Having a Ball

by Rhoda Baxter

  She pressed reply and stared at the blank screen. The doorbell rang. Stevie pressed cancel and answered the door. Vienna stood there, dressed in a perfectly cut pin stripe suit and stilettos.

  "Hi," said Stevie. "Have you got your ticket?"

  Vienna stared. "Um. Damn. Not on me. It's in the Tom's room with my dress."

  Briefly Stevie thought about turning her away. The idea of being able to bar Vienna from the ball was delicious. But she wasn't that petty.

  "Tom will vouch for me," said Vienna, while watching her carefully.

  Stevie took a deep breath. "Okay. You're lucky you got here before Lady Beryl took over door duty. Can you bring me your ticket once you've found it though. I need to mark it and cross you off the list before Beryl checks."

  "Absolutely," said Vienna, giving her a toothpaste advert smile. "Thanks. You're a star." She picked up her briefcase and headed in.

  "Tom's in the bar," Stevie shouted after her. "In case you need his keys."

  Vienna raised a hand in thanks, but didn't turn round.

  Stevie returned to her task, smiling. She knew it was childish, but it was fun to bait Vienna.

  Lady Beryl arrived a few minutes later. Stevie opened the door to find her glowering. "There is nowhere for me to park."

  Stevie peered past and saw that the large forecourt was full of cars. Tom, Priya and Evelyn's cars were well and truly hemmed in by those of later arrivals. Stevie hoped that none of them would need to get out before the guests left, or there would be chaos.

  "You should have reserved me a space." Lady Beryl glared at her.

  Stevie resisted the temptation to point out that had Lady Beryl showed up when she was supposed to, parking would not have been a problem. Instead she said, "I do apologize Lady Beryl. I should have thought of that. Perhaps Evelyn has a visitor's permit she can give you."

  Lady Beryl stood there, glaring at her. Obviously expecting Stevie to run in and find Evelyn.

  "Evelyn's in the kitchen, I think." Stevie kept her tone pleasant. "I'm on door duty, so I can't really leave. Unless you want to take over immediately, of course."

  Lady Beryl sniffed and swept off. She returned a few minutes later, looking even crosser. "Evelyn hasn't got any parking permits, or so she says." From her expression, Stevie surmised that Evelyn may have said a bit more than that.

  "Oh dear. I'm sure there's plenty of spaces in the roads nearby. And it's free after 9:00 p.m., so you only need to pay for two hours." She smiled as sweetly as she could. "I'm so glad you're here. We need someone with authority around."

  Looking slightly mollified, Lady Beryl went to park her car. When she returned, she hung her coat up carefully in the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard usually housed assorted junk, but tonight it had been cleared and a clothes rail put in, so that it would take coats.

  "Lord Grayingham will be arriving shortly," she said, as she shut the cupboard door. "He will be accompanied by some friends."

  Stevie consulted her list. Four friends. Two double-barrelled surnames, one Major and a Mrs. "In that case, it's brilliant that you'll be here to greet them." She smiled. "I'm happy doing door duty, but it would look so much better if you were here instead. It would lend the event so much more gravitas."

  Lady Beryl nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Let me see that list." She scanned down the names. "Who is this Peter Gosling? Why has he been marked with a star?"

  "He's a VIP. Can you let me know when he arrives? He's the reason we managed to sell all the tickets in the end."

  "Lord Grayingham has not been marked with a star."

  "Hasn't he? Oh dear. He should have been." Stevie whipped out a pen and drew a star next to the name. Anything to keep the old bat happy.

  "And this person?" Lady Beryl pointed to another highlighted name. It was the reporter from Cause Celeb.

  "Er yes, another important person. All part of the publicity campaign that sold the tickets." Stevie pointed. "As people come in, check off their ticket numbers and names. That way we know which tickets have already passed through here and we know whom we need to locate, in case of a fire alarm."

  Lady Beryl nodded her understanding.

  "Just point them in the direction of the bar. If they loiter in the hall, suggest they check out Priya's display on the charity..." Stevie rattled off the instructions she'd given the others earlier in the day. She could tell Lady Beryl wasn't really listening. "Any problems with anything, anything at all, just call me. Here are the useful phone numbers, including mine."

