very large four-poster became very small as four heaving bodies took over.
‘Get her wet first,’ ordered Seth.
So Bonny knelt between Trixie’s legs and got to work, tongue and fingers sliding everywhere.
‘Stop that,’ screamed Trixie, bucking like Furious.
‘Just shut up,’ snarled Seth, clamping a hand over her mouth to silence her, yet at the same time smiling into her eyes and gently stroking her face with his fingertips. ‘Relax, babe, don’t let me down.’
The three of them were so beautiful and so practised, Trixie felt she was the only lousy actress in one of Lester Bolton’s grubby porn films. She closed her eyes after that, trying to blot out who was shoving what into her, tears, and God knows what else, trickling down her face.
How ironic that when she finally opened her eyes again it was to read, on the wall above, Caliban’s loveliest lines.
‘Be not afeared. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.’
She gave a wail of anguish. ‘Let me go, please, please.’
‘She’s not enjoying it, poor kid,’ said Rogue. ‘Let her go.’
‘Give her time,’ said Seth, trying to grab her ankle as she leapt from the bed.
As she managed to unlock the door and stumble into the corridor, his last words were: ‘If you breathe a word about this, you’ll never see me again.’
Etta was so fast asleep, it took several rings before the telephone roused her.
‘Darling, so sorry to wake you, it’s Alan.’
‘W-what, what’s happened, is Trixie OK?’
‘Fine, fast asleep in “Alonso”. Darling, is it OK if I say the party didn’t break up until three and then I had a late nightcap or daycap in your room?’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Carrie rang, doesn’t believe I wasn’t up to no good, so I said I was with you.’
‘Oh Alan, you are her husband.’
‘I’ll explain, I promise.’
Etta was just dropping off again when the Major rang.
‘Normie here, Etta. I woke Debbie up when I came in, is it all right if I say I had a late nightcap with you?’
Seth woke her around five, sounding unusually rattled.
‘Etta darling, Rogue and I were having a drink in Bonny’s room, “Caliban”. Valent rang in and stupid me, not thinking, picked up the telephone. I hung straight up, but I don’t want him to put the dogs on me. Can I say I was with you?’
‘Seems Valent need not have booked so many rooms,’ said Etta acidly. ‘Did you keep an eye on Trixie?’
‘I saw her into bed, she was fine.’
After he’d rung off, Etta lay back in bed helpless with laughter. She hadn’t bothered to draw her curtains. A silver-white semicircle of moon peered in.
‘Join the party,’ said Etta. ‘There’s nothing left remarkable.’
It was not just the moon that had been visiting last night, most of the syndicate seemed to have had a party in her room.
Good thing Dora hadn’t been around seeking stories.
Shagger, with no thought of Tilda, had been up all night feasting his eyes on the pink and white face of Toby, as he poured out his heart about the difficulty of holding down his job working for Carrie, and the responsibility of impending fatherhood.
‘Is paralysis a symptom of pregnancy, Shag? Phoebe never moves an inch these days to cook supper or iron a shirt.’
On a chair in the corridor, a returning Shagger found Niall’s prayer book open and covered in drink rings and, better still, bumped into Niall emerging from Woody’s room, which was named ‘Sebastian’.
‘Where the bee sucks, there suck I,’ murmured Shagger, ‘Hope you haven’t been led into temptation, Vicar.’
‘Etta’s just left, quite the party animal,’ said Niall blithely. ‘So little opportunity for the syndicate to get together. Time flew, we were discussing Mrs Wilkinson’s campaign.’
‘Camp’s the operative word,’ sneered Shagger.
‘Must rush back to Willowwood for Early Service,’ cried Niall.
Outside, as he waited for a taxi, he called Etta.
‘Could you bear to say you were celebrating Mrs Wilkinson’s victory with Woody and me in “Sebastian” until dawn?’
‘Who’s Sebastian?’ asked Etta.
94
Amber woke from an excellent night’s sleep. She was delighted with Mrs Wilkinson’s win yesterday. She had no hangover. She had been miffed last night that no sex had taken place. Marius had twice called her ‘Olivia darling’, but before he passed out he had promised her a ride on History Painting. This all meant she could face Rafiq, who got so stormily jealous, with a clear conscience and drive down to Exeter without any fear of being breathalysed.
In the old days, she’d have got legless or stoned and gone on