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As she watched, his face turned to an ashen grey, his body twitched and he stood up sharply. He appeared terrified, as if the walls were falling in on him. She looked round helplessly, unsure what he needed, too embarrassed to make a public scene. She moved to take his arm and support him, but as she did so he turned on her and lost his balance. He grabbed at her to steady himself, caught her blouse and a button popped.
'Get out of my way, get out of my way' he snarled.
He thrust her violently backwards, and she fell heavily into a table laden with glasses before sprawling back onto the sofa. The crash of glass onto the floor stopped all conversation in the room as everyone looked round. Three more buttons had gone, and her left breast stood exposed amidst the torn silk.
There was absolute silence as O'Neill stumbled towards the door, pushing still more people out of the way as he tumbled into the night. The young girl clutched at her tattered clothing and was fighting back the tears of humiliation as he disappeared. An elderly guest was helping her rearrange herself and shepherding her towards the bathroom and, as the bathroom door shut behind the two women, a ripple of speculation began which quickly grew into a broad sea of gossip, washing backwards and forwards over the gathering. It would go on all evening. - Penny Guy did not join in the gossip. A moment before she had been laughing merrily, thoroughly enjoying the engaging wit and Merseyside charm of Patrick Woolton. Urquhart had introduced them more than an hour earlier, and had ensured that the champagne flowed as easily as their conversation. But the magic had been smashed with the uproar. As Penny had taken in O'Neill's stumbling departure, the sobbing girl's dishevelled clothing and the ensuing speculation and chatter, her face had dissolved into a picture of misery. She fought a losing battle to control the tears which had welled up and spilled down her cheeks and, although Woolton provided a large handkerchief and considerable support, the pain in Penny's face was all too real.
He really is kind. Very considerate,' she explained. 'But sometimes it all seems to get too much for him and he goes a little crazy. It's so out of character.' She pleaded for him, and the tears flowed still faster.
'Penny. I'm so sorry, dear. Look, you need to get out of this party. My bungalow's next door. Let's go and dry you off there, OK?'
She nodded in gratitude, and the couple squeezed their way through the crowd. No one seemed to notice as they eased their way out of the room, except Urquhart. His cold blue eyes followed them through the door where Landless and O'Neill had gone before. This was certainly going to be a party to remember, he told himself.
THURSDAY 14th OCTOBER
'You're not going to make a bloody habit of getting me out of bed every morning, are you?' Even down the telephone line, Preston made it clear that this was an instruction, not a question.
Mattie felt even worse than she had the previous morning after several hours of alcoholic flagellation with Charles Collingridge who was clearly determined to prove his doctor hopelessly wrong. Now she was having great difficulty grasping what on earth was going on.
Hell, Grev. I go to bed thinking I want to kill you because you won't run the story, and I wake up this morning and find a bastardised version all over the front page with a by-line by someone called "Our Political Staff". Now I know I want to kill you, but first I want to find out why you are screwing around with my story. Why did you change your mind? Who's rewritten my story, and who the hell is "Our Political Staff" if it's not me?'
'Steady on, Mattie. Just take a breath and let me explain. If only you had been around when I tried to call you last night and not flashing your eyes at some eligible peer or whatever it is you were doing, then you would have known all about it before it happened.'
Mattie began vaguely to recall the events of last night through the haze, and her pause to persuade her memory to catch up with itself gave Preston time to continue. He began to search for his words carefully.
'As I think Krajewski may have told you, last night some of the editorial staff here didn't believe there was enough substantiation of your piece on the opinion polls for it to run today.'
He heard Mattie snort at the clumsy twisting of the tale, but knew he must press on or he would never get the chance to finish the justification.
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