The caterers were decorating the tables and chairs which were now arranged in the open marqueeand Rachel had to admit it looked great. She had gone for an Arabian Nights theme and it did look very exotic with deep orange-and-red chiffon draping on the ceiling, making it look like a Bedouin tent. There were candles in lanterns on the tables and hanging from the ceiling and Rachel was delighted that the caterers had done such a wonderful job. She had also secured the services of a fortune-teller,Madame Farah, to add to the fun. She would be located ina tent at the bottom of the garden. Yes, even though it was still pretty chaotic it was beginning to come together very nicely, no thanks to Carl. Where the hell was he, she wondered as she angrily texted him.
They’d had quite a row on Monday night when she’d told him she’d invited some of the people from her wine course to the party.
“They’ll have nothing in common with my friends,” he’d whinged.
“How do you know?” she’d demanded angrily. “They’re nice, genuine people which is more than can be said for some of the hangers-on you’ve invited.”
Carl didn’t reply knowing that it was useless to argue with her when she was drunk, which she clearly was. They’d been cool with each other ever since.
Finally, everything was ready. Carl was home – he’d even brought her a big bouquet of flowers which had pleased her. She knew it was meant as an apology. The spirits had been delivered – albeit only thirty minutes before the guests were due – and the scene was set. For once the weather forecasters had got it right and it was a truly beautiful Midsummer’s Eve night.
Rachel and Carl had showered and changed and were both looking resplendent. She was wearing a striking two-piece in a burnt orange which accentuated her colouring. She’d had it made especially for the occasion and it was a modest version of a harem dancer’s costume, with silk and chiffon harem trousers, a beaded, chiffon-sleeved top and gold jewelled sandals. She looked exotic and eastern and her bare midriff was tanned and toned. Carl was wearing a genuine Moroccan rigout which he’d bought in a Moroccan souk the previous year. It was a white linen tunic top with gold embroidery, loose white trousers and a sleeveless floor-length gold silk coat. They made a stunning glamorous couple. Carl poured them both a drink and they went out to the garden for a last-minute check.
“You look beautiful, my darling,” he said, as he raised his glass to hers. “Every man in the place will be madly jealous of me.”
She smiled, looking into his eyes. “You look pretty gorgeous yourself. I’ll have to keep my eye on you tonight with all the beautiful women around.” She said it half-jokingly.
“None will be a patch on you, my dear,” he murmured, taking her hand and kissing it.
They heard the doorbell ring. The first guests had arrived. She gave the string quartet the signal to start playing.
Ellie and David didn’t want to be the first to arrive so they came about twenty minutes late.The taxi was stoppedat the gate where a man with a clipboard checked them off the guest list and opened the security gates to let them through. They drove down the steep drive to the house where the taxi deposited them at large entrance doors which stood open.
They passed through these and entered through huge glass double doors into a largespacious foyer where theywere greeted warmly by Rachel and Carl.
“You look sensational,” Ellie exclaimed, admiring Rachel’s exotic outfit.
“Thank you, you look very pretty too,” Rachel replied, kissing her on both cheeks. “This is my husband Carl. Carl, this is Ellie from my wine course and her fiancé . . . eh . . .”
“David,” Ellie introduced him.
“Nice to meet you both.” Carl took Ellie’s hand to his lips and kissed it.
She blushed. What a charmer! And even better-looking than his photos!
“Beautiful and a wine expert,” Carl said, making her blush further.
“Oh, I wouldn’t quite say that,” Ellie giggled.
As they were chatting Ronan arrived with Louise andRachel made the introductions once again. Carl went through the same routine with Louise who was obviously flattered by his attention and flirted right back at him.
Rachel took an instant dislike to her although she was awfully pretty with that gorgeous red hair and green eyes.
“Quite a house you have here,” Ronan remarked, looking up at the glass dome which was reflecting the evening sun and filling the space with light.
“Thank you, we love it,” Carl replied.
“Ronan works for a firm of architects,” Rachel explained.
“Oh well, you’ll be interested in the design of the house so. I’ll show you round later.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. I did read about it in the Plan Architectural Review.”
“Yes, that was a good article,” Carl replied, pleased with his interest.
“Are your children here?” Ellie asked. “I’d love to meet them.”
“Good heavens, no!” Rachel cried, throwing her hands up in mock horror. “They’re spending the night with my parents. I’d never get them to sleep with all this going on.”
“That’s a pity. I’d love to have met them but I can see your point.”
“You’ll meet them another time,” Rachel promised.
“They’re wonderful kids,” Carl smiled at Ellie.
“I’m sure they are,” she smiled back, unable to resist his charm.
They chatted some more and sipped on the champagne offered to them by a passing waiter. Then, when Rachel and Carl went to greet some newcomers, the two couples moved out onto a terrace at the back. Below, an uninterrupted view of Dublin Bay stretched out before them. It was stunning. They went down a long flight of steps to a lower terrace just above the garden.
“Wow!” Ellie exclaimed as she turned and gazed up at the amazing house which was set into the hillside. She saw it was built on three levels and it appeared to be made almost entirely of glass. “What an amazing house!”
