by Clare Boyd
‘You look stunning, sis,’ Jude said, holding her hands wide as he admired her.
She twirled under his arm and they fell into a hug.
‘Your mate Benjamin Healing’s here. Will you go straight down?’ she said.
He nodded goodbye to me, saying, ‘When the little ones are asleep, I’m going to force a glass of champagne on you and make you dance.’
‘I’d like you to stay if you can, just in case they wake up,’ Elizabeth said to me.
Isla and Hugo leapt in front of us to offer up a tray of minuscule canapés. Two pastry puffs slipped off the edge. Isla bit Hugo, who then dropped the entire tray to hit his sister back. Elizabeth cried out, more tearful than angry, ‘Now look what you’ve done! Please, you two! Stop it!’
I helped her to pick the food up from the floor, remembering that I hadn’t managed to eat. It was quite tempting to pop one in my mouth, but I resisted. We shoved the canapés in the bin.
‘Say sorry to Heather and Mummy, will you, please?’ Elizabeth said to her children.
‘Sorry, Heather!’ the two rascals shouted in unison, looking less than sorry.
‘Hello, Isla. Hello, Hugo. Do you want to show me your bedrooms?’
Elizabeth said, ‘Why don’t you find a story for Heather to read you while I show her the marquee.’ She shooed them away.
‘But we want to see it too!’ Isla cried.
‘Heather will bring you down later, after your bath. I promise,’ Elizabeth said, tweaking Isla’s nose. Then she popped open her clutch bag and handed them each a gold-wrapped sweet. ‘Don’t tell Daddy,’ she whispered, kissing them both.
As she led me through the garden, I straightened a lopsided torch and cast an eye over the beds outside the guest house. The yellows and purples of the borders were pretty in the dying light.
‘How is Agata feeling?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Elizabeth said.
A waitress approached with a tray of champagne. Elizabeth snapped, ‘No, no, Heather isn’t a guest.’
The low pink sun threw long shadows across the meadow of flowers, setting alight the petals, silhouetting the marquee, whose tent poles pushed up turrets of white canvas, resembling a fairy-tale castle. A thick red curtain was drawn over the entrance and pooled onto the seagrass carpeting. She pulled it back.
‘Here we go, take a look. I wanted to show you before it’s all ruined.’
Dozens of lanterns filled with tea lights dangled from the draped ceiling. The tables were arranged either side of the dance floor, adorned with gold cutlery and posies. Moroccan-style gold and silver pouffes were scattered around low metal tables in one corner. Two young women of roughly my age, in white tank tops and layers of gold necklaces, worked behind the DJ box. One bent over the vinyl turntables, which were plugged into a top-of-the-range speaker system, with an earphone pressed to one ear.
‘Cool,’ I said, peering in.
‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth said, and added, smiling, ‘If you could bring the children down in about an hour, when the party is in full swing, and make sure you hold their hands. I don’t want them running off and annoying the guests.’
There were only a few guests so far. They were not how I had imagined them to be. I had expected them to be typical of the Surrey housewife set: wives with floral dresses and toned arms and husbands in paisley shirts and ironed blue jeans. But I was surprised to see that Jude was talking to a man wearing a bomber jacket and neon trainers, holding the hand of a small, curvaceous woman in an all-in-one denim catsuit and red-soled high-heels. The woman teased her backcombed hair with her red nails and cackled at something Jude said.
Elizabeth led me away to the second clearing, mown into a perfect circle by my father, lit by more of my fire torches. There was a huge open fire pit and a hog roast being turned by a chef in a tall hat. A long table was laid out with wooden bowls of fruits and salads and breads.
‘I thought a buffet would be more fun,’ she said. ‘And look down there, can you see? I’ve lit up the trees,’ she laughed, pointing to the oak trees at the bottom of the meadow, which were now illuminated red and yellow and blue. ‘Too much?’ she added.
‘No. It looks amazing,’ I said.
‘The fireworks are going to be started down there.’
As we made our way back up to the house, she said, ‘Thank you for helping us to make it happen, Heather.’
