‘Ricken,’ says Saul.
‘Of course.’
Bishop transfers a glass of champagne to his left hand so that he can effect the handshakes.
‘Good to make your acquaintance,’ he says. ‘How do you know Matthew here?’
‘Long story,’ I tell him. ‘We met travelling in 1990 and just bumped into each other at a social occasion a few months ago.’
This is also the story I told Saul.
‘I see. Well, allow me to introduce my wife, Audrey.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ She scans the two of us up and down.
‘And this is Katharine Lanchester and her husband, Fortner Grice.’
Katharine looks at me. There is now no flirtatiousness in her manner, not with Fortner so close.
‘How do you do?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ she says. Her hand is cool and soft.
Now it’s Fortner’s turn. He pumps my arm, doing a little side jerk with his head. His forehead is dark and creased by frown lines, as if he has spent a lifetime squinting up at a bright sun.
‘Good to meet you guys,’ he says, very unruffled, very cool. ‘You in oil, like everybody else here?’
‘With Abnex, yes. Caspian development.’
‘Oh right. Kathy and I work as consultants for Andromeda. Exploration. Geological surveying and so on.’
‘You spend much of your time down there?’
Fortner hesitates, clearing his throat with a stagey cough.
‘Not for a while. They like to keep us in London. Yourself?’
‘Ditto.’
There is a gap in the conversation, to the point of becoming awkward. Doug takes a half step forward.
‘We were just talking about politics back home,’ he says, taking a mouthful of champagne.
‘We were,’ Beehive adds animatedly. ‘And I was asking why that grotesque man from Little Rock is living in the White House.’
Bishop rolls his eyes as Fortner cuts in. He must weigh 200 or 220 pounds, and not much of it is fat.
‘Now hold on there, Audrey. Clinton’s been doin’ a lot of good. We’ve all just been away from home too long.’
‘You think so, honey?’ Katharine asks, disappointed that he should hold such an opinion. She’s from Republican stock, New England money.
‘Damn right I do,’ he replies forcefully, and the Hobbit laughs politely. Things are awkward again.
‘Is anybody else hot?’ Bishop asks.
‘I’m okay, actually,’ Saul tells him.
‘Me too,’ says Fortner. ‘Maybe you should be wearing a cocktail dress, Doug. You’d feel more comfortable.’
I smile at this and Saul lights another cigarette.
‘Can we go back to Clinton, for a moment?’ Audrey is saying. Somebody on the far side of the garden drops a glass and there is a momentary hush. ‘What I mean to say is…’ She loses herself, struggling to find the words. ‘Is it your interpretation that Clinton will be re-elected this year?’
‘What do you guys think? You reckon our president will be re-elected in November?’
Katharine looked at Saul rather than me as she asked this, but it is the Hobbit who answers, ‘I think he’ll be re-elected, if only because Dole is too old.’
‘Mind what you’re saying there, son,’ Douglas says to him, his voice low and sly. ‘Old Dole’s only got a few years on me.’
‘So do the Brits like him, then?’
This comes from Audrey. She must have used up a can of hairspray tonight. Her beehive hasn’t budged an inch in the wind.
‘I think he has the most impressive grasp of insincerity that I’ve ever seen,’ I tell her, though that isn’t the first time that I’ve used that phrase. It just sounds good coming out now. ‘I think the British people like him. We tend to admire your politicians more than our own, but it’s a hypocritical approval. We wouldn’t want any of them running our country.’
‘Why in hell not?’ Fortner asks, and for a moment I am concerned that I may have annoyed him. Saul drops his half-finished cigarette on the ground and steps on the butt.
‘Your political system is seen as being more corrupt than ours,’ I reply. ‘Unfairly, I think.’
‘Too right unfairly,’ he says. ‘What about Matrix Churchill? What about Westland? What about arms to Iraq?’
‘The Scott Inquiry will clear everyone,’ Saul announces solemnly. ‘The old-boy network will see to that.’
‘Oh, yes,’ says Douglas wistfully. ‘The old-boy network.’
‘You wish you were a part of that, Doug?’ Fortner says, nudging him. ‘An old Etonian? An Oxford man?’
‘Princeton’ll do me fine.’
‘So how long have you been with Abnex?’
Katharine wants to change the subject.
‘About nine months.’
‘You enjoying it?’
‘Yes and no. I’ve had to learn a lot in a short space of time. It’s been a real eye-opener.’
‘An eye-opener,’ she says, as if she enjoys this expression. ‘So your background was in…?’
‘Russian and business studies.’
‘You just out of college?’
‘No. I worked in marketing for a bit.’
‘Right.’
Now Saul joins in. ‘How long have you and your husband been living here?’
‘Long time now. About four years.’
The Hobbit has cleverly started up a separate conversation with Bishop and Audrey, one that I cannot hear.
‘And you enjoy it?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ The heavy, interjectory way that Fortner comes forward, answering the question on Katharine’s behalf, seems to reveal something about the dynamic of their relationship. ‘We love it here. Spending time with the allies. What do you do for a living, Saul?’
‘I’m in advertising. Commercials. I’m an assistant director.’
‘And, what? That will lead into television, into movies?’
‘Something like that,’ he replies. ‘I’m working on a script at the moment, trying to get some development money.’
‘What’s it about?’ Katharine asks.
‘It’s a kind of spoof thriller. A comedy about a serial killer.’
‘No shit,’ Fortner says, laughing. ‘A comedy about a serial killer?’ He clearly thinks the idea is ludicrous. ‘I gotta say I prefer different kinds of movies myself. Old Bogarts and Cagneys. Westerns mainly.’
‘Really?’ Saul replies enthusiastically. He is, albeit unwittingly, playing his role to perfection. ‘You like Westerns? Because the National Film Theatre is doing a John Wayne season at the moment.’
‘Is that right?’ Fortner looks genuinely interested. ‘I didn’t know that. I’d love to catch one or two. The Searchers, Liberty Valance…’
‘Me too.’ I sensed immediately