by Jill Mansell
The answer had to be, therefore, to let James find out for himself.
And what better place for it to happen than at a party, when everyone was already in carefree party mood ... and where Bibi’s little white lie could be laughed off?
Dulcie knew she was right. It was a brilliant solution. James would know the truth at last and it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference to his feelings for Bibi. And Bibi would be so relieved. And grateful.
I was meant to bump into James today, Dulcie decided.
Everything happens for a reason. This is fate, taking a hand.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ she told James as they loaded the green and white carrier bags into the boot of the car. ‘Bibi doesn’t know yet about the party. Don’t tell her, okay?’
James looked amused. ‘Why not?’
‘It’ll be more fun! Just say it’s a wedding anniversary do for friends of yours and bring her along.’ Dulcie’s eyes were shining. ‘Then, when you walk in, it’ll be extra special. A double surprise.’
Pru had worked flat out all afternoon. At five o’clock, having done as much as she could, she jumped into the bath. By six she was dressed and ready. All she had to do now was load the food into the car, take it over to Brunton Manor and help Dulcie lay everything out.
She phoned Phil’s office but he was out.
‘Showing a client around a few properties,’ said Janet, his secretary. ‘Try him on his mobile.’
No joy there either; the mobile was switched off. Instead, Pru scribbled a note explaining what had happened and left it on the kitchen table. When Phil came home he could shower and change and follow her down to the club in his own time.
In one way, Pru was glad the food crisis had arisen. Coming to the rescue as she had meant Dulcie would be so grateful she wouldn’t dare say anything awful about Phil. She knew she had Dulcie’s solemn promise not to anyway, but a little extra emotional blackmail never went amiss.
Dulcie was already there when Pru staggered into the banqueting hall with her arms full of salad bowls.
‘Hey, you look fab!’ Rushing across, she helped Pru unload and gave her a hug. ‘And these look brilliant too. You are an angel. Honestly, Pru, that git of a husband of yours doesn’t deserve you.’
Pru leapt away as if she’d been electrocuted.
‘If you’re going to start—’
‘I’m not, I’m not.’ Dulcie grabbed her back and kissed her noisily on both cheeks. ‘It’s okay, I’m just getting it out of my system before jerk-of-the-year turns up.’ She grinned. ‘Would I say anything to upset you when you’ve done all this for me?’
Probably.
‘Not if you don’t want a bowl of rice salad over your head,’ said Pru.
‘Anyway,’ Dulcie changed the subject, ‘you do look fab. Love the dress.’
Pru was pleased. The white silk jersey was clingier than her usual style but as ever she had been too afraid of hurting the sales assistant’s feelings to walk out of the shop without it. Now she was glad she’d been a wimp. Dulcie and the sales girl had been right; it was a great dress.
‘Love yours too,’ said Pru, cheering up. ‘And the hair. Very chic.’
Pink-faced and shiny from her exertions, Dulcie was wearing an orange sweatshirt over a lime-green elongated vest. Her short hair stuck up at weird angles and she had a shopping list scrawled in mauve felt-tip up one arm.
She checked her watch.
‘Half six. I’d better get a move on. Look, can you finish putting everything out? Liza’s promised to turn up before seven thirty and everyone else has orders to be here by eight. I’ll arrive with Patrick just after eight. Any problems, give me a ring.’
‘Right.’ Pru was struck by the look of excitement on her friend’s face. She smiled. ‘You can’t wait, can you?’
‘I promise you,’ Dulcie declared dramatically, ‘this is going to be a night to remember. And whatever happens, don’t get drunk and pass out before ten o’clock.’ Her green eyes sparkled.
‘There are going to be a couple of late arrivals. Call it a special guest appearance.’
‘Who?’
The temptation to confide in Pru was overwhelming. Manfully, Dulcie held back. Instead she held a finger to her lips.
‘Ssh, not another word. Top secret.’ She winked at Pru. ‘After all, if you’re having a party, why settle for one surprise when you can have two?’