‘My pleasure,’ I said, genuinely pleased.
More guests appeared and chattered behind us.
Elizabeth stiffened. ‘Okay, Heather, you can go now. Isla will take you through the routine. Don’t forget to put Hugo’s glasses back in his case, otherwise he loses them. They know where everything is.’
Passing the guest house, I pictured Agata curled up in her cramped, damp van. The contrast between that hidden shame and the opulence of the party sent a shiver through me.
Before I left, I would bring her some food, as a gesture, even if she couldn’t face eating it yet.
* * *
Isla and Hugo were soft and clean in their pyjamas after a bubble bath. Hugo stood on the yellow stool in the bathroom to look into the mirror. He flattened his hair to the side like a film star’s. I straightened his spectacles and tightened Isla’s dressing gown cord.
‘Ready?’
‘I’m tired,’ Isla said. Her near-hysterical excitement of earlier had died down.
I pushed her damp curls back from her forehead. ‘You don’t want to go down?’
‘I do!’ she said, snapping out of it, grabbing Hugo by the hand and pulling him off the stool. ‘I’ll show you the way!’
Her confidence ebbed away again as we made our way down the path to the marquee. She slipped her hand into mine and stayed close. Hugo skipped in front and said hello to every single guest we passed, eliciting smiles and comments about how sweet he was.
I felt as shy as Isla did. The guests were impossibly sophisticated and intimidating, and my best jeans felt like rags. Even the guests I presumed were Jude’s arty friends looked expensive with their designer glasses and animal-skin clutch bags. Beyond the fleeting patronising admiration the children garnered, I didn’t know whether their once-overs of me were born of curiosity or distaste.
My desperate wish to avoid seeing Lucas at all costs grew by the second. As the crowds thickened, I kept an eye out for him.
‘I want to find Daddy!’ Hugo said.
‘Your mummy said we mustn’t disturb him,’ I said.
‘Your hand’s sweaty,’ Isla said, pulling away from me. I wiped it on my jeans and looked down for Hugo, but he had already disappeared.
‘Where’s your brother, Isla?’ I asked her, panicked.
I swivelled around and then back again in response to a tap on the shoulder.
‘Hello again,’ a man’s voice said.
‘Jude!’ I whispered, relieved. ‘Hugo’s darted off.’
His eyes lit up. ‘The little monster. I’ll help you find him.’
‘I only took my eyes off him for a second,’ I said.
‘What trouble could he get into? It’s only a party.’
I took the lead, swiftly weaving through the guests, my eyes dipped down to the level of his littleness, at people’s skirts and slacks, tanned legs, shiny shoes.
Trouble was everywhere. I saw pale dresses and red wine; a hog roast over tall flames; candles dangling within easy reach; fireworks in the field, unmanned and poised to explode. Everywhere there were dangers for a five-year-old. Everywhere there were possible mishaps that would evoke Elizabeth’s quiet wrath.
‘Let’s look in the marquee,’ Jude said, taking Isla’s hand, changing direction.
‘Naughty Hugo,’ Isla said gleefully, trotting next to him.
I followed them. In Jude’s wake, heads turned. One woman’s eyes widened for a second when she saw him. She nudged her husband. ‘That was Jude Woods,’ she said.
The music became louder. Over my shoulder I glimpsed Elizabeth in the distance ne
ar the house, moving slowly alongside an older man with a cane. They inched down the path, giving us more time to find Hugo.
Jude pulled the marquee curtain back and we cried in unison, ‘There he is!’
Hugo was on the other side of the dance floor, in the arms of one of the pretty blonde DJs. He was clapping and singing, balanced on her skinny hip. His ears were covered in red headphones, bigger than his whole head, and his glasses had steamed up. Enchanted, I had no inclination to rush over to him and drag him away, however furious Elizabeth might be with me.
‘Can I have a go too?’ Isla asked.
‘Come on then, I’ll introduce you,’ Jude said.
We made our way through the throng. A woman in a linen shirt and pearls was twerking. A man in a suit with a handkerchief in his pocket was knocking out an enthusiastic running man. They seemed to be having fun. I actually wished I could gulp back a glass of champagne and join in.
