Private Lives Part 57

'James Swann, may I introduce my two newest and loveliest aquaintances, Tanika and Natasha.'

Swann gave a slight bow and bent to kiss their hands, almost sending Anna into a fit of nervous giggles. He'll be turning into a bat next, she thought.

'Please, ladies, make yourselves at home, treat my house as you would your own. Nothing is out of bounds to my friends. Johnny, show them around.'

They walked into the drawing room. Piano, tasteful furniture. A bar at one end. Girls draped over red-faced men.

'Those are my regular girls,' said Johnny. 'They know what makes a party go with a bang, if you follow, so they get invited back.'

'You say some of these men are married,' said Anna casually.

Johnny nodded. 'A few of the wives even attend.' He grinned. 'I could introduce you to some couples ...'

She picked up his coded meaning.

'Let's get a drink first, shall we?'

'Very wise. But first, Tanika, why don't you go and say h.e.l.lo to that nice old gentleman over there?' he said, pointing to a rotund man in a double-breasted suit. 'I believe his grandfather had significant business interests in your mother country, so you should have plenty to talk about.' The girl dutifully walked off.

'I just need to freshen up in the bathroom.' Anna smiled.

Johnny nodded his approval. She found a downstairs loo and phoned the local taxi firm. 'Have a car waiting for "Natasha" at the Swann house,' she instructed. 'I've no idea how long I'll be. But be there as soon as you can, and wait. Tell security at the gates that you're picking up a guest of Johnny Maxwell.'

She returned to Johnny.

'Beautiful, darling,' he purred. 'Right then,' he continued, leading Anna to the bar and perching on a high stool that gave him a view of the whole room. 'Let me see if I can give you a run-down.'

He pointed to a sandy-haired man in a blazer.

'Charles Butler-Cash, very well connected in the City, beautiful place out in Barbados, very good skier.'

'And is he single?'

'Course not. It's the old golden handcuffs, you see? If any of these men got un-married, it would cost them tens of millions. That's why they come here. They're not after anything permanent, but like you and me, they want some fun.'

He continued his sweep of the room.

'Over there is Piggy Allsop; he's some big noise in haulage. Deadly dull, but pots of money.' He glanced down at Anna's legs. 'Piggy likes very skinny girls, though, so he's probably out.' He nodded towards a good-looking man in his late fifties. 'And that fellow in the red tie is Peter Rees. He works in oil and engineering.'

Anna's heart skipped a beat. Peter. Could he be Amy's Peter?

'And is he ... attached? To a girl, I mean?'

Johnny looked at her, a wicked smile on his lips.

'Do you like him?'

'Perhaps. Is he he single?' single?'

He shrugged. 'Wife back in Gloucesters.h.i.+re of course, horrible old trout, although you didn't hear that from me. But no lady friends, as far as I know. I think he got his fingers burned a little while ago.'

'Oh. What happened to her?'

'I don't know,' he said, looking away from her. 'Sometimes they can get a little clingy. Come on, I'll introduce you.'

Peter was standing on his own, swilling bourbon around a gla.s.s as they approached.

'Peter, I'd like you to meet Natasha. Natasha is a fan of the arts.'

'Really?' said Peter, smiling at her. 'That's very interesting.'

Johnny gave Anna's arm a squeeze. 'I'll leave you two to chat,' he said and melted into the crowd.

'Actually, I'm very dull,' said Anna. 'Johnny was just trying to talk me up.'

'Oh, I'm sure that's not true. What branch of the arts are you in?'

'Sculpture, oils, the Renaissance,' she said vaguely, hoping he wouldn't be a collector and call her bluff. 'I want to hear all about you,' she said quickly, touching his arm. 'What do you do?'

'I'm on the board of Dallincourt.'

'Oh really? What's that?'

'We're an engineering firm, largely we build oil rigs, do the casing for mines. Things like that. Rather dull.' He smiled.

'What do you do there?'

'COO,' he said with a hint of pride.

Anna gestured at the room with her wine gla.s.s.

'So do you come to these things often?'

'Well, Jamie Swann and I have interests in common, so we're often to be found close by, yes.'

'Business interests?' asked Anna.

'Sometimes,' smiled Peter. 'Tell me, has Johnny given you the grand tour?'

He linked his arm through hers and led her towards the rear of the house, where there was another comfortable lounge full of sofas and alcoves, the lighting somewhat more subdued.

'This is the red room, designed by Kenneth Sway in the nineteenth century, I believe.' Anna looked up towards the roof, which was dominated by a crystal chandelier suspended from an elaborate gold-leafed ceiling rose in the shape of an eagle in flight. 'I thought you might be drawn to that,' laughed Peter. 'It's magnificent, isn't it?'

They walked on through an orangery looking down on to moonlit gardens, then back into the hallway.

