by Jill Mansell
Alice was a silicone-boobed aspiring actress who had once had a walk-on part in Baywatch. Or as Hugo had once been heard to remark, a bounce-on part.
‘Well, she was too young for you, Daddy.’
‘I know, I know. Women are like cigarettes, I guess. A hard habit to break.’
‘She was quite fun,’ Claudia admitted.
‘Oh, Alice was okay. Drew a moustache on that expensive painting Caspar did of your mother.’
‘Did she?’
‘Mm.’ Hugo chuckled. ‘And it wasn’t on her face.’
By nine o’clock the house was filling up fast. In the sitting room, now minus most of its furniture, music blared. As usual, the kitchen was bursting at the seams.
Another crowd of guests piled in through the front door. Luckily it was a warm dry evening, which meant the garden—even if it wasn’t the best tended in Cornwallis Crescent—could be pressed into service to take the overspill.
Caspar was watching Poppy introduce Tom to her friends from the Markham Antiques Market.
‘No wonder she’s so besotted,’ said Babette, holding out her glass for a refill of Chablis. ‘He’s definitely gorgeous. Looks like Rufus Sewell.’ She raised her brimming glass to smiling lips. ‘In fact he’s nearly as handsome as you, darling one.’
‘What I don’t get,’ said Caspar with a touch of irritation, ‘is the first time he saw Poppy she had her skirt up round her ears. He obviously liked what he saw. So what’s with this new look?’ He nodded in the direction of Poppy who was wearing yet another long dress bought for her by Tom, a high-necked black jersey affair with a bias cut skirt that swirled just above her ankles. It had clearly cost a great deal and would have suited any number of women to a tee, but it still wasn’t Poppy.
‘Maybe he wants to make sure it doesn’t happen again,’ Babette said calmly. ‘Some men are like that. It’s the whore-madonna thing. They don’t mind seeing other girls with their bits on show, but their own wives and girlfriends are another matter.’
Crossly, Caspar said, ‘I know that, but what the hell’s Poppy doing, going along with it? She looks about forty.’
‘She’s flattered.’ That was the thing about Babette; she had all the answers. ‘He adores her and she loves it that he cares. It’s why some women stay with their men, even when they’re being battered senseless every Friday night. They think it shows they care.’
‘Christ.’ Caspar wondered wildly if that was why Poppy was keeping her legs hidden. Maybe beneath all those yards of exquisitely draped jersey her thighs were beaten black and blue. He experienced a sudden urge to rush up to Poppy and do a Bucks Fizz, rip her skirt clean off…
Thinking better of it, he poured himself another drink. It crossed his mind that Tom Kennedy was clearly the possessive type and that upstairs in his studio he still had, somewhere, the interesting selection of photographs taken of Poppy getting up to all sorts while he and Claudia had both been away.
Caspar shook his head. Bloody hell, what was the matter with him tonight? As if he didn’t know. He was more jealous than he’d ever been in his life and it wasn’t a happy experience. Of course he wouldn’t stoop so low, shatter Poppy’s newfound happiness…
It would just be nice if someone else did.
‘Look, there’s Claudia,’ said Babette excitedly. ‘With her dad. Now that would be a catch. Imagine handling his PR.’
‘Oh no, what’s she doing here?’ wailed Claudia as Angie, in a flesh-colored chiffon dress and the highest of high heels, made her impressive entrance at nine thirty. She looked more burnished and golden than ever and her perfume was apparent even at twenty paces. Before she had time to do more than wave gaily across at her daughter and ex-husband she was accosted by Caspar’s sculptor friend, all but foaming at the mouth with lust.
‘Darling, I assumed you’d invited her. When she rang me this afternoon I mentioned I was coming along to your party tonight. All she said was fine, we’d bump into each other then.’ Hugo’s smile was rueful. ‘Should’ve known better, I suppose, after all those years of practice. My dear ex-wife evidently hasn’t lost her touch.’
‘She’ll tell me I’ve put on weight.’ Claudia, who had, looked miserable. For weeks now she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Jake. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to think about him without reaching for the biscuit tin. She had put on a terrifying seven pounds and the bugger of it was, he still hadn’t phoned.
