Jilly Cooper - Score!

In front of a huge organ rising to the ceiling, a side table groaned with silver dishes of oysters, giant prawns, vermilion lobster, slices of sole in cream sauce and stuffed sea bass. Carrying on the main table’s colour scheme were great bowls of tomato mayonnaise, sauce verte and gleaming gold Hollandaise. And this was only the first course.

At dinner Lucy lost Tristan. She was stuck between a dull Lovell cousin and Little Cosmo, who she felt sure was about to slice a red-spotted toadstool into her food. Tristan was next to Helen, who bombarded him with questions about Don Carlos , then interrupted with her own views, ‘I mean, the poor old Grand Inquisitor was visually challenged,’ when Tristan tried to answer them.

She was far more tense than she had been in Prague, her hazel eyes constantly policing the room for women who might be getting off with Rannaldini, particularly the adorable Taggie, whom Rannaldini, in a fit of mega-malice, had seated between himself and Jake Lovell.

Taggie didn’t know which man unnerved her more. Rannaldini was being unbelievably charming. Knowing what a great cook she was, he found her the tenderest piece from the saddle of lamb, then sought her opinion on the russet apples glazed with Cumberland sauce. Would Bramleys have added more piquancy?

Taggie mumbled truthfully that it was all delicious, but she couldn’t forget the hideous way Rannaldini had treated her friend Kitty, while she was married to him. Jake, on the other hand, was like a small thundercloud.

‘I’m desperately sorry about this,’ stammered Taggie.

‘No more sorry than we are,’ said Jake bleakly.

Down the table, the bride sat between Baby and Isa, a cigarette in one hand, a fork in the other, her eyes crossing, hardly taking in the horse talk that flowed across her.

Poor red-eyed Tory Lovell tried to hide her despair. She and Jake had managed to patch up their marriage miraculously but now she’d have to see Helen, with whom Jake had once been so hopelessly in love, at the baby’s christening and at birthday parties for years to come. She wished she liked Tab more. She shouldn’t be smoking and drinking like that, it was so bad for the baby. Tory had so longed for her first grandchild.

When Tab cut her cake, she most audibly wished for an Olympic gold for The Engineer. People were beginning to table-hop. Jake joined Isa and Baby, ignoring Tab, who got to her feet.

‘Musht go to the loo.’

‘Aren’t you going to throw us your bouquet,’ called Meredith, ‘so we can see who’s going to get hitched next?’

Instead Tab threw her flowers high into the rafters, but as the single women and Meredith surged forward, she reached out and caught them herself.

‘I’m the one who’s going to need it,’ she said, glancing enigmatically at Isa.

With distress, Tristan noticed the delight on Rannaldini’s face then turned and caught the satisfaction on Baby’s. Rannaldini was clearly as crazy about poor little Tab as Baby was about the cool, sinister Isa.

A family drama in a princely house, he thought wryly, which was how Verdi had described Don Carlos .

Eddie Campbell-Black was nose to nose with Lady Chisledon.

‘I do wish they did soap operas about people of our class,’ she was saying.

Lucy had never met anyone quite like Little Cosmo. ‘What are you going to do for a living?’ she asked.

‘I’m going to lead paedophiles on and then blackmail them,’ said Little Cosmo, who was lighting a joint.

His mother, who wished to speak to her director, plonked herself between Tristan and Helen. ‘Tory Lovell is such a charmer,’ she said pointedly.

Helen flounced off.

Everyone was wandering back to their seats for the speeches. Not wanting to be landed with Hermione, Tristan introduced her to Baby.

‘No, we haven’t met,’ said Baby, ‘but we share the same colourist in Mount Street.’

Hermione, who’d always sworn her rich brown hair was natural, was absolutely furious. Making a hasty getaway, Tristan sidled up to Taggie. God, she was adorable.

‘I hear you adopt children from Colombia,’ he said. ‘I once recce’d a film there. The people are ravishing.’

Taggie melted instantly and was soon telling him about Bianca’s adventures in the nativity play.

‘“I love acting, Mummy,” she said yesterday, “but I hate being watched.” I’m not boring you?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Never, never,’ murmured Tristan. ‘My singers, alas, love being watched but hate acting.’

Taggie was shyly producing photos of Xav and Bianca when she felt a laser of jealousy from Tab and hurriedly shoved them away.

‘Stop doing a number on Isa’s divine stepmother-in-law, Tristan, I want to make a speech,’ shouted Baby, who had clearly recovered his high spirits.

‘In a minute, like Leporello,’ he bashed the table with a spoon, ‘I’m going to list all the men, women and kangaroos Isa’s been to bed with but first I want to read out the telegrams. Here’s an excellent one for Tabitha: “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, darling? love, Granny.”’

After a long pause, this was greeted by screams of laughter.

‘Wonderful woman,’ said Eddie, who was trying to light a Gristik. ‘Propose to her every Christmas, know we’ll end up together.’

‘Sit down and shut up, Baby,’ called out Rannaldini, with a big pussy-cat smile. ‘I’m the one who’s making the speech.’

‘Helen’s not with us,’ called out Lady Chisledon.

Next moment, the mother of the bride came rushing in.

‘I cannot believe it. Someone has set fire to my fur hat. Tabitha!’ she rounded furiously on her daughter.

‘Must have been Lucy,’ said Tab, collapsing on to her husband’s knee. ‘She’s so anti people wearing fur.’

‘I never!’ stammered Lucy.

‘Sort it out later,’ said Rannaldini. ‘Sit down,’ he added chillingly.

Helen sat, red blotches of rage staining her neck.

‘Brilliant cake, Mrs Brimscombe,’ shouted Tab, taking a bite of Baby’s untouched piece.

Both Jake and Tory had looked at her in horror.

‘Spit it out,’ Tory wanted to shout, but it was too late.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ began Rannaldini silkily, ‘it is with great pleasure…’

But for once he was talking to air as Rupert stalked in. He was wearing a crumpled lightweight suit and must have hitched a lift from Bogotá on someone else’s jet.

‘Enter the Pin-up from Penscombe,’ whispered Meredith in ecstasy.

Aware that Rupert was the father of Xavier, whom he had bullied so dreadfully, Little Cosmo slid under the table.

‘Hello, Daddy,’ called out Tabitha.

For a second Rupert glared round, taking in first the bride, his daughter, on Isa’s knee, then his father, with his hand down Lady Chisledon’s shirt, and finally the bride’s stepmother, who was also his wife, cringing between Jake Lovell and a smirking Rannaldini. His fury was as blasting as nerve gas.

Only Hermione was unaffected. ‘Rupert Campbell-Black! Just in time for the dancing!’ she cried, charging him like an excited buffalo.

Stepping out of her way, Rupert chucked an envelope on the dark green tablecloth. Clive, who shadowed Rannaldini’s every move, was gliding in from the right.

‘Venturer are pulling out of Don Carlos ,’ said Rupert softly. ‘You can fucking well survive on your own.’

‘But you’re the chief backer,’ hissed Rannaldini, ‘and the contracts—’

‘Have not been signed,’ interrupted Rupert. ‘You should stop your Rottweiler lawyers being so greedy. And that’s only the opening shot, you poisoned dwarf.’

Then, totally ignoring a frantically mouthing Taggie, Rupert turned on his heel and stalked out.