Eddie Hammond wasn’t a great one for examining his reflection but in the aerobics studio, which was mirrored from floor to ceiling on three sides, he didn’t have a lot of choice. While he waited to speak to Diana, Brunton’s terrifyingly fit aerobics instructor, he studied himself without much enthusiasm in the nearest of the mirrored walls.
Terrifyingly unfit was the phrase that sprang to mind.
Or maybe overweight, overstressed and over forty.
Eddie tried sucking in his stomach but all it did was make him feel dizzy, since you couldn’t suck in your stomach and breathe at the same time.
He gave up, combed his fingers through his greying hair instead, briefly closed his baggy eyes and mopped his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief. No wonder he looked harassed, he thought gloomily. Who wouldn’t be, faced with a day like this, his first crisis since moving down to Bath and taking over the running of Brunton Manor two months earlier? His staff were still dropping like flies, the health inspector was on his tail, the publicity could be disastrous for the club .. .
Eddie’s smile was rueful. It was no good, he could go on making excuses until he was blue in the face but he couldn’t get away from the fact that stress or no stress, this was the way he looked.
This was him. He was unfit, overweight and over forty. Okay, forty-five.
Let’s face it, he was no Jean-Claude van Damme.
A flash of lime green and orange made Eddie jump. Dulcie, whose reflection he had glimpsed in one of the other mirrors, stopped and stuck her head around the glass door.
‘Everything okay?’ Eddie prayed she hadn’t tracked him down in order to report some new catastrophe.
But Dulcie, thank God, was grinning.
‘No problems. All under control,’ she told Eddie, entertained by the sight of him studying his own reflection as intently as any teenager. ‘The rest of the food’s being set out and I’m off home for a bath. Didn’t know you’d signed up,’ Dulcie added.
‘Signed up?’ Eddie frowned. ‘For what?’
‘One of Diana’s aerobics classes.’ She winked. ‘I can’t wait to see you in a leotard.’
Amused, Eddie said, ‘There’s about as much chance of that as of seeing you in one.’
As he spoke, Diana and the next scheduled class spilled out of the changing room, heading down the corridor towards the studio. Dulcie, who lived in terror of waking up and finding out she’d got drunk the night before and signed up for one of Diana’s classes, said, ‘Help, Cruella’s coming. I’ll see you later.’ She waggled her fingers at Eddie. ‘And cheer up, okay? Everything’s fine. It’s going to be a night to remember.’
Chapter 7
The great advantage of surprise parties, Pru discovered with some relief, was the way they got everyone there on time. Instead of having to endure that awkward first couple of hours of guests trickling in, all leaving it as late as possible because nobody wanted to be the first, everyone had piled in through the doors dead on five to eight.
Everyone except Phil.
Ducking out to reception at five past, Pru tried ringing home again. No reply. Ditto his mobile.
But she didn’t have time to start worrying. Dulcie and Patrick had arrived.
‘What’s going on?’ Patrick was looking suitably confused. ‘I thought the table at Langharn’s was booked for eight fifteen ... Hello, Pru, what are you doing here? Did Dulcie tell you it was my birthday? Come and give me a big kiss.’
‘Right, that’s enough,’ barked Dulcie moments later. She seized his arm. ‘No time for snogging.
As soon as I’ve
booked a sunbed for tomorrow, we’re off. Pru, where’s Anna?’
Pru pointed obediently in the direction of the banqueting hall.
‘Through there.’
‘Do I deserve you?’ Patrick murmured, wrapping his arms around his wife as they danced to something slow and slushy. Dulcie was looking amazing in a skin-tight little black dress and the kind of seriously high heels he liked. Her black hair was slicked back Valentino style. The diamond studs he had given her for Christmas glittered in her ears. Dulcie had the figure, the looks and the legs; what’s more, she knew how to flaunt them.
And she had gone to the trouble of organising a surprise party for him, even to the extent of doing all the food. Well, with a little help from Pru.
Patrick was touched.
Dulcie stuck her tongue out at him.
‘Deserve me? Of course you don’t.’ His dark-brown eyes narrowed with amusement.
‘I do love you.’
Patrick didn’t say it often, he wasn’t that kind of man. But Dulcie knew he did.
It was just a shame he loved work more.
