Fractured Idols

Kevin Austin

Description

Fractured Idols is a snapshot of the lives of wealthy Metropolitans who inhabit London's super-rich Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. This is the world of Sebastian Cartwright, top International Interior Designer and friend of the great and the good. His larger-than-life chums include Magda, a glamorous Hungarian emigre, her lover Phillip, Viscount Brampton, scion of an Aristocratic English family and trusted confidant, Karim, a Moroccan Architect who commutes between Marrakesh and Amsterdam with his Dutch partner Christiaan. But Sebastian Cartwright is angry. His career as an Interior Designer took a hit during the Credit Crunch in 2008 and has never recovered. He feels adrift in a world that has changed beyond his recognition; his whole being fractured. A classicist in style, his old-fashioned values have also suffered at the hands of what he feels to be a Media-led destruction of all he holds dear. His world-view, influenced by his innate Christianity, is affronted by the idolatry he sees around him. Magda introduces him to Madeleine Armitage, an avaricious, antipodean corporate wife and Sebastian's life is turned upside down. His deep antipathy towards her is put aside during a weekend house party in rural Southern Spain where a significant person from his past appears and he is forced to confront a panoply of emotions buried deep in his soul. A timely and humorous look at the issues of Big: Government, Banks, Media, and Religion, Fractured Idols reinvents a well-worn idiom: "Hell hath no fury like a Homosexual scorned".

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: First Edition Design Publishing
• Date de parution: 25 août 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781622879540
• Langue: English

Extrait

Fractured Idols

by
Kevin Austin
Fractured Idols
Copyright ©2015 Kevin Austin

ISBN 978-1622-879-53-3 PRINT
ISBN 978-1622-879-54-0 EBOOK

LCCN 2015944689

June 2015

Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com



ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns ─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r or publisher .
For Geoffrey, George and the late Diana Bliss.
Chapter One