  Lady Beryl took the piece of card and dropped it into her handbag. "I'm sure there won't be any need." The doorbell rang.

  "I'll leave you to it." Stevie fled before Lady Beryl made her act as door maid for her.

  As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with Alice.

  "What time's Pete arriving?" said Alice. She was dressed in a purple outfit and wearing far too much eye makeup. It was a look that could only be carried out by someone in her teens.

  "I don't know," said Stevie. Pop stars liked to make an entrance. Even someone relatively down to earth like Pete would leave it until fairly late, to ensure they turned up when the party was in full swing. "Not for a while yet, I should think."

  "Can I help with door duty?" Alice's eyes sparkled. "Gran said she could spare me."

  Stevie looked her up and down. She looked kooky and young, but she would be a nice counterpoint to the overbearing Lady Beryl. "Okay. That's a good idea. Can you let me know if there are any problems and make sure Lady Beryl doesn't insult anyone?"

  Alice pulled a face. "I'll try. Lady Beryl can insult most people without even trying."

  "Precisely. I think a friendly face to counter balance that would be a good thing." Stevie gave her a conspiratorial smile. "Besides, I can count on you to recognise Pete."

  Alice flushed.

  "There's a reporter coming from Cause Celeb. I think her name is Amber Jackson. Make her welcome and let me know she's here. Whatever you do, don't let Lady Beryl figure out she's from a gossip mag."

  "Okay."

  "Brilliant. Off you go then." Stevie watched Alice skitter off in ridiculously high purple sandals and suddenly felt very old. Shaking her head, she went to the bar to check that everything was under control.

  * * * *

  As Stevie neared the bar, Vienna came down the side stairs. She was wearing a figure-hugging red sequined dress that sparkled when she walked. Her blonde hair flowed to her shoulders, and her makeup was glamorous and perfect. She smiled at Stevie and entered the bar just ahead of her.

  Stevie couldn't help noticing that as soon as she did so, Vienna's stride lengthened slightly, making her hips swing suggestively with each step.

  Tom was busy pouring champagne and talking to Olivia, who was sitting to one side. He paused in his work when he spotted Vienna. His eyes rested on her briefly before they looked past her and found Stevie. He smiled.

  Vienna cast the briefest glance over her shoulder.

  Yes! Stevie one. Vienna nil.

  "Hello Vienna," said Olivia.

  "Hello Og," Vienna replied. "Still telling other people how to run their business?"

  "Oh yes. How about you? Still parting fools from their money?"

  Vienna laughed. "You haven't changed a bit," she said, with ice in her voice. "It's lovely to see you."

  "You too." She turned to Tom. "Darling, thank you so much for letting me use your room. Did you want your key back now? Or later?" She left the comment hanging in the air.

  "You keep hold of it," Tom said. "It'll save you having to track me down when you need it." He handed her a glass of champagne. "You look nice, by the way."

  Stevie couldn't help noticing the slight stiffening of Vienna's shoulders. She smiled.

  "Is everything okay, Stevie?" said Tom.

  "Just checking if you needed anything."

  "Actually, yes. We could do with some tea towels or something in here, for spills and things."

&
nbsp; "Right. I shall sort that out right away." Stevie gave him a businesslike nod. Stevie two. Vienna, still nil.

  * * * *

  Most people seemed to drift towards the garden. They sat or stood in groups, sipping their drinks and chatting. The summer evening was warm and mellow. Stevie went out to check whether the food trays needed replenishing.

  As she approached the table, an elderly man with a handlebar moustache helped himself to a couple of buns that had been helpfully labelled "Hot and Spicy". He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  "You the party planner girl?"

  "Yes sir, I am." Stevie smiled pleasantly, noting that the less fiery nibbles were almost gone. She began to gather empty trays.

  "Splendid buns these," he said.

  "I'm glad you like them, Mr...?"

  "Major. Major Cosham."

  Ah, Lady Beryl's friend. "I'm glad you like them, Major Cosham. I see they're a bit strong for a lot of people."

  "That's why I like 'em," he said. "Reminds me of my time in India. Good stuff, this. Not like the nonsense you get in curry houses." He paused for a moment, his eyes far away.

