New England

Its New Year’s Eve and the disco is in full swing. The host and hostess have taken their traditional first dance. The English rose is dancing with a young man in a suit. Caroline hands me another glass of wine.
I hope you’re enjoying yourself, she says.
Yes. Tell me, who’s the guy dancing with your daughter?
Oh him, she gives a look of disapproval. That’s Hugo.
Hey boyfriend?
Caroline chuckles. In his dreams, maybe.
I’m guessing you don’t approve?
He wouldn’t be my choice, but it’s up to her, cherie.
She could do much better. She’s such a stunning girl.
I know. But she hasn’t yet learned the power of that beauty. She’s quite naïve in many ways.
She reminds me of someone I used to know. Like an innocent child.
She’s pissed, my dear. Caroline laughs, sipping more wine from her glass, chuckling at Hugo’s attempts at dancing.
Alistair tells me you’re in the wine trade.
Yes, I’m supposed to be here on business.
But as Alistair always says, why not mix business with pleasure?
Exactly what he said to me, earlier tonight.
Caroline is giving me a stare. I try to reassure her.
Don’t worry, I’m not after your husband.
I should think not, she laughs. A gorgeous girl like you. What a waste that would be.
We seem to understand each other perfectly. If I go near Alistair, she’ll have me mounted like those animals that stare at you from the walls.
Come on, she says, taking me by the arm, let’s introduce you to young Hugo.

Which is how I come to be sitting in the lounge with Hugo, about ten minutes later. The room was spinning before I got up to dance, but now it’s starting to vibrate as well. We’re sitting on one of the large red leather sofas. He orders another bottle of wine. He insists on buying all the drinks and refuses to let me pay.
I’ve just done a fabulous deal in the city, he says. Anyway, blokes buy the drinks, you chicks just hang around looking gorgeous.
I laugh, although I think he’s a bit cocky. Miranda is undeniably beautiful, with the sort of figure that you don’t often find in France. She definitely puts me in the shade. JD sends her to the bar to get more alcohol.
He leans closer. I’m not going to waste time, he says. I want you tonight.
I’m startled, but try to remain calm.
I appreciate the honesty, I say.
Always my best policy, says Hugo.
Since we’re being honest, I say, You’re really not my type.
Fair enough, he says, but I don’t take no for an answer. Especially not from a sexy French mademoiselle. Please?
I laugh. What about Miranda? Isn’t she enough for you?
She’s a fucking pain in the arse, to be honest. He drains his glass.
I’d be prepared to pay you, he says.
My eyes must have widened at this point. This was a new angle, but let’s play the game, I think to myself.
How much? I ask.
How about a grand? Just for tonight.
One thousand pounds, is that the going rate?
Take it or leave it.
It’s very generous, I reply, but there are some things money can’t buy.
I start to stand up to leave.
Okay, okay, he says, name your price.
I watch over his shoulder as Miranda approaches with the drinks.
Tell you what, I say, quickly, throw in Miranda and it’s a deal.
Hugo jerks his head as Miranda hands him another glass. He’s thinking about it.
Deal, he says.
I shrug my shoulders and stand up.
Its room thirteen, I whisper. Just before midnight.

I’m in room thirteen. Unlucky for some, but not for me. I don’t do superstitions. I’m standing by the window, in darkness, waiting for my guests. Dressed only in a silk night gown, my body almost quivering in anticipation.

Just before midnight, a knock on the door.
It’s open, I whisper.
Surprisingly, it’s not Hugo, but Alistair who enters.
Hello Cherie, he says, snaking a hand around my waist.
Expecting somebody else, were we? He says. His breath smells of stale alcohol.
I had a deal, I say, with Hugo. Two for the price of one.
He laughs loudly.
Hugo couldn’t make it, he says. Too smashed.
He starts to unravel the sash on my gown.
But we had a deal, I say, struggling to escape his grip. He pushes me up against the wall, his face close to mine.
Hugo is just a boy, he says. What you need is a man.
Despite it all, I feel excited. He’s quite strong, pulling me onto the bed. His erection is enormous. There’s something about the aristocracy isn’t there?
I struggle to break away but he pushes my legs apart.
Don’t bother shouting, he says, in thirty seconds the fireworks will drown any noise you make. Indeed, fireworks start going off as his hands slide into my knickers. I feel desire encroaching.
Happy New Year, Cherie, he says preparing to enter me.
It's dark, but the fireworks light up the window behind Alistair's head. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair.Hugo.
There you are, Alistair. Caroline's been going frantic, old man. Shall I take over here?
Alistair flings an arm backwards, bringing his elbow with full force into Hugo's face. Knocks him right onto his back, blood everywhere.
Tell my wife I'm busy, you bloody faggot, he shouts.

All is quiet. It’s new year’s day in the New Forest. The only sound is the throbbing inside my head. If only I could stay in bed, but I’m invited for morning coffee with Caroline. It feels more like I’ve been summoned though.

Coffee is served in her private quarters. Very spacious, with great views through the French windows looking out over the New Forest. Caroline is gazing out at the scene, and as I enter she turns to greet me.
Bonjour mademoiselle.
She’s very gracious, Caroline. Or to give her the full title, Lady Caroline Elspeth Lavinia Rochester Harkness [I may have got it wrong]. She’s about forty five but looks younger, with immaculately coiffured honey blonde hair, slender neck, fabulous jewellery. She epitomises a certain kind of English charm.
Thank you, I say, accepting a cup of coffee and seating myself at one of the two large sofas.
They tell me you’re in the wine trade, she begins, rather casually. Her blue eyes seem to penetrate mine.
Yes, my cousin owns a vineyard in Provence. I’m in England on business.
A raised eyebrow. Are you enjoying your stay?
Very much, madame. Your hospitality has been wonderful.
Caroline pauses for breath.
And yet you have taken advantage of that hospitality in a most spiteful way.
I beg your pardon?
Her eyes flash at mine now, in anger. But her tone is still light, almost mocking.
You do know that Alistair would never leave me , don’t you. You see, all this, the house, the estate, our business, its all in joint names. It’d cost him a fortune.
I can’t seem to look her in the eye, I’m fidgeting with my cup now.
Mademoiselle, what is your name?
I’m called Sandrine.
Very pretty, tres jolie, like you.
It was my late mother’s name.
Sandrine, you’re not the first, and you wont be the last. My husband has always bene like this.
She sighs, and takes a sip of her coffee.
Don’t you ever think of , you know, paying him back?
Cherie, there’s no-one quite like Alistair. Tell me, you must have had many sexual partners. How would you rank him?
A typical Englishman. In too much of a hurry.
Caroline chuckles. That sounds about right.
She finishes her coffee, sets the cup down, gets up from the sofa. I gather the audience is over, and also stand.
Sandrine, you may think you’re some kind of femme fatale, but I have some advice for you. I want you to leave England.
Madame, I think you misunderstand Alistair. He just wants the best of both worlds.
He wants to have his cake and eat it, you mean.
No, I mean he wants us both, in the same bed.
Caroline slaps me hard across the face.
I guess I had that coming, I say. Just think about what I said.
Caroline is staring at me, but her reserve has crumpled, and a tear rolls slowly down her cheek, spoiling the carefully prepared mask.