.'

    `We ought to stay,' said Rupert doubtfully. `It's your big day.'

    `Only because I married you. I'd much rather we were alone.'

    `What is life to me without you?' said Rupert, dropping a kiss on her forehead. `Go and change.'