'Shall we take a turn upstairs?' asked Peter.

Anna was beginning to feel a little out of her depth and looked around for Johnny, not that he would be much use. He was hardly anyone's idea of a chaperon.

'Are you all right?' said Peter, reaching up and touching her chin. 'I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable.'

'I'm fine,' smiled Anna. Don't wimp out now, she told herself. Okay, so this guy was called Peter and he came to Swann's parties, but that didn't make him Amy's Peter, did it? She needed more information, and the only way to get that was to press on.

'I can't wait to see the rest,' she said as he led her up the stairs and on to a corridor. A door to their left was open, and Anna almost gasped as she saw an overweight man, naked from the waist down, thrusting into a woman half-wearing a scarlet c.o.c.ktail dress. As they pa.s.sed, the woman looked at Anna and gave her a knowing smile.

'Some people like to be watched,' said Peter, opening a door and steering Anna inside. 'I myself am a much more private person. How about you, Natasha?'

She found herself in a bedroom suite overlooking the gardens dominated by an old oak four-poster bed, the only light coming from a small ta.s.selled bedside lamp. As Peter closed the door behind him, she walked quickly over to the window in a vain attempt to put distance between them.

'The house is so beautiful,' she said, looking out at the grounds, hoping to start a conversation about design.

'Yes, but not as beautiful as you,' he said in a low voice. He touched his hand to her cheek and she flinched. She knew why Johnny brought girls to the party, but she had naively thought that any relations.h.i.+ps would be started afterwards. She turned away from him and looked out of the big bay window.

'You are one of Johnny's girls, aren't you?' he said, coming closer behind her.

Her heart was hammering. Amir Khan had volunteered to come out to Buckinghams.h.i.+re with her; he knew he would not be allowed access to the party, but had offered to wait in a nearby pub until she had finished. Now she wished she had taken him up on his offer.

'Of course,' she replied.

'Good,' he said, pressing himself into her as he kissed her neck softly. 'Take off your clothes,' he whispered.

She swallowed hard.

'Let's take this slowly,' she said quickly.

His fingers began to pull down the zip that ran the length of her spine.

'Fine by me,' he murmured. She felt a cool rush of air on her bare back as the dress parted. Her mouth turned dry. She knew she had to get out of here, but not before she got what she came for.

She turned around to face him. Peter had begun undoing the belt to his trousers.

'On the bed,' he said.

She smiled coquettishly, although she was frightened. 'I heard you were a good lover,' she said, playing for time.

He looked pleased to hear it. 'And who told you that?'

'A friend of mine. Amy Hart.'

Peter's face was only partly lit, but his expression told Anna all she needed to know. Amy's name brought on surprise, quickly followed by fear, then anger. Not sadness, not shame, not even regret. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d, she thought.

'Tell me, what did Amy say?' His voice was almost a bark.

Peter Rees was was Amy's Peter. Amy's Peter.

'She said that you were very generous,' she replied, trailing her finger down his s.h.i.+rt. 'In every department.'

His expression softened.

'It was sad about her, wasn't it?' added Anna.

'Sad?'

'Her death.'

'Yes, it was very sad.' She saw his eyes narrow a fraction. Enough to register disapproval.

'How well did you know Amy?' he asked.

'Barely. And you?'

'The same.' His eyes were cold.

Anna knew now what sort of people she was dealing with: men who would use young girls until they became inconvenient, until they threatened to undermine their cosy domestic situation the golden handcuffs, as Johnny had put it at which point they were disposed of like flat champagne, casually tossed down the sink.

'Are you going to take off that dress?' Peter said finally. He moved up against her and pushed her gently back on the bed.

Not a chance, she thought.

She stood up and stroked his cheek. Her pulse was racing.

'Stay there and close your eyes,' she commanded.

'Where are you going?' said Peter.

'I'm going to get my friend Tanika, that tall blonde I came in with. I can see you're more than one woman can handle.'

'Wait,' he said firmly, taking her arm in a strong grip. 'Just you,' he added quietly.

'No,' she said, trying to wriggle away.

He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her close. His hand pushed against the bare triangle of skin on her back.

'Get back on the bed,' he ordered, breathing strong whisky breath all over her.

'Hang on,' she said, pulling free and tugging her dress back on to her shoulders. 'I'm getting Tanika.'

She raced towards the door, stumbling into the corridor and hurrying downstairs as fast as she could.

'Having fun?'

Anna's heart gave a lurch. Johnny Maxwell was standing at the door of the drawing room, a slight frown on his face. He'd clearly seen her leave with Peter and was wondering why she was back so soon.

'Just stepping outside for a cigarette,' she purred. My goodness, Natasha really is coming to life, she thought.

'And what about Peter?'

'Waiting upstairs.'