Octavia Read online

  Octavia

  Jilly Cooper

  As soon as Octavia caught a glimpse of Jeremy in the nightclub, she knew she just had to have him. It didn’t matter that he was engaged to an old school friend of hers, Gussie. An invitation to join them on a cozy weekend is the perfect opportunity. But the the whizz-kid business tycoon Gareth Llewellyn come along too and manages to thwart her plans…

  Jilly Cooper

  OCTAVIA

  For Emma Renton

  with Love

  Author’s Note

  The idea for OCTAVIA first came to me in 1968. I wrote it as a long short story called OCTOBER BRENNEN and it appeared in serial form in Petticoat. I then took the story and completely rewrote it, and the result is OCTAVIA.

  Chapter One

  The moment I set eyes on Jeremy West I knew I had to have him. I was sitting in Arabella’s, watching a crowd of debs and other phonies undulating round the floor and thinking they were dancing, when suddenly the bamboo curtain was pushed aside and a blond man walked in and stood looking around for a waitress.

  Even in the gloom with which Arabella’s conceals its decor I could see that he had class — tall and lean, with one of those beautiful high cheek-boned faces with long, dreamy eyes like Rudolph Nureyev.

  As the waitress came up to him, I watched to see if he’d leer down her exposed jacked-up bosom. He didn’t. She led him to a table next but one to ours. He was obviously waiting for someone. Then a plump girl came through the bamboo curtains and stood blinking round with short-sighted eyes. He stood up and waved to her, and her face broke into a smile that was faintly familiar. Then I recognized her. It was Gussie Forbes; we’d been at school together. How on earth had she managed to land a havoc-maker like that?

  ‘Look,’ I said, nudging Charlie. ‘That’s Gussie Forbes, we were at school together.’

  Charlie peered over his very dark glasses, which he only wears to emphasize his Mafia-like appearance.

  ‘She doesn’t seem to have recovered from it as well as you have,’ he said. ‘She obviously skips the features on slimming, when she reads women’s magazines, and concentrates on the ones about “three dimensional charm”. I suppose you want to rush over and reminisce about the “dorm” and the French mistress’s beard?’

  But I wasn’t listening any longer.

  ‘Do look,’ I said. ‘He’s ordering champagne. Do you suppose they’re celebrating?’

  ‘Can’t be much to celebrate, getting lumbered with a bird that looks like that,’ said Charlie, beckoning the waitress and ordering more whisky.

  Charlie is immensely successful, newly rich, young and, like me, rootless. He is not interested in anyone unless they’re likely to advance his career or improve his image. At that time, just as I was getting bored with him, he was beginning to fall in love with me. This irked rather than worried me. I was used to men falling in love with me. When I gave Charlie the push, he would nurse his hurt pride for a fortnight, change the colour of his Ferrari and move on to the next affaire.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the man who was buying champagne for Gussie Forbes. She was raising her glass to him now, and he was holding her hand and smiling at her. He had a beautiful smile, gentle and creasing his face in all the right places. Now he was running a hand down her cheek. It was really most mystifying.

  Charlie was rabbiting on about the chic men’s clothes shop he owns, who had been in, how difficult it was to get the right staff. Gussie and her man were getting up to dance. He moved easily, with the grace of some jungle cat. Gussie bounced around, wiggling her arms and her large bottom. She resembled a baby elephant taking a dip in the pool. Charlie took out a gold cigarette case, lit two cigarettes and handed one to me. He is full of these self-consciously sexy gestures which only work if you’re Cary Grant.

  Gussie was now writhing and pushing her hair about in utter abandon.

  ‘They never taught your girlfriend to dance at school,’ Charlie said, watching her in appalled amusement.

  ‘She was taller than most of us then, so she always had to dance man.’

  The floor had filled up now and Gussie and her man were dancing close together. He pressed his cheek against her hair, but his eyes wandered lazily around the room. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy and she had a fatuous smile on her face. God, she was just as wet as she had been at school!

  Charlie put his hand on my thigh and drained his glass. ‘Shall we go?’ he said.

