The Party Season

  'Did you? Which ones?' I ask with interest.

  He opens his mouth to reply and then, in the light of my relationship with his new amour, closes it again. 'So you thought I was trying to come out all this time, did you?'

  'Cecily told me you were gay.'

  'Cecily?' He sits down on the bed.

  'Yes, I met her at a drinks party.'

  'Oh God. Cecily. She invited me to have dinner at her house – it was one of those ghastly dates my aunt keeps setting me up with. At some point in the evening she must have decided she quite fancied me because when I popped off to have a pee I came back to find she'd taken her top off!'

  'What? Her bra too?'

  He giggles and nods. 'I mean, Christ! It was one hell of a shock! I didn't know what to do. I sat back down at the table and then she started to lean across it, tits dangling in the pavlova, and I panicked! Told her I was gay and had been trying to come out for years. I thought it was the only way I would get out of there alive! I didn't want to hurt her feelings and it was all pretty embarrassing anyway considering she was topless at the time. I asked her not to tell anyone because I hadn't officially come out yet. God, what were the chances of her meeting you?'

  'What about when you pointed out boys you thought were good-looking?'

  'I was just trying to divert your incredibly blinkered eyes away from Rob.'

  'But why didn't you tell me about you and Sophie?'

  'She's your sister! I thought you might be really funny about it.'

  'I wondered why she'd been avoiding me lately.'

  'I wanted to wait and see how serious it was before I said anything.'

  'How serious is it?'

  'Serious enough. And it was quite confusing; why do I fancy her and not you?'

  'A good question.'

  He looks amusingly uncomfortable. 'I don't know,' he says in a small voice.' 'Maybe because we know each other too well? Besides, you don't fancy me.' His voice gets stronger as he reaches dry land.

  'Don't I?' I demand, unwilling to relinquish this point just yet.

  'No. You don't.'

  'You're right, I don't. How did it all start?'

  'We got to know each other quite well through those weekends at Aunt Winnie's. Then, late one night when you'd gone to bed,' he shrugs and looks sheepish, 'we were chatting and … I don't know … we just started kissing and …'

  'TOO MUCH INFORMATION!' I bellow, putting my hands over my ears.

  He stops and grins. I tentatively take my hands away from my ears and walk over to the window. Sophie and Dom! Who would believe it? My eyes suddenly fill with tears and I wipe one away. Dom notices the movement and gets up and puts an arm around me. 'Now, don't tell me you're going to get upset about this.'

  'I'm not upset, I'm happy for you.' I give him a hug. 'I think it's lovely. Strange but lovely. But why didn't you tell me?'

  'I'm sorry I kept it from you. And I'm sorry that you had to find out like this. You've enough on your plate at the moment.'

  My shoulders sag. 'How's the takeover going?'

  'I don't know much, but everyone is very subdued. I only got back myself about an hour ago.'

  There's a knock at the door. 'Izzy, dear!' booms Aunt Winnie from behind it.

  I walk over and let her and Jameson in. 'Have you told her?' I ask Dom.

  'Aunt Winnie!' he greets her. 'Don't get too excited but we're probably going to be related!'

  'Bloody hell,' says Aunt Winnie faintly.

  After several slugs from the cooking sherry, which I have to liberate from the kitchen while Mrs Delaney isn't looking, and several reassurances that it was Dominic and Sophie we were talking about rather than Dominic and me (although I'm not quite sure she wouldn't have preferred it the other way around), we finally manage to coax the revered old relative out of her trance-like state and away from the bottle.

  'Did you want me for something, Aunt Winnie?' I ask.

  'Oh! Just to say hello, and to see if you've spoken to your parents yet?'

  'They're calling me back.'

  'Make sure they do.' She gets up and walks over to the door. 'I'm going to find Monty' she says and marches out.

  'Can I call you Mom?' Dominic shouts after her.

  She turns and faces him at the door. 'You can call me something close, Dom. You can call me Ma'am. Like the Queen.'

