The Surprise Party

by Sue Welfare

  When he’d first asked her out, Fleur had left the choice of destination up to him; they had ended up at a crocodile farm watching some mad man feeding snappers with dead chickens. Second date – and not wanting to be outdone – she’d taken him on a riverboat up the Trinity Inlet, where for a few dollars you got a reel, line and a pile of fish heads, and they’d spent the morning catching and boiling crabs, pulling off their legs and eating them, in the company of a great flurry of Japanese tourists who had a photographic record of every second from the instant they had embarked, and, for once, just for once, Fleur had begun to think that maybe, just maybe she had got it right. And now he was gone and it was her own fault. Her mouth hardened into a thin line. Shows that even after all these years you could still get it wrong.

  Alongside her Peter was still smiling. ‘It really is great to see you again, Fleur. I’ve often thought about you over the years, you know. You and me and all those might-have-beens.’

  Genuinely surprised, Fleur stared at him. ‘What? What do you mean? What might-have-beens?’

  ‘Oh come on, don’t play coy with me, Fleur. You know exactly what I’m talking about. That night at Rose and Jack’s wedding reception – don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? I’ve often wondered what might have been if we’d just . . .’ The words dried up and he looked deep into her eyes. ‘Well, you know. Me and you . . . if we’d just carried on from where we left off. Or maybe not left off at all.’

  Fleur felt her heart lurch. ‘Jesus, Pete, it’s forty years ago. That’s a hell of a lot of might-have-beens that we could have crammed in there if we’d wanted to. It was only one night—’

  He smiled. ‘Don’t you think I’ve thought about that too? I’ve often wondered if we didn’t make a terrible mistake just walking away from each other like that. Didn’t you ever think about me?’

  She frowned and considered what he was saying. ‘Well, I suppose so, once or twice,’ she began. Fleur didn’t like to add that Peter hadn’t crossed her mind for donkey’s years and that one quick, guilty, drunken fumble behind the church hall while their respective partners danced the night away to local musical legend, Billy Michael and the Mikettes, hardly counted as the greatest romantic encounter of her life. Looking back over all those years, Fleur couldn’t even remember the name of the boy she had been going out with at the time, although she seemed to vaguely recollect that he was ginger.

  While she had been deep in thought, Peter had moved in a little closer. ‘You know, I kicked myself for years for not asking you to stay, or for not having the guts to come out to Australia and track you down. See if we could make a go of it. I’ve always wondered what might have happened.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this now?’ asked Fleur, stepping back to give herself a bit of breathing space.

  ‘I suppose seeing everyone here tonight I suddenly got this sense of how fast the years had gone by. Seemed like we had all the time in the world back then – and now, well, it made me think what little time we have and how little we’ve got left.’

  Fleur laughed. ‘Jesus, Peter, you sure know how to charm a girl – there’s nothing like looking on the bright side,’ she said, and then she looked at him and realised he was serious. His eyes were bright with emotion. She took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. It was time to put a stop to this and put him out of his misery.

  ‘Pete, you know as well as I do that the grass is always greener. Fantasy is always so much better than the real thing – you might have come out, found me and it could have turned out to have been disaster, we could have fought like cat and dog and hated the sight of each other by now. And it was only one night a long, long time ago,’ she said. ‘One night and—’

  ‘How can you say that? It was so much more than that,’ Peter insisted.

  ‘For you maybe,’ she said evenly.

  ‘Oh come on now,’ said Peter. ‘Don’t tell me it meant nothing to you? We’d been circling round each other for months before the wedding reception. And don’t tell me you don’t remember either, Fleur. All those little looks and snippy, flirty little comments every time we met up. I’d have made a move earlier except that I always got the impression that you were afraid of getting involved with me—’

  ‘Because you were engaged to someone else,’ growled Fleur.

  There was a little pause. A few feet away the photographer was still trying raise a smile from Hannah who looked as if she was in pain.

