Jump.

'Get on with you.' Tilda nudged him in the ribs, spilling wine all over the notebook in which he was trying to write about Mrs Wilkinson. She didn't seem at all upset that s.h.a.gger and Toby were shooting and would only make the theatre.

Valent took a can of beer and another anthology and wandered up the bus.

'Good poem for you here, Alban,' he said.

'Lord Lilac thought it rather rotten That Shakespeare should be quite forgotten, And therefore got on a committee With several chaps out of the city.'

'Good G.o.d,' exclaimed Alban. 'Who wrote that?'

'Chesterton in nineteen thirty-three. Nothing changes.'

'Brilliant. Let's have a government inquiry into whether Shakespeare is remembered enough.' Alban adored Valent.

Only Trixie seemed in low spirits as she gazed constantly at her mobile, waiting for messages, snapping at Etta and even Valent when they asked if she was OK.

The general high spirits increased at Warwick where Mrs Wilkinson proceeded to demonstrate that Cheltenham hadn't been a flash in the pan, trundling through torrential rain and a sea of mud to win her novice chase by six lengths. After monkeyish antics at the start in the next race, Furious then carted Rafiq, once again picking off all the other runners and winning by a length.

Count Romeo, despite loathing rain, kept his handsome face dry and mud-free in his red blinkers and came a close second. History Painting won the big race of the afternoon, completing a dazzling day for Throstledown. Marius's euphoria was intensified when Olivia, pa.s.sing him on the way to the winners enclosure, smiled and said, 'Congratulations.'

This triggered off a blazing row between Olivia and Shade, who later, b.u.mping into Amber, asked her when she was going to have dinner with him.

'When you put me up on one of your horses.'

'It's a deal,' purred Shade. 'A ride for a ride. Call me.'

The only sad note was that one of Harvey-Holden's mares, House Price, had a dreadful fall. They had to leave without hearing what had happened to her.

So off the syndicate set to Stratford, half cut and in manic mood. Having finished reading Antony and Cleopatra, Antony and Cleopatra, Valent sat at the back with his BlackBerry, reflecting that emails were easier to deal with than females. Had Bonny thrown a hissy fit over the visit to the snowdrop garden to give herself an excuse to duck out of the races and slope off to somewhere else in the Stratford area? Corinna always insisted on sleeping for a couple of hours before a performance, which would free up Seth. Valent sat at the back with his BlackBerry, reflecting that emails were easier to deal with than females. Had Bonny thrown a hissy fit over the visit to the snowdrop garden to give herself an excuse to duck out of the races and slope off to somewhere else in the Stratford area? Corinna always insisted on sleeping for a couple of hours before a performance, which would free up Seth.

Valent used enough private detectives to spy on other companies, but refused to let them loose on Bonny because he felt it was dishonourable and he didn't want to get hurt.

Down the bus, Niall, amid the laughter and the c.h.i.n.k of gla.s.ses, was wrestling with tomorrow's sermon, based on the contemporary relevance of miracles. The gospel for the day included the miracle of Jesus calming the winds and waves when a storm threatened to overturn the boat which was carrying him and his terrified disciples.

'Why are ye fearful?' Jesus had then demanded. 'Oh ye of little faith.'

Since the gloriously golden Woody had graced his life, Niall believed in miracles, but there was no way to calm the storm if their love affair became public. Tonight he must lay off the drink, as it always took the brake off his inhibitions.

91.

The rain was rattling the bus windows like Wilkie's hooves and ebony clouds blotted out any sunset glow as they arrived at the appropriately named Tempest Inn, which was mock-Tudor with low beams and rooms named after characters in the play. The first night party would be held later in the Prospero Suite. Etta found herself in 'Miranda', an embarra.s.singly lovely room with pale lilac walls, a huge four-poster and a charming watercolour above the fireplace showing Ferdinand and Miranda declaring their love: 'Here's my hand.'

'And mine with my heart in't.'

Etta was so thrilled about Wilkie and Furious's wins and buoyed up by champagne, she refused to worry about how she was going to pay for it.

Miss Painswick was in 'Trinculo' next door and the Major and Debbie in 'Gonzalo, an honest old counsellor', beyond that. Seth and Corinna, who'd already gone to the theatre, were in 'Ferdinand' beyond that.

'We're in "Stephano",' said Toby, coming out into the corridor. 'Who was he?'