  ‘In a minute. Let’s have one more drink.’

  The music had stopped, and they were coming off the floor right past our table. I ran my hand through my hair to loosen it and pulled the front piece over one eye.

  ‘Hullo Gussie,’ I said loudly.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ whispered Charlie.

  Gussie peered through the gloom, blinking.

  ‘Over here,’ I said.

  Suddenly she saw me and gave a shriek of schoolgirl excitement.

  ‘Goodness, it can’t be, Octavia! Is it really you?’

  ‘Yes, really me. Come and have a drink.’

  Gussie pushed through the tables, pink face shining with excitement, bosom heaving from her exertions.

  ‘How lovely to see you.’ She kissed my proffered cheek. ‘And looking so stunning too!’

  She dragged the blond man forward. ‘This is Jeremy West. It’s a very special evening for us, we’ve just got engaged!’

  Engaged! Hence the champagne. At least they weren’t married yet!

  ‘Congratulations,’ I said, and gave Jeremy West one of my long, hard, smouldering looks. ‘How very exciting.’

  He smiled back at me. ‘Yes, isn’t it?’

  ‘Jeremy darling,’ said Gussie. ‘This is Octavia Brennen. We were at school together, in the same form, but not for very long. Octavia did something perfectly dreadful like eating one of the harvest festival apples in church, so they sent her away. Life was very dull after that.’

  ‘I can imagine it was,’ said Jeremy West. Oh, how heartbreaking that smile was.

  ‘This is Charles Mancini,’ I said.

  Charlie nodded enigmatically. With his Mexican bandit’s face, pink suede suit and dark grey shirt, he looked both sinister and glamorous. No girl could be ashamed of being seen with Charlie.

  ‘Why don’t we all have a drink?’ I said, ignoring a vicious kick on the ankles from Charlie.

  Gussie looked up at Jeremy. ‘Why not?’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Charlie, get the waitress to bring some more chairs,’ I said.

  ‘What were you drinking?’ said Charlie sulkily.

  ‘Champagne,’ I said. ‘It’s a celebration.’

  ‘I’ve had quite enough to drink, I’m already getting giggly,’ said Gussie. ‘Can I have some orange squash?’

  I told you she was wet.

  ‘But you’ll have champagne?’ Charlie said to Jeremy.

  ‘I much prefer whisky. Let me buy this round.’

  Charlie shook his head and summoned the waitress.

  ‘You actually got engaged today?’ I said.

  ‘Well, yesterday,’ said Gussie, hauling a bra strap up a fat white shoulder.

  ‘Have you got a ring?’

  ‘Yes. Isn’t it lovely?’ She held out a short stubby hand that had never seen a manicure in its life. On the third finger glowed an antique ring — rubies and pearls surrounded a plait of hair.

  Of course he would choose something as subtly pretty as that. All the guys I knew would have given me solitaires or sapphires as big as a gull’s egg.

  ‘It’s gorgeous,’ I said looking through my hair at Jeremy. ‘You are lucky, Gussie. Really beautiful men with exquisite taste into the bargain are at a premium these days.’

  Charlie, busy ordering drinks, missed that remark. Jeremy blushed sli
ghtly.

  ‘Yes, he is beautiful, isn’t he,’ sighed Gussie. ‘I have to keep pinching myself to prove it’s not a dream that he should have chosen an old frump like me.’

  ‘When you’ve both finished discussing me like a prize bull. .’ said Jeremy, but he said it gently and, taking a loose strand of Gussie’s hair, smoothed it behind her ear.

  The drinks arrived.

  ‘Gosh, thanks awfully. It’s terribly kind of you,’ said Gussie, beaming at Charlie. I remembered of old how ridiculously grateful she’d always been about the smallest things.

  ‘And that’s a beautiful suit,’ she added wistfully. ‘Jeremy would look divine in clothes like that, but he’s such an old square.’

  I waited for Charlie to wince, but he didn’t and was soon telling her all about the shop. That was another thing about her, she always managed to make people talk about themselves, and gave the impression she was really interested.