  Stevie carried on gathering plates.

  "I say," said the Major. "What's the name of your caterer?"

  "There isn't one. We made all these nibbles here, under Priya's excellent supervision."

  The Major bit another bun in half and gulped it down. Stevie was impressed. She'd tried one of those and it had made her eyes water.

  "You mean to say, Evelyn and Beryl made these? Well, I'll be damned."

  "Evelyn and Priya, yes. Of course, the rest of us, helped out."

  "Hmm." The Major eyed the food. "Excuse me." He wandered off bellowing "Darling!" at a woman who was standing at the other end of the lawn talking to someone.

  Stevie watched him go and then returned to her task.

  A middle-aged woman appeared at her elbow. "The garden looks fabulous," she said. "Has Evelyn got a new man?"

  Stevie was about to reply that she wasn't privy to the details of Evelyn's love life, when she realised the woman was talking about a gardener.

  "Evelyn's son, Tom, did the garden," she said. Just saying Tom's name sent a little thrill through her chest.

  "Which one's Tom?" the woman said.

  "The younger one," said another woman. "Who works in The City." She glanced at Stevie for confirmation.

  "That's right." Stevie picked up the empty trays. "He's doing the bar this evening."

  "Oooh. He's quite a dishy specimen. I'd happily watch him doing my garden." The first woman giggled and knocked back her wine. "Why, I believe I need another drink." She giggled again and wove off towards the house.

  Stevie's fixed smile was starting to hurt her cheeks, but she had to maintain it. She started back toward the house.

  The Major's voice boomed. "That young lady there."

  Stevie turned to see a small, trim lady approaching her. "Hello. Did you want me?"

  "I'm Mrs. Cosham. I was wondering, do you have a card? We will be organising a ruby wedding anniversary soon and--"

  "Of course. Just a second." Stevie scurried back to the table to put the trays down and retrieved a card from her bag. "Do call me. Whenever you need."

  "Thank you." The lady scanned the card before putting it in her clutch bag. "I must say, you seem to have done a lovely job on Evelyn's house."

  "It was a group effort." Stevie's heart skipped. With any luck, this conversation would lead to another commission. This was what it was all about.

  Mrs. Cosham studied the card carefully. "Thank you." She gave Stevie a perfunctory smile and returned to her conversation.

  Feeling hopeful that this party was going to start her career, Stevie picked up her trays again.

  She heard the excited voices as she got to the hall. Three teenage girls, all dressed in variations of Alice's outfit, were all talking at once, despite Lady Beryl's efforts to speak over them. Alice, who should have been helping Lady Beryl, was jiggling up and down and yapping excitedly too. Stevie guessed that the girls from the forum had arrived.

  "Oooh, ooh," said Alice, when she spotted Stevie. "Everyone, this is Stevie. She's the one who organised it for Pete to come."

  Stevie put the trays down next to the collection tin. "Hi."

  "Hiyeee." It was a chorus of three. Stevie immediately singled out the girl who was the leader. She had a mass of blonde curls and too much make up on. Her skirt was so low slung it was almost obscene.

  "These young ladies have not shown me their tickets," said Lady Beryl, finally making herself heard.

  The girl in the lead rolled her eyes. She dug the ticket out of her handbag. A rather large handbag, Stevie noticed. "Here." She thrust the ticket at Lady Beryl. "Happy?"

  Lady Beryl glared at her and ticked off the number. "I need your name."

  "What for?"

  "Only so that we know who's here, in case there's an emergency," said Stevie, smoothly. "Like a fire, for example. I know it's a pain, but it's a health and safety thing."

  The girl's eyes flicked to Stevie and back to Lady Beryl. "Veronica Smith."

  Stevie knew immediately that she'd just been given a made up name. She didn't even bother listening to the other two girls, who would probably give fake names too. She knew trouble when she saw it. A quick glance at the three girls' faces told her that under all that make up, they were probably very young. She would have to warn Tom at the bar.

  "So is he not here yet then?" said Veronica to Alice.

  "Not yet."

  "You're sure he's coming?"

  Alice looked at Stevie.

  "Of course," said Stevie. "He's just waiting for the best moment, I'm sure."

