bottles of champagne and three bottles of vodka, a hen party had taken place over the weekend.
‘They were all asking where Seth Bainton lived,’ winked Chris, as Etta walked Priceless past the pub.
Poor Tilda, it seemed so ironic that, when she had a long break and could go to the races, Mrs Wilkinson was out of action. And with the monthly payments eating up her salary, she could no longer afford to take a nice hot holiday.
Meanwhile Etta’s crush on Seth, although not over-encouraged, raged on. Priceless was living with her almost full time and greeted his master, when he dropped in, with toothy smiles and head snakings along Seth’s increasingly lean hips, but showed no sign of following him when he left.
After a holiday in Ibiza, Trixie was also staying in Willowwood, mostly at her grandmother’s, where she retreated to Etta’s bed-room to text. She was glued to her laptop or Etta’s portable television, sharing the bed with Priceless, her legs longer and browner than ever, her hair longer and messier. She was moodier and more abstracted and irritated by Poppy and Drummond, at whom she kept shouting, so Etta was doubly delighted one evening when Seth dropped in armed with The Merchant of Venice and a DVD of himself in Much Ado.
While Etta heard him as Bassanio, eyes on the text, quivering at the beauty of the language and his voice, Seth gazed lazily at Trixie, who appeared far more interested in Hello! and Cosmopolitan.
‘Merchant’s a difficult play to stage,’ said Seth, as he paused to refill everyone’s drinks. ‘If you make Shylock too much of a villain, you’re being anti-Semitic. If you make Antonio too much of a shit, you’re being homophobic.’
‘Bassanio’s a wuss,’ said Trixie scornfully. ‘He’s a gold-digger, and I loathe Portia. I hate teasing, playful women like Aunt Romy.’
‘“In Belmont,”’ said Seth huskily, ‘“‘is a lady richly left;/And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,/Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes/I did receive fair speechless messages.”’
He smiled wickedly at Trixie.
‘I still hate her as a character. “Richly left” sounds like Harriet Harman.’
‘Seth’s doing Antony in the spring,’ said Etta, sensing tension, ‘and Corinna’s playing Cleopatra. Isn’t that exciting?’
‘Not particularly,’ said Trixie, ‘Antony and Cleopatra is sooo boring. Antony’s going through the male menopause like my dad and Uncle Martin, and Cleopatra’s a silly old tart like Dora Belvedon’s mother. Dora won the Most Embarrassing Mother competition at Bagley on Speech Day, she laced her mother’s breakfast orange juice with neat vodka. All the Lower Sixths went to sleep during a production of Antony and Cleopatra at the National.’
‘That would never happen if Seth was on stage,’ said Etta warmly.
‘The boys only woke up when Cleopatra bared her breasts to plug in the asp,’ added Trixie.
‘Plenty of asps living in Mrs Travis-Lockjaw’s compost heap, according to Pocock,’ said Seth.
‘Yuck,’ said Trixie, ‘Mrs T-L pees on it every night.’
‘Compissed heap,’ murmured Seth.
Trixie’s mouth lifted a quarter of a centimetre at one corner. ‘Josh took a photograph of her which they refused to print in the parish mag. She’ll probably get stung on the bum.’
‘Bolton’s got a crush on her,’ said Seth. ‘He roves around Willowwood with a camera at the dead of night. Better draw your curtains, Etta, he likes pretty ladies.’
Etta blushed.
Gwenny came in mewing. Trixie got up – her dark hair so long it reached the top of her legs – and gave Gwenny some cat sweets.
Seth picked up the packet.
‘They always tell you to provide drinking water. Ought to insist you provide drinking water and whisky.’ He drained his glass.
Unable to bear him going, Etta suggested she pop up to the pub and get another bottle.
‘I’ve got to go,’ said Trixie.
‘I’ll see you home,’ said Seth. ‘Come on, Priceless.’
Priceless raised his tail a centimetre off the sofa, but showed no inclination, unlike Etta, to follow his master.
It was very hot outside, the sky crowded with stars, the air heavy with the scent of honeysuckle. The stream gleamed silver in the moonlight.
‘“The moon shines bright: in such a night as this,” ‘ said Seth. ‘Let’s take a detour through Valent’s garden, they’re both away.’
‘How do we get out of the locked gates on the other side?’
‘I’ll lift you over the wall.’
Her face was expressionless.
‘How’s Josh?’ he asked.
‘“He doth nothing but talk of his horse,”’ said Trixie lightly.
‘Good girl, you’ve read the play,’ said Seth approvingly.
Valent’s house reared sombre in front of them. With satisfaction, they admired their two black shadows, hers so willowy,