“Holy moly!” David exclaimed, looking up at the fabulous structure. “That is a house and a half. Like something out of the future.”
“Wow, this is something else, isn’t it?” Louise remarked breathlessly.
“It sure is,” Ellie replied. “This is how the other half lives.” There was awe in her voice.
David and Ronan smiled at each other as if to say ‘hope this doesn’t give them any ideas’.
“What a house!” Louise said, waving her hand around. “It’s fabulous. They must be filthy rich. Lucky buggers!”
Ronan squirmed at the inappropriate nature of her remark.
“And just look at this garden,” Louise continued, unaware of his discomfort. “God, it’s gigantic! We could fit our garden into it twenty times over.”
Ellie heard the envy in her voice as they surveyed the scene. “It is stunning,” she agreed.
Beneath the huge terrace where they were standing was a formal garden with a fountain beside which a string-quartet was playing. There was a sun-deck to the side of the house with luxurious white leather sun-loungers dotted around it and a hot-tub. To the other side of the house there was a state-of-the-art children’s playground.
“So you’re an architect?” David remarked, turning to Ronan.
“No, I’m a draughtsman.Not a very good profession to be in, in this economic climate,” Ronan replied ruefully.
“I can imagine. I play golf with an architect and he’s always moaning about how bad it is.”
“Where do you play?” Ronan asked, wishing to change the subject.
A conversation about golf ensued and Ellie was pleased to see that they were hitting it off really well. Well, it would have been impossible not to like Ronan. He was such a sweetie. Ellie wasn’t so sure about his wife who she didn’t much care for.
“I can’t even imagine what it must be like, living in a place like this,” she observed, turning to Louise.
“Some people have all the luck,” Louise replied sulkily.
Ellie deci
ded to steer the conversation away from the Dunnes’ good fortune.
“What do you work at, Louise?” she asked as she sipped her champagne.
“I don’t. I did work in a boutique near us but it closed down last year. It’s impossible to get any kind of job nowadays with all those Eastern Europeans taking them.”
Ellie heard the bitterness in her voice. “Do you have children?” she tried again.
“No. Wecan’t have them.” Louise pressed her lips together in a firm line.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ellie said sympathetically, waiting for Louise to say more, but nothing more was forthcoming.
Ellie was at a loss for words. Every time she opened her mouth she seemed to put her foot in it. She decided to try another tack. “I really like your shoes. They’re Louboutins, aren’t they?”
Louise brightened up visibly as she lifted her shapely leg and twirled her foot around. “Yes, aren’t they gorgeous?” She was smiling again now.
“I’d love a pair but they’re dreadfully expensive, aren’t they?”
Ronan happened to catch that last remark and eavesdropped on their chat.
“Yes, they are, but I know a site online where you can buy the most fabulous shoes and pay by instalments.”
Ronan winced. What was she up to now? This was the first he’d heard of her shopping online. He groaned. God knows how much interest they were charging her. He’d have to tackle her about it as soon as they got home.
He turned back to David who was saying something to him.
“Sorry, David, what was that?”
“I was just observing how amazing it is that Northern Ireland has produced such terrific golfers.”
Ronan agreed and they debated the merits of Rory McElroy and Graeme McDowell and what the future held for them as the two girls continued talking about fashion. Ellie was relieved that she’d found something in common with Louise.
Just then Rachel came out onto the terrace leading Zita by the hand. Zita was dressed in a fitted black tuxedo suit over a white shirtwhich was open low enough to show off the contours of her breasts.She also wore a loose black tie, strategically low, which drew attention to them,and topping it all off was ablack fedora hat. Her Doc Martens were abandoned in favour of a vertiginous pair of black patent boots. She was accompanied by a very colourful guy who had a long ponytail and was dressed very dramatically in a purple velvet suit.
All conversation stopped.
“Oh, my God! Look at that woman with Rachel!” Louise whispered. “She’s weird.”
“That’s Zita. She’s on our course,” Ellie told her.
“And I don’t think she’s weird,” Ronan informed his wife. “She just dresses uniquely.”
“You can say that again!” Louise sneered.
Ellie was amazed. She’d thought Zita didn’t give a damn about how she looked but she’d certainly pulled out all the stops tonight. Men were turning their heads to look at her admiringly.
Rachel led Zita over to them. “Ronan, could I ask you to make the introductions? I have to get back inside to greet some more guests.”
“Of course.” Ronan proceeded to introduce Zita to David and Louise as Rachel hurried away.
“This is Marcus, my friend,” Zita said, introducing him to everyone.
“Hi, guys! This place is hot, isn’t it?”
“Don’t tell me he’s not gay,” Louise whispered to her husband who glared back at her, hoping that no one had overheard her.
“It certainly is,” Ronan replied to Marcus. “It’s actually won some architectural prizes.”
“Not surprised. It’s something else!”
The place was beginning to fill up and Ellie looked around at the glamorous guests who were filing onto the terrace now in a steady stream. She recognised some faces from the television and newspapers. There were actors and TV people and lots of politicians. She even spotted aninternational rugby player.
