Dreaming of Venice

by Dreaming of Venice (retail) (epub)

  Penny fitted them very carefully, making sure they were firmly attached. She wondered just how much single pendant diamonds like these, each the size of a very big pea, might be worth. Mrs B-W had evidently anticipated the question. There was just a hint of a smile on her face as she broke the news to Penny that the earrings were worth about the same as the Bentley outside the door. Penny had to clench her fists to stop her hands from trembling. What if she lost one?

  The drive down to the Southbank Centre in the massive, luxurious car with its double-glazed windows was completed in near total silence. Only as they swept across Westminster Bridge did Mrs B-W deign to speak to Penny. ‘Now, listen carefully. The people you’re going to meet today are some of the most famous in the country. There will be faces you recognise from the television and the newspapers and I don’t want you to come over all tongue-tied in their presence. We are Brookes-Websters. Just remember that. We could buy the whole Southbank Centre if it was ever for sale, so you don’t need to kowtow to anybody. Got it?’

  Penny nodded, not sure whether to be excited or daunted by the prospect ahead. But Olivia’s mother hadn’t finished.

  ‘At the same time, I don’t want you getting too familiar and flirting with the people you meet. Olivia’s normally a shy sort of girl, so I don’t want to see you launching yourself at some film star. Is that clear?’

  Penny nodded. ‘Totally. If Colin Firth or Jude Law come to me on bended knee, asking for my hand, I’ll send them away with a flea in their ear.’

  ‘And another thing. Don’t try to be funny.’

  Penny reflected that there was little likelihood of Mrs Brookes-Webster making that mistake.

  The reception was in a private room on the third floor of the building, looking out over the grey waters of the Thames. A hefty man with a shaved head, wearing a dinner jacket, quite possibly a close relative of the doorman at the JC café, checked their names on his list and ushered them in. There were well in excess of a hundred people in the room, sipping champagne and talking. Penny immediately recognised a number of well-known faces, from the mayor of London to famous film and television stars.

  ‘Come along, Olivia. Let’s go and see Frances.’ Olivia’s mother took Penny by the arm and walked her down the room towards a group of people by the window. As they did so, she leant towards Penny’s ear and whispered. ‘You’ve met Frances before, but you don’t know her very well. All right?’

  Penny nodded and braced herself. This was a wise precaution. To her amazement, it turned out that Frances was none other than Dame Frances Waterhouse, the doyenne of the British film industry, who was commonly referred to as a National Treasure. In the group alongside her, Penny counted no fewer than three other very famous faces and gulped.

  ‘Frances, darling, how lovely to see you again.’

  The National Treasure raised her eyes at the sound of Mrs B-W’s voice and bestowed a charming smile upon the two of them. ‘Angela, darling, how simply super to see you. And of course this is your lovely daughter…’

  ‘…Olivia.’ Mrs B-W turned towards Penny and smiled sweetly. ‘Olivia, darling, you remember Dame Frances, don’t you?’

  Penny took a deep breath and gave a half bow. ‘Of course. It’s lovely to see you again.’ Remembering to stay in character, she hastily dropped her eyes again, but not before she had noticed the eyes of the man beside Dame Frances staring right down the front of her dress. She felt herself blush, partly because of the direction of his gaze, but mainly because she could hardly believe her own eyes. He was the actor described at Britain’s answer to Brad Pitt. Penny, in common with several million other girls in Britain, had had an enormous crush on him for years.

  ‘Olivia, of course. Come here, darling.’ Dame Frances caught hold of Penny’s outstretched hand and pulled her towards her. Penny was amazed to see that she had the skin of a twenty-year-old, although she was alleged to be in her eighties. Clearly, no expense had been spared in trying to maintain her appearance. It was only the wrinkled skin around her throat that gave her away. The great lady then took both of Penny’s hands in hers and air-kissed her noisily on or around the cheeks with loud mwah noises before repeating the process with Mrs B-W.

  Penny stepped back and raised her eyes. The Brad Pitt look-alike, whose name was Rafe Kingsholme, was still staring at her and she felt her cheeks flush yet again. Mercifully, his eyes had moved up to her face now, but the wink he gave her did little to cool her down. She took a deep breath and did her best to regain some self-control. That lasted just about as long as it took for the Brad clone to reach out his hand towards her.