'A drunken butler,' said Alan, 'which figures. Go and get us a drink.'

'Our bed isn't nearly as big as Etta's,' grumbled Phoebe, 'and there are two of us. Shall we see if she'll swap?'

'The vicar's in "Ariel",' said Miss Painswick.

'Who was an irritating little fairy, which figures too,' said s.h.a.gger b.i.t.c.hily.

'Watch it,' hissed Woody.

'Where the bee sucks/There suck I,' sang Alan.

Bonny was in 'Caliban'.

'Two monsters together,' said Trixie bitterly.

Etta for once was delighted by her appearance in a slinky black skirt and a beautiful white frilled s.h.i.+rt given her by Trixie and Dora for Christmas. She had

She wished they could have come to the party instead of having to drive the horses home. At least the journey seemed shorter when you had winners on board, and she was so pleased that the two of them appeared to be growing closer.

Everyone had in fact dressed up like mad and, while admiring the vast photos of Seth and Corinna in the foyer of the Royal Shakespeare, excitedly told each other how good they looked, particularly Trixie, dark hair rioting over a fuchsia-pink jacket, tight black satin trousers above pink stilettos.

Then Bonny swanned in with Valent, slim as a wand in another little bleak dress which set off Valent's diamonds, and upstaged everyone. Immediately the theatre audience recognized her and, nudging and squealing like Mrs Wilkinson, thrust their programmes forward to be signed.

'Oh Lord, there's the Bishop of Larkminster, I should have worn a dog collar,' muttered Niall.

Inside, the auditorium was absolutely packed. Although the Major nearly had cracked ribs from being nudged awake by Debbie, for nodding off whenever Corinna wasn't on stage, and Poc.o.c.k and Joey, who'd been up since five, kept falling asleep, and Phoebe, the Little No Brow, kept tugging Etta's arm 'What's going on? Who's he?' the rest of the syndicate enjoyed an awesome performance.

Corinna, in gleaming gold robes, was magnificently commanding, capricious and beguiling as Cleopatra.

'Is that really our neighbour? Isn't she wonderful?' Tilda whispered to Alan.

Seth, on the other hand, made an unbelievably s.e.xy Antony, prowling around, slit eyes smouldering, as they both set the stage on fire with their pa.s.sion. Etta felt her crush reignite. There couldn't be a woman who didn't want to clamber on to the stage and rip off his toga.

All the syndicate cheered in the scene when Cleopatra cried: 'Oh happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!' and Seth, his armour gleaming, could be seen on a back projection riding along on Mrs Wilkinson.

Alan was incredibly proud of his mate.

'Isn't he marvellous?' he whispered to Tilda as he rubbed one hidden hand up and down her slender legs and pretended to make notes with the other. Glancing down the row, he could see Bonny, Trixie, Phoebe, Painswick, Debbie, even Woody and Niall, gazing up enraptured at an oiled, bare-chested, bearded Seth. Etta, having heard his lines, was mouthing every wonderful word along with him.

Valent, a compet.i.tive man, noticed this too, and sat wild with envy and jealousy, thinking wistfully that he could never compete with Seth.

'Don't look, Vicar,' cried Painswick, putting her hands over Niall's eyes, when, on a darkened stage, a naked Seth and Corinna could be glimpsed copulating.

'She hasn't shaved,' hissed Debbie.

'Don't interrupt,' snapped the Major, his racing binoculars registering every pubic hair.

'Oh happy wh.o.r.e to bear the weight of Antony,' quipped Alan.

More champagne in the interval kept everyone going.

'Isn't it fantastic?' sighed Etta.

'Jolly good,' agreed Alban. 'Pretty strong stuff. Egyptian women don't behave like that now, more's the pity. Must say, despite the rows, you can see Seth and Corinna still, well, still...'

'Fancy each other rotten. I agree, Albie,' said Joey, who was euphoric after huge wins that afternoon.

'I don't agree with you,' said Bonny sharply. 'Seth just happens to be a very very good, underrated actor. He's so natural, he engages with the audience. Corinna over-dramatizes everything and she's much too old to take her clothes off.' good, underrated actor. He's so natural, he engages with the audience. Corinna over-dramatizes everything and she's much too old to take her clothes off.'

'Cindy said the same about you,' snapped Trixie and regretted it as Bonny turned on her: 'And what does that mean?'