When an extremely famous person puts in an appearance at a party, the non-celebrities generally pretend they haven’t spotted him. Only when they know for sure he can’t see them will their eyes swivel furtively in the VIP’s direction.
Not Dina.
‘Oh wow, you’re Hugo Slade-Welch!’ she squealed, charging up to him and all but ricocheting off his broad chest. ‘Am I a big fan of yours! I’ve seen all your films. You were brill in Black Thursday. I’m Dina, a friend of Claudia’s—hi, Claudia—God, I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to you, I’ve never met a film star before! Here, have a cigarette.’
Claudia glared at Dina, who was thrusting a crumpled packet of Embassy Regal practically up her father’s nose. This girl really did have an endless supply of nerve. And to say she was a friend of hers…
Hugo, looking amused, said, ‘Actually, I don’t smoke.’
‘Oh well, never mind. You can still autograph the packet.’
‘Daddy, why don’t we—?’
‘Hang on, not so fast. Who’s got a pen around here? Hugo, how about you?’
Claudia was about to spontaneously combust at the chummy use of her father’s Christian name when she realized Dina was actually pulling open his jacket. Locating a fountain pen in Hugo’s inside pocket, she whisked it out.
‘Ooh now, there’s fancy! I might have known a big star like you would have a real ink job. And feel how heavy it is! How much did that set you back?’
‘Dina—’
Claudia’s eyes were almost as narrowed as her mouth. Snotty bitch. Dina refused to be cowed.
‘Okay, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I’m not going to nick it. Here—’ she offered the uncapped pen back to Hugo—‘tell you what, real ink won’t work on the fag packet. How about autographing me instead?’
Dina was wearing a sequined boob tube and skin-tight blue satin trousers. She thrust her chest forward and pointed to the area midway between the top of the tube and her left collarbone.
Outraged, Claudia hissed, ‘Do you have any idea how stupid you’re making yourself look?’
‘Come on, it’s only a bit of fun! Everyone’ll think it’s a tattoo.’
‘Leave my father alone.’
‘It’s okay, really,’ Hugo placated his angry daughter. In an attempt to defuse the situation he smiled and winked at both of them. ‘I’ve been asked to autograph stranger parts of the anatomy in my time. Claudia, would you be an angel and fetch me another drink?’
All Claudia wanted to do was slap Dina’s ridiculous over-made-up face, but her father was clearly anxious to avoid a scene. She stomped off, cannoning into people on all sides, unaware that Dina’s cigarette had burned a neat hole in the back of her dress.
‘Please excuse my daughter,’ said Hugo, his famously blue eyes twinkling. ‘She is rather protective.’
‘Jealous, more like. What with your last girlfriend being exactly the same age as me. And I’m very into older men,’ Dina told him, cleverly blowing her cigarette smoke out sideways so it didn’t go straight in his face. ‘You can understand why she’s worried. If we got married, I’d be her stepmother.’
‘Now there’s a thought.’ Since Dina was still pointing to her chest, Hugo leaned forward and signed his name with care. ‘You aren’t married yourself then, I take it?’
‘Well… kind of. But you know how it is. If a better offer came along it wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘That can’t be easy for you.’ Hugo was sympathetic. ‘I mean, a lovely young girl such as yourself must receive off
ers all the time. I daresay they’re hard to resist.’
He’s chatting me up, thought Dina, so dizzy with excitement she could hardly breathe. Here I am, in London, at a party so glamorous you aren’t even expected to chip in for the booze, being chatted up by an honest-to-goodness movie star.
In an instant her mind conjured up a whole series of thrilling fantasies: Dina and Hugo whizzing round the world on their private jet… sunning themselves on the deck of a yacht… arriving at the Oscars ceremony hand in hand… being photographed for Hello! magazine…
‘So Hugo, what kind of car do you drive?’
‘Well—’
‘D’you know what I’d have, if I was loaded? A bright green Rolls Royce.’
‘Well now, that sounds a wonderful choice.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I did own a Silver Shadow many years ago—’
‘Are they good? I’d still rather have a Rolls. Tell you what,’ said Dina, slipping her arm through his, ‘why don’t we go out into the garden? Before that old witch Claudia gets back.’