  I gave Jeremy a long speculative look. He dropped his eyes first and took a gulp of whisky.

  ‘That’s better. I’ve never been wild about champagne.’

  ‘I only like it for elevenses,’ I said. ‘When are you getting married?’

  ‘November, we thought.’

  ‘Not before! But that’s light years away! Why on earth wait so long?’

  ‘I’ve got a large overdraft already, and I don’t relish the idea of living off Gussie.’

  Gussie, I remembered, had a bit of money of her own.

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I’m in publishing, as an editor. I write a bit myself as well.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Oh, poetry, a bit of criticism, the odd review, nothing likely to make any money.’

  He looked like a poet with those dreamy blue eyes and long blond hair, yet it wasn’t a weak face; there was a strength about the mouth and chin. I got out a cigarette; he lit it for me. I held his hand to steady the flame, looking up at him from under my lashes. Surely he could feel the electricity between us? He put away his lighter.

  ‘Why are you called Octavia?’

  ‘I was born on October the 25th. My mother’d gone off my father by then and was mad about someone else, and she couldn’t have been less amused by my arrival, or be bothered to think of a name for me. So she called me after the month. It’s a damn silly name to be saddled with.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful name. It suits you. Did your mother marry the man she was mad about?’

  ‘Oh no, someone quite different, and then someone else, and then someone else. My father was married twice too, but he’s dead now. I’ve lost count of my stepbrothers and sisters.’

  ‘It can’t have been very easy for you. I come from a broken home myself, but not one that’s in smithereens. Do you see your mother?’

  ‘Occasionally, when she’s sober, or comes to London. I hardly ever go down to the country to see her. I hate scenes. She’s rather sad now. Her looks are going and she gets terrible maudlin fits reminiscing about my father, which drive her present husband mad.’

  How gentle and compassionate his eyes were now, and how ridiculously long his eyelashes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, putting a husky little break into my voice that I’d perfected over the years. ‘I didn’t mean to bore you with family history. I never talk about it usually.’

  That was a lie. It was Act I in the Octavia Brennen seduction routine — make them feel I need looking after.

  ‘I’m flattered you told me,’ he said.

  ‘How did you two meet?’

  ‘Gussie came and did temporary typing for me while my own secretary was skiing. She wasn’t wildly efficient, every letter had to be typed over again, and she kept putting things in the wrong envelopes, but she was so sweet that when my own streamlined secretary came back and restored order, I realized I was missing Gus. I telephoned the agency, started taking her out and that was that.’

  ‘I’m not surprised; she’s so lovely.’ I hoped he couldn’t detect the whopping ring of insincerity in my voice. ‘She always protected me from all the bullies when we were at school.’

  ‘Yes, she grows on you.’

  She was evidently growing on Charlie.

  ‘Once I tried to diet faithfully,’ she was saying. ‘Day after day, week after week, not eating a thing but lettuce and steamed fish. But all I’d lost after six weeks was half an inch in height!’ She shrieked with laughter. So did Charlie and Jeremy.

  They were playing the Rolling Stones latest record. I leaned forward, pressing my elbows together to deepen my cleavage. I saw Jeremy glance down at it and quickly glance away.

  ‘I’m mad for this tune,’ I said.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ said Charlie, getting up.

  Dancing is the thing I do best in the world. It seems to release all the frustrations from my body, all the evils from my soul.

  I was wearing a long, gold, semi-transparent tunic, exactly the same colour as my hair, with a mass of gold chains round my neck. I felt like a piece of seaweed streaming with the tide of the music, flowing now this way, now that. I knew everyone in the room was watching me, the women with envy, the men with lust.

  Charlie dances superbly too; his body seems to turn to rubber. I never fancy him so much as when we’re on the dance floor. Through a sheet of gold hair I saw Jeremy was watching me. He turned and said something to Gussie; she smiled and looked in my direction. The music stopped; hand-in-hand Charlie and I wandered back to our table.

  ‘We’re off,’ I said, deciding this was the ideal exit note.

  ‘Going home?’ said Gussie.