Lurking in Sebastian's unconscious was a truism: Sunday is sacrosanct, the day of rest. He put aside his worries, the metaphysical shutters were drawn, and he relaxed and forgot the pressures of modernity.
With the French doors open, he stood admiring the communal garden. A crisp, clear sky allowed the sun to act as a spotlight on the glory of the autumnal beauty; the turning leaves created a vibrant and translucent palette of red and gold.
The clarity of the scene made Sebastian feel happy to be alive and his mood buoyant; a mixture of nervous energy with a pitch of excitement, unfathomable for most people to comprehend, and unbearable for them to sustain. The diagnosis would be some form of depression, but without the debilitating symptoms.
A part of his genetic make-up since birth, his first memory of this condition was the moment at age eight when he shot bolt-upright in bed howling inconsolably. He went to sleep cuddling his teddy bear and awoke to behold the state of non-existence. The blackness overwhelmed him.
He remembered his mother making him a mug of hot chocolate and her soothing words. All a blur now, but the sense of being placated remained: this is something happening to the whole of humanity; death is a transitional phase; we all go to Heaven.
He listened to his mother's gentle wisdom and let it flow over him, a buffer against the reality of this youthful existential crisis. He got on with his childhood and that moment manifested itself in a slight tendency towards morbidity; a fear of not existing in the physical human form he learned to deal.
Sebastian jumped as Magda brought him back from his reverie: "Darlink, do you think you could help me by making a jug of Bloody Mary?"
He turned and saw her face flushed with heat from the kitchen. One of the first to flee when the Eastern Bloc crumbled in the early nineties, she got herself in to Britain working as an au pair. When they first met, Sebastian couldn’t decide if she most resembled Marlene Dietrich on steroids or a binge-eating Zsa Zsa Gabor. A strong and assertive girl with a big personality and used to getting her own way, her deep, husky voice also reminded him of a younger Kathleen Turner.
"I'm sorry, how remiss of me."
"They will be here soon."
He smiled at her accent. Magda was the epitome of camp and Sebastian "the fag to many hags," as he liked to quip. Women and gay men enjoy a special bond. Neither are interested in complicating their relationship with sex. Sebastian's experience with the "I can change him" brigade always ended in disaster, believing they had a God-given right to try and "turn" their "poor, unfortunate friend" and lead this misguided pilgrim to worship the vagina as a holy shrine.
Over the years he learned how to deal with these situations. In the long term, the woman in question had to be dumped so she could move on with her life. Sebastian believed unrequited love needed nipping in the bud.
"Magda, you are looking fabulous."
"Darlink, thank you." She did a twirl.
Black Palazzo pants and a black, open-necked shirt (tailored to wear out) offset the vibrant emerald green of her knee-length Nehru jacket and the colour-matched kitten-heeled Prada pumps. Sebastian imported the silk from Thailand. His favourite curtain maker also doubled up as a seamstress and created many bespoke outfits for both of them.
In the style of Versace, black enamel bangles embedded with gold sovereigns adorned her wrists, and miniature versions her ears. Givenchy costume jewellery took centre stage around her neck in the form of a vintage necklace: an enormous, oval-shaped faux emerald surrounded by pave rhinestones, held in place by a golden snake-flex chain.
Wearing far too many jewels at lunch sprang to mind, but Sebastian decided the look worked.
Her make-up accentuated her Slavic cheek bones, and the green eyes sparkled in sync with the jacket. Pushing 6' on her heels, with her flaxen hair back-combed high, she struck a formidable presence.
A token of affection from her lover Phillip, Viscount Brampton, she wore the pendant in his honour because he would be joining them for lunch. This took Sebastian by surprise because he rarely spent weekends in London and Magda never mixed him with friends.
After the advent of communism, the new regime expunged all traces of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the associated nobility from the school curriculum. Since her arrival in London she had realised there was a huge void in her knowledge of history, both of Hungary and the rest of the world. Phillip is as much a social-experiment in the laboratory of Magda's mind as a lover.
Magda Persay, a flag-carrying proponent of the free market, is making her way, post-communism, in Britain. Release from the shackles of state-imposed socialism gave her a sense of "I've got nothing to lose" negotiating her way through life in the West.
"Bloody Mary. How maaaarvelous daaaarling." Sebastian drawled in mock-Australian.
"Madeleine doesn't speak like that."
The lunch would be the first opportunity for Magda's new best friend to meet him, and she fretted, as she needed his approbation.
"I'm sure she doesn't. Don't worry, I'll behave!"
He returned to the kitchen whilst she began plumping cushions on the sofas. The oven's heat permeated the room and the temperature and humidity were akin to that of being in a glasshouse on a hot summer's day. He turned the central heating thermostat off. The weather forecast predicted a mild day and 14 degrees. He yelled out: "Magda, can I turn the oven down?"
"No. The beef has only been in for ten minutes."
The space was large by London standards. He incorporated the original maid's bedroom, enabling him to create a vast central island, walk-in pantry, professional range, and a small adjacent laundry room.
Sebastian felt a whiff of nostalgia. He associated Bloody Marys with the Sunday lunches of his childhood at the home of his paternal grandparents near the centre of Nottingham. The house adjoined the grounds of Wollaton Hall, and from the upper windows, one overlooked acres of parkland. The children spent the afternoon playing in the acre of garden planted to lawn and bordered by huge hedges.
He found a large glass jug and the Smirnoff Blue in the pantry. As he searched for the other ingredients, Magda reappeared.
"Have you seen the Tabasco?"
"On the drinks tray next door. I'll get it."
"Would you grab the Worcestershire sauce as well?" he shouted after her.
Sebastian's passion for interior design and his future career resulted directly from the death of his grandparents. His father, James, inherited the family-owned real estate agency and the Wollaton house in 1972.
The moving story of a 60-year marriage and the pining for the loss of his only love sent Sebastian's grandfather to the grave two months after his wife. Although deeply saddened, the family decided "they'd had a good innings".
Sebastian, aged eight, cringed at the cricket metaphor. He took an early dislike to the game, not helped by his innate inability to throw, hit, or catch the ball. His young ire rose when the decorators replaced the classical, but chic, decor of the house with a theme of burnt-orange psychedelic swirls, and the bathrooms became an homage to the avocado.
Magda returned as Sebastian poured a large quantity of Vodka into the jug.
"Darlink, remember, not too much Tabasco."
"Of course not. I'm not over keen either, but I love a little zing."
The front door bell rang. She startled him as she ripped off and flung her pinny on the kitchen counter.
"I'll go."
So not her , he thought. He mixed in a good quarter bottle of Sherry and walked across to the American fridge to find the fresh lemon juice. The entire kitchen's white goods are Miele, as he can't bear the double-entendre of Siemens, and the connotations of Smeg leave him breathless.
Sebastian remembered an anecdote about the English expats in Spain who took their Mitsubishi Pajeros with them from England: The people in charge of brand creation need only do a Google search to discover that in Spanish, “Pajero” means Wanker.
He chuckled inwardly as he heard Magda calling: "Sebastian, come meet Madeleine".
He added the lemon, pressed the jug up against the icemaker on the door of the fridge, and let long rectangular cubes tinkle in. He headed out along the short passageway, past the guest bedroom on the left, back to the drawing room.
Magda stood with her back to the fire and Madeleine sat facing Sebastian. He got the full view of a striking Blonde in her late forties, and his first impression: Catherine Deneuve. Wearing little makeup and highlighted hair cut into a long bob, her look was the signature understated glamour created by EQUUSHAIR in Kensington.
Phillip more or less insisted Magda become a client soon after they met. Very much an establishment salon, she loved the aristocratic titles bandied about as much as a "Mrs." in a more suburban environment.
Madeleine wore a lilac cashmere collared jumper, the top two buttons undone to reveal a st