Chapter 50
Claudia wasn’t in any hurry to get back. If her father was so set on humoring Dina—and he was famous for his patience with members of the public when they took the liberty of introducing themselves—she didn’t want to be around to witness it. Serve the silly old fool right.
She had just finished pouring Hugo a quadruple Scotch when Angie materialized at her side.
‘Darling, you forgot to send me an invite! If Hugo hadn’t mentioned it this afternoon I’d have missed the party altogether.’ Ostentatiously reaching up on tiptoe she kissed her daughter’s rigid jaw. ‘And look at you in a pretty new dress. Such a shame about the cigarette burn.’
‘Where? Oh no!’
‘Never mind, make a few more holes and pretend it’s the latest Vivienne Westwood. Where’s Hugo?’
‘Talking to some little tart.’
‘Oh well, what’s new?’ Angie looked amused. ‘You don’t look terribly cheerful, my darling. If there’s some kind of problem, tell Mummy.’
Well Mummy, you see the thing is, I’m completely besotted with someone and I don’t know if he likes me and I’m way too embarrassed to ask and he’s really shy so he might fancy the pants off me but he keeps his feelings so much to himself it’s just about impossible to tell.
‘I’d rather die,’ Claudia said aloud. ‘Since when were you interested in my problems anyway?’
‘I love hearing about problems! I’d make a wonderful agony aunt,’ Angie protested, laughing. ‘If only people would have the nerve to take my advice.’
Nerve was what Angie possessed in abundance. Claudia definitely didn’t want to be Angie, but she wished she could have inherited a bit more nerve. It was a handy thing to have around. Especially right now.
Jake was heading almost straight for them. He was wearing the plain dark blue sweater and a pair of the well-cut trousers Poppy had chosen for him. His dark hair, freshly washed, was flopping onto his forehead. Behind the tinted gold-rimmed spectacles his dark eyes searched the room. He looked so smart and so quietly handsome Claudia felt her heart leap into her throat like a fish. And he had come in search of her.
‘Jake,’ she said, because he was in danger of veering off to the left.
‘Oh. Hi.’ He stopped dead and the look on his face told Claudia he hadn’t been searching for her at all. ‘Um… I thought Marlene would be in here. How… how are you?’
‘Oh, I’m fine. Yes, fine.’
Jake hesitated then said, ‘Fallen off any good windowsills lately?’
It was meant to be a light-hearted quip, an ice-breaker, and it was clearly a line he had prepared earlier, like a Nigella Lawson soufflé.
Except Nigella’s soufflés never fell this flat.
Angie, her tinted eyebrows up in her hairline, said, ‘Heavens, I am intrigued.’
Claudia took a gulp of her drink, clean forgetting it wasn’t her drink. She had never been able to get to grips with Scotch.
‘Aaargh.’ Spluttering helplessly, unable to swallow the burning liquid, she was forced to spit it back into the tumbler. Her eyelids felt as if they were on fire.
‘You must excuse my daughter,’ Angie said smoothly, ‘she has the manners of a warthog. I’m Angie, by the way. And of course I’ve heard all about you! Now Jake, what an enthralling remark. There must be a story behind this. Do tell.’
‘Mother—’
‘Claudia, throw that Scotch-and-saliva away before someone else drinks it. And go and clean yourself up, you’ve got dribble on your chin.’
In desperation Jake said, ‘Actually—’
‘No, no, I insist.’ Angie lowered her voice a conspiratorial octave. ‘I can’t wait to hear what my daughter gets up to on windowsills when I’m not around.’ Reaching up, she smoothed a section of hair behind Jake’s left ear. ‘There, that’s better. It was sticking out. Goodness me, what glossy hair you have, you must take tremendous care of it. And I adore your aftershave.’
‘I’m not wearing any.’ Jake looked nervous. ‘It must be deodorant.’
‘Mum, please.’
‘No, it’s definitely not Mum. And Claudia, what did I just tell you to do? Chin, darling. Chin.’
‘It’s going to seem weird here without you,’ said Caspar. Tom, who had barely left Poppy’s side all evening, was deep in conversation across the room with one of Caspar’s artist friends, who had once been an architect. ‘We’ll miss you.’