‘I should bloody well think so.’ Reaching up, she flicked his ear lobe with her tongue. It had been so long, she’d quite forgotten how nice Patrick was to dance with. If she wasn’t so excited about James and Bibi’s imminent arrival she might have put the pleasurable churning sensation in her stomach down to the effect of her husband’s body pressed against hers.
‘Come on then.’ Patrick gave her waist a pinch. ‘Your turn. Only fair.’
It was a long-standing joke between them. When she said it, Patrick didn’t. When he said it, she didn’t.
But this was the last birthday they would celebrate together. On impulse, Dulcie gave it one final try.
love you too.’
Patrick looked startled.
She went on, ‘But I’d love you more if you worked less.’
‘Dulcie—’
He had that look on his face, the look she had come to know oh so well during the course of the last couple of years. The one, Dulcie thought bitterly, that was about to end their marriage.
‘Not a lot less,’ she urged, ‘just a bit.’
‘Sweetheart, don’t you think I would if I could?’ Sherecognised the note of exasperation in his voice as well. They had had this argument too often in the past. The novelty had worn off. ‘I’m building up a business. It’s tough.’
Damn right it’s tough, thought Dulcie.
‘But I’m doing it for us,’ Patrick went on. This was how he always justified himself; she could have recited the words by heart. Dulcie hated this bit. She hated the way he always managed to make her feel like a spoilt child. She wasn’t selfish. Well, not very. She just wanted a husband she could see occasionally, and talk to. She wanted a normal married life.
‘Okay, I know the rest,’ said Dulcie before he could launch into the next phase of his defence.
‘Let’s not argue. This is your party. And we can’t stay here smooching, either.’
Patrick, as keen to change the subject as she was, looked affronted.
‘Why not? It’s my birthday.’
‘You’re supposed to spread yourself around. Smooch with other women.’ Dulcie detached herself from his grasp and peered around. ‘Go on, there’s Pru. That bastard husband of hers still hasn’t turned up.’
Pru was glad she was dancing with Patrick when Phil eventually appeared. Well, she’d rather not have been there at all, but dancing with Patrick was at least better than standing on her own propping up a wall.
Not a lot better, considering it was the most horrendous moment of her life, but a bit.
Pru felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Phil was drunk. Seriously drunk.
And ... oh God ... Blanche was at his side.
‘Shit, shit,’ breathed Liza, startling the banker she had been introduced to only moments before.
She watched in horror as Phil shambled on to the dance floor.
Blanche was wearing the infamous rubber skirt and spike heels higher than Dulcie’s. Her emerald-green halter-neck top was studded with rhinestones. Despite the stilettos, she was doing a good job of keeping Phil upright.
‘Pru, sorry he’s late. I bumped into him in the Forester’s Arms. He kept saying he was supposed to be here so I put him in my car. You won’t be cross with him, will you? He’s had a few, but no real harm done.’
Pm, who had never been cross with Phil in her life, stared at him. Across the room, dimly, she heard Dulcie say, ‘Oh Christ.’
Blanche’s ex-husband had drunk for England. She had had plenty of practice with piss-heads; compared with her ex, Phil was only tiddly. Planting him expertly upright, she turned to leave.
‘Okay, Pru? I’ll be off then.’
Phil took one look at the frozen expression on Pru’s face and swung round like a cartoon drunk, grabbing her back again. ‘No you won’t. Don’t go. Stay and dance.’
‘Really, I can’t.’ Blanche shook him off.
‘Come back!’ roared Phil. He gestured recklessly in Pru’s direction. ‘Look at her, Miss Prim-and-bloody-proper .. . Blanche, I want you to stay. I don’t love her, I love you. I don’t want her any more ... I WANT YOU ..
Patrick couldn’t do anything – he was holding on to Pru. Instead Dulcie launched herself like a rocket across the dance floor and punched Phil Kasteliz so hard he toppled over.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ muttered Blanche, not looking at Dulcie. Evidently as strong as an ox, she hauled Phil to his feet and all but carried him out of the room. By the door, she encountered Liza.
‘I shouldn’t have brought him. This wasn’t meant to happen. I was only trying to help.’
