by Maeve Haran
‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘Well, that’s enough drama for one evening.’ Claudia descended on Laura. ‘Two fights and it isn’t even ten o’clock. It must be a family wedding.’
‘Claudia, I am so sorry . . .’
‘Nonsense. A surprise daughter, a punch-up and an Anna Ford champagne incident, what more can a wedding ask?’
The sudden ringing of a phone on the table next to them provided the answer.
Tentatively, Laura picked it up, hoping it was Nigel saying he’d chucked Simon out and was making him walk home. ‘Hello?’ She listened a moment before switching it off. ‘It’s a message for Ella from someone called Tim McAuley. The deal’s on, apparently. Do you think Ella’s got into drugs? That might explain her strange behaviour.’ Claudia looked round her, beginning to feel a prick of anxiety, ‘Where is Ella, by the way?’
CHAPTER 28
They looked in the house first. Claudia and Laura hunted upstairs, Sal and Lara downstairs.
‘She’ll never live this down!’ Laura joked, as she opened the door to the vast airing cupboard. It was getting late and there was a chill in the air. ‘I wouldn’t mind crawling in there myself.’
When Ella was nowhere to be found in the house they looked in the outbuildings and the cars parked in the drive, in case someone had left one open, and in Ella’s hired van. They asked the waiting staff if they’d seen her but no one had.
‘Where the hell is she?’ Claudia was just beginning to get anxious.
‘Could she have gone back to London without telling anyone?’ Don asked.
Claudia shook her head. ‘Her van’s still in the drive.’
‘I think we’d better get some more searchers,’ Don suggested, picking up on Claudia’s concern. ‘I’ll get Julia and Neil and the Polish boy. Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet so as not to break up the party.’
‘Bugger discreet. The way tonight’s going they’ll probably kill each other in the woods.’
He disappeared to summon them while the others discussed the options of where Ella might have got to.
‘I feel terrible.’ Sal was beginning to look distressed. ‘I was so rude to her.’
‘Actually,’ Laura pointed out tartly, ‘she was bloody rude to you. I don’t know what came over her.’
‘She was, wasn’t she?’ Sal conceded. ‘Oh, Ella, where are you?’
In the end it was agreed that Laura and Calum, Julia, Neil and Wenceslaus should all look in the woods while Claudia and Don stayed at the house in case she turned out to be there after all.
Don, ever practical, provided them with the torches but, in fact, there was a full moon which gave the search a curious sense of unreality.
They fanned out through the paddock beyond the marquee, passing the curious waiting staff who’d come out for a quick fag, and headed through the small wood which led down towards the river.
‘You don’t think she could have fallen in?’ Laura whispered, panic beginning to rise in her for the first time.
Wenceslaus, who had followed a path into a small dell, suddenly shouted: ‘Come, everyone! Look!’
They ran in the direction of his voice to find him holding open the curtain leading into a large and exotic canvas tent. On the vast bed in the middle of the floor, draped in bright fabrics and illuminated by hundreds of brightly coloured tea lights, lay Ella, spark out, clutching a pillow to her chest as if it were a lover.
‘Oh, God, Mum.’ Julia dropped to her knees, almost in tears. ‘She’s always slept like that since Dad died.’
‘It’s all right,’ Neil comforted gently. ‘She’s fine. Thank God we’ve found her.’
‘Mum,’ Julia sat on the bed and gently shook her. ‘Wake up now and come back to the party.’
Ella sat up slowly, blinking at the assembled company. ‘What the hell’s going on? And where the hell am I?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ Laura informed her, laughing with relief, ‘I think you’re in the bed intended for Gaby and Douglas.’
‘Oh my God! The bridal boudoir! Claudia showed it to me this morning. How on earth did I end up here?’
The others just grinned.
‘I suspect,’ Julia was beginning to enjoy being the well-behaved one to her mother’s naughty adolescent, ‘it was something to do with you getting completely rat-arsed.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Ella climbed out of bed, relieved rather than insulted, and instantly began to smooth and straighten the covers until there was not the slightest sign left of her invasion. ‘I thought it might be an attack of Alzheimer’s.’
She stopped, sitting down on the perfect cover. ‘I hope it was just a nightmare but I imagined I was incredibly mean to Sal.’
