The Surprise Party

by Sue Welfare

  ‘Are you serious?’ Liz murmured.

  Fleur nodded. ‘Oh yes, she’s barely at home these days.’

  Liz stared at her, finding herself torn between the revelations that Suzie was carrying on with someone and that somehow along the way she had also managed to wangle herself a TV show.

  ‘She can’t be on TV,’ Liz finally snapped. ‘I mean, she just can’t. It’s not right – it’s not fair. How on earth can Suzie just be on TV? I’m the one who is on TV. I’ve done my time. I’ve paid my dues. I don’t suppose it’s occurred to her that they’re probably only taking her on because she’s my sister. It’s obvious when you think about it, they’re just trying to cash in on the whole Starmaker thing. It’s disgusting.’

  ‘I suppose they could be, but I don’t think they are,’ Fleur said quietly. ‘I don’t think they even know she’s your sister. Suzie uses her married name and I can’t imagine she’d use those kind of tactics; she’s not like us really, is she?’

  Liz stared at her; the implication being that Liz would, presumably. Fleur shrugged. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You and I are like peas in a pod – driven, businesslike . . . unlucky in love,’ she said.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Liz said.

  Fleur continued as if she had not spoken. ‘Whereas Suzie and your mum . . .’

  Liz waited for whatever was coming next.

  ‘Aren’t,’ said Fleur, after a second of two of deliberation. ‘I mean, they’re not very worldly, are they? The TV company approached Suzie after her garden and Matt’s restaurant had been on the radio and in the local papers and after all, he’s got the contacts. I don’t think it’s about you at all.’

  ‘Don’t be naïve, Fleur, of course it’s about me,’ sniffed Liz, snatching up her phone from the table; surely there had to be someone she could call about this? Her agent? Probably not – knowing Hector his next call would be to Suzie to see if she wanted him to represent her.

  ‘The whole point about this, Liz, is that Suzie is worried about how Sam is going to take it. But who would have guessed by looking at her? Secretive, that’s what I’m saying. The whole bloody lot of us. Shame really. Sam’s always seemed such a decent guy.’

  Liz stared at her aunt. ‘Decent guy,’ she repeated, looking down at her phone. How come she couldn’t find herself one of those?

  ‘You’d better ring His Nibs back,’ said Fleur. ‘You don’t really want Mr Right getting himself lost tonight of all nights now, do you?’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now,’ Liz said with forced casualness as she marched outside. ‘That’s the trouble living in such a backwater, people always have a hell of a job finding it.’

  Out in the garden Liz could barely contain her fury. It was outrageous. How could Suzie possibly end up on TV and having an affair? Liz took a deep breath and made an effort to compose herself. Before having a word with Suzie, she’d ring Grant and find out exactly where he was and what was going on. Be calm and nice, although that wasn’t what the raging peevish voice inside her head was telling her – oh no, not at all. She wanted to go into that tent and ask Suzie what the hell she thought she was up to. TV, they’d make mincemeat of someone like her. See how Suzie liked it when the tabloids went on and on about how fat she’d got or how thin or how she had let herself go.

  Liz sniffed and scrolled down to find Grant’s number, peering at the blur of numbers on the screen. But she was unable to bring herself to ring. What she needed now wasn’t Grant sounding distracted and busy, gagging to take a business call on the other line, but some moral support, a little emotional there, there, there. What she needed was someone to stroke her ego and make a little conversation over a decent bottle of wine, or snuggled up in bed, about her career, how well she had done so far and how very pretty and clever and bright she was.

  Unfortunately Liz suspected that that kind of moral support was probably outside Grant’s repertoire. He had told her right from the very start that he didn’t like clingy, whiny women, although he did like his women feminine and soft, not cold and hard-nosed like his ex-wife. Liz doubted he’d be much use in a crisis unless it involved her tripping over and breaking a heel on her Jimmy Choos and him carrying her back to the car, or maybe needing his jacket draped around her shoulders because she had got chilly at some outdoor jazz thing. She could see that Grant liked to think himself good at the whole ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ stuff, but he was probably not the kind of man who would be there for her in a crisis of confidence. And that was another thorn in her flesh, because Liz had no doubt whatsoever that Sam was exactly that kind of man. He would be just perfect in a real crisis. It was so bloody unfair. How come Suzie had managed to get it all?