'When Lester suggested you play G.o.diva.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Trix,' said Alan hastily. 'Everyone knows Bonny has the most beautiful body in Larks.h.i.+re.'

'England, Europe, the World, Outer s.p.a.ce,' intoned Trixie.

'Oh look, there's Quentin Letts,' cried Etta.

'Where, where?' said an excited Bonny, temporarily distracted as the five-minute bell called them back.

Where's Valent? wondered a worried Etta, looking at the empty seat at the end of the row.

'O, withered is the garland of the war,/The soldier's pole is fallen...' Corinna's whisper of infinite sadness could be heard round the entire theatre, 'And there is nothing left remarkable/Beneath the visiting moon.'

The play's end was so tragic that it took the syndicate a little time to get back into carnival mood.

92.

Back at the Tempest Inn, the Prospero Suite turned out to have a mural of great black storm clouds, flas.h.i.+ng lightning zipping out of purple waves and mariners being tossed on to the palest apple-green island, on which Miranda and Ferdinand wandered hand in hand, Caliban sulked in the bushes and Prospero could be seen drowning his book.

'Wish I could afford to drown mine,' grumbled Alan.

Tables were grouped around a little dance floor with a disco alternating between golden oldies and the latest pop music in the corner.

'One would expect viols and lutes,' said the Major pompously.

The behaviour of the syndicate, however, grew more like that of Stephano and Trinculo, the play's drunkards, as they tucked into flagons of booze and piles of Shakespearean food: boar's heads, sucking pigs, and mountains of figs and grapes.

'Why no roast swan?' asked Alan.

Cheers greeted the arrival of Seth and Corinna.

'O eastern star!' cried the Major, kissing her hand.

'The lighting was awesome,' Bonny told her, 'you didn't look a day over fifty-five, Corinna. And weren't the sets marvellous? What a good supporting cast and you must be so proud of Seth.'

Unable to come down to earth at once, Etta escaped to her lovely room to tart up.

'I have immortal longings in me,' she sighed.

The play had been so wonderful, but the best part of the day had been Valent hugging her after Wilkie won and his tucking her trousers into her gumboots and feeling his big strong hands on her legs. She hoped they'd have a dance later. She was sure he'd be a terrific dancer, he'd spent enough time dancing round the goal mouth.

She was worried, however, by the way Bonny was leaping to Seth's defence. She hoped Valent wouldn't be hurt and things wouldn't get out of hand. Going downstairs she found a note in her pigeon hole.

'Dear Etta, Sorry, had to fly off to the States to sort out some crisis. Have a good evening, Valent,' and felt winded by a huge charging bullock of disappointment. Turning, she found Seth talking to a boot-faced Bonny.

'Whatever's the matter?'

'Valent's pushed off to the States. The Yanks are kicking up because he's refusing to have his miracle teething gel tested on baby chimps.'

'Quite right,' said Etta warmly.

'For the sake of a few monkeys,' spat Bonny.

'Let's have one other gaudy night,' mocked Seth, linking arms with them both, 'and fill our bowls once more and mock the midnight bell.'

Having acted her heart out, taken a dozen curtain calls and been sought out in her dressing room by the great French director Tristan de Montigny, who was mad about her Phedre, Corinna wasn't up to another gaudy night and retired to bed after about an hour.

Seth, aware she was an infinitely greater actor than he, psychologically wanted to flaunt his pulling power and decided to play Trixie and Bonny off against each other.

Punis.h.i.+ng Trixie for her initial indifference, gradually over the last months he had reeled her in, all over her one moment, pulling up the drawbridge the next, not ringing her for a fort-night, reducing her to desperate uncertainty. Tonight she'd drop into his hand like a ripe fig.

'Such a sad ending,' Miss Painswick was saying to Poc.o.c.k. 'At least Antony and Cleopatra are together in heaven.'

'Not sure they'd go to heaven,' chuntered Debbie.

'Did you know, in Shakespeare's day, Cleopatra would have been played by a boy in his late teens,' said Tilda.

'Dora's boyfriend Paris would be perfect for it,' said Trixie.

'What bliss,' Niall murmured to Woody.

'Drink up,' said Seth, filling their gla.s.ses.

Joey had put his woolly hat on Shakespeare's bust and tucked in his gold pen. He longed to ring Chrissie, but the Fox was laying off staff and she'd be serving in the bar. Pity they weren't celebrating there where they needed the custom.