Odd Girl Out Read Online Free

in one of them both bored and exasperated him. It was infuriating to have lost such a pleasure simply through being nearer death, and he had recently
discovered that chronic comfort (or luxury) made him think a great deal about that.
    ‘What happened to my diamanté glasses then? Come on, Markham, out with it.’
    ‘It’s not for me to say, my lady.’ In spite of Clara currently being a Princess, Markham unfailingly used this appellation; had, indeed, done so throughout Clara’s various
marriages; to Edmund’s father – a professor of philosophy (English), to Arabella’s father (Scottish), to a violinist (Hungarian), to an ornithologist Count (French) and to a
film-star (American). But she had once, when Markham had first been engaged, been briefly allied in wedlock to an incredibly old Scottish baronet who had managed to die before even Clara could tire
of him – he fell down half of a spiral staircase in his nasty gothic castle on their honeymoon – and so however much Clara might change her ways or her station, Markham could, or would
not.
    ‘Markham!’
    ‘Heythrop-Jones allowed the dog to eat them, my lady, if you must know.’
    ‘Not eat , Markham, surely.’
    ‘Crush them between his jaws, my lady. They will never be the same again.’
    ‘How foolish of him.’
    Markham looked sanctimonious. ‘Heythrop-Jones is given over to matters that do not appertain to your ladyship’s affairs.’
    ‘I didn’t mean Heythrop-Jones, Markham: I meant Major.’ She finished the last pill and yawned. ‘Vani! Let’s leave this evening. This place is far too good and dull
for us. Tell them we’re leaving, Markham. Tell Heythrop-Jones to have the Rolls ready by three. Arrange a train for yourself to Paris. Don’t bother with those wigs I had sent yesterday
– have them sent back: I look like some ’sixties actress pretending to be some ’twenties actress in them. Cancel the masseur. Put in a call to Mr Cornhill at his office in London.
Draw me a bath. And the Prince would like his watch collected from Piguet. Or sent round – whichever is easiest. And you’ll have to take Major in the train with you. Have the hotel pack
him a decent meal. And one for yourself, of course.’ She thought for a moment, while Markham stood unblinking before her. ‘I’ll wear the beige Chanel, the lizard boots – the
beige ones, of course, and the Carrier topaz set. You choose my bag and gloves. I know I can rely on you for that.’
    ‘What about the Battenbergs?’
    ‘Oh, them. Call them, Vani, and say we have to leave. Say anything. Say I’m having trouble with Arabella – say anything.’
    ‘She is not in Paris, is she?’
    ‘I really haven’t the slightest idea where she is. I am relying on good, dull Edmund to tell me.’
    Christ – why don’t they get on with it?
    She seemed to have been lying on a high, hard, humiliatingly uncomfortable table for hours. They had spread her legs apart, some hard-faced foreign bitch (probably a virgin, you bet) had swabbed
her arm and casually and rather painfully stuck a needle into it. After that, they had seemed to retire to one corner of the room and simply confer – like extras in an opera, waiting for the
leading characters to act. But nothing had happened.
    ‘You may get up now.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘It is finished.’
    ‘Famous last words,’ she said dreamily, very much disinclined to move, but the foreign bitch was approaching her with what she felt could only be described as brisk sadism.
    ‘You will have to wear two sanitary towels. Here is the belt.’
    She found herself hoisted off the table. ‘If you would like to go in there, Miss Smith.’
    I’m not called Smith, you silly bitch, Arabella thought in the lavatory. She ached a bit and felt faint – with relief? The injection? And with some distant misery. She’d
arranged things and it was horrible. When she didn’t arrange things they got boring and horrible. What on earth was the