Behaving Badly Part 31

'Maybe I could get something in Brides magazine,' she mused. 'Or even Harpers and Queen. By the way, what's the name of that chap you mentioned, at the Independent on Sunday?'

'Tim...hang on.' I groped for his card in my desk drawer. 'Tim Charlton. He's working on the diary but he'll point you in the right direction for feature coverage.' I heard her scribble it down.

'And the other thing I thought of, on the wedding front, is that Daisy might want to borrow Carlos for the big day. He'd make the most perfect usher. Tell her he'll stand outside the church before the service and after, with a garland of flowers round his neck, looking very sweet and nuptial. What do you think of that?'

'Well, it could look lovely, especially as he's white, but-' I felt a sudden breeze on the back of my legs as the door was pushed open, '-Daisy's probably getting married in December, Mum.' I turned and saw Marcus standing there with Twiglet, and waved at them. 'Yes, that's right. So if it's wet, Carlos might end up looking less than pristine. But I'll tell her you suggested it, okay? Anyway, I can't chat now, my puppy party's starting... Yes, all right...hmm... I'll speak to you soon.'

'Sorry about that,' I said to Marcus. He was looking at me in a slightly odd way. 'Are you okay?' I said to him.

'Er, yes. I'm...fine. I'm er...sorry... I didn't mean to eavesdrop just now, but it was difficult not to overhear. Did I...did I hear you say that, erm... Daisy's getting married?'

'Yes. She's just got engaged.'

He nodded slowly, as though he found the news disconcerting, somehow. 'Oh. She didn't tell me that.'

'Well, she didn't know last Thursday,' I explained. 'It only happened on Sat.u.r.day so she wouldn't have had a chance to mention it yet.'

'On Sat.u.r.day?' he repeated.

'Yes.' His face expressed a mixture of puzzlement and disappointment. 'So she got engaged on Sat.u.r.day?'

'Hmm. Sat.u.r.day night.'

'To, er, Nigel?'

'That's...right. She obviously mentioned him to you.'

'Yes...she did.'

'Anyway, I'm sure she'll tell you herself at the self-defence cla.s.s. Speaking of which, I won't be coming along again tomorrow, if you don't mind. I'm sorry, but I feel it's a bit silly for me to do the last one when I haven't done the first three. Perhaps you'll do another course,' I went on as I put down the water bowl.

'Yes,' he said absently. 'Maybe. I mean, probably.'

'I'll come to the next one, then. Daisy says the cla.s.ses are wonderful.'

'Really?' he said.

'Oh yes-she's absolutely adored them.'

This seemed to cheer him momentarily. 'Well...just let me know.'

Then Lily swept in, and Sue and Lola, and by ten past seven we were pa.s.sing the puppies as usual.

'-It's not quite so easy now, is it?'

'-No, they've really grown.'

'-Bentley's doubled in size.'

'-And Roxy's quite a little porker-aren't you, darling?'

'-Don't worry-it's just puppy fat.'

'You've been a wonderful group,' I said at the end. 'I'll miss seeing you here on Wednesday evenings.'

'Well, we'll miss coming,' said Phyllis. 'I know Maisie will be very sad, but she's got to go to big school now, haven't you, Maisie?'

'Yes, they've all got to go to big school,' everyone said.

'That's right. But we'll have Puppy Olympics on Primrose Hill for them after Christmas, so we'll all catch up again then. But please do knock on the door, any time you're round here.'

'See you, Marcus,' I said as he put Twiglet's lead on. 'Well, I probably will see you, won't I?'

He looked at me non-comprehendingly. 'Will you?'

'Yes. Because of your...girlfriend. I'm sure I'll b.u.mp into you again round here.'

'Oh. Yes...' he said vaguely. 'That's right.'

Later that night I phoned Daisy and gave her my mother's message about the llama hen party.

'Marcus was a bit strange this evening,' I added.

'In what...way?'

'Well, he overheard me talking to Mum about your wedding, and he was quite...funny about it actually.'

There was an odd little silence. 'Was he?' she whispered.

'I do like him, but I thought that was odd.'

'Miranda...?'

'Yes.'

'Miranda? I know you're very distracted at the moment, but do you remember when we were talking in my garden about a month ago?'

'Yes.'

'Well, there was something you said to me then which I've been thinking about recently; I've been thinking about it quite a lot actually; I just can't get it out of my head... Oh, sorry, Nigel's just arriving. Can't talk. I'll ring you tomorrow.'

But she didn't. She didn't call me after the self-defence cla.s.s either. And then Friday came and I still hadn't heard. I left a message for her, then packed my weekend bag, my stomach churning and lurching like a tumble-dryer. David was to pick me up at six. By ten past I was beginning to feel slightly anxious. At six fifteen, he phoned.