‘Me too.’ Poppy grinned. ‘Listen to us. Anyone would think I was disappearing up the Amazon. We’ll still see each other.’
‘Yeah.’
‘We will! Tom’s already said we must have you and Babette over for dinner.’
‘Well,’ Caspar struggled for something to say, ‘that sounds…’
‘Like your idea of the dinner party from hell,’ Poppy suggested dryly. ‘I know. Babette and I haven’t exactly hit it off. And you and Tom didn’t get off to the greatest of starts. But he did say he liked Babette.’ She pulled a face. ‘She’s got her act together, apparently. Tom approves of people whose acts are together.’
Now there was a thought. Caspar glanced across the room at Babette, chatting animatedly to a tall antiques dealer. Poppy followed the direction of his gaze.
‘Can I ask?’ she said suddenly. ‘Why did you marry her?’
But Caspar’s expression was unreadable. He raised his glass of Beaujolais to the light, apparently studying the color.
‘Because you told me to.’
‘Really?’
‘I thought it would simplify matters. And I wanted to know what being married would be like.’
‘And has it? Simplified matters?’
‘Of course.’ Was Caspar mocking her? It was impossible to tell. ‘Only one notch on my bedpost nowadays. I’m a respectable married man.’
‘You must still get chatted up.’ Poppy was disbelieving. ‘That hasn’t stopped, it can’t have.’
Caspar broke into a grin. ‘Oh, I get my share of offers. But being married is a great excuse for saying no. They don’t get offended. Some of them are even impressed.’
‘I’m definitely impressed.’
‘So how about you?’ Swiftly Caspar turned the tables on her. ‘Are you happy? Sure you’re doing the right thing?’
Poppy gave him a strange look.
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘Because—’
‘What a bloody stinking awful pig of a party,’ howled Claudia, barging up to them. ‘If there wasn’t such a queue for the bathroom I’d slash my wrists.’
Caspar said, ‘Don’t tell me. Someone else has turned up wearing the same dress as you.’
Claudia commandeered his glass and downed the contents in one.
‘My unspeakable mother is chatting up Jake. My father is being chatted up by your even more unspeakable friend Dina. And some total bastard has burned a sodding hole in my dress.’ Gathering up material from the back, Claudia showed them the evidence. ‘If I
find out who did it, I’ll kill them.’ Her eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Does that look like the kind of hole an Embassy Regal would make?’
Poppy left them to it. She had spotted Rita in the doorway.
‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ She hugged Rita, who was wearing an orange and white polka-dotted frock and matching shoes. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’
‘Said I would, didn’t I?’ Rita lit a cigarette. ‘Never been one to miss out on a good party. How’s it going?’
‘If you don’t want to be depressed, steer clear of Claudia.’ Poppy took her arm. ‘Come on, let me introduce you to some people.’
‘Don’t worry about me, love. I don’t need looking after. Just point me in the direction of the drinks. When I see someone I like the look of, I’ll introduce myself.’
It was dark outside in the garden, apart from the colored lights Caspar and Poppy had strung up somewhat haphazardly in the trees.
‘Aren’t they pretty?’ sighed Dina, gesturing dreamily with her cigarette at a ball of lights Caspar hadn’t been able to untangle. ‘It’s like a fairy tale. Like… Cinderella.’
‘Mind your glass slippers don’t get stuck in the mud.’
She looked down at her stiletto heels, ringed with earth and leaves.
‘That’s not very romantic. Fine Prince Charming you’d make.’
Hugo smiled. ‘I’m rather afraid my Prince Charming days are over. Far too old.’
Dina’s stomach did a cartwheel. She flicked her cigarette into the bushes and turned to face him.
‘I don’t think you’re too old. I said, didn’t I? I like older men. Especially you.’
She half-closed her eyes, waiting for him to kiss her. They were away from the house, unobserved. All he had to do was take a step forward and pull her into his arms.
But Hugo tilted his head to one side and gave her a look of affection mingled with genuine regret.
‘Oh, my dear. It’s delightful young things like you who get men like me into trouble.’
‘I wouldn’t.’ Dina shook her head eagerly. ‘Honest. I’m on the pill.’