  Apparently deciding on a different tack, Peter said, ‘I’ve always kept up to date with all your news, for all these years. Where you were, what you were doing, I heard about your restaurants. I’ve got the whole chain bookmarked on my computer at home. I regularly dip into your website to take a quick look at the new menus and read the reviews. See how things are going—’

  Fleur held up a hand to quieten him. ‘Stop it, Peter, you’re really weirding me out here.’

  He smiled. ‘I don’t mean to. One thing that has always struck me is that after all these years you’ve never got married. I kept thinking over the years that maybe that was my fault. Maybe . . . well, you get my drift. What I’m saying is that I didn’t mean to hurt you, you know, not now, not ever.’

  Fleur stared at him, stunned, and finding herself trying hard not to laugh. What an ego the man had on him. ‘Whoa there, cowboy, you really need to get over yourself,’ she said briskly. ‘Let’s just wind this one back, shall we? You think the reason that I didn’t get married was because I’ve been pining for you all these years?’

  ‘Well, maybe not pining exactly, but what we had was special, wasn’t it?’

  Fleur couldn’t hold back the laughter. ‘What we had was non-existent, Peter. One night spent fumbling around in your brother’s Ford Capri really isn’t my idea of a great romance. And I certainly didn’t put my life on hold waiting for you to come along on your white charger and rescue me, if that’s what you think.’

  Apparently oblivious, Peter closed the gap between them. ‘Stop fighting it. There’s no need to be so defensive, Fleur. I know you, remember, and I respect you for being a strong, independent woman. I’ve been thinking a lot about us just recently. It’s not too late, we could still make something of it. I mean, why deny what we feel?’

  ‘What?’ Fleur spat. ‘Are you nuts? What we feel?’

  ‘You and me, Fleur, think about it. How long have we waited for this moment? Mary and I, we haven’t been getting on for years. We go our own ways these days, living totally separate lives. It was a mistake staying together really after I had a glimpse of what I could have had with you. We’ve got our own friends, our own interests. I can’t remember the last time we slept together.’

  ‘And that’s supposed to encourage me?’ said Fleur, incredulous at the nerve of the man. ‘I really don’t think so, Pete . . .’

  Peter’s smile held, but she caught a glimpse of something all together crueller and darker in his eyes. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that she might have the audacity to reject him.

  ‘Oh come off it, Fleur, what have you got to lose?’ he pressed. ‘Let’s be honest, at your age you won’t be getting a better offer.’

  Fleur stared at him, speechless.

  ‘Right,’ the photographer said, unwittingly breaking into the conversation. ‘If we can have you over here, Fleur . . . That’s lovely. If you’d like to stand with Rose at the back and you two young ones, just stay where you are. Now we’ll just get a few of you four. Have you got any idea where Suzie and Liz have got to?’

  *

  Having escaped from the unwittingly painful comments of her parent’s ex-neighbour, Liz wished she had had the foresight to grab a drink on her way out of the marquee. She planned to just take a minute to compose herself; this wasn’t how she had planned the evening going at all.

  The area around the entrance to the tent was circled by smokers and people taking some evening air before the dancing really got started – or maybe, it occurred to her, they were waiting for the speeches. Liz made a
mental note to sort that out just as soon as she got back inside.

  Maybe it was a good thing Grant hadn’t turned up. How much worse it would have been if he’d shown up, met everyone and then dumped her. She wasn’t sure if she could cope with Suzie’s little look of pity and another re-run of her, ‘Don’t worry, there is someone special out there for you, you are an amazing woman, the man is a complete arsehole,’ pep talk. ‘We know the big softie that you are behind that mask,’ Suzie would say. ‘The you with a heart as big as a house and lots of love to give. It’ll happen. You see.’

  Lizzie wiped away a tear and made an effort to pull herself together. That mask had fooled so many people, the problem was that she was getting more and more afraid to step out from behind it. Truth was that she had the most terrible taste in men. Lizzie sighed; she had been hanging on hoping that eventually she would find someone who could see beyond the prickly exterior and, at least for a while, she had thought Grant might have been that man. If there was someone she thought might have the measure of her, Grant had been it.

