The Boat House

NINETEEN

Diane's employer and his immediate circle arrived on the Friday evening.

The circle consisted of Bob Ivie and Tony Marinello — the Old Indespensibles, as Dizzy Liston called them — and four examples of the species that Diane had quickly come to recognise as Dizzy's Women. These were well bred, impeccably turned out, and as dim and empty-headed as pumpkin lanterns. After one drink, their voices could be heard over half a mile away. Fortunately, Jed was going to be sleeping at Mrs Neary's that night; they couldn't have made more noise exploring the hall if they'd found it to be haunted.

The preparations for the party were set to move into top gear on the Saturday morning; Diane would have little more to do than to stand aside and watch the professionals at work. The lights had already arrived that afternoon, the disco would be set up from ten o'clock tomorrow, and a small group of hostesses and security people would be due to arrive some time around three.

The best place for Jed during all of this, she'd decided, would be with his minder; she'd worked out a special weekend rate with Mrs Neary some time ago and had been working on her conscience ever since. It felt too much as if she was shunting him off for her own convenience, even though she knew that it was the only sane and sensible thing to do. She'd explained that he'd be staying away for the two nights, which he'd never done before; she only hoped she'd explained it well enough. Just before seven she left Jed to pick out some toys and books to be taking with him — and it's got to be a portable amount, she warned — and went to check that she wouldn't be needed for a while.

Liston and company were out on the lawn behind the house, where an old fashioned wrought iron table and some matching chairs had been set for them in the evening sunlight. There were the long shadows of wine bottles and glasses across the table, some of the bottles already empty.

"Mineral water for the invalid," she heard someone say as they handed Dizzy a glass, and she saw Dizzy give a wry smile.

"I suppose that's me," he said.

He was in his late thirties, and he had the look of a well worn schoolboy. His face was young, but the mileage showing on it was high. Nevertheless, for all that he'd been around there was definitely something that was attractive and appealing about him; only his eyes gave him away, because they could turn cold and introspective while those around him were whooping it up. Dizzy knew the exact value of the people he kept, which was why he'd given the estate management job to Diane and not to one of his regular hangers on.

"Your lawn's a bit overgrown, Dizzy," one of Dizzy's Women said, looking critically at the grass around her feet.

"You can cut it for me after the party," he told her, which everybody took to be a big joke.

Summer in the country, was the toast echoing in Diane's ears as she went back inside; and she shuddered, and wondered if she could think up something really cutting to say the first time one of them tried to treat her like a servant.

Jed had made his selection; three toys stood out on their own in the middle of the floor, these being the ones that he reckoned he could do without.

Diane settled down, and started patiently to negotiate.

In the end she got him down to his Micronauts, his plastic airport, and a bag of Dinky cars. For books he had two by Maurice Sendak, the Skeleton one, and a well worn Pinocchio using pictures from the film. She put everything into a carrier and took this out to the car with his overnight case, and then she came back to get him into his shoes and his coat. And then, because she didn't want to be saying goodbye to him any sooner than she had to, she took him for a wander through the main part of the hall to see how the preparations were going.

The lights had been rigged but not yet tested, and cabling still lay everywhere. Signs for the cloakrooms and toilets were already in place, and two posts and a rope had been set at the top of the stairs to keep visitors out of the private apartments.

It all seemed kind of strange to Diane. The way she'd always known it, when you decided to throw a party, you threw a party; you pushed back the furniture, you got all the food together yourself, you invited close friends who knew each other and for a while you let them invade your most private and personal space. And then when it was all over, you threw open the windows and you vacuumed, and as likely as not while you were doing this you'd find someone left asleep behind the sofa. Not like this, people hired in to do everything. Dizzy might be well-off, but Diane knew from the estate accounts that he wasn't rolling-in-it rich. The estate and the house might both be high value assets, but the conditions of his inheritance forced him to keep both intact and he got little currency out of them beyond the woodland leases and the shooting rights.

No, the fact of it was, Diane and her employer might easily have been two different species for the way that they looked at the world. This wasn't going to be a party. It was to be a local public relations exercise, bought and paid for — nothing more.

In the middle of the hall Diane said, "Well, Jed, what do you think?" And Jed took another look around and made a face that suggested mild indifference lying over mild disapproval.

Diane knew exactly what he meant.

"Yeah," she said. "I'll be glad when it's all over, too."

And then together they walked out to the Toyota.