INSIDE WESTMINSTER: TALES OF HUBRIS AND BETRAYAL
18
Discretion or Valour?
Sophia laughed so much her sides hurt. Was that really what her soon-to-be ex had turned into: a blond dancing bear, hypnotized by this his nymph-like trainer? Couldn't he see what a fool he looked? She was examining the latest press photos of Potty making his veiled leadership bid in front of some bright yellow farm machinery. Except there was nothing 'veiled' or 'discreet' about it.
Clearly Potty did not realise what he was turning into! Mandy had obviously got him firmly by his 'short and curlies' and was parading him like a prize bull being pulled along by his nose ring.
'God what's she doing to him? He never performed to any tune I played.'
Possibly that's why their marriage had lasted so long as it was built on firmer sands than lust.
Anyway, it had been a long time since Sophia had laughed and, for the first time since Potty's dreadful confession, she could see a glimmer of light at the end of her divorce tunnel. She had taken the firm 'Dolly Parton' approach to marriage and had decided to 'stand by her man', regardless of his behaviour. It had been hard, humiliating and humbling in equal measure but had worked: until this ditsy bird had happened along.
Why had he never grown up? Why had he still delighted in the stupid flirtatious behaviour of an adolescent boy who'd just discovered the aphrodisiac power of his…
Well the less she thought of that the better, she concluded.
Sophia hadn't really been paying much attention to Brexit and only realised what a catastrophic mess it was becoming when Maurice texted to cancel his accompanying her to the Chambers' celebrations.
'What a blasted nuisance! I wonder if Crispin would come instead,' she thought. He's always presentable and good fun too.'
Crispin Dunk had always been welcome in the Mowbray-Dick household and Sophia's parents had held out hopes that he would marry one of their two daughters. Sophia had played along with Daphne and Roger's fantasies of getting her, their eldest, hitched to the gloriously handsome Crispin.
'What beautiful children they'd have,' Sophia had overheard her mother say.
She'd never had the heart to tell them that he 'batted for the other side' as they simply would never have believed that such things existed.
Crispin had already proved useful, though he hadn't realised it, as Sophia had let slip the last time they'd met that Mandy and Potty were expecting something. This had been at the opening of her sister's gallery. Sophia hadn't explained what had been 'expecting' but the seeds had been successfully sown.
Meanwhile Potty was being taken in hand by Mandy. The pair of turtle doves had decided to 'go public' as their relationship was hardly a secret anymore. Mandy had decided that there were a few quid to be made, possibly from one of the glossy society magazines. Hadn't they featured members of the royal family, after all?
She went into overdrive, contacting those photographers who'd been allowed access to various members of the 'Exit EU' campaign. Nothing would be left to chance in this, their magical moment of 'coming out'. Relaxed, informal, 'fun' that's how she wanted them to be portrayed. Never mind the misery caused by their feckless behaviour. No, this was 'the real deal' and they were 'very much in love'.
As if that excused everything!
No, nothing else mattered and it was just tough if tragedy ensued: wives driven to alcoholism at being coldly betrayed having spent 25 years mopping up after some irresponsible husband's mess; children bullied at school and taunted for their dad's shagging some tart-would she be up for a gang-bang?
No! As if for the first time in the history of mankind, their love was pure, heaven sent, chaste even…
As if!