Jilly Cooper: Prudence

Rodney, a confirmed lecher, had suffered a great shock when his wife had suddenly left him, and had consequently, by way of compensation, taken up even more dedicated lechery and the wearing of self-consciously trendy clothes. Tonight he was resplendent in a dark green velvet cat suit tucked into black boots, and slashed to the waist to show a blond suntanned chest. (He had just been filming in Ibiza.) The suit was a little too tight for him. I wished he’d worn something slightly less outrageous. Pendle was looking at him with distaste, Jane in wonder.

I was in such a state I forgot Ariadne’s name when I tried to introduce her. She needed livening up with a good strong drink, but she insisted on just having water. Had I any idea how many calories there were in alcohol?

‘Oh come on, live a little,’ said Rodney.

‘I’ve lost three inches off my hips since I gave up booze.’

‘Oh Bottom thou art translated,’ said Rodney.

Jane shrieked with laughter. Rodney sensed an ally.

‘What’s this crap you’ve put on the record player?’ he said turning to me.

‘Purcell,’ I said, blushing.

‘Well it won’t wash,’ he said, winking at Jane. ‘For God’s sake take it off and put on something less rarefied. Who else is coming?’ he said, counting the places.

‘Tiger Millfield,’ said Jane.

‘The international?’ said Rodney. ‘I was at school with him. We sat next to each other in chapel for three years.’

‘What was he like?’ said Jane.

‘Never spoke to each other.’

Jane and I laughed. Pendle’s face didn’t flicker.

Rodney took a belt at his whisky and made a face.

‘You’ve put tonic in, darling, instead of soda. You must be in a state.

‘You’ve had a terrible effect on her,’ he added, grinning at Pendle. ‘She’s supposed to flip through the Nationals every morning to see if any of our clients get a mention. All she does is pore over the law reports. Says they’re even better than Crossroads .’

‘Oh, shut up Rodney,’ I said.

‘We’ve worked together for two years,’ Rodney went on, ‘so if you want any gen on her, I’ll give it to you — at a price. Perhaps in return you could give me some advice about my divorce.’

‘I don’t do much divorce work,’ said Pendle, coldly. ‘I’d consult a solicitor if I were you.’

The rudeness was quite blatant. Pendle obviously thought Rodney too silly for words. He got up and looked at the books — far too many of them cheap novels.

Rodney shrugged and winked at Jane, who winked back.

‘Pru never said you were this pretty,’ he said, sitting down beside her and admiring her tits. ‘Have you ever done any modelling? I think you’d have a great future.’

‘I haven’t had a bad past,’ said Jane.

‘I swear by a glass of hot lemon juice first thing in the morning,’ said Ariadne.

‘I swear automatically first thing in the morning,’ said Rodney. ‘I don’t need lemon juice.’

I escaped to the kitchen. Suddenly there seemed a hell of a lot to do. Making the Bearnaise sauce, unwrapping the butter, uncorking bottles of wine, putting on the potatoes and the mange-touts. Two strong drinks didn’t seem to have done anything but make me clumsy. I felt myself getting redder and redder in the face. Oh, why had I been so ambitious? The beef would be ruined if Tiger Millfield didn’t arrive soon.

When I got back Jane and Rodney were nose to nose admiring each other’s cleavages. Pendle was looking grey with boredom. Ariadne was saying, ‘I tried the meat and citrus fruit diet, but it made my breath smell.’

I couldn’t face them. I escaped into the kitchen again, and was just shaking a lettuce out of the window when Jane joined me.

‘Don’t leave them,’ I wailed.

‘Isn’t he fantastic?’ said Jane.

‘Pendle?’ I said brightening.

‘No, Rodney.’

‘What do you think of Pendle?’

‘He doesn’t exactly make one feel at home, does he?’

‘Do you think he fancies me?’

‘Hard to tell. He never takes his eyes off you, but it’s like a cat watching a mouse.’

‘Don’t you think he’s devastating?’

‘Not my type really. Let me have about me men that are fat. Yon Pendle has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous,’ she finished off, pleased with herself at the comparison.

‘Why haven’t you shelled the peas?’

‘They’re mange-touts ,’ I snapped. ‘Well he may not be your type, but what about me?’

‘I preferred your other boyfriend — Charlie, even old Tom.’

‘Charlie and old Tom were slobs,’ I said, shaking the lettuce so furiously that I let go of the cloth and it went sailing out into the street. ‘Now look what you’ve done.’

‘Never mind, there’s so much to eat,’ said Jane soothingly.

‘Where the hell’s Tiger got to?’ I snapped.

The doorbell rang.

Rodney picked up the answer-phone in the drawing-room. ‘It’s the grandest Tiger in the Jungle,’ he said.

‘I must go to the loo,’ said Jane, disappearing into the bathroom. I knew perfectly well she’d gone to tart up.

As I went to answer the door, there was a terrible crash. Tiger had tripped over all the twenty-five milk bottles I’d put outside in my giant tidy-up for Pendle. He swayed in the doorway with a lettuce leaf on his head. He was very handsome, but also quietly and extremely drunk. Cross-eyed, he confronted his diary.

‘Think I’ve been asked to dinner.’

‘Hello darling,’ said Jane, coming up and kissing him. Removing the lettuce leaf from his head, she took him into the drawing-room and introduced him.

‘Was it a good party?’ said Rodney, looking at him speculatively, sizing up the competition.

‘Think so,’ said Tiger. ‘My cigarette packet’s absolutely covered in telephone numbers.’

‘It’s always been my ambition to play rugger for England,’ said Jane.

‘Mine is to go to work every day reading a pink paper in the back of a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce,’ said Rodney.

‘Mine is to weigh seven stone,’ said Ariadne.

Rodney, bent on sabotage, poured Tiger the most enormous whisky. Pendle was looking at his watch.

‘We’ll eat in two seconds,’ I said and hared back to the kitchen for a last-minute panic of dishing-up. My medieval sleeves trailed in the Bearnaise sauce, which had started to curdle. Oh, why hadn’t I stuck to jeans? I was frenziedly mashing the potatoes when Rodney came in.

‘I love the way your bottom wiggles when you do that.’ I gritted my teeth.

‘Cook is obviously getting a little unnerved,’ he went on.

‘The same intelligence is required to marshal an army as to cook dinner.’

‘Well, I’m not officer material,’ I snapped.

‘I do like your flatmate,’ said Rodney. He peered into the Bearnaise sauce. ‘I didn’t know we were having scrambled eggs.’

‘Too many cooks spoil the brothel,’ said Jane. ‘I think we ought to eat, Pru darling. Pendle and Tiger are getting on like a piece of damp blotting paper on fire.’

‘Go and sit people down,’ I said, ‘and make sure Pendle doesn’t get the side plate with the rabbits running round, or the three-pronged fork.’

‘Mind out,’ said Jane, pulling Rodney out of the way, ‘or you’ll be run over by a passing capon.’

‘Who’s going to say grace?’ said Jane, as we sat down.

‘Give us this day the will to resist our daily bread,’ said Rodney. ‘I’ve put on a stone in the last three months. I used to be lithe as a panther.’

‘Let me have about me men that are fat,’ said Jane, meaningfully.

‘Have some pâté,’ I said to Ariadne.

‘No, I won’t thank you very much. It looks delicious though.’