Mullions and the missing multimillionaire. Locating one had sounded so simple after a bottle of wine on an empty stomach. In the cold light of day, it had presented certain logistical difficulties. Thumbing through her address book, Jane realised she didn't know a thousandaire, let alone a millionaire. The nearest she could manage was Amanda, an old friend from Cambridge who had married a merchant banker and swapped bedsit life for six-bedroomed, domestically-aided splendour in Hampstead. Jane wondered if she should get in touch.
The telephone rang again. Jane dashed to answer it. Had Nick changed his mind?
'Hi there,' said Tally mournfully.
'I've just been thinking about you,' said Jane, hoping she didn't sound too disappointed.
'Probably because Mullions has become one huge psychic energy transmitter since Mummy's come back,' said Tally grumpily. 'As I speak, my mother's making ritual fire towards the waxing moon and Big Horn is ceremonially constructing a mercurial harp in the paddock.'
A what?'
'You don't want to know. Suffice to say, it is based on the ground plan of Stonehenge and the geometry of the magic square of Mercury. And, to top it all, quite literally, is a stone from the ancient Cheesewring site in Cornwall.'
'No!' said Jane.
'Oh yes. Apparently it is meant to bring harmony and peace to the house, but I can assure you that from where
54
I, Mr Peters and Mrs Ormondroyd are standing, it's war. Damn!'
'What was that?' asked Jane.
'I'd better go. Billiard room door's just fallen off.' Moral support wasn't the only kind Tally needed at the moment.
She could do with a boost herself, come to that. Nick's no show had hardly got the evening off to a flying start.
Wandering into the tiny sitting room, Jane stared at the candles on the table guttering in the breeze which swept under the door. The carefully wrapped little welcome home present (a pair of cuff-links) lying on Nick's plate suddenly looked pathetic. The polished wine glasses, shining in the candlelight, stood ready for the bottle of champagne and the bottle of Pouilly-Something she'd dithered over for ages at Safeway's, unable to decide between Fume' or Fuiss^.
Pouring herself a stiff gin and tonic, Jane decided to spend the evening lying on the couch with an old bonk-buster. After all, snuggling up with Jilly Cooper was probably the nearest she was going to get to a sex life for the moment.
Ten minutes later, lost in the adventures of a raunchy TV executive and her well-heeled brute of a lover, Jane was suddenly brought down to earth. By something on her ceiling. She sat up and listened. A series of loud clatters from the flat above made her wince. All hell seemed to be breaking loose. It sounded as if Tom was playing Twister with a herd of elephants in platform shoes.
Jane tried to concentrate on her book. The TV executive and the brute were now indulging in some steamy bedroom scenes. She followed the bumping and grinding avidly, vicariously. The banging on the ceiling kept pace, a faint thump of music accompanying it.
55
Jane gripped Jilly hard by the spine and glared at the words. Five seconds later, she flung Mrs Cooper to the floor in despair, flew out of the door and up the stairs and banged her fists on Tom's door.
The door opened to reveal Tom naked from the waist up and rather red in the face.
'Hi, there,' he grinned, shoving back a clump of hair from his glowing forehead. Something around Jane's lower pelvis ignited like a gas stove at the flash of armpit revealed as he did so.
'Hi,' said Jane, shifting from foot to foot. 'Er, you're making quite a lot of noise, actually, and
'Am I? God, sorry. I'm just packing up a few things. I'm moving out, you see.'
'Moving out?' Jane looked up at him as he filled the doorway. His smooth, tanned torso suddenly struck her as eminently lickable.
'Yes. I'm going to New York. Tomorrow, in fact. So you won't have any more noise problems. I've just finished in any case.'
'Oh. Right.' Jane
The telephone rang again. Jane dashed to answer it. Had Nick changed his mind?
'Hi there,' said Tally mournfully.
'I've just been thinking about you,' said Jane, hoping she didn't sound too disappointed.
'Probably because Mullions has become one huge psychic energy transmitter since Mummy's come back,' said Tally grumpily. 'As I speak, my mother's making ritual fire towards the waxing moon and Big Horn is ceremonially constructing a mercurial harp in the paddock.'
A what?'
'You don't want to know. Suffice to say, it is based on the ground plan of Stonehenge and the geometry of the magic square of Mercury. And, to top it all, quite literally, is a stone from the ancient Cheesewring site in Cornwall.'
'No!' said Jane.
'Oh yes. Apparently it is meant to bring harmony and peace to the house, but I can assure you that from where
54
I, Mr Peters and Mrs Ormondroyd are standing, it's war. Damn!'
'What was that?' asked Jane.
'I'd better go. Billiard room door's just fallen off.' Moral support wasn't the only kind Tally needed at the moment.
She could do with a boost herself, come to that. Nick's no show had hardly got the evening off to a flying start.
Wandering into the tiny sitting room, Jane stared at the candles on the table guttering in the breeze which swept under the door. The carefully wrapped little welcome home present (a pair of cuff-links) lying on Nick's plate suddenly looked pathetic. The polished wine glasses, shining in the candlelight, stood ready for the bottle of champagne and the bottle of Pouilly-Something she'd dithered over for ages at Safeway's, unable to decide between Fume' or Fuiss^.
Pouring herself a stiff gin and tonic, Jane decided to spend the evening lying on the couch with an old bonk-buster. After all, snuggling up with Jilly Cooper was probably the nearest she was going to get to a sex life for the moment.
Ten minutes later, lost in the adventures of a raunchy TV executive and her well-heeled brute of a lover, Jane was suddenly brought down to earth. By something on her ceiling. She sat up and listened. A series of loud clatters from the flat above made her wince. All hell seemed to be breaking loose. It sounded as if Tom was playing Twister with a herd of elephants in platform shoes.
Jane tried to concentrate on her book. The TV executive and the brute were now indulging in some steamy bedroom scenes. She followed the bumping and grinding avidly, vicariously. The banging on the ceiling kept pace, a faint thump of music accompanying it.
55
Jane gripped Jilly hard by the spine and glared at the words. Five seconds later, she flung Mrs Cooper to the floor in despair, flew out of the door and up the stairs and banged her fists on Tom's door.
The door opened to reveal Tom naked from the waist up and rather red in the face.
'Hi, there,' he grinned, shoving back a clump of hair from his glowing forehead. Something around Jane's lower pelvis ignited like a gas stove at the flash of armpit revealed as he did so.
'Hi,' said Jane, shifting from foot to foot. 'Er, you're making quite a lot of noise, actually, and
'Am I? God, sorry. I'm just packing up a few things. I'm moving out, you see.'
'Moving out?' Jane looked up at him as he filled the doorway. His smooth, tanned torso suddenly struck her as eminently lickable.
'Yes. I'm going to New York. Tomorrow, in fact. So you won't have any more noise problems. I've just finished in any case.'
'Oh. Right.' Jane
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