‘Yes,’ Julia informed her. ‘Apparently you attacked her for being a bad friend when she said she had cancer.’
‘Oh my God. How am I going to be able to face her? And did I break up the party?’
They headed back to the house where, to Ella’s enormous relief, the party was still going on exactly as it had been before.
Claudia came rushing over. ‘Are you all right? Where on earth had you got to?’
‘In the bridal boudoir,’ Laura answered for her. ‘Passed out.’
‘And what did your cryptic message mean?’ Claudia demanded.
‘What message?’
‘We answered your phone. It was from someone called Tim McAuley. He said the deal was on. You’re not going to end up as a drugs mule in Indonesia like Bridget Jones, I hope?’
Ella grinned. This was the news she’d been waiting for. ‘I won’t need to. I’ve sold my house and bought a dear little cottage right on the river by the Grand Union Canal, nice and handy for the allotments.’
Julia stopped dead. ‘You’ve sold our family home?’ she demanded, aghast. ‘You’ve sold the house we grew up in without even telling us?’
Ella looked nonplussed. ‘Julia, you’ve been on at me to sell the house practically every day for the last year.’
‘That was when the boys were staying at boarding school. I grew up in that house! So did Cory! You might at least have warned us!’
‘But, Julia, you told me a thousand times it was sensible for me to find somewhere smaller and more practical for my old age. Which I have done. Number three Grand Union Cottages, to be precise.’
‘She’s right, Jules,’ Neil intervened gently. ‘It is her house, after all. And it’s a sensible move.’
‘Besides,’ Ella smiled at him gratefully, ‘now that you are no longer nagging me, I may see fit to give you and Cory a nice lump sum, which hopefully will be sufficiently before my death to be free of taxes.’
Neil had the grace to look embarrassed.
Julia hugged her. ‘Thanks, Mum. Sorry for being a pain.’
‘We’d better get back to the house before I really spoil the party,’ announced Ella, her usual briskness returning, ‘and I think I’d better go and look for Sal.’
They made their way back through the darkened woods, following Neil with the torch.
Ella found Sal sitting with Claudia near the band.
‘Sal . . .’ Ella was rarely lost for words but she was on this occasion. ‘I don’t know what to say. I am so, so sorry.’
‘You were outrageous,’ Sal replied. ‘It was entirely unacceptable behaviour.’
Ella looked like a dog that knows it has done wrong and is waiting for its master’s judgement.
‘On the other hand, if I didn’t ever speak to you again I couldn’t remind you on every possible occasion of how badly you’d behaved. And that would be a pity.’
Sal opened her arms and Ella hugged her, then drew back, alarmed. ‘I’m not hurting you, am I?’
‘Ella, you really do know bugger all about cancer!’
‘Then you’d better tell me, hadn’t you?’
It was half an hour before Ella remembered she’d invited Wenceslaus and Minka because she wanted them to meet Laura, and so she went to look for them. On the way she fo
und Laura looking cross in a corner. ‘I suspected it might be a mistake inviting Calum, but that was because I thought it was too soon in our relationship, not because I thought he’d goad Simon into slugging him. Bloody men.’
‘I thought he seemed quite nice. And he was right. Simon did behave like a shit.’
‘Laura . . .’ a voice interrupted them. It was Calum. ‘Look, I’m really sorry. That was incredibly bloody stupid of me. It’s just that when I saw him, I could tell he hadn’t learned a thing. He’d walked away from someone as incredible as you are and he still didn’t give a toss about any of it.’
‘You still shouldn’t have betrayed my confidence.’
‘No,’ Calum agreed, ‘I shouldn’t have. If I stick around and behave myself, dance with the bridesmaids, talk to old ladies, do I get time off for good behaviour?’
His smile, penitent yet charming, couldn’t fail to disarm her.
‘Depends how hard you try.’
‘Just watch me.’ He headed off towards Olivia to ask for a dance.
‘Go on,’ Ella advised, ‘give him a break. There’ve been plenty of times I’ve wanted to take a slug at Simon.’
Laura laughed. ‘Me too.’
She caught Calum’s eye and smiled.
To her embarrassment he jumped exuberantly into the air and clicked his heels.
