Jemma’s Version
It’s a circus. A damn frigging circus!
And I’m the dancing bear. Or the seal with the ball, if you like.
Wherever I look, all eyes are on me, and Delphina is dragging me back and forth to introduce me to all the living dead she has invited. What’s more, tonight there’s a key Premier League match! If we get three points, we’re just behind the top team, so it’s our chance for this season. Yes, and I’m stuck in here, shaking the wrinkled hands of these titled dummies! While Arsenal is taking the field for a crucial match! God doesn’t exist or, if he does, he must hate me.
Delphina shows a disturbing smile that looks more like a grin, or a palsy; when nobody is watching, she pulls my skirt down and adjusts the scarf around my neckline.
She doesn’t let me talk, and answers questions for me before I open my mouth.
Anyway, I don’t envy Ashford, either. Quite a few ladies are fighting hard to get his attention, dragging him from side to side while uttering overexcited cries every time he speaks. He’s exasperated. Well, have your share of this shitty evening, baby, courtesy of karma.
There’s a gloomy sullen man who was introduced by Delphina more pompously than others. He’s got a very long name, Neville something, and answered her with nothing more than a grunt.
After exchanging a few words about the weather, Neville leaves to take his place at the table, and Delphina sighs with disappointment.
“What’s up, Delphina? Are you in love with that guy and disappointed ‘cause he didn’t even look at you?”
Delphina rolls her eyes, upset. “Have you lost your mind? That’s the Duke of Mouthmour and Whilmshire! He’s married!”
“That’s a pathetic excuse. He wouldn’t be the first,” I say, thinking of Alejandro.
“Oh, be quiet. The less you open your mouth, the better.” Delphina growls.
“What a fuss for a joke. You guys look so pissed off! Are you always like this?”
She doesn’t answer the question and changes the subject. “It’s time to go to the table.”
My seat is opposite Ashford, between Lord Murray and a Lady Valéry Fraser. She’s another one who must have witnessed both world wars, judging by the way she keeps her lips sealed to hold her dentures in.
Thank God Delphina is at a safe distance, playing the perfect hostess and sporting her charming and vivacious incarnation while sitting between her beloved Duke and Duchess of Mouthmour.
I notice that my lovely mother-in-law frowns like a moody little girl whenever the duke leaves the table, which happens quite often during the dinner. It must be his prostate… you know, dukes have those, too.
This reminds me that it’s high time to check the result of the football match!
The entrée plate has just been taken away – given its size, I didn’t even see the point in using a plate – so I have a five minute window to get to the kitchens, where I’m sure that Lance has already tuned the tv onto the sports channel.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I move my chair back and sneak towards the door before Ashford can ask any questions.
Apart from the dining room, the mansion is deserted, so I take off my heels and run down the hallway towards the kitchens. There, everyone is busy with last minute preparation and Lance, with his usual foresight, is just behind the door, ready to offer me a paper cone full of chips.
“1-0 for Arsenal. If you had arrived ten minutes ago, you could have seen them score, I’m really sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. What counts is that they did!”
I sit on the steel worktop among the stacks of plates to enjoy some of the match, until Lance moves in front of me with a sad expression. “I apologise for the interruption, but we are about to serve the soup.”
I follow the legion of waiters up to the hall and bump into the grumpy duke who’s heading in the opposite direction. Suddenly I realise I’m barefoot, so my hands mechanically drop the shoes to the ground and I try to put them on quickly, but I stumble into one of the suits of armour lined up along the corridor.
The duke walks on, giving me a disapproving look. Oh boy, he’s a bore like everyone else.
“My darling, did you get lost again?” Ashford asks me as soon as I’m back in my seat. His tone is undoubtedly irritated.
“Been missing me, my love?” We always stress the words my darling and my love a lot.
Ashford forces a smile. “I was counting the seconds.”
Lady Valéry intrudes into our script: “Newly-wed couples are adorable. You remind me so much of Harold and me, we were always looking for each other! Do you remember that, Harold?” She asks, nudging the embalmed owl to her left.
The conversation covers future high society events, horses, regattas, and the use of pitch and lob shots on an eighteen hole golf course, all subjects I have little or no knowledge of.
As soon as they take the soup plates away, I jump up to go back to the kitchens and Ashford gives me a grim look.
Lance is waiting for me again, with steaming chicken wings this time, so I take my seat back. I grunt in anger, noticing that the teams are drawing.
Lance is preparing a hot dog, on which he’s putting a generous squeeze of mustard, so I make some room for him on the worktop. “Come on, keep me company!”
He shakes his head and settles next to the doors.
Just a second later, they open and the duke comes in. I’m petrified, and there is a chicken wing showing between my lips.
“Your Highness,” says Lance, handing him the hot dog.
“Thank you, Lance.”
“If you want to sit on the worktop, Her Grace the duchess was already following the match.”
This time, there’s no expression of disapproval on the duke’s face; on the contrary, he looks rather curious.
“Manchester United?” He asks me, cautiously.
“You must be joking! Arsenal, by far!” I exclaim, balling up the greasy paper my chicken was wrapped in.
The duke smiles and looks more relaxed. “Very well, in that case, I’d sit next to you with much pleasure, but I fear that my hip would not agree,” he says, and he sits in the chair by the door. “What a pleasant surprise to discover that Denby Hall’s new lady is a supporter of the Gunners.”