‘This is Lil. And this is Kat,’ Jude said. I shook the DJ girls’ hands. Close up, I realised they were twins, with different hairstyles.
Lil fist-bumped Hugo. ‘This rude boy is fly,’ she shouted in a London accent laced with private school. ‘What’s your name, sister?’ she added to Isla, high-fiving her.
While the two children were being given a lesson in DJing, Jude and I stood side by side surveying the dance floor. Behind the turntables, we were separate from the party. There was no sign of either Lucas or Elizabeth.
‘Have you been having a good time?’ I asked him.
‘Um. Let me think. See that guy?’ he said, pointing to a man in a paisley shirt shuffling awkwardly next to his wife, who was bouncing about in a knee-length leather mini. ‘He’s in the Forbes Top 100. He owns a superyacht mooring in St Bart’s. And that woman,’ he said, pointing to a blonde in a velvet suit, ‘started a nail bar chain in the States that has just floated on the stock market for millions. Her country house is currently being rented out by Adele. And see him with the checked shirt?’ He nodded to a bald man with protruding eyes. ‘He’s head of JCB in Russia and has just moved to Kent from West Sussex so he can afford land for his own airstrip.’
‘Right,’ I said. From the way he delivered the information, it wasn’t clear why he was telling me. I hoped he didn’t think I was the type of person who would be impressed by their wealth.
‘The money on that dance floor alone could wipe out poverty in the UK,’ he continued with a frown. ‘These are not my people.’
Before I could think of an intelligent response that represented my like-mindedness, I spotted Lucas and lost the ability to talk.
His white shirt was neutral and classic, setting him apart from the guests, whose fashion choices marked them tribally. He could have been part of any social faction here: the London set, the green welly brigade, the art scene, the aristocracy. With one hand in his pocket and one through his hair, he scanned the room. Our eyes met and he headed straight for us, politely responding to the many guests who wanted to talk to him. With a shoulder squeeze or a heartfelt handshake, a laugh here and a flirtatious wink there, he worked the crowd like a famous footballer with a bank of fans.
‘Hugo, Isla,’ I said, finding my voice, ‘I think it’s time for bed.’
Both of them ignored me. ‘Jude,’ I whispered urgently, ‘will you help me coax them away?’
Together we managed to prise them off Lil and Kat, bribing them with a rainbow macaron each.
I carried Hugo. The four of us circumvented Lucas, managing to escape outside without an encounter. Outside, Elizabeth caught sight of us and withdrew from a small unit of blonde women, who closed ranks after her departure. I prepared to apologise for the children’s DJing, although I couldn’t be sure she had witnessed it.
‘Darlings!’ she cried, tripping on a cushion that had somehow made its way out of the marquee. She bent to kiss both Hugo and Isla on the lips, and wiped off the lipstick smears, giggling like a schoolgirl. ‘I heard you were naturals on the turntables!’
‘I was just taking them up to bed,’ I said.
‘Wonderful, Heather. Do come down and get some food when they’re tucked in, won’t you?’
‘And a midnight swim maybe?’ Jude said, looking at me.
‘A swim? Is that what you’d like?’ Elizabeth asked.
A cool dip under the stars would have been sublime, but I was wary of Elizabeth’s friendliness, knowing how easily she could turn. ‘No, don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just watch a bit of telly.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘It’s a no-go zone for the guests and it’ll be so much fun in the dark with the pool lights on. It’s the least you deserve after helping me out tonight.’
‘Thank you, Elizabeth. I’ll see how these two go down.’
‘Whatever you feel like. There are spare swimsuits in the shed,’ Elizabeth said. She bent down to give the children hugs. ‘Night, night, my beautiful poppets.’
Jude kissed his niece and nephew on their heads. ‘Be good for Heather, won’t you?’ he said.
‘I’m sure they will be,’ I said. ‘Bye, Jude. Thanks again.’
‘Come down and find me as soon as they’re in bed!’ he called out.