Laura hid her face in mortification.
‘Well, I think he’s lovely,’ Sal congratulated, joining them.
‘So do I,’ Claudia seconded. ‘How dare Simon swan in here as if nothing had happened?’
‘Anyway, Laura,’ Ella insisted, taking her arm, ‘come and meet Minka. She has an interesting job to offer to the right person, running two hair salons.’
‘But I don’t know anything about running hair salons,’ Laura protested.
‘You go to one, don’t you? Use your imagination!’
Ella led her over. Laura and Minka hit it off at once, as Ella had known they would.
‘So. Are you going to take the job?’ Ella asked her eagerly.
‘I might. On the other hand, I’ve had a message from a woman who admired my way with disruptive school kids. The word “management” was mentioned.’
‘Ooh, get you. Laura two-jobs Minchin!’
‘Good night, dear girls.’ It was Claudia’s mother Olivia who had come to say goodbye to them all. ‘It’s been a lovely occasion and I gather the happy couple are still together.’ She took each of their hands in turn. ‘Claudia’s lucky to have such wonderful friends. It’s a very rare and precious thing.’ She leaned in to Laura’s ear. ‘And so is being able to dance and talk to old ladies. Hang on to him, my dear.’
Calum was now jiving with the least attractive of the bridesmaids. When the music finished he thanked her and beckoned invitingly to Laura to join him for the next one.
‘Go on,’ Sal pushed her, ‘you know you want to.’
But before she did, it suddenly seemed vital to Ella to gather all four of them together on the dance floor. ‘Come on, while I can still remember your names,’ she said as she herded them forwards. ‘I am getting seriously forgetful. Maybe that was why I ended up in the bridal boudoir.’
‘Ella,’ Laura corrected her. ‘You ended up in the bridal boudoir because you were completely pissed.’
‘Well, I for one, have decided it’s time to embrace old age,’ Sal announced. They all looked at her, in shocked amazement. ‘I’ve done a deal with God. I’m going to be fine providing I cut down on drinking and begin to act my age. He has also insisted on Ella writing a column in the magazine. As penance for her bad behaviour.’ She grinned at Ella. ‘He said it was part of the negotiation.’
‘I’d better agree, then,’ Ella conceded.
‘What?’ demanded Claudia in mock-disappointment, ‘no more leopard-print playsuits, four-inch heels and unsuitable biker jackets?’
‘I’m also planning to go to Norway and embrace being a grandmother!’ She smiled across at Lara. ‘As part of my convalescence. Work can bloody well wait!’
‘I’m with Sal. Time to admit we’re old,’ laughed Laura. ‘With the exception of hair colour – I intend to go to my coffin in L’Oréal Chestnut.’
‘And mascara,’ added Claudia.
‘And knee-length boots,’ Ella agreed, summoning a waiter to bring them all one last glass of champagne.
‘To old age!’ They raised their glasses. ‘Do your worst!’
In the background the DJ began to play ‘Forever Young’ by Bob Dylan. Up till now it had been their anthem.
Ella, Claudia, Laura and Sal, friends for more than forty years, linked arms, not knowing what the future would bring, but grateful for a past in which all their lives had been so closely and satisfyingly intertwined.
If all else failed, they’d still have each other.
Forgetting their new-found acceptance of dignified old age, they kicked off their shoes and began to sing along.
THE PROVOCATIVE NOVEL THAT CAUSED A
HUNDRED ARGUMENTS IS BACK!
Having It All
By Maeve Haran
The Sunday Times Top Ten Bestseller
‘It will make you laugh, cry and rethink your life’ Jilly Cooper
You work and you miss your children. You stay at home and you wonder if you’re missing out . . .
Liz Ward has always believed you can have it all – career, marriage, children . . . So when she’s offered one of the biggest jobs in television, she jumps at it. But she hasn’t counted on the boss from hell, a rival who gleefully points out the baby sick on Liz’s sharp suit, or a best friend who turns out to be a snake in the grass where Liz’s handsome husband is concerned.
And when her son starts washing his hands ten times a day at nursery school, Liz starts to wonder: Should it be her rather than the nanny sitting on that rug in the garden with the children? So Liz decides she will have it all – on her own terms. But Liz’s decision has a far greater impact on family and friends than she expects, shattering the myth they all live by.