  ‘Olivia, is it? What a charming name and what a beautiful girl.’ He sounded as if he meant it, but then of course, Penny reflected, he was a very good actor after all. She saw his eyes drop once more to her bust and had a sudden memory of what Jimmy had said about displaying the goods, but this actually helped to bolster her confidence. She shook the outstretched hand and realised that, close-up, he was fair bit older than she had imagined. His breath smelt strongly of nicotine and something a whole lot more alcoholic than champagne. She gave him a suitably shy smile.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr Kingsholme.’

  ‘Call me Rafe, please. And I’m absolutely delighted to meet you too, Olivia.’ He held onto her hand for quite a lot longer than necessary and she distinctly felt him squeeze her fingers before releasing her. She took another deep breath, but was saved from any greater intimacy by the arrival of Olivia’s mother at her shoulder. Eschewing the handshake, Mrs B-W caught hold of the actor and kissed him enthusiastically. He stepped back and greeted her a little less enthusiastically.

  ‘Are you the mother or the big sister of this delightful young lady?’ Penny repressed a grin. His thespian talents were truly impressive. ‘I can see the family resemblance. So beautiful.’

  Mrs B-W beamed at him, although Penny had yet to see any physical resemblance between Olivia and her mother. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir. I’m Angela Brookes-Webster and, alas, I’m not Olivia’s sister.’ She smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘Do, please, call me Angela.’

  ‘So pleased to meet you, Angela.’ He gave her a winning smile before transferring his attention back to Penny. ‘And to meet you, Olivia. Charming, quite charming.’

  ‘And what are you working on at the moment, Rafe?’ Clearly, Mrs B-W had no intention of being upstaged by her daughter.

  ‘A rather naughty series for the Beeb about a rakishly handsome university lecturer who falls for one of his students. All frighteningly politically incorrect.’ His eyes were still trained on Penny, in spite of Mrs B-W’s best efforts. Penny could feel herself beginning to blush so she hastily helped herself to two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handed one to Mrs B-W. ‘Champagne, mummy?’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’ The smile almost managed to look sincere. ‘Now, I fear we must abandon Mr Kingsholme and do a bit of mingling.’

  A look of regret crossed the film star’s face, but his eyes were on Penny, rather than Mrs B-W. ‘If you ever feel like doing any mingling over here, I’ll be waiting, Olivia.’ Penny could feel his eyes on her bottom as she let Mrs B-W steer her away.

  ‘Remember what I said about flirting.’ Mrs B-W’s mouth was so close to Penny’s ear, she had to wipe it afterwards.

  ‘Hi, Olivia, I haven’t seen you for ages.’ Penny swung round towards the sound of the voice. She found herself confronted by a girl about her age, with platinum blond hair and gold earrings the size of saucers hanging from her ears. Penny summoned a broad smile of greeting and did her best to reply appropriately.

  ‘Well, well, well, it’s a small world.’ Now would have been the moment to insert the girl’s name, but Penny knew that wasn’t going to happen. ‘What’re you doing here?’

  ‘I’m here with Daniel.’ The girl pointed vaguely across the room, before turning her attention to Mrs B-W, whose face was showing no signs of recognition. ‘And this must be your mum. Are you going to introduce
me?’

  Oh, shit, Penny thought to herself, now what do I do? She turned towards Mrs B-W, desperately searching for a way out of her predicament. It came to her at the very last moment, just as the silence was becoming a little awkward. ‘Mummy, you’ll never guess who this is…’ But, before she could say more, she turned back to the blonde girl, palming her glittery little bag expertly behind her back as she did so, and excused herself. ‘Hang on a sec, I’ll be right back. I’ve just realised I left my bag in the Ladies.’ Before any more words could be exchanged, she scooted across the room and out the door, making sure she kept the bag firmly clutched to her front, out of sight of the pair she’d just left. Stopping just outside the door, she scrabbled in the bag and found the ten pound note she had stuck in there in case of emergencies. This definitely qualified as an emergency. She pushed the door slightly ajar and beckoned to the bouncer with one finger. The big man came across and looked out at her.

  ‘Yes, miss. Can I help?’