  Which brought her rage full circle. Why hadn’t Suzie said anything to Liz about the whole TV thing? Surely Liz would be the most natural choice of confidante? All the years of experience she had, along with the know-how, the contacts . . .

  As if Liz’s thoughts had summoned her up, Suzie now appeared in the door of the marquee, carrying a champagne flute. Suzie smiled and held it out towards her.

  ‘Okay?’ Suzie mouthed. ‘Are they coming down? People are beginning to get restless and I’m not sure how much longer we can hold the food.’

  Liz was about to speak, but before the words could form, her phone rang again. It was Grant. This time she painted on a broad confident smile and took the call, waving Suzie away.

  ‘Hello, darling, we’re missing you already. Where are you?’ she said in a voice that carried across the lawn, stopping Suzie in her tracks.

  ‘I’m in the office,’ said Grant.

  ‘What? What do you mean you’re in the office?’ she said, heading across the garden so that Suzie wouldn’t be able to hear her. ‘Just how late are you going to be? I thought you said you’d be here by half past six.’

  ‘No, you said I should be there by half past six,’ Grant said.

  ‘My parents are already here; supper’s going to be served soon. What time will you be here?’

  ‘I’m not going to be there at all, sweetie, I told you the other day that I couldn’t make it tonight.’ He sounded quite cheery, which was unnerving.

  ‘What? When did you tell me that? You didn’t, I’m sure you didn’t—’ hissed Liz.

  ‘Yes, I did, babe, maybe you weren’t listening. You were busy making plans and talking to someone else, so no change there. You were having you hair done or something – when you said you wanted me to come I told you I’d love to but I’d got to meet Felipo this evening. Remember?’

  Liz stopped dead in her tracks. He had said something else, she knew that, but it hadn’t occurred to her that he had said no.

  ‘Anyway, we’ve got a table booked at the Ivy. It’s a longstanding arrangement, and besides being a good friend, Felipo is a very important man. Not someone you mess around. I did tell you – anyway I was just ringing to say I hope you have a lovely time. Got to go now. Ciao, babe.’

  Ciao, babe? That wasn’t the answer she was expecting at all.

  ‘No, just wait a minute,’ said Liz hastily. ‘You knew that this was important to me. I reminded you last week and you said—’

  ‘I said I would think about it, that I’d check my diary and get back to you. And I did – you just didn’t listen, sweetie.’

  ‘You had plenty of time to reschedule this meeting. I’ve been talking about my parents’ party for weeks.’

  ‘You’re right, I did, but I didn’t want to. Look, babe, family things really aren’t my scene, and to be honest this is all a bit much – too much, too soon, do you get what I’m saying here?’

  ‘Too much, too soon?’ she repeated. ‘Are you saying you don’t want to meet my parents?’

  ‘Well yes, that’s right. I didn’t want to make it sound quite so harsh but you haven’t really given me much choice, have you? So yeah, exactly. I mean I don’t know about you but I’m really not looking for anything too heavy at the moment, and it’s all been getting a bit inte
nse recently. Every weekend, meeting the family. I mean, for God’s sake, it’s not like this is really going anywhere, is it? I’m thinking fun – get together when we’re both free, you know, have a good time, have some fun.’

  ‘Fun . . . yes, of course,’ Liz said, struggling for breath as she held back tears, trying very hard to keep the pain out of her voice. How could she have got it so wrong? ‘Well, we have been having fun, haven’t we?’ she managed between gritted teeth. ‘The last few months. It’s been great, you know, nothing too heavy.’

  ‘No, sure, you’re right, it’s been good but this every weekend thing—’

  Somewhere in the background Liz could hear a woman giggling. ‘Is there someone with you?’ she said.