'This is a real drag,' he said. My heart sank and I braced myself. The weekend was cancelled. 'But I can't get my car to start. I've got the horrible feeling it's something electrical. We couldn't go in yours, could we?'

I laughed. 'Of course we can.'

'Great, I'll be with you by seven.'

He turned up at ten past, grinning broadly, and enveloped me in a huge hug. 'Mir-an-da,' he said, drawing out the vowels. 'I love that name. Mir-an-da.' He kissed me, then rocked me in his arms. 'I'm so glad you're coming. We're going to have a great weekend.' Yes-except for the last bit. He peered at me. 'Hey, don't look so sad.'

'I'm not sad, David.' I'm just terribly worried.

He picked up my bag. 'Come on.'

We headed south, David driving, through Vauxhall, Battersea and Putney, then down the A3. Then we saw the signs to Petworth and Pulborough.

'We'll be there just in time for dinner.'

'And what's the hotel like?' I asked as we saw a sign to Amberley.

'Well...it's a bit old-fashioned.'

'That's okay.' I had visions of a Lutyens-style country house, with mullioned windows and faded chintz. 'I like old-fashioned things.'

'Good, because it's very old-fashioned, actually.'

'Is it?'

'Hmm. Extremely.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well-look.'

I stared. Ahead of us now were two crenellated towers flanking a huge portcullis. 'It's a castle?'

'It is. Amberley Castle. It's really a fortified manor-but the battlements are huge.'

Now we were turning in. 'It's amazing.'

'They still lower the portcullis every night.'

'And how old is it?'

'Nine hundred years.' An enormous, striped lawn swept up to the main entrance. On the right was a lake on which, in the deepening dusk, we could make out a pair of black swans.

We parked, took Herman for a short walk, then went through the circular courtyard into the hotel reception, where there were two suits of armour and a display of lethal-looking pikes.

'You're in Arundel, Mr White,' said the concierge, handing him the key, 'and Miss Sweet is next door in Amberley. What time would you like dinner?'

David looked at me. I shrugged. 'In half an hour?'

'Nine thirty? Very good.'

We followed the concierge up the wide wooden staircase, at the top of which were a pair of bra.s.s cannons. The bedroom doors were like church doors, and, as the concierge pushed mine open, I felt my eyes widen. Inside was a huge, mahogany four-poster bed, canopied and curtained in maroon velvet.

David let out a low whistle. 'Very nice,' he said as he put down my bag. He peered into the bathroom. 'Hey, you've got a Jacuzzi here. The lap of luxury,' he added. 'Not that you deserve anything less.'

David's room, next door, was similar, with a huge bed with barley-twist posts, but furnished in duck-egg blue. 'I'm going to have a quick bath-as this is a clean weekend,' he announced. 'I'll knock on your door in twenty minutes.'

As I unpacked my bag, I felt relieved that I'd brought my smartest things. I ran a brush through my hair, put on my white linen dress, with a lilac cashmere cardigan, then tipped a little Femme onto my wrists.

At nine twenty-five David knocked on the door. His hair was still wet and he looked gorgeous in his green linen suit and white tee shirt, and he smelt of bubble bath.

'Very nice,' he said appreciatively as he stepped inside. He glanced at the table by the window. 'Hey-you've got a chess set. Shall we play after dinner?'

'Okay.'

We went across the landing to the restaurant in the Queens Room. 'The receptionist must have been a bit surprised by us,' he whispered, as we were shown to our table by the huge stone fireplace. An attractive couple arrive together, but sleep in separate rooms. I shouldn't think that happens very often.'

'I don't suppose many of the other guests would believe it,' I whispered as I glanced at the barrelled ceiling.

'Shall we ask them?'

'No.'

'Champagne, Miss Behaviour?'

'That would be wonderful.' As I studied the menu, I flinched. 'David, is your client really picking up the bill for this?' I said softly.

'I'm sorry,' he replied. 'My hearing's not great this evening. I think I've still got water in my ears.'

'I just hope this isn't all on your tab?'

'I didn't catch that.'

'Please will you let me get dinner?'

'I haven't a clue what you're saying. It's hopeless.'

'It's lovely here,' I said. 'Thank you for bringing me.'

'Thanks for coming,' he said. 'You didn't have to.'

'I wanted to.'

'Did you?'

I smiled. 'Oh yes.'

After dinner, feeling replete and slightly tipsy, we walked round the grounds with Herman. The moon was so bright that we could see our shadows.

'This is bliss,' I said, as we gazed at the ruined battlements silhouetted against the navy sky. We walked down to the lake, watching the moonlight glinting on the water. Then we returned to my room, and played chess.

'I'll play white,' said David.

'Of course.'