  Penny did her best to assume a clueless look. ‘I’m in a bit of a spot. There’s a girl over there who knows me and I just can’t remember her name for the life of me. I don’t suppose you know, do you? After all, you’ve got the list, haven’t you?’ She batted her eyelids and gave him her most alluring smile. ‘Do you remember by any chance?’ She pointed discreetly across towards the blonde girl who was still standing by Mrs B-W, side on to the door. To her great relief, the doorman produced a knowing smile.

  ‘That would be Tiffany Lyons-Churchill. She’s a regular at these events.’ He leant towards Penny and lowered his voice. ‘Everybody calls her Tiff.’

  ‘You’re such a star. Thanks awfully.’ Penny beamed at him and slipped the ten pound note into his unresisting palm. ‘You’ve saved my life.’ Holding her bag out in front of her, she pushed the door open, hastened back into the room and across to the blonde girl.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Tiff, I just couldn’t bear it if somebody took my bag. My phone’s in here with all my contacts. I’d be simply lost without it.’ She wondered if she might be laying the clueless airhead act on a bit thick, but the girl nodded. Penny saw her immediately understand the enormity of the calamity that had just been averted. Turning towards Mrs B-W, she continued. ‘Mummy, this is Tiffany Lyons-Churchill. We’ve known each other for ages.’ She read relief and maybe even a momentary look of approval on Mrs B-W’s face.

  ‘Tiffany, of course. Your mother and I are such good friends. She’s told me so much about you, but it must be ten years since I last saw you. Tell me, is your mother here today?’

  ‘Yes, she’s over there with Daniel. He’s been telling her all about his trip to Antarctica. Why don’t you come over and say hello?’ Tiffany flicked a swift glance down to Penny’s ring finger. Seeing it bare, she raised her left hand in triumph and gave a little wave in the air. The engagement ring sparkling on her finger had no doubt cost as much as her fiancé’s trip to Antarctica and, just for a second, Penny found herself thinking of Rick. She had often wondered if he and she would end up engaged. Well, she thought to herself, I know the answer to that now, don’t I? Swallowing her chagrin, she smiled broadly.

  ‘Oh, I say, congrats. How super for you.’

  They spent well over an hour and a half at the reception, with Penny making it up as she went along. She hadn’t really spoken to Olivia for long enough to know her figures of speech, so a lot of it was trial and error. It was hard work and she started to develop a headache as the afternoon progressed. At one point, the mayor said a few words, followed by various important people from the world of show business, ending up with Dame Frances herself. Penny restricted herself to two glasses of champagne as she knew it would be suicide for her to get hammered at an event of this magnitude although, she noticed, a number of the other guests didn’t appear to have similar reservations. In fact, as time went by and more drinks were dispensed, the noise level rose and the behaviour level dropped. She had her bottom felt up on three separate occasions; once, she was pretty sure, by a well-known television personality. She finally took refuge in a corner, with her back to the wall. She could just see Mrs B-W’s unmistakable hair on the other side of the room so she could relax. Or so she thought. She jumped as a hand landed on her arm and squeezed.

  ‘Olivia, I’ve been wondering if I would get a chance to talk to you alone.’ She glanced up. It was Rafe Kingsholme. He had a half empty glass of what looked like whisky in his hand and from his glazed eyes, it wasn’t the first he had had that day. ‘Has anybody ever told you just how totally stunning you are? Of course they must have. So, Olivia, how would you feel about coming out on the town with me one evening?’

  By now his eyes had given up any pretence at looking at her face and were firmly locked on her cleavage. Penny had never felt comfortable wearing revealing clothes in public and she realised too late that she should have considered making the transition to full Olivia exposure in small steps, rather than going for the Full Monty so soon. She saw the sweat beading on his forehead and did her best to remember to keep her shoulders back and her spine upright as she searched for a suitable put-down for the great man. Just as she was about to decline his kind invitation with as much grace as she could muster, she spotted a waiter approaching with a tray of drinks. She was on the point of breaking her rule and reaching for another glass of champagne when she caught sight of the waiter’s face. Luckily, he was distracted by a group of very loud and very camp TV actors for the moment, so he hadn’t noticed her yet. There was no doubt about it, though. It was unmistakably Jimmy from the Apocalypse café.

  ‘Oh, shit.’ It was under her breath, but Rafe still heard her.

