Primula Bond - The Diamond Ring

Margot has arranged herself like a queen on an oversized armchair upholstered in purple brocade. She is brushing the feather against her face. She turns briefly in my direction, glancing at my breasts, then turns back to Gustav.

‘I came here straight from Venice. There was no sign of Pierre or any of his things, but I found this feather. Lovingly arranged in that vase.’

We all look at a delicate flute on the mantelpiece, twisting and turning in waves like a whirlpool. It’s hideously ugly, veined with rainbow colours, but I recognise it as Murano glass.

‘So where is he?’ Gustav has reached her side of the room and stands over the big chair, the gas flames licking greedily at his legs.

‘My little puppet?’ Margot waggles her fingers like a clown. ‘I couldn’t care less.’

Everything about her, the white face, the red slash of lipstick, the cruel amusement, the ironic musical backing track, is reminiscent of The Joker. Neither Gustav nor I can speak.

‘He’s served his purpose. Six years ago he helped me humiliate you, Gustav, and now he’s helped me again.’ Margot’s eyes slither in my direction but fix on the golden locket, not my face. ‘All it took was a call from me supposedly out of the blue last autumn, when I heard this ginger-haired tramp was worming her way into your life and into your wallet. He was shocked and pretty hostile at first. We’d both abandoned him, after all. But once I applied the soft pedal and promised that I was a changed woman, that it wasn’t him I wanted, that I was simply heartbroken after six years without you, Gusty, he was ready to listen. He told me he was leading a normal life, chasing normal women, but that’s pure bravado. It was only a matter of time before he was crawling between my legs for an encore. Anyway, the breakthrough was when I told him I knew where to find you. He admitted he missed you desperately but hadn’t the bottle to start searching, and that was my cue. I convinced him that this little tart was in the way and he would never get close to you without my help.’

Every word sounds as if she’s spitting pips.

‘How did this work?’ demands Gustav. ‘The mechanics of it, I mean?’

I stare at him. ‘Don’t give her the oxygen, Gustav!’

She cuts through me. ‘Night and day I’ve been texting Pierre. The bird on his shoulder. The voice in his ear. I had to keep reminding him whose idea it was to broker this reconciliation; I had to keep him on your tail. I was his prompt, suggesting what to do and say. Right through Christmas. Even on New Year’s Eve, when he was in your apartment. Those initial bitter exchanges between the two of you came mostly from him, I might add. His way of saving face, I suppose. He was desperate to get close to you again, but making amends doesn’t come easily to him. He had to air his own myriad grievances before you could be brothers again. I’d forgotten how petulant he could be. All I wanted was for him to get rid of her, but oh dear. Look. She’s still here. The bare-legged waif and stray. ’

She stops. There’s a pause between music tracks, no sound except the hiss of the gas fire. I want Gustav to look at me, but his eyes are fixed on Margot.

She points the feather at me, but her eyes are on him.

‘Six years is long enough without you, Gusty. The idea was for Pierre to get back in touch with you, pave the way, deal with this thorn in the flesh, and then I would step in. He could be part of our future or not, whatever he chose.’

‘So you and Pierre are not together?’

‘We never really were. Not six years ago. Not now. You’re the only one for me, Gustav. Oh, I promised him some sexy fun when I contacted him again, so long as he played ball the way I wanted it, but that only worked the first couple of times. Enough to reel him in, but he was faltering almost from the start. He wasn’t even grateful that I’d helped him find you. It proved quite traumatic seeing you again and he went on the offensive. That aggression, those fights! He could have blown the reconciliation completely. Then it came together too quickly, and this redhead runt – she’s different from the others. He wanted her. I told him he had to keep his prick in his pants, at least until I’d got you safely back, Gusty, so Pierre came up with the rather brilliant idea, at least in theory, of wheeling his randy friend Tomas into the mix to deflect any mischief away from himself.’

She pauses, separating the strands of the feather with a long fingernail while the words sink in.

‘Tomas?’ repeats Gustav, making the connection just as I fear he will. ‘I know that name. Serena? Who is he?’

‘No one important.’ I feel myself blushing scarlet but there’s no way out of this one. ‘Tomas is the guy who – he’s the guy you saw at the Club Crème. Who participated in that stupid striptease I did after I’d photographed the stags’ night. Then he went and told Pierre all about it.’

Tomas, who had come on to me back at Pierre’s Halloween party. Whom I rejected. And now I know why Pierre and Polly kept going on about him at New Year, suggesting he join us in a foursome when Gustav’s flight home from Lugano was delayed.

I swallow and glance up. Gustav doesn’t seem to be listening. He is watching Margot as if she’s a praying mantis.

‘That’s the one. Cute. Blonde curls. He carried out his first task at the Club Crème willingly enough. It could have worked, except Pierre was too jealous and told Tomas he wasn’t needed any more.’ Margot sighs. ‘Your brother was no good. He kept stalling. He became agitated around this little tramp, so I had to keep him sweet in my own inimitable way. I’ve still got it, Gusty. I was thinking of you the whole time he was in my bed. You remember my bondage trick with the blindfold and the horsewhip? But even while I was pleasuring him, he was harping on and on about how he liked your little tart. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He felt bad about what he was doing. You and she were the real deal, he said!’

‘And so we are,’ says Gustav in a very low voice. ‘Pierre’s absolutely right.’

‘Touching. Nauseatingly so,’ Margot mocks. ‘But where the brotherly love thing gets so biblical and amusing is that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He liked your little redhead way too much. So you see, however close you boys become, a woman will always drive a wedge. Women are Pierre Levi’s drug. His downfall. The more verboten she is the better. A lesson learned at my knee, of course. That’s why on New Year’s Eve he came rushing over here from your happy little reunion at the apartment, telling me he wasn’t happy with the plan, or indeed with me for dreaming it up, but then within ten minutes he was tied to the bed next door with his bottom in the air. He just can’t say no.’

‘Even so. He knew where his loyalties lay. Your plan didn’t work, Margot. Nothing will work.’ Gustav snorts. ‘You can stir that cauldron all you like. But it’s a total waste of time.’

‘I was beginning to think I would have to bring down the house of cards myself, certainly. And then what do you know? Paranoid Polly comes up with those photographs!’ Margot claps her hands gleefully, making me jump. ‘Hilarious! You all started falling out. I couldn’t have planned it better myself! I was poised to strike, and then he—’

‘You’re boring me now. I don’t want to hear about your warped thinking. Pierre isn’t answering his phone.’ Gustav clenches his fists. ‘What have you done with him?’

‘Look at me, Gusty. Look. At. Me.’ Margot licks her finger and runs it over her painted eyebrow. ‘He’s a grown man who regularly works out. You really think a petite creature like me could hurt him?’