As we pottered up to the house, with Hugo almost asleep on my shoulder, Isla said, ‘I wish we could stay at the party.’
‘Me too, little one,’ I said, realising with surprise that I meant it.
* * *
Through the window of the television den, I could see the guests spilling out of the marquee into the meadow. The semicircle of light from the party glowed like a force field into the dusky evening sky. The noise of talking and laughing, and the pumping music, vibrated through the walls. I was amazed that Hugo and Isla were still asleep.
Having checked on them for the fourth time, I snuggled under the cashmere sofa throw, clicking through the channels with the television remote. I landed on a programme where a woman was in tears over her detox drink of boiled lemon juice and maple syrup. My stomach rumbled and rattled. Looking at my watch, I debated whether I was brave enough to venture out and find some food, and perhaps Jude. Then the door opened and Jude’s head poked round.
‘Those two worn you out?’ he said.
I sat bolt upright. ‘No, no,’ I replied, swiftly switching off the TV.
‘Fancy that swim?’
‘I’m not sure.’ My stomach rumbled loudly.
‘After some food, maybe? Elizabeth said it was okay.’
I clutched my stomach. ‘I’m so hungry I was about to start eating this blanket.’
‘Come on then.’
* * *
On the way down to the meadow, Jude slowed at the little gate to the pool.
‘We could watch the fireworks from the poolside. Those sunloungers will be the best seats in the house.’
There was a wooden sign that said No Entry hanging on the gate.
‘Are you sure Elizabeth’s really okay with it?’
‘The party’s going so bloody well, I don’t think she’d care if I told her we were about to elope.’
‘Jude, I can’t.’
‘Elope?’
‘No, I mean, yes. Definitely no to eloping, but I can’t go for a swim with you either.’
He stopped walking and turned to me with a grin.
‘I know you’re taken, Miss Heather Shaw,’ he said. ‘I’m trying very, very hard to make peace with that, but I promise, with all of my heart, as a true gentleman, that I will respect your boundaries. I just want to do something fun tonight. Everyone at the party is boring me to death.’
‘What if the kids wake up?’
‘We can use the baby monitor.’
I thought quickly. ‘Okay,’ I said, still not entirely sure it was a good idea.
Jude linked arms with me, companionably, and we walked along the pathway. He grabbed two glasses of champagne from one of the trays.
‘Do you want to come with me to get the food?’
‘No thank y
ou,’ I said, shivering at the thought of seeing Lucas.
‘Happy for me to choose for you?’
‘I’ll eat anything.’
‘Cashmere blankets?’
‘If there’s enough barbecue sauce.’
He and Elizabeth were so different, I thought as I watched him amble off towards the spit roast.
Before slipping through the gate, I looked over my shoulder to check that nobody was around. My heart stopped dead in my chest when I saw Lucas coming out of the guest barn. Fearing he had seen me, I backed into the hedge and waited for him to pass, then nipped through the gate.
The floodlights had turned the water a luminous blue. The shed by the pool smelled musty. In an old drawer I found a collection of swimsuits. I avoided the designer brands, with cut-out sections or high legs, and changed into a sensible red Speedo with white piping down the side and a criss-cross back. It was very tight.
The night air was chilly. My stomach growled. I reclined on the wooden slats of the sunlounger, sipped my champagne and waited for Jude. Up above me the stars glowed. A shooting star whizzed and then died. The gate clicked.
‘That was quick!’ I said, sitting up, salivating for my hog roast. When I saw Lucas, my empty stomach contracted, no longer hungry.
‘I knew I’d find you here.’
I pulled the towel around my shoulders and hid my champagne glass. ‘Elizabeth said I could have a swim,’ I said defensively.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I come in peace.’
In the moonlight, his skin and eyes shone. His chinos were rolled up and his feet were bare.
‘Jude’s about to arrive with the food,’ I warned, instinctively.
‘I’m afraid I sent him off to talk to Walt Seacart.’
‘He’s not coming back with my food?’
‘Sorry. Are you hungry?’
‘No,’ I said, leaning back again.