  Liz looked around wondering if Janet, the escapee bridesmaid, was outside. She had to be somewhere, for heaven’s sake, guests didn’t just vanish into thin air.

  A little knot of teenagers had congregated around the garage, looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but here. Liz suspected they were something to do with Hannah. They all had the same unkempt, sullen look. It occurred to Liz as she watched them that Suzie had probably invited them so that Hannah had someone to talk to. After all, hanging out with your parents’ and grandparents’ friends couldn’t be most teenagers’ idea of a good time. The girl in the group appeared to be busy bumming cigarettes off one of the older men, not to mention flirting outrageously. Liz would have a word with Suzie about that when she went inside; it wasn’t something she wanted to encourage.

  Meanwhile, over by the pergola, Sam appeared to be in conversation with people she vaguely recognised as something to do with the local village shop. As she looked across at him, Sam looked up and caught her eye. Liz smiled, remembering how he had blushed when he had been zipping up her dress, not to mention the sensation of his fingertips brushing against her skin. Maybe, she thought as he hastily looked away, catching his gaze now was an omen. She made her way over.

  ‘Well, hello there,’ she said, offering her hand to Mr and Mrs Whatever-Their-Names-Were, who seemed slightly overwhelmed to have her make a beeline for them. ‘How lovely to see you. Are you enjoying the party?’ she asked, shaking each hand in turn. She was using the voice and manner she imagined the Queen used – neutral but warm, interested but not gushing.

  The two shop owners smiled and made polite deferential noises. Liz offered up a few more social pleasantries in the name of good manners before finally the woman said, ‘We wondered if you’d be here. I thought you might be jetting off somewhere glamorous now the show’s finished for the summer. You know, this being Norfolk – hardly St Tropez, is it?’

  Liz smiled graciously. ‘No, you’re right, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world. My family is really important to me.’

  The woman murmured her approval as Liz continued, ‘It’s so important to have people around you who you can trust – people who knew you before you were famous. People not taken in by all the hype. Isn’t that right, Sam?’

  Sam took a long pull on his drink and didn’t say a word, but Liz could see that the woman was impressed.

  ‘We always watch you on the TV. Never miss,’ she was saying. ‘Although I’m sure you must get sick of people saying things like that . . .’

  Liz laughed, a little light-hearted laugh she had perfected after much practice. ‘No, not at all – I’m always pleased to meet people who enjoy the show and appreciate what we do. It’s a real privilege to be able to help give talented people the chance to shine. And we’re just so lucky to have such a great team. And let’s be honest, without people watching us, we’d all be out of a job, wouldn’t we?’ she continued magnanimously.

  Alongside her she could almost hear Sam groaning, particularly when the woman pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her handbag and asked Liz for her autograph.

  ‘Oh course, my pleasure,’ said Liz.

  The woman beamed. ‘Thank you.’

  Sam rolled his eyes. Still smiling, Liz turned to him and, leaning in close, picked an imaginary piece of lint off his jacket. As she did she looked up at him from under her beautifully painted and subtly enhanced lashes. ‘There we are,’ she purred. ‘Can’t have you looking untidy now, can we?’

  She knew she was in his space, right in his face, and sensed a little victory as she saw him colour just a shade or two. Outside the intimate little circle they had created, Mr and Mrs Shopkeeper smiled, looked slightly uncomfortable, and then made their excuses and left.

  ‘Did you have to do that?’ he said, slapping her hand away.

  ‘Do what?’ asked Liz, with feigned innocence.

  ‘You know exactly what I mean, the whole I’m just the girl next door made good act.’

  ‘But that’s exactly what I am,’ Liz laughed. ‘Oh come on, relax, it makes me a lot of money,’ she said. Taking the glass he was holding, she took a swig. ‘Oh my God, vodka and Coke?’ she said screwing up her nose. ‘Bit slummy for you, Sam. I’d have had you down as a single malt man.’

  Retrieving his glass, Sam said, ‘I see your man’s not shown up yet then?’ in a voice Liz suspected was meant to be the opening salvo fired across her bows. Fortunately she wasn’t that easily rattled, at least not by Sam.

