After the post match interviews, we turn off thetvand look at each other. Or rather, I look at Lance, Campbell and Bowen, in an attempt to buy some time. I know, it’s time for me to get going as I’m the intruder here. However, to be honest, I’ve felt more at home in a bare sitting room with the servants for these ninety minutes than for the whole day in the luxurious rooms of the mansion.
“I… had better…” I start saying.
“If you allow me, I will accompany you to your apartments, My Lady.” Lance proposes.
“Um, okay, but Lance, since we watched a football match and drank beer together, why don’t you just call me Jemma?”
“The protocol doesn’t allow that.”
“It makes me feel uncomfortable,” I admit.
“You will get used to it,” he replies, understandingly, then he opens the door and invites me to follow him.
I say goodnight to Campbell and Bowen and follow Lance, who leads me through the corridors.
Denby Hall is immersed in silence and shadow; the long hallways are lit by the soft lights of wall candelabra, which were probably used to hold candles in the past, but now have elaborate sprout shaped light bulbs.
Lance walks in front of me with long silent steps, which make me feel too noisy, so I decide to take off my high heeled shoes and walk barefoot on the cold marble floor.
“Cheers for your company, Lance. I enjoyed the match much more. I’m used to going to the stadium and being in the front row with many other fans. I just have to apologise for invading your space. It’s ridiculous that you’re the only ones with atv!”
“It was not at all an invasion. It was a pleasure for me, and I believe it was the same for Campbell and Bowen. You’re welcome to join us whenever you like.”
“Then sign me up for all the next Premier League and Champions League matches!”
“I will be happy to reserve the best seat for you, and Bowen will bring the beer. Is Guinness to your liking or do you have other preferences?”
“Guinness will do just fine,” I say, sinking onto my bed, feeling a flicker of life for the first time in the whole day.
“Well, I bid you goodnight, Your Grace.”
“Goodnight Lance, see you tomorrow.”
He closes the door, then opens it again and says: “One last thing. I’ll show you a secret,” then he presses a switch near the bedside table. With a long whirring sound, atvas big as a whole museum wall appears from behind a chest of drawers.
14
Ashford’s Version
I came home on the sly, like Arsène Lupin.
Why? Because my clothes are still wet after my lovely dip in the Thames. The stench of sewage is so unbearable that I had to take off my trousers in order not to get my car seat dirty while driving back to Denby.
I take a damask tablecloth from an occasional table and wrap it around myself.
I’m not very manly with this salmon coloured silk cloth around my hips – I look rather like Mata Hari on duty – but I’m not going to show myself with my butt naked and lose the last tiny bit of authority I have in this house.
If Harring hadn’t been my best friend since college, I would have beaten the shit out of him for tonight. But he’s also the only person in this grim world who’s able to make me laugh, even at the wrong moments. Yes, Harring’s best performances are tasteless jokes at royal receptions, Masses or funerals, and he’s always very careful to raise his voice so that everyone hears him. Each of us has his role: I’m the one with self-control and decorum.
The truth is that he was upset when he learned of my marriage; we had a sort of tacit agreement that we would never get married, or that it would happen as late as possible. He probably sees it as back stabbing. Even though I’m not as wild and randy as he is, I can say that we’ve always been ‘partners in crime’. But now, our escapades are over, that’s why he particularly enjoyed throwing me in the river.
Back at the club, once we were alone, I tried very hard to convince him that I’m still the Ash he knows.
“So… you’re deserting me on the path of the eternal bachelor.”
“Don’t make me feel guilty, you’ll be fine…”
“I’m not talking about me. I’m sorry for you. Thirty years old, and you’ve tied the knot already! Don’t even think about asking me for moral support. I did warn you, some time ago.” Harring knows how to conceal his disappointment behind a comic mask.