“To the bone, Sir.”
“Call me Cedric,” he says, winking.
“Delphina won’t be pleased,” I comment.
Cedric smiles, keeping his eyes on the tv. “You can bet on it.”
Lance clears his throat and points at the door. “It’s been more than ten minutes.”
Cedric beckons me to go. “I’ll hold the fort.”
When I return to my place, Ashford kicks my shin, and I welcome this lovely gesture smiling from ear to ear.
He smiles in turn and whispers through his clenched teeth: “Shall I glue you to that chair, my darling?”
“If you want to make sure I won’t leave, you’ll have to make me sit on your lap.”
“If you disappear again, you can be sure I will. Now eat your filet Voronoff.”
“What if I don’t? Are you going to feed me?” I must have uttered the end of the sentence with too much emphasis, because Ashford takes a piece of fillet and puts it in my mouth. “Your wish is my command, my love.”
To make sure I won’t leave again, Ashford keeps my hand on the table for the rest of the dinner. He holds it in a tight grip which is anything but tender.
Our fellow diners indulge in mushy comments to the effect of how romantic my husband is. Take that, my love.
I will never adore Delphina as much as I do now, as she’s announced that the desserts and coffee will be served in the winter garden.
As the guests swarm into the hallway, I duck out in the opposite direction, reassuring Cedric that I will be back with the final result of the match.
It won’t take long this time, since they’re already in the last minute, so I’ll just stop by, ask Lance about the score and go back. If this dress had a pocket, I could have taken my mobile with me!
“So? What’s the score?” I cry, bursting into the kitchens.
“2-1 for Arsenal. They scored in the eighty-sixth minute. It was a nerve racking match,” they tell me.
“Cheers!” I call and run back into the hallway, heading towards the winter garden.
I enter the garden cautiously, sidling along walls and skulking in the foliage, but I feel someone grabbing my arm. “Jemma, my patience has a limit.”
“Get off me, I no longer need to go anywhere. The match is over.”
Ashford looks as if he had woken up from a trance. “Is that what you were doing? Checking the match result?”
“Hats off, Einstein,” I mock him.
“Now stay here and play the wife.”
“Yes, Master.”
I look for Cedric among the back-combed feminine heads, and, as soon as I find him, I mime the score with my fingers and then give him a thumbs-up.
He’s so surprised he almost drops his coffee, his eyes nearly pop out of his head, and he’s raising his eyebrows in a rather exaggerated way. He’s even turning purple with joy.
Now he’s making choking noises and gesticulating confusingly while beating his chest.
Silence falls in the winter garden, everyone gathers in a circle around him, and I can only hear indistinct moans.
“The duke feels bad.”
“A praline must be stuck in his throat.”
“For God’s sake! Someone call a doctor!”
I stand up on my chair to see more clearly and, in fact, it does seem that Cedric is choking.
“Get out of the way,” I say, pushing my way through the guests, with Ashford still behind me, holding my arm.
“Call an ambulance!’ One of the ladies shouts.
“There’s no time for an ambulance. I got this.”
I stand behind Cedric and put my arms around his waist. Then, I pull his abdomen sharply into mine with a couple of strong rhythmic thrusts, until the praline lands at Lord Murray’s feet, and Cedric heaves a big sigh of relief.
Luckily, the duke is not too tall and he’s thin enough for me to put the procedure in place. If it had happened to that giant Lord Murray, it would have been a non-starter.
Delphina is shocked and runs to kneel in front of Cedric’s feet. “Your Highness, I apologise for my daughter-in-law’s impulsiveness, I really don’t know what to say!”
Cedric takes a sip of coffee, as if he hadn’t just spat out the Apollo 13 in front of everyone. “I should be the one saying something. Her promptness saved my life. If these are the results, impulsiveness isn’t a bad thing at all.”
Delphina looks at him, confused. “Um… of course… she…”
I cut in to speak for myself before she says something horrible. “Since Doug, the leader of my football fan group, almost choked on a peanut during an away match against Everton, the club has arranged first aid courses for all diehard fans on the stands. Do you have any idea how long it can take a doctor to find someone up there?”
The guests’ astonished looks jump from me to Ashford a couple of times before a not so energetic but noticeable handclap draws their attention. Lord Murray is applauding while looking in my direction and, shortly after, Lady Laetitia, Cedric’s wife and everyone else joins in. Ashford smiles, relieved, while he’s got all eyes on him. “Well, I married her because she’s so resourceful.”
The evening ends and, after saying goodbye to all the guests, I go to my room and collapse on my bed.
Suddenly, I hear someone knocking on the connecting door.
It’s Ashford, standing in the no man’s land between our rooms.
“I have to thank you. You saved Lord Cedric from choking.”
“Didn’t I embarrass the Burlingham family?” I ask sarcastically.
“Yes, of course you did. You have an incalculable number of flaws, you’re inadequate in almost every social situation, and you hardly ever engage your brain before speaking, but you’re smart, and it seems that your act of heroism saved the evening from disaster.”
“I know how difficult it is for you to pay me compliments, so thank you. Now stop, before insulting me more than you already have.”
“Goodnight, then.”
“Yeah, goodnight,” I say, and we close our respective doors, relieved.