  ‘No, we’re going to another place,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s just been opened by a mate of mine. Want to come?’ He had changed his tune.

  Jeremy looked at Gussie; she shook her head.

  ‘We’ve both got to get up early in the morning, but do give me your telephone number, Octavia. We must keep in touch.’

  ‘We must,’ I said, staring shamelessly at Jeremy. ‘You must both come to dinner.’

  ‘Yes, we’d like to,’ he said, emphasizing the ‘we’.

  Even when we finally got home, I was still walking on air, unable to keep the Cheshire cat grin of exultation off my face. As the lift shot up to the penthouse flat I had the feeling it might take me through the roof straight up to the stars.

  My flat was beautiful. Alexander, my brother, who is an expert at interior decorating, had helped me do it up. Everyone gasped when they first saw it. Huge fleshy potted plants, banked at each end of the long drawing room, gave the effect of a jungle. The fourth wall was all window, looking out onto the lamp-lit plane trees of Green Park. Kicking off my shoes, I felt my feet sink into the thick, white carpet.

  Almost immediately the telephone rang.

  ‘Answer it, would you?’ I said to Charlie.

  ‘Yeah?’ said Charlie, picking up the receiver. ‘It’s someone called Ricardo,’ he added. ‘He sounds a long way away.’

  ‘Crackling with lust,’ I said, taking the receiver. ‘Go and get a bottle out of the fridge, darling,’ I said to him loudly, so Ricardo could hear.

  ‘Hi, my darling,’ I said to Ricardo.

  When I had taken my time over the telephone call, I wandered into the bedroom. Charlie was lying naked on the blond fur counterpane, drinking champagne and looking beautiful and sulky. On the wall above his head hung my favourite picture: a 16th century Italian oil painting of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, surrounded by hundreds of animals and birds.

  ‘It’s vital,’ my brother had insisted, ‘to have something pretty to look at over one’s bed to while away the excruciating boredom of sexual intercourse.’ I knew that picture pretty well.

  Ignoring Charlie, I undressed unhurriedly and sat down at my dressing table, admiring my reflection in the triple mirror. I liked what I saw. My body was as warm as an apricot in the soft light, my breasts, in contrast with the extreme slenderness of the rest of my body, had a heavy golden ripeness. Volup
tuously I began to brush my hair.

  ‘Who’s Ricardo?’ said Charlie, trying to appear cool.

  ‘A rather persistent bit of my past,’ I said. ‘You know I never let a dago by.’

  Charlie laughed. ‘I hope he is past.’

  He got up, crossed the room and stood behind me, his hands caressing my shoulders. His body was dark brown from the Marbella sun as he bent his head to kiss me. I could see the gold streaks growing out of his dark hair.

  We made a stunning picture, like a Fellini film.

  ‘Come on, Narcissus,’ he said. ‘It’s time for bed.’

  Afterwards he reached out for the champagne and gave me a glass.

  ‘Christ, you were sensational tonight,’ he muttered sleepily, as I examined my now tousled but not unpleasing reflection in the mirror opposite. ‘What got into you?’

  ‘You did,’ I said, and laughed softly. There was no need to tell him the whole time we had been making love I had been practising every trick in the trade, imagining he was Jeremy West.

  He fell asleep almost immediately, with his arms around me. It was terribly hot. I soon wriggled out of his embrace, and lay on my back, thinking about Jeremy, memorizing every angle of his face and every word he’d spoken to me. The fact that he was engaged to Gussie didn’t worry me a bit, made it more of a challenge.

  Eventually I got up, went to the bathroom, removed every scrap of make-up, then luxuriously massaged skin food all over my body. Then I took a couple of sleeping pills, switched off the telephone and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Two

  When I awoke at two o’clock in the afternoon Charlie had gone, leaving me a note on the pillow, saying he loved me, and to ring him when I was conscious. I switched on the telephone, it rang almost immediately. ‘’Ullo, this is the Moroccan Embassy,’ I said.

  ‘Octavia, you are dreadful; it’s Gussie here,’ came the breathless, eager voice.

  ‘Gussie, how lovely!’