  The next few days pass in a haze. Rose and Mary seem to take up permanent residence at the house. While I wrestle with electricity supplies, stroppy performers and waiters who have suddenly had the opportunity of a lifetime to go to Africa and 'we wouldn't mind, would we?', Dominic oversees all the rehearsals and persuades the fireworks company that the site they've chosen really is too near to the house. I have no opportunity to talk to Simon as he is also working long hours on the takeover.

  We're not the only ones who are run off our feet. Fred, the gardener, works from dawn till dusk to get the gardens looking as nice as possible. The plan is to have preliminary drinks on the back lawn if the weather permits. Mrs Delaney continues to cook madly every day, feeding not only the family but Simon's team of lawyers and accountants as well. I think Mr Delaney is still staying at the pub in the village; Harry and Mrs Delaney slipped out last night to meet him.

  I at last manage to get hold of Sophie on the phone and we have a long chat. It's such a relief to be able to talk normally to her again; I hadn't realised what a strain our relationship had been under. She is so thrilled about her relationship with Dom that I haven't the heart to dampen her spirits with my rather more depressing tale of woe.

  On Friday morning I get up early to supervise the delivery of the portable loos. It's the only time the company can do and if they are left unsupervised the loos usually end up at least half a mile from the marquee. The day is bright and cool. Dom barely stirs as I get dressed; Meg looks at me dozily but elects to stay with Dom. Even Monty isn't up yet.

  Once the delivery has been made I wander into the kitchen, trying to ignore the siren call of my nicotine patches. I find Simon sitting at the kitchen table reading yesterday's paper.

  He lowers the paper as I walk in. 'Izzy! Why on earth are you up at this ungodly hour?'

  I start at the sight of him. He's wearing a pair of old jeans and a thin V-necked jumper. He looks utterly delectable.

  'Nothing very exciting, I'm afraid. The portable loos have just arrived. I was showing them where to park the trailers. What are you doing?' I ask.

  He shrugs. 'Not much. Couldn't sleep.'

  'Worried?'

  'A little. Come and sit down and tell me how the ball is going. It feels like I haven't seen you for days! Any problems?'

  I don't quite meet his eye. 'No, no. Nothing really.'

  'Tomorrow's Saturday; I can be yours all day if you want me. Do with me what you will.'

  'That would be nice,' I say dreamily. 'I mean, er, that would be very useful.'

  The day of the ball dawns and I immediately run to the window and peer through the curtains. I breathe a sigh of relief; it looks as though it's going to be a fine day. I wake up Dom, get dressed, slap on two nicotine patches, argue with Dom about why exactly I'm not going to bring him a cup of tea and then run downstairs clutching my clipboard. I'm high on adrenalin. There is nothing quite like the buzz of a huge party to get me going.

  'So what do you want me to do today?' Monty asks while we have tea together in the kitchen, after I persuade him that teaching Jasper to bark whenever he hears the phrase 'Richard and Judy' isn't terribly worthwhile. Not to mention extremely annoying.

  I look down at my clipboard. 'The car park valet is turning up at midday. Could you show him exactly where to park all the cars? And put together some signs for the guests?'

  'Consider it done.' I scan down my A4 list and tick off those two items. 'This is an awful lot of fun, isn't it, Izz?'

  'Hmmm.'

  'God knows what Elizabeth would have said about the whole thing.'

  'You don't think she'd approve?'

/>   'She thought the estate should always be kept strictly private. She'd have hated the idea of people coming to gawp at her home. But you've got to move with the times, haven't you?'

  There's a small silence as I absorb myself in my list. Monty interrupts my thoughts once more.

  'Izzy? I know this is none of my business …'

  'What's that?' He clearly has something he needs to get off his chest.

  'You and Simon. Is there … ? Because, you know, if there was then that would be wonderful.'

  I open my mouth to reply but just then Albert the terrier pokes his head around the kitchen door – from about three feet off the ground. I know it's Simon because it's something we used to do as kids to cheer the other up.

  I grin widely as he pokes his head around the door a few seconds later. 'Morning!' he says cheerfully, putting Albert down. 'How are you, Izz? Dad?'

  'You're up early again!' Monty says.

  'I said I'd help out so Albert and I are raring to go!'

  I can't help it, I love him to bits. 'Thank you, that's really helpful,' I smile.