  "There's a reporter from Cause Celeb coming too--" Alice caught Stevie's eye and clamped her mouth shut.

  "What," said Lady Beryl, "is that?"

  "Oh, just a magazine." Stevie gave Alice a warning glare. "Like Tattler."

  Lady Beryl looked unhappy, but let it pass. Stevie wondered if she approved of Tattler or not.

  Stevie ushered the girls inside. "The disco is through there," she said. "There's food in there. And the bar is here. If you'll excuse me." She left them exclaiming about the impressive hall and ran to find Tom.

  Tom and Olivia were serving wine and beer as fast as they could. Vienna was nowhere to be seen. He looked up when Stevie ran in.

  "What's up?"

  "There are three girls just arrived. I'm pretty sure they're under age and they're bound to have fake ID. They seem that sort," she whispered.

  Tom nodded. "Right ho. I'll see what I can do." He tapped a sign behind him that read "We reserve the right to refuse to serve alcohol at our discretion". "If all else fails, I'll use that."

  "Okay. The one with the blonde curls just gave her name as Veronica," said Stevie. "In case it's useful to know. According to my list, at least one of them is called Jemima Eustace something"

  Tom nodded. For a brief moment, he looked into her eyes. "Don't worry. It'll all be fine."

  Stevie wished she could just stand there, gazing into his eyes and allowing her fears to be allayed, but she forced herself to pull herself together. "Thanks."

  On her way out, she passed the girls going in. They were giggling at something and completely ignored her.

  As she passed the door to the front room, Stevie could hear the muffled music from the disco. She popped her head in.

  Opening the door immediately increased the volume. Only a few people were on the dance floor. Dilan was busy at his decks, but was looking a little bored.

  She gave him a wave. He waved back and gave her the thumbs up sign. Things would hot up soon enough. She nodded and returned to her original errand.

  Chapter 17

  She put down the empty glasses she was carrying to answer her ringing phone. It was Lady Beryl.

  "There's a man here with a ticket, but his name is not on the list. Come here immediately."

  "Er...right." Stevie ran to the front of the
house. When she slewed around the corner, she saw Lady Beryl nose to nose with a short man in a loud houndstooth jacket.

  "I paid two 'undred and fifty pound for this ticket!" He was red in the face and neck. Behind him a tall woman in a mustard yellow catsuit was tugging at his arm.

  "I seriously doubt that." Lady Beryl was at her haughtiest.

  Stevie put on her brightest smile. "What seems to be the problem?"

  "Who're you?" said the man.

  "The organiser. Can I help?"

  "I paid a fortune for these tickets and this woman says I can't come in." The man thrust a pair of tickets at her.

  "May I?" Stevie took the two tickets and examined them. They looked genuine. She checked the numbers against the list. They had been allocated to a Mr. F. Howerd.

  "Are you Mr. Howerd?"

  "No I bloody well aren't."

  The woman in the catsuit coughed.

  He seemed to take stock. "I mean. No. I am not," he said, smoothing out his accent. "I'm Farrier. Bill Farrier."

  Stevie cranked the smile up a notch. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Farrier. I'm Stevie." She handed the tickets back to him. "I take it you bought these tickets from Mr. Howerd?"

  "Yes. On eBay." He rummaged inside his jacket pocket. "Paid two hundred and fifty pounds for each of them. Here." He shoved a print out at her.

  Stevie read the text with mounting dismay. It clearly implied that the tickets were for a private meeting with Pete. What's more, it suggested that the proceeds of the eBay auction were going to the charity, which seemed unlikely. If Triphoppers found out about this, there would be serious trouble. She wondered if she and Evelyn could be done for fraud. Really, she rationalised, they'd sold the tickets in good faith. If anyone could be sued, it would be the eBayer who sold them on under false pretences. But still, even if nothing came of it, the bad publicity could be fatal to her fledgling business. Chewing her lip, she looked up to see all three people watching her.

  "Is something wrong?" Lady Beryl sounded uncharacteristically worried. "You've gone pale."

  "Sorry." Stevie said to Mr. Farrier, "I'm afraid, we didn't know anything about it. Mr. Howerd bought these tickets from us at the normal price and sold them on without our permission. I'm sorry that you had to pay such an extortionate amount for them."