Chapter Two

It struck Dr Eduardo Di Angelo as somewhat rude that Chav Di Angelo had abruptly cut off their conversation and turned her attentions to the designer clothing-clad young playboy who had joined their number. Sadly for Dr Eduardo this was not something that occurred as rarely as he would like. Often a female, initially impressed by his doctor status, would quickly turn their attentions away from him when the true nature of his work was revealed.
As an internationally renowned, and certainly amongst those in his field, highly respected stool technician, he was revered for his knowledge of all things excretia. But to those with only a rudimentary understanding of faeces, his vocation was somewhat off-putting. And so it was with great relief that Dr Eduardo looked up to see the arrival of a familiar face.
Wanj Di Angelo strode confidently into the courtyard. His years of experience as an international explorer and archaeologist meant that few scenarios ever daunted Wanj, and he viewed this mysterious gathering as just another adventure. As ever, his loyal saluki dog Bingo was by his side. Dr Eduardo stood up and greeted his old friend with an enthusiastic handshake.
Bingo the saluki padded over to Chav Di Angelo and she stroked the dog's exquisite pale fur. Ever the businesswoman, it flashed into Chav's mind that dog manicures could be the next avenue to explore. She made a mental note to discuss the legal implications of this with Jobs Di Angelo at a later date.
Ever the gentleman, Wanj Di Angelo diligently greeted each of the others in turn. With the formalities out of the way Christoph Di Angelo leapt up and said 'So none of us have any idea why we're here but I propose we have a drink and make the most of it.' The group agreed with his proposal, and just as Christoph was sourcing wine and champagne the crunching of tyre on gravel could be heard from outside.
A people carrier with blacked out windows had pulled up and a driver was busy offloading various items of luggage. Poppy Di Angelo adjusted her sun hat and checked her freshly-applied lipstick in her reflection in the car's windows. Her exquisite pure silk kaftan rippled gently in the breeze. 'It's really fucking hot and you're really fucking slow,' she snapped at the driver. 'I don't know why the fuck I'm here but I certainly know it's not to watch you fuck about offloading bags from a fucking car.' The driver looked up meekly, attempting to hurry up the operation but failing miserably. Christoph Di Angelo looked onto the scene in the driveway and smiled to himself. He had a feeling the chiding of the driver had been ongoing for the entire journey. There was something rather captivating about Poppy Di Angelo and rather than being put off by her vicious attitude towards the driver, he found it somewhat alluring.
Poppy stormed through the house 'Hello? Hello? For fuck's sake, is anyone there??' she cried.
'In the courtyard!' exclaimed Jobs Di Angelo.
'Jobs!' cried Poppy as she eventually emerged into the exquisite seating area.'How fucking fabulous to see you! What the fuck is going on? Thank God you're here! Who the fuck are they?'.
Poppy casually indicated the other members of the group, save for Christoph who was still sourcing alcoholic refreshment.
'This is Chav Di Angelo, Wanj Di Angelo and Dr Eduardo Di Angelo', replied Jobs.
'Pleasure I'm sure' came Poppy's sarcastic response. 'Now, is it possible to get a fucking drink in this fucking place?'.
Right on cue, Christoph Di Angelo emerged with a bottle of chilled champagne and as many glasses as he could carry.
'Well bon-fucking-jour!' exclaimed Poppy Di Angelo with great delight making no attempt to conceal the fact that the person carrying the drink was in her eyes, as delicious as the drink itself.
'Easy Poppy!' advised Jobs. 'Remember we're trying to avoid a ninth husband!'. The two women chuckled. Again, Jobs' legal expertise were the reason these two had become acquainted. Famed for her crime novels, Poppy Di Angelo had become equally well-known for her string of husbands and each one's subsequent mysterious demise. Added to that was the fact that each death would form the basis for the Poppy Di Angelo book that would inevitably follow; and here was fairly compelling case to suggest her involvement in each husband's untimely passing. However, with a lawyer of Job's Di Angelo's considerable talent and ability representing her, like Chav Di Angelo, Poppy was immune to whatever the penal system attempted to throw at her.
Next to arrive was Gary Di Angelo. A man of considerable wealth, Gary carried himself with the confidence of someone at the top of their game.
'Afternoon all,' he said, and tipped his Panama hat which was perched on his head at a jaunty angle. He reached for a glass of champagne and casually drank it in one go. Gary turned and noticed a familiar face.
'Well, well, well! If it isn't Dr Eduardo Di Angelo!' he said, mockingly.
'Gary' came Dr Eduardo's muted reply. Dr Eduardo and Gary had been at medical school together but whilst Gary had gone to be a leading light in the field of plastic surgery, an unfortunate misunderstanding with a young patient had seen Eduardo forced to give up his career as a GP and spend the rest of his days as a technician of stool.
'And what the fuck do you do?' enquired Poppy of Gary.
'I, my pretty be-kaftaned creature, am an arse sculpter.'
'How divine' came Poppy's Di Angelo's disinterested response.
Poppy's obvious disdain didn't bother Gary. He was in demand by the most influential women in the world. Gary's masterful skills in the art of exquisite posterior shaping had ensured his client list read like a Who's Who of the celebrity world.
'So, still fiddling about with people's backsides are you Gary?' said Dr Eduardo in an attempt to belittle the successful surgeon.
'Still fiddling about with what comes out of them?' came Gary's lightening quick response.
Chav Di Angelo couldn't help but let out a little laugh. Dr Eduardo sat back in his chair, dejected. How the tables had turned. Conversations like this never would have happened in medical school. Dr Eduardo had been the most popular and successful student on the course, whilst Gary had spend the majority of his time there as a nobody, working quietly and diligently, his presence barely acknowledged by his fellow students. But all the time he harboured a vicious resentment of the adored Dr Eduardo Di Angelo.
Not known for her patience, Poppy Di Angelo was becoming increasingly annoyed.
'Well, this is just fucking tedious!' she exclaimed. 'I'm bored and my champagne tastes like dog piss.'
Suddenly, the sound of a helicopter interrupted Poppy Di Angelo's tirade. The others were thankful for the distraction as they feared Poppy's offensive complaints would continue to come thick and fast.
Pablo Di Angelo stepped onto the lush grass from the helicopter with all the ease and confidence you would expect from someone of his success and fantastic wealth. His crisp white shirt and exquisite Italian designer suit sat beautifully on his manly frame. Jobs Di Angelo peeked out of the window and could barely contain her delight at the presence of the latest addition to the group.
'Pablo Di Angelo' she muttered under her breath and a shudder of delight pulsed through her body.
Pablo strode confidently up to the house. As he reached the doorway and entered the courtyard, he casually removed his designer sunglasses. 'Good day to you all' he said with a wry smile. Pablo's enormous wealth seemed to seep out of every pore. As the owner of finance, Pablo Di Angelo wanted for nothing. Despite his casual demeanour, it seemed entirely obvious to Wanj Di Angelo that this was a person with worries on their mind. Owning the concept of finance was a huge responsibility.