  She had been planning to answer, but at that moment, by some twist of fate, as Liz glanced across towards the open door of the marquee she spotted Suzie standing just inside, caught in the soft early evening light. She was deep in conversation with Matt who, as they watched, fed her a sliver of wedding cake from the tray he was carrying. Matt leant in close, Suzie seemed to be listening intently and then, shaking her head, smiled at something he said. It all looked very intimate and oh-so-cosy. Liz couldn’t have planned it better if she had scripted it. She knew that Sam’s gaze had followed hers and she purred, ‘Not yet but I see your wife’s new man has’, in a voice full of mischief and malice.

  Sam’s expression changed and he stared at her. ‘What?’ he gasped. ‘What do you mean?’ She enjoyed seeing her oh-so-perfect brother-in-law a little rattled. Liz feigned innocence. God, it was almost too easy.

  As Sam spoke, Suzie looked up and waved, while behind her Matt slipped away, back into the shadows.

  ‘There you are,’ Suzie mouthed, all smiles, as she beckoned them over. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The photographer is starting to froth at the gills. Come on – he’s waiting.’

  Liz did exactly as she was told, while alongside her Sam didn’t move. Liz smiled to herself as she sashayed across the lawn; she could almost hear Sam’s imagination revving into overdrive.

  ‘Did you find the missing bridesmaid?’ asked Suzie conversationally, as Liz stepped inside the tent.

  ‘No, couldn’t see hide nor hair of her,’ said Liz. ‘Talking of which, how does my hair look?’

  Suzie gave it a cursory glance. ‘It looks fine to me. What was Sam doing? He doesn’t seem himself at all . . .’

  Liz raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t know. What about my hair?’

  Suzie took a slightly closer look. ‘Looks great. It always looks great.’

  Liz sighed. ‘I don’t know why I’m asking you, as long as it’s not up on end you probably wouldn’t notice.’

  Suzie laughed. ‘True. Is there something the matter, you look flushed?’

  ‘No, I’m fine – just chatting with Sam, that’s all.’ She paused and took a second or two to compose herself; after all, it wouldn’t do to gloat. ‘It’s just all the trouble we went to sorting out the table plans and whats-her-name wasn’t in her seat – two girls there apparently. Someone’s probably playing fast and loose with the place names. She could be anywhere.’ Liz craned her head around the ro
om.

  ‘But she’s definitely somewhere?’

  ‘Apparently.’ Liz unfolded the guest list and handed it to Suzie. ‘There we are – name’s there on the guest list, RSVP’d and everything. I was thinking of getting the band to ask over the PA.’

  ‘Everyone here now?’ asked the photographer.

  ‘I can’t find Janet Fielding,’ said Liz, stepping up alongside Fleur. ‘The other bridesmaid.’

  ‘Right,’ said the photographer. ‘Well, don’t worry, we’ll do two or three with all the girls together, and then we’ll have the happy couple and the best man and hopefully by that time she will have turned up. Now if you can all just come over here alongside the flowers.’

  Smiling, Liz looked back out into the garden. Sam hadn’t moved an inch and had been watching them every step of the way. She nodded in his direction, but if he noticed her he gave no sign.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rose, still cradling a champagne glass in her hand, was feeling warm and sentimental as she gazed around the inside of the marquee, taking in the faces of her family and dearest friends. It was such a lovely party, and unlike the first time around when she and Jack had got married, tonight they hadn’t had to worry about whether or not people would turn up or whether her mum and dad could afford to pay for the catering or if they were going to run out of beer before the boys ran out of steam.

  The photographer, who hadn’t stopped all evening, was busy rearranging them into a group so that the six girls could get into shot together. Rose and Fleur, Suzie and Liz, Hannah and Megan. It was such a lovely idea. All her lovely girls together. Three generations. Rose glanced around at her female clan and beamed. She was so proud of them all, even Fleur, who, despite their prickly relationship, and even though she would never have described their relationship as close, Rose loved fiercely. Although neither would admit it, they both knew they enjoyed their bickering.