Sam fidgeted next to him in the foyer in a white bow-tie and tails, tugging at the collar of his shirt. The suits had materialised that morning, all a precise fit, the pinned white card inscribed in silver ‘Dear Friends, with compliments, the Arkadys’.
“Why would anybody choose to wear this straight-jacket and noose?” his brother complained. “And how come you’re not, Nic? I would have worn jeans too, if I knew.”
“Because I don’t give a shit what the invite says. If I had my way, I wouldn’t even be going.”
“Here, here!” Martha said, coming to Sam’s rescue. “You’ve done it too tight. No wonder you’re the shade of a beetroot.” She loosened the offending garrotte
“Don’t tell me,” Nic grumbled. “We’ve spotted the almost extinct naysayer, impervious to the universal Arkady charm. I should video the occasion for future proof. Did you not receive an invite, Martha?”
“Oh, I got one. Just like everybody else on the bribery list. There you are, Sammy, better?” She straightened his white handerchief in the breast pocket and gave him a vigorous, totally unnecessary de-fluffing with the dust brush.
“Definitely!”
“Jonathon! Hurry up, you’ll be late.”
A muffled reply echoed the hallway, grumpy tone obvious. Nic frowned. “You actually said ‘no’ to an Arkady offer?”
“I believe Hank and I are on that very select list. I’m holding down the fort, while he’s in town for the weekend on an errand. Harry’s ecstatic you’ve got cable.” She surveyed Nic, head tilted in suspicion. “You are wearing the shirt the Arkady’s sent, though.”
“Humph,” he grunted. “I’m having a big growth spurt. It was this or a bare midriff. Hot on girls, hillbilly on guys. But you’ll note I’m protesting by not tucking it in. So... Why did you say no?”
“Strange. Even your hair seems to be included in the growth spurt. Come here. You’ll look less formal with rolled sleeves. That oughta’ learn them!” They chuckled and Nic momentarily forgot the upcoming ordeal. “I’m of the persuasion anything which seems wonderfully cheap comes with hidden costs. And I’ve never been partial to monopolies. What happens to all those now reliant on Arkady largesse, if our benevolent neighbours up and leave as fast as they appeared?”
He’d never thought of the fall-out and the idea provoked disquiet. It took several seconds to recall Mira had made that precise threat. Nic pushed thoughts of her deep and prayed she’d sulk upstairs for the duration and that maybe, the distance would appease Sasha. In any case, Mira was a complication he had no way of countering shackled to Lily as he was. Tonight’s soiree resembled a trip into a field of landmines.
“I guess it means they have the entire town over a barrel.” His father included. It was hard not to admire the magnificent Arabian stallion their neighbours had fronted to replace Balt. On principle, Nic had avoided the back field and refused to discuss the gift with anyone who deigned mention it.
“Not the entire town. A rebellion of three still constitutes a rebellion. Even if yours is rather covert. And Barney’s working, so there are others who said no.”
“I would love to stay at home and play COD with Harry, believe me. But bloody Nate’s volunteered me for a date with Lily. Mrs O has probably confirmed the gift registry.”
“Lily’s not for you,” Sam stated decisively. “You must let her know you’re taken.”
Nic opened his mouth to vilify this newfound interest in his love life, when their father edged into view. He loitered in discomfort on the runner, the picture of suave perfection, not a hair out of place.
“Well?” he asked, blinking excessively and flushed with embarrassment.
Sam gaped, “Who are you and what have you done with my rumpled dad?”
“Oh, very debonair!” Martha beamed, before checking herself for Nic’s benefit. “If I, err, thought it was important in this particular instance.” Nic gave her a sarcastic thumbs-up. “Sorry. I tried, Pickles. He really does look very nice.”
She finagled his cuff-links (Nic guessed they were more Arkady inducements), and retrieved an expensive bottle of aftershave from the sideboard, spraying the three of them in clouds worthy of DDT. After a furious bout of choked sneezing, Jonathon proclaimed them ready. Nic didn’t have the energy to object. Breaching the threshold, dread hung like a familiar spectre and he had no idea how to exorcise it.
***
Chapter Twenty-Seven