Liza’s voice dripped with derision.
‘Oh well, that’s all right then. Give yourself a pat on the back, you’ve done your good deed for the night.’
Pru wasn’t crying. She sat on a chair in the loo, eerily composed.
Except she wasn’t composed, Liza realised as she handed her a massive brandy. How could she be? She must be in a state of shock.
‘You’re in a state of shock,’ she told Pru.
‘Am I?’ Pru stared straight ahead, her gaze fixed on the hand dryer. All in white like a jilted bride, she shrugged. ‘Probably.’
Liza felt uncomfortable. Weeping and wailing wasn’t Pru’s style but it would be far easier to deal with.
‘What do you want to do?’
Another shrug. ‘I don’t know. Go home, I suppose.’
‘Are you sure? Phil might be there. Stay with me tonight.’ Liza felt rather heroic; she had been enjoying herself tremendously. Now it looked as if she was going to have to miss the rest of the party and take Pru back to her flat instead.
Dulcie cannoned through the door.
‘He’s gone. I just hit him again, out in the car park. And I told that stringy cow to fuck off too.’
Her green eyes glittered. ‘I said if she ever sets foot in your house again she’s dead. Oh Pm, I’m so sorry it had to happen like this. And they could have ruined the party—’
She went to fling her arms around Pm, still sitting stiffly on her chair.
Pru flung the contents of her glass into Dulcie’s face. At least that was her intention but her aim was off. Most of it splattered against the mirror above the basin.
‘What the ?’ Dulcie staggered backwards, stunned by Pru’s reaction. It was like being spat at by a nun.
‘You planned all this, didn’t you?’ hissed Pru. She began to shake. ‘Wait until ten o’clock, you said, for an extra-special surprise. Two late arrivals. For God’s sake, Dulcie, what did you think you were playing at?’
Liza stared at Dulcie. Surely she hadn’t .. .
‘Oh come on!’ Dulcie howled, mopping helplessly at her wet left shoulder and brandy-spotted dress. ‘They weren’t the surprise! Do you seriously think I’d do something that crass?’
Nobody said anything. Dulcie stamped her foot in frustration. Some friends she ha
d.
‘Well I bloody wouldn’t. What I’d planned was brilliant, the answer to a problem nobody else has had the guts to solve. And dammit’ – she checked her watch – ‘if we don’t get out there we’re going to miss the whole thing. It’ll happen without me.’
Pru rose to her feet.
‘Dulcie, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I just did that.’ She looked worried. ‘Is your dress okay?’
‘I can’t believe you did it either.’ Dulcie broke into a grin. ‘And my dress will be fine. Just as well it wasn’t egg flip.’
‘Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to miss your big surprise,’ said Pru with a ghost of a smile.
‘What is it, a Chippendale for Liza?’
Bibi looked pretty shell-shocked when she arrived on James’s arm and realised whose party he had brought her to. Rushing over to welcome them, Dulcie saw her eyes flicker around the hall in search of banners screaming: 40 TODAY!
To allay Bibi’s fears and prevent her dragging James back out to the car, Dulcie greeted her with a kiss, whispering in her ear, ‘Don’t panic, all under control.’
She wasn’t completely insensitive. It wasn’t as if she was going to jump up on to the stage with a loud-hailer yelling, ‘Hands up all those eligible for a bus pass.’
Oh no, that would be downright naff.
Subtlety was the key, Dulcie had decided. She wasn’t going to say anything at all. Just wait for the revelation to casually slip out.
It casually slipped out sooner than she had expected. Having recovered from the Pru-and-Phil incident, everyone had taken to the dance floor with a vengeance. Dulcie and James were telling Bibi about the panic over the buffet and Dulcie’s trolley dash around Marks & Spencer. Patrick returned with drinks for Bibi and James.
Suzannah Somers was the effervescent wife of one of Patrick’s old rugby friends – from way back, when he’d had time to play rugby. She tapped Patrick on the shoulder.
‘Hello, birthday boy! Dulcie, you don’t mind if I borrow him, do you? My hopeless other half dances like a gorilla with gout.’