  'Well, you did so much to help with our American visitors. It's just a small way of saying thank you.'

  'But that was a disaster!' I protest.

  'Not compared to what it could have been. I think we probably got off quite lightly.'

  'Cup of tea?' I ask, indicating the pot with my head.

  'Yes please. Where are your coasters, Izzy?' He grins as we survey the minefield of mugs and milk bottles.

  'Completely forgot.'

  'Anarchy has broken out in Mrs Delaney's kitchen. It must be your patches.'

  'How is the takeover?' I ask as I get him a mug and pour the tea.

  A small cloud crosses his face. 'The American investors say they'll have a decision for us on Monday morning.'

  'But isn't that the deadline?'

  'Yep. Make or break. They want to be left alone to make their decision so I've decided to take today off in honour of Pantiles's first ever event. We'll have to work tomorrow to prepare for the press conference on Monday. Anyway, enough about all that. Who are you taking to the ball, Dad?'

  Monty clears his throat. 'I thought I might ask Winnie actually.' He looks anxiously at me for a reaction. 'Do you think that might be all right?'

  I beam at him. 'I think it will be marvellous!'

  'Absolutely,' adds Simon, smiling too. 'Is Mrs Delaney coming?'

  'I don't know, I think Mr Delaney is still around.'

  'She could always bring him.'

  'I'll tell her.'

  'Come on, Izz, let's get started. We'll come and have breakfast later with everyone else.'

  Monty stays put while Simon and I go out into the courtyard, Albert and Meg trotting behind us, and walk round to the marquee.

  'So do you and Dom wear evening dress too?'

  'Oh yes, I brought something back with me specially.' It's a dress I always bring for these occasions, again donated to me by the Sophie Serranti fund. 'I only hope Dom has had his dry-cleaned since the last event!'

  'Is he still in bed?'

  'I woke him up and I hope he hasn't gone back to sleep. His list of things to do today is almost as long as mine!' Thinking of Dom makes me anxious. After my initial euphoria I am now nervously hoping that I won't become too jealous of Sophie and Dominic's new relationship. Dominic and I have been so close for so long that it feels a bit like he's being taken away from me.

  'What's wrong?' asks Simon, looking at me.

  'Oh nothing! Dominic's just told me that he and Sophie are seeing each other.'

  'Dominic and Sophie? Your sister, Sophie?'

  I nod. 'I thought he was trying to tell me he was gay!'

  'Dominic? Gay? You should have asked me, I could have told you that he wasn't gay. God, that's excellent, isn't it? Keep him in the family. But it must feel strange too – he's been yours for so long.'

  I look up sharply at this perceptive comment. Simon holds the flap open to the entrance of the marquee and smiles at me. It suddenly strikes me that you could have said the same thing about Simon and me over fifteen years ago.

  I think today must be the nicest pre-event day I have ever had. Watching this calm, supremely capable man in action makes me realise what a formidable opponent he must be in the boardroom. Everything seems to get done in half the time and with half the fuss. When the band arrive mid-morning and announce that they are going to need extra electricity which our generators simply won't cover, Simon doesn't even blink. He simply gets on the phone and another generator arrives within half an hour. He doesn't throw his weight around with anyone, he doesn't raise his voice (and I have to say that on occasion pre-event days have found me screaming like a banshee), he just coolly negotiates and people find themselves doing what he wants. There is no doubt that I am watching a very talented man at work, which just serves to make me fancy him more than ever. There is something very sexy about a man who is good at what he does.

  'What's next on the list, Izz?' he asks after managing to convince an entertainer that tonight really wouldn't be the occasion to perform for the first time without a safety net.

  The Big Top is looking absolutely magnificent and I am thrilled with the results. We have hired an authentic ringmaster for the night, complete with huge handlebar moustache and shiny black boots (Rose will be ecstatic). We have managed to rig up a tightrope and a trapeze, where the performers will perform their acts at intervals during the meal. The tables are placed around the sawdust ring in the centre of the marquee and we have used very bright colours for the flowers and decorations to suit the circus theme.