  ‘Now that’s no way to treat a chap who’s just asked you out.’ Rafe looked and sounded positively miffed. Penny glanced round the room desperately. She had to get away, but Jimmy was so close, she felt sure he would recognise her if she tried. Instead, she opted for the only remaining course of action. She reached up her arms, grasped Rafe by the shoulders and buried her face in his chest. She felt his arms encircle her waist, his free hand dropping shamelessly to her bottom. This was no time to be prudish, so she just wrapped herself even tighter to him and made sure her face was towards the window. She was able to see a faint reflection back into the room that allowed her to watch Jimmy pause with his tray, glance briefly in their direction, and then continue on his rounds.

  She hung onto Rafe for another half minute until Jimmy had disappeared completely. Finally, reassured, she tried to draw back from the actor’s clutches and the ever more intrusive burrowing of his hand, but he held her ever more tightly. She felt a toxic cloud of nicotine and alcohol waft over her face as he pulled her towards him, reaching for her with his lips. She decided to let him kiss her in the hope that he would then release her, but was unprepared for the octopus-like groping that followed. After a brief struggle she decided that enough was enough and deliberately trod on his foot with her new high heels. He yelped and stepped back, bumping into a passing couple and dropping his whisky glass as he did so.

  Taking advantage of this momentary respite, she summoned her most charming smile. ‘I’m so sorry about that, Rafe. I’m afraid I sometimes get these giddy spells. I think I’d better go and powder my nose.’

  Powder my nose? Where the hell had that come from? Penny didn’t stop for introspection. She extricated herself from him and headed across the room towards Mrs B-W, carefully scanning the room for any sign of Jimmy as she did so. She decided that she couldn’t stand on ceremony, so she grasped Mrs B-W by the arm with both of her hands and butted into the conversation she was having with three men in suits.

  ‘I’m sorry, mummy, but I’m feeling a bit faint. Do you think we could go now?’

  Mrs B-W looked surprised, momentarily annoyed, but then managed to produce a look of compassion. ‘Olivia, darling, of course.’ She turned to the suits. ‘I’m so sorry, gentlemen, but Olivia’s been a bit under the weather of late.’

  They headed for the door and out into
the corridor beyond. As they walked back down the stairs, Penny hastily explained what had happened back there. Mrs B-W, while clearly annoyed at having to leave the party early, grudgingly approved of Penny’s course of action. Somehow, without Penny realising how she had called it, the Bentley whispered up to the kerb as they emerged onto the road behind the Southbank Centre. They climbed in and Penny sank back into the soft leather seat, finally able to relax.

  ‘I’m very sorry about that, Mrs Brookes-Webster. Jimmy, the waiter, knows me very well and I know he would have twigged who I was.’

  Mrs B-W glanced across at her. ‘I suppose even nobodies have people who know them. Oh yes, and I’d better have those earrings back now.’

  Penny managed to resist the temptation to slap her. There was a trip to Venice riding on this, after all.

  Chapter 9

  Penny and Caroline travelled down to Brighton at the weekend in a luxury limousine. Penny had raised her eyebrows at the expense, but Caroline told her this was what members of the Brookes-Webster family always did, so Penny had to do the same to stay in character. As for Olivia’s mother, she would be coming along later in the chauffeur-driven Bentley. Clearly, her concern for the environment didn’t extend as far as her own carbon footprint. As there was a glass screen between them and the driver, Penny and Caroline chatted about the goings-on at the Southbank Centre. Penny had phoned her as soon as she got home to recount what had happened and Caroline had been supportive. Now she wanted more details.

  ‘So, Rafe Kingsholme, was he as hunky as he looks on TV?’

  ‘Rafe Kingsholme smelled like the lean-to outside the Dog and Partridge, just round the corner from where I live, where all the drunks congregate for a smoke. His breath would kill at twenty paces.’

  Caroline looked at her askance. ‘Really? I’ve been dreaming about him for years now. How terribly disappointing.’

  Penny nodded. ‘Me too. I read somewhere they were trying to invent 4D cinema where you get smell as well as sound and vision. If that ever happens, his reputation will crumble overnight.’ She grinned at Caroline and went on to tell her how she had been touched up by some other surprising people. Caroline was amazed.