In this funny and touching novel, Maeve Haran has movingly captured the dilemma of working motherhood.
978-1-4472-6094-3
Read on for the first chapter . . .
CHAPTER 1
Liz Ward, high-flying executive and creative powerhouse of Metro Television, woke to the unexpected sensation of a hand slipping inside the top of her silk pyjamas and caressing her left breast.
For ten seconds she kept her eyes closed, abandoning herself to the pleasurable feelings of arousal. As the other hand stole into her pyjama bottoms she arched her back in response, turned her head to one side and caught sight of the clock-radio.
‘My God! It’s ten past eight!’ she yelped, pushing David’s hands unceremoniously away, and jumping out of bed. ‘I’ve got a nine-fifteen meeting with Conrad!’
She flung her pyjamas on the floor and bolted for the bathroom. On the landing she stopped dead and listened. Silence. Always a bad sign. What the hell were Jamie and Daisy up to?
Panicking mildly she pushed open the door of Daisy’s bedroom. Jamie was sitting in Daisy’s cot next to her, wearing his new Batman outfit, back to front, attempting to tie his Batcape around his protesting baby sister. Scattered on the floor were every pair of tights from Daisy’s sock drawer.
Jamie looked up guiltily. ‘We needed them. She’s got to have tights if she’s going to be Robin. Don’t you, Daisy?’
‘Me Robin,’ agreed Daisy.
Liz repressed the desire to shout at him that it was eight-fifteen and he was going to be late for school, remembering it was her fault for getting up to no good with David. Instead she kissed him guiltily and sprinted back into the bedroom, grabbing her suit from the wardrobe and praying it wasn’t covered in Weetabix from Daisy’s sticky fingers. Women at Metro TV, from the vampish Head of Entertainment down to the lady who cleaned the loos, looked like refugees from the cover of Vogue and Liz was finding it tough going keeping up.
David had retr
eated under the duvet, his pride wounded. Mercilessly she stripped it off and handed him Jamie’s school tracksuit. ‘Come on, Daddy, you do Jamie. I’ll change Daisy in the bathroom.’
She glanced at her watch again. Eight-twenty-five. Oh my God. The joys of working motherhood.
By the time she got downstairs, Daisy under one arm and the report she was supposed to have read in bed last night under the other, David was already immersed in the newspapers. As usual he let the chaos of the breakfast table lap around him, getting his own toast but never offering to get anyone else’s. How could Donne ever have said no man is an island? At breakfast all men are islands, separate and oblivious in a sea of female activity.
Still sulking at her rebuff, he was even quieter than usual this morning, his nose deep in the Financial Times. Suddenly he steered the paper through the obstacle race of mashed banana, Coco Pops, and upended trainer cups towards her.
‘Look at this. There’s a piece about Metro. Conrad says he’s about to appoint a Programme Controller at last.’ Raising his voice to drown out the chaos of Daisy’s shouts, Jamie’s insistent demands to look at him as he climbed precariously up on his chair, and the nanny’s radio tuned to New Kids on the Block, David shouted across to her, ‘Why don’t you pitch for the job?’
‘Me?’ Liz wished her reply sounded less like a yelp of panic. She’d only joined Metro Television as Head of Features a few weeks ago when they’d been awarded one of the commercial television franchises for London and she was looking forward to the three months before they actually went on air to settle quietly in and get her ideas ready for the launch.
‘Yes. You. Elizabeth Ward. Talented producer. Deviser of a whole new style of programme making. Mother of two.’ David warmed to his theme. ‘A woman controller would be a brilliant publicity coup for Metro. None of the other TV companies has a woman in charge.’ Fired with enthusiasm he jumped up and came towards her. ‘The nineties is the decade of women, for Christ’s sake! And you’re the classic nineties woman. A glittering career and kids! You’d be perfect!’
No wonder he made such a good newspaper editor, Liz thought affectionately. Talking people into doing things they didn’t want to was his great strength. But he didn’t know Conrad Marks, Metro’s tough American MD. Conrad thought women were only good for one thing. He had honed his chauvinism to a fine art back home where men were men and women went shopping. He would never hand over power to a woman.