  ‘Sorry? Oh that, yeah that’s Felipo’s baby sister Angelique and her friend Martina – couple of crazy, crazy girls. Now they really know how to have fun, those two. Martina’s twenty-two. She’s a lingerie model – six foot two, 38,24,34, all of it one hundred percent natural.’

  Liz couldn’t believe what she was hearing: just who the hell did he think he was talking to? Did he expect her to be pleased for him? She could practically hear him wiping the drool off his chin. Bastard.

  ‘Well, I hope you all have a lovely evening. Lots of fun,’ she said before hanging up.

  He was forty-eight, for God’s sake. A twenty-two-year-old lingerie model? Liz sniffed.

  ‘I hope he chokes,’ she growled as she headed into the marquee and the increasingly restless guests.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Down on the riverbank, Sadie, Hannah, Simon and Tucker were all a little the worse for wear.

  ‘I reckon we should go back to your gran’s place and grab another couple of bottles of something,’ said Sadie, stretching out like a cat in the dappled sunlight.

  ‘Yeah, but not any more of that champagne stuff,’ Tucker said, pulling a face. ‘That was totally foul.’

  ‘We’ve still got some drink left,’ said Hannah, holding up the bottle of vodka and Coke as evidence.

  ‘Yeah I know, but we might want some more later and you were the one who told us it was a piece of cake last time,’ said Sadie, flicking her dog end into the remains of the campfire. Her speech was slurred and thick. ‘We’ll go and get some more booze and then we’ll go back to my place, okay? And then Si here can ring up for take-out pizza or whatever it is he wants,’ she giggled.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Hannah. ‘The party is supposed to have started at seven. Everyone will be there by now.’

  ‘Yeah, but just think about it. That’ll be better for us, won’t it? Everyone already being there will make it easier to get in and get something without being spotted. You know, slip in under cover of the crowd?’ said Sadie, illustrating stealth with a hand gesture.

  Hannah considered the sense of what Sadie was saying. Thinking through her plan, it seemed complicated and muddy, which Hannah guessed meant that she was most probably drunk. Finally. She tried hard to suppress a big grin. So this is what it feels like.

  ‘So what, you mean like all of us go back now?’ she said. ‘To my Grandma’s, or just me and Simon?’

  ‘Oooooo, just me and Simon,’ Tucker whooped in a horrible imitation of her voice.

  Hannah glared at him, or she would have done if she could have focused properly.

  ‘Shut up,’ she snapped. ‘You’re just jealous.’ Her bottom lip felt numb and her voice sounded as if it was coming from a long way back in her head and even though she was thinking the words before she said them, when they came out she was surprised by how loud they sounded. This being drunk business was weirder than she had expected.

  Between them, Sadie, Tucker, Hannah and Simon had finished off the champagne and drunk quite a lot of the vodka, and when she closed her eyes Hannah was disconcerted to discover that the darkness was busy going around and around.

  Up until she had closed her eyes, Hannah had been watching Tucker move slowly across the clearing, approaching Sadie very carefully, like she was one of those insects on the wildlife programmes that bites the heads off the male. Stealthily he had moved closer and closer, watching Sadie’s every move until he had finally slipped onto the ground alongside her.

  Hannah tried hard not to laugh as Tucker very cautiously slid his arm around Sadie’s shoulder and then settled himself back on the log so that she had no choice but to lean up against him. Just when it looked like he might have got it licked, Sadie suddenly stood up, brushed herself off, took another swig from the Coke bottle and then settled herself down again on an upturned milk crate by the remains of their campfire.

  ‘Did you say there was going to be food at the party?’ asked Tucker, pretending not to notice that Sadie had moved.

  Hannah nodded. ‘Yeah, they’re going to have a buffet and stuff and a wedding cake.’

  ‘Well, in that case, Simon, trouser your cash, mate. We’ll eat when we get there,’ said Tucker brightly. ‘You think your mum and dad would mind if we crashed your gran’s party, Hannah? You know, just like grab some food and that? We don’t need to stay for long.’

