Jilly Cooper - Octavia

‘You were wonderful,’ I breathed, putting a hand up to touch his poor bruised eye.

He grinned, imprisoning my hand against his cheek:

‘There’s something to be said for being brought up in the valley. Then I talked to Xander. He told me about your childhood, and your parents and what a lousy deal you had all along. But that’s all over now.’

And, kneeling beside me, he took me in his arms. I started to cry.

‘What’s the matter?’ he whispered.

‘It’s no good,’ I sobbed. ‘I love you more than anything else in the world. I’m crucified with longing for you, but that’s just in my heart. You were right from the beginning, I am frigid. I’ve been to bed with so many men I can hardly remember, but I hated it with all of them. I can put on a good act, but inside I just freeze up.’

‘Hush lovie, hush.’ He was stroking me in that soothing way you might gentle a horse.

‘I’m telling you this because I love you, I’m no good to you.’

‘I’m the best judge of that,’ he said. ‘You’ve never been properly loved in your life, just spoilt, and told to push off and play somewhere else, and produced to show off when grown-ups came to tea because you’re so beautiful. Come on,’ he went on, pulling me to my feet and leading me towards the bedroom. ‘Let’s not muck about any more.’

‘No.’ I shrank away from him. ‘You’d be disappointed. I couldn’t fake it with you.’

‘I won’t, because I don’t expect anything. We’ve got to get used to each other.’

In the bedroom he switched on a sidelight, illuminating the vast double bed, and drew back the fur counterpane. As he undressed me with undeniable deftness, I thought of all the women he must have laid on that bed before me. . I felt like a novice horse entering the Horse of the Year Show for the first time, with the jumps up to six feet and all the previous competitors having had clear rounds.

Once we were in bed he just held me very gently until the horrors of the day began to recede. Then he said:

‘I’m not going to lay a finger on you tonight. You’re too tired.’

I felt a stab of disappointment.

‘At least I don’t think I am,’ he went on, putting a warm hand on my tits, spanning both nipples with finger and thumb.

‘Look,’ he whispered, ‘I can stretch an Octavia.’

I giggled.

‘That’s better. Come on lovely, remember, from now on I’ve got custody, care and control of you — and I’m not going to leave you, like your bloody mother did, ever again.’

And with infinite tenderness he kissed me, until I felt the waves of lust begin to ripple through me.

‘It’s Friday,’ he said, as his hand edged downwards. ‘We’ve got the whole weekend ahead. We needn’t get up at all.’

Then later he said, ‘Relax sweetheart, don’t try so hard, there’s no hurry. I actually like doing these things for you.’

Then later, more harshly, ‘Stop fighting me; we’re on the same side.’

Then suddenly it happened — like a great, glorious, whooshing washing machine — it’s the only way I can describe it — leaving me shuddering and shuddering with pleasure at the end, like the last gasps of the spin-dryer. And afterwards I cried some more because I was so happy, and he held me in his arms, telling me how much he loved me until I fell asleep.

A few hours later the dawn woke me. We’d forgotten to draw the curtains. All I could see were huge windows framing the plane trees of Holland Park. I blinked, turned and found Gareth looking at me. I must be dreaming.

I put my hand out to touch his cheek.

‘Are you real?’ I said incredulously.

He smiled. ‘I am if you are.’

His eye had turned black, his chest was covered in bruises.

‘I think I’m in bed with Henry Cooper,’ I said. ‘I never dreamt he’d make such a sensational lover. Do you think we could possibly do it again?’

And we did, and it was even better than the last time, and I screamed with delight and joy because I’d been so clever.

When I woke again he wasn’t there. I looked round in panic; then I found a note pinned to the pillow.

‘Gone shopping with Monkey. Back about eleven. I love you, G.’

Still overwhelmed with wonder at what was happening to me, I got up, wrapped myself in a towel and, wandering into the kitchen, found a pile of unopened mail. I flipped through it. Three envelopes were written in distinctively female hands. I turned them over. One was from someone called Michelle in France, another from a Sally in the Middle East, another hadn’t put her name on the back, but it was post-marked Taunton, and she’d written ‘private and confidential’ on the bottom.

I stood, overwhelmed with terror. Gareth had had millions of women before me. What was to stop him having millions in the future? Last night’s protestations might have been just a ruse to get me into bed. I couldn’t bear it. I went back into the bedroom and sat shaking on the bed, feeling myself pulled down into the familiar black slimy cavern of horror.

‘Keep calm,’ I kept saying to myself. ‘It’s all right.’

Suddenly I jumped out of my skin as the telephone rang. It was Mrs Smith.

‘He’s not here,’ I said. I could feel myself bristling.

‘Well that’s all right. Just give him a message that everything’s OK.’

‘I’ll tell him,’ I said stiffly.

Mrs Smith laughed, ‘I’m so glad you two have finally got it together,’ she said. ‘He’s been absolutely insufferable since he came back from that boat trip. It’ll be nice working for a human being again.’

‘Oh,’ I stammered, feeling myself blushing all over. ‘Do you mean to say — was it that obvious?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s a very dear man. I think you’re very lucky, and if you look behind the drawing-room door you might find something else to convince you.’

She dropped the receiver.

I ran to the drawing-room. Behind the door were two canvases stacked against the wall. I turned them over and gave a gasp of delight. One was my Adam and Eve picture, the other the Cotman. I looked at them incredulously, tears filling my eyes.

Then I heard a key in the door, and a scampering of feet. Monkey, rushing up the stairs, reached me first, but the next moment I was in Gareth’s arms, with Monkey frolicking and frisking round our feet.

‘I was worried some of Andreas’ hoods might have got you. Annabel Smith says you’ve been like a bear with a sore head since the boat trip,’ I gabbled incoherently. ‘And you bought back my pictures; it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, I can’t believe it. When did you do it?’ I added as we went upstairs.

‘Last week sometime. I didn’t hang them. I thought you could decide where you want to put them. But I’m not having Adam and Eve over the bed to distract you whenever we have sex.’

I went scarlet. ‘I suppose bloody Xander told you that.’

He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and kissed me on my bare shoulder.

‘Christ, you’re beautiful Octavia. Do you feel you can really put up with a jumped-up Welsh gorilla for the rest of your life?’

Then he kissed me on the mouth.

‘Xander ought to be shot,’ I said when I could speak, blushing even more furiously.

He laughed. ‘I’m only teasing you.’

The telephone rang. ‘If that’s Mrs Smith again, she said you weren’t to worry about anything,’ I said.

It was Xander.

Gareth listened for a minute; then he said, ‘That’s great. Talk to Octavia.’

‘Hullo darling,’ said Xander. He sounded very cheerful.

‘Are you all right?’ I said.

‘Well things have been pretty heavy. Ricky made the most awful scene, and I hoped very much Joan was going to have a coronary, but Pammie was staunchness personified; she told them both to get stuffed. And the police have pulled in that little snake, Guido, so all in all things haven’t turned out too badly. And I must tell you,’ he lowered his voice, ‘I do fall on my feet. There is the most enchanting constable in the C.I.D. here who’s been too marvellous to me.’