“Oh my God, there’s that American actor who was on the Late Late Showlast week,” she exclaimed, as she saw the famous face chatting to some people nearby. She wished that she could remember his name.
“I must go and get his autograph,” Louise cried, opening her bag to find a pen and paper.
Ronan grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “You’ll do no such thing,” he hissed. “This is a private party and he won’t want to be bothered by autograph hunters.”
Louise made a face but stayed put. She thought it was most unfair as she had noticed some other famous faces from TV too.
“My goodness, half the government is here,” David observed, looking around.
“Yes, we are partying in exalted circles tonight,” Zita remarked in an ironic tone. Working in television, she was used to mixing with all these famous people and it always amused her to see how impressed normal folk were by them. They were no different really to everyone else but your average Joe Soap couldn’t see that. Celebrity was a curse, she thought grimly, as she finished her champagne.
“I’m going for a decent drink,” she announced. “One glass of this stuff is enough for me.”
She headed for the bar but it was packed. She looked around and spotted Carl walking towards the sun-deck. She ambled over after him. He was standing alone at a bar in the corner.
He saw her walk towards him. God, she was sexy. There was something erotic about a woman dressed in a man’s suit and she certainly knew how to wear it.
“Hello there,” she said, her eyes looking him up and down.
“Well, hello,” he replied, surprise in his voice. “I see someone else has discovered my secret haunt.”
“Yes, I thought I’d seek out a decent drink. One glass of champagne is all I can stomach.”
“Me too,” he smiled at her, asking her what she’d like.
“A whiskey, please. On the rocks.”
“A girl after my own heart,” he smiled and nodded to the barman who took a bottle of Lagavulin single malt from under the counter.
“My private stash.” He grinned like a guilty schoolboy as the barman poured it for her.
“I’m honoured,” she said sarcastically.
“Sláinte!” Carl raised his glass to her.
She nodded and raised her glass to him, regarding him from under her half-closed eyes.
“I’ve seen you before,” he said, the memory stirring in his mind. “In the Four Seasons, I think.” He couldn’t really remember the location but remembered locking eyes with her and feeling the chemistry between them.
Zita was secretly pleased that he had remembered her but feigned that she had no memory of it. “I don’t think so,” she remarked.
“I’m Carl Dunne. And you are?” He extended his hand to her, knowing instinctively that kissing her hand would not impress her. It irked him that she hadn’t remembered seeing him. That didn’t happen to him often.
“Zita Williams. I’m on the wine course with Rachel.” She took his hand in a firm handshake.
He held it longer than necessary. “You look very distinguished. A nice change from all the girly frocks here tonight. I like your style.” She was certainly different, he thought, as he looked into her eyes. They could have belonged to an exotic cat such as a leopard or panther. They were a most unusual colour and she certainly knew how to use them. Her body also had a feline grace about it. God, but she was exciting!
She surveyed him coolly, her gold-flecked eyes half closed and her long, black lashes making her look sultry and dangerous. She was aware that she had aroused his interest. This was what she had intended of course, why she had dressed as she had. She had obviously succeeded!
“I work in television,” she told him.
“Interesting,” he said. “I’d better keep in your good books so.” He looked at her sexily over the rim of his glass.
He really was the most outrageous flirt. She threw back her head and roared with laughter.
“I’ll keep you in mind when I come to do a programme I’m planning. It’s about Irish succes
s stories.”
She had appealed to his ego. She watched as he puffed his chest out and visibly preened.
“I’d like that,” he said, flashing that devastating smile of his.
God, but he was sexy. Once again she found herself wondering what he would be like in bed. She had no doubt that he knew how to please a woman. Well, she hoped she’d get to find out soon.
“Do you have a card?” she asked.
“Not on me but I’ll get one for you. Give me an excuse to talk to you again.”
“Never offduty, I see,” she observed, raising her eyebrows and giving him a mocking smile.
He laughed. “You’re something else! I like you. Don’t you have your card on you?”
“Of course,” she replied, taking one out of her pocket and handing it to him.
“Mmmm . . . more than just a pretty face, I see.” He smiled lazily at her after reading the card.
She laughed and raised her glass to him.
Turning her back on him she went back to the table, adrenalin coursing through her body. Carl Dunne would be a piece of cake. She would play him like a cat with a mouse. Yes, sir! It would be a thrilling game. She was looking forward to it.
20
Zita rejoined the group. There was still no sign of Sam although the place was heaving. There must have been close on eighty or ninety people there.
“Does anyone know if Sam’s coming?” she asked the assembled group.
“He said he’d be here,” Ellie said as she looked to the others for confirmation.
“I spoke to him today,” Ronan told them, “and he said he might be a little late.”
“I hope he makes it before supper or he’ll miss that delicious pork,” Ellie remarked, as she watched people start to move down into the marquee.
David sniffed the air. “That smells so good. I can’t wait to taste it.”
“I love spit-roast pork. That crackling . .. yummy . . .”said Ellie.
“Speak of the devil – here comes Sam now,” Zitasaid and they all looked towards the upper terrace of the house where Sam had appeared.
Rachelwas leading him down the steps towards them, a pretty dark-haired girl following.
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