  Earlier, the thought of them all going to the anniversary party had seemed crazy, but now it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. After all, they were her friends, weren’t they? And even if her mum didn’t really like them, surely she could see that they were cool and she should be allowed to have some of her own friends there. It was only fair.

  The trouble was that the thought was slippery and hard to hold onto, like a fish in her head. The fish idea struck her as really clever and then really funny and then Hannah giggled so much she rolled off the log she’d been sitting on, which made her laugh even more.

  ‘So do you think they’ll mind?’ asked Tucker.

  Hannah did a big panto shrug. ‘I don’t know. Probably they won’t be that happy about it, because it’s mostly all their friends and my grandma and granddad’s friends, but they’re hardly going to chew me out in front of all those people, are they? And it’ll be a laugh.’ Hannah replayed the words in her head. Had she really said that? There was no way to take it back now because the others were getting up and ready to go. And maybe it would be a laugh.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘Well, it sounds like a plan to me,’ said Sadie, brushing herself down and twisting her hair back up into a knot. ‘And anyway we can’t go round my place for a while yet, because my mum will still be there with what’s-his-face, all loved up and snogging,’ said Sadie, screwing up her face. ‘Not that I mind, you know, what she does is her business but you know . . .’ The words faded away.

  Hannah stared at her; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a mum who brought boyfriends home. But Sadie’s thoughts had already moved on.

  ‘So we’ll head up to your gran’s, see what’s going on there, get something to eat, mingle with the wrinklies for a bit, and then we can grab some more drink and bugger off back to my house. Okay?’ She paused to see if there was any dissention in the ranks and then said, ‘Sounds like a plan to me. Tucker, bring the booze.’

  Tucker did as he was told. Hannah, sitting in the dust beside the log, wanted to explain that it probably, maybe, wasn’t such a good idea after all, but she didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on more than one thing at once, and at the moment all her brainpower was focused on trying to stand up. How come she had never had to think about standing up before? Her legs felt very odd. Simon, already on his feet, came over and slipped his arm through hers, carefully helping her to stand.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he whispered. He was grinning and looked really cute.

  ‘Yeah, of course she’s okay, why wouldn’t she be? Leave her alone, you letch,’ sniggered Tucker, with a big grin.

  Simon coloured crimson. ‘I was only—’

  ‘Yeah, we can all see what you were doing, get your hands off her,’ teased Sadie. ‘Taking advantage of the drunk. It’s illegal, you know. You should be ashamed of yourself.’

  ‘I’m okay,�
� Hannah said aloud, although she was anything but, and then, catching Simon’s eye, she smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, brushing herself down. ‘I don’t think I could have made it up without you.’ Which for some reason made her giggle all the more. ‘Sorry,’ she spluttered. ‘My legs and my brain have gone weird.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Simon asked. His anxious expression made her want to laugh all the more but she managed to hold it together and made an effort to straighten her clothes. Hannah felt wrecked and wished she had a hair-brush with her. ‘I’m okay. I just feel a bit . . .’

  ‘Drunk,’ said Sadie loudly.

  ‘Sick,’ Hannah muttered with horror as a great wave of nausea rolled over her. ‘Oh my God, I’m going to be—’ and clutching her stomach with one hand and clamping the other over her mouth, Hannah ran headlong out of their den into the rough grass beyond. In her confusion and panic she picked the wrong side of the bushes and a split second later she found herself teetering on the edge of the riverbank, the momentum carrying her over the edge down towards the water. Slipping and sliding, she slithered messily down the slope, down through the dense grass and the brambles and the bushes, down to the very bottom where she threw up all over her new ballet shoes. And then she threw up some more, and then some more, until she was dry heaving and it felt as if she might cough up her whole digestive system along with maybe her lungs.

  Finally, after what felt like forever, Hannah slumped down onto the grassy bank, trembling, shaky and cold, her stomach still heaving miserably with little aftershocks.

  God, if this is drunk you can keep it, she thought, closing her eyes and wishing the world would stop tilting so violently. Another great wave of nausea rolled through her and she dropped onto her hands and knees, wondering if she was going to die, and just how angry her mum and dad would be with her if she didn’t.