  While the staff lay the tables, Aunt Winnie, Monty and Harry place the favours on each table – toffee apples, juggling balls and lottery tickets. I watch them for a second, chatting and smiling between themselves.

  'I suppose they'll never be short of something to wear; they must own half the nation's tweed between them!' Simon whispers in my ear and I laugh. 'Nice to see though,' he continues. 'I haven't seen Dad looking so happy for a long time, despite all this trouble with the house. Your Aunt Winnie hasn't been married before, has she?'

  'No, I think she was too busy looking after Sophie and me. My mother told me that there was someone once though.'

  'What happened?'

  'I don't know. I've never talked to her about it; it was always a bit of a closed subject.'

  One of the waiters tells us the Table Manners vans have arrived and we go out to meet them. We show the chefs round to the catering tent where they immediately start inspecting the equipment. I look at my watch. It's five o'clock already.

  'How are we doing?' Simon asks.

  'Okay, I think. I just need to fix some of the flower arrangements – I noticed there were a few holes in some of them – but I need to check off this delivery first.'

  'I can do that; have you a list for it?'

  'Thanks, Simon.' It's been simply marvellous having him with me today. I rifle through my folder and hand over the delivery list to reconcile. 'I'll be in the garden getting some greenery. Then I simply must go and get changed.'

  'No problem.'

  We go our separate ways, I find a pair of secateurs and make my way out into the garden. There's a huge laurel bush to one side of the house that I am intent on using. I trot around to it and indulge in a frenzied bout of chopping which would probably give poor old Fred a coronary on the spot.

  Back in the marquee, Simon is nowhere to be seen so, after I have hastily filled in the holes in the floral arrangements, I quickly double-check on all the staff and our chefs and then rush upstairs to get changed.

  I hook my dress off its hanger on the back of the door and notice that Dominic's suit carrier is already empty. It me feel marginally better that someone from the company is at least on the scene. He's probably being useless, but he's there all the same.

  My dress is the ultimate confidence booster and I thank Sophie from the bottom of my heart for it every time I put it on. From some
eminent fashion house, whose name I can't even pronounce much less afford, it's a deliciously figure-hugging and wonderfully luxurious dress. The top loops over one shoulder, there is a split to the top of my thigh at the front and all around the split and the bottom of the dress is an exquisite crocheted lace hem. I add a pair of specially purchased jet drop earrings and a bracelet that Aunt Winnie gave me. Piling my hair on top of my head, I draw a line of black kohl under each eye with a slightly shaky hand, smudge them with a cotton bud and then add a dash of scarlet lipstick.

  Rose and Mary are already standing in the marquee, dressed in their regalia and chatting excitedly to Dominic, when I return.

  We greet each other with suitable oohs and aahs at each other's attire and then move on to the state of the marquee.

  'It looks simply marvellous!' breathes Rose, looking up at the vast space.

  'Thank you.'

  'Is it all ready?'

  'Well, Dom and I are about to do our last-minute checks,' I smile at them. 'But why don't you help yourselves to some drinks on the lawn? The guests will start arriving in about half an hour.' Dom hands my radio receiver over to me.

  With great alacrity Rose and Mary bustle off drink-wards, pausing en-route to admire the ringmaster who is already dressed for action. Dom is in radio contact with most of the staff, which is probably the highlight of the night for him. He insists everyone has handles and I leave him to make contact with all of them. I check the tables, have a last-minute chat with the chefs and then walk out to the back lawn to ensure the drinks are ready to be served with canapés as soon as the guests start arriving.

  I am busy foraging underneath one of the serving tables when someone lightly taps me on the shoulder. I swivel round on my heels to find Simon bending over me and so I very hastily stand up. I have no wish for him to see me squatting, tits squashed and arse a-dangling.

  'Simon!' I say in delight. 'Gosh, you get ready quickly!'

  'No one gets undressed quicker than me, Izzy.'

  'Er, really?' I say faintly and blink quickly to try to banish the images that have sprung to mind.

  'You should remember that from when we used to swim in the lake!'

  'Em, no. Not really.' You know, children really ought to take more notice of their parents. I